Flyy Girl (47 page)

P.S. I hope this letter gets to you in time for your birthday September 6. I remembered even though you probably think I didn't know. And oh yeah, send me a pretty picture of you. A big naked one.

RIGHTEOUS LOVE

Victor Hinson “the slave”

Qadeer Muhammad “the man”

# 2158796

There was a return prison address under his name.

Tracy giggled and laughed, reading it over and over, touched to
tears, and still not believing it. Her desire had been fulfilled, and Victor was proposing to her in a letter that she would keep forever.

She wiped away happy tears, as she trembled blissfully. “I'll be here for you, baby . . . I'll be here for you,” she mumbled with a smile.

A rush of elation overwhelmed her as more tears helplessly flooded her eyes. Tracy wiped them hurriedly, dreaming of Victor, Qadeer, black, strong and righteous, as the moon shone and the wind blew, adding to her birthday joy.

Hey Dad!

My first year of college is almost over, and I've gotten all A's and B's.
So . . . can I get a car? Sike, dad. Unless you really wanna buy me o
ne.

I guess you know that Mercedes moved back home now. Raheema said
that she's doing good with her rehabilitation. I'm happy for her
.

Raheema sent me a letter from Cornell University a wee
k
ago. I was
real happy that she got that scholarship to go there. She deserves it. She
was saying in her letter how we had been through all of our fights and
stuff and how we still came out close like sisters. And she is my sister in
the communal sense. We helped each other through so much over the years,
you know?

And as far as that 1200 that she got on the SAT's, I mean, all she di
d
was sit in the house and study. Naw, that's my girl. She even got
a
boyfriend out there that's a Sigma and politically conscious, so she says.
He's probably a nerd. No, let me stop. Anyway, I wrote her back and
stuff. I told her to tell me if she's still a virgin, she left that part ou
t.

Me? Well, let's just say that I've never gotten pregnant and I never
got no diseases. And no, I didn't do any drugs, either. But remember that
time you said that my boyfriend, well he wasn't my boyfriend, but you
know, the guy that I liked back then when I was still in high school. H
is
name is Victor, and you were right, he was in jail
.

But anyway, he was my first love. He's up for parole from Holmesburg
prison in three months, and I've been writing letters ba
ck
and forth t
o
him for almost two years.

I can't lie, dad. I went up there to see him a couple of times. I had to,
dad. Cause it was people that kept calling me naive and stuff, saying that
he was gaming me up, and that he couldn't have just changed overnight
.
But when I saw him it just made me want to wait for him even more
because of how trapped it seemed he was. I mean, you gotta know Victor.
He was always in control of things. But now he talks about going to
trade schools and stuff when he gets out. And he was always smart.
Victor's brother went to college.

I want to believe in him, dad. And all these girls up here who say t
hey
my friends are always talking about how I need to get a life. But I don't
see how they're doing any better with these confused guys they talk to. It
takes time for everybody to become who they're gonna be. Like who would
have thought that I'd be going to Hampton and majoring in English, of
all things.

Anyway, it's mostly because of Victor that I'm majoring in English
now, cause we kept writing to each other and stuff. And dad, he would
describe the bars and shit—oh excuse me dad, but I'm a big girl now—
so the shit that he be going through in jail and all. And I used to cry an
d
pray for him to get out soon, like a break-out or something. But it's har
d
being a young black man today, or a black man period. I wouldn't really
know though, cause I'm having a hard-ass time being a young black
woman.

Anyway. I love you, dad, and here's a poem that I wrote for you and
fatherhood. It's called, “Stop the Critics,” cause it's always people saying
how they think things should be.

My daddy wasn't home 24–7,

but I do know him.

He was the handsome dark brown face

that my mother went crazy for.

I know my daddy wasn't like Bill

on the Cosby Show.

But he was real fles
h

with real struggles

and I love him so.

Some people often criticize

and say that my mother and I were robbed
.

But now I'm happily in college

with my daddy's support

so all in all

I'd say he's done a great job.

And still people argu
e

that my logic seems shabby.

But since they know so much

I ask them
,

“Have you ever been a daddy?”

My creative writing teacher loved that poem. Cause she says she could
relate to how I feel about you. I mean, hey, I only got one dad. Right
?
And you have to make the best out of what you can.

But anyway. Victor will probably get out when I'm home for the
summer. And you don't have to worry about me getting into trouble or
nothing with him, because I've cooled out a lot. And a lot of guys wanted
to talk to me down here. I've gone out a couple times, but nothing serious.
I was always thinking about Victor. But hey, if me and him can't work
it out, then hell, I'm still living. I mean, people act like I'm gone die for
waiting for him. I'll survive. And I'll be successful at whatever I do.
Nobody can say that I haven't gotten what I wanted. So I'll just kee
p
reaching for the sky.

Love Tracy, with hugs and kisses.

P.S.—Send me some money, daddy. Pl-e-e-e-ease.

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