One day Tyson even dragged me to Bible study.
“Today is your lucky day, nigga,” he said.
“Why?” I asked him.
“The pastor brought his wife and she's doing her pen pal service again.”
“What's that for?” I asked as we walked.
“Every year they pick about fifteen inmates. And members of her women's group at her church write us back and forth.”
He was all excited, like that was such a big deal.
“Yeah, you making that face, but niggas in here would kill to know they had a person who was guaranteed to write them. And that ain't all!” He lowered his voice. “If you get one of them old bitches, they like to put money on your books. What I always tell you? Let that thug in you out!”
I laughed.
“Man. Last year I couldn't get on the list! I was pissed because that nigga Dey Dey had just got out the SHU and he happened to go to Bible study on the right day and the pastor's wife was there. Man, he had this lady writing his ass and putting two hundred dollars at a time on his books!”
Tyson imitated a lady's face with no teeth. “Here's some money to help you out,
baby
. The lord told me you needed some
zus-zus and wham-whams
.”
I laughed again. Zus-zus and wham-whams was a term for different kinds of snacks.
“Chance, don't tell me you couldn't use a package in this bitch. I get tired of eating the same nasty shit. All I do is sit and think about all the times I wasted food and wished I could get that shit back now.”
He was right. My mother was able to put a few dollars on my books, but not often. I used that money to buy myself stamps, paper, and envelopes. There was often very little for much else. Calhoun had been promising to put some money on my books, but I knew he was always broke so I didn't expect it. I just appreciated the fact that he was still coming to visit me and he would even write me.
“But you got juice with the guards,” I told him.
Juice
meant that you had gotten on the prison guards' good side and they liked you as well as looked out for you.
“I don't fuck with them like that. I'll be respectful but that about it. I don't want them thinking I'm gonna tell them shit or do shit for them. Man, you know snitches get stitches!” He swung and softly connected with my chin.
I jabbed him in his stomach.
“Plus, it don't look good to the inmates when you chummy with the staff.”
I nodded and followed behind him.
“Man, I want a fucking TV, some Pepperidge Farm cookies. And one of them hams!”
I cracked up laughing.
He went on. “I need some better shower shoes, nigga, some shea butter lotion, some books and CDs! We can get all that stuff.”
I shook my head at him, skeptical. “They can't send that stuff to us.”
“Chance, there's a website for all that shit! All the little old ladies have to do is order it for us and they ship it straight to the prison.”
When we got to the room for Bible study, Tyson quickly sat down. I sat next to him.
The pastor, an older man tall in stature, stood next to this petite woman. She reminded me of Pam Grier. I may be young, but I watched old Pam Grier movies as a kid and even jacked off to them.
He looked good next to his wife. He was the same height and stature as me, with brown skin and a long beard. They were both graying, but I guess it didn't bother either of them.
“Now, gentlemen, I'm going to leave Bible studies over to my wife.” He rubbed her back as he talked.
She smiled up at him.
They were in tune with each other.
It made me swallow and try to get the lump in my throat down. Seeing them together as the happy couple reminded me of Toi and what I wanted for us: To get married, have kids, and grow old together.
That wasn't going to happen anymore. Not with her, and from the looks of it not with anyone.
“Good evening, gentlemen.”
“Evening, ma'am,” we all repeated in unison.
“Shit, I'll take her,” Tyson whispered. “She finer than a mufucka.”
I jabbed him in his stomach with my elbow, lightly.
Once the prayer started he stopped messing around.
He even grabbed my hand in his. I could tell that even though he played around a lot, his faith wasn't a joke to him.
Once the prayer was done, the lady clasped her hands together and said, “Well, today is your lucky day, gentlemen. I have about fifteen spots open for my pen pal group.” She went to a table and grabbed some pieces of paper and pencils.
“Now I'm going to give you paper and a pencil, so go ahead and write something about yourself. Please refrain from cursing or talking about sex, drugs or violence. I will review them and submit to the ladies of my charity group and you should be hearing from them shortly.”
When she passed the paper to me I didn't know what to write. I sat and thought for a moment. Under normal circumstances, I would be proud to write about who I was. But now things were very different.
So I kept it brief. Tyson had a hell of a lot to write. I watch his pencil brush over the lines on the paper. He ended up with a whole page to my four lines. I simply put my name, age, and what I did before I was incarcerated. I figured there was no need for me to put what I was in jail for because it wasn't like we planned on meeting face-to-face or anything. And plus, whoever this lady was, she knew I was in jail and that I had broken a crime, supposedly. To tell the truth, I didn't really care about doing the shit, anyway.
“Okay, gentlemen. Time's up,” she announced, clasping her hands together.
She went around collecting the papers. When she got to Tyson, she patted him on his back.
“And how are you this week, young man?” she asked, giving him a soft smile and taking his paper.
“I'm good, ma'am. Just hanging in there, reading the good word every chance I get.”
He did read the Bible sometimes, but he was laying it on pretty thick.
Her smile got wider. “Well, it's good that you are always in such good spirits and that you study the Bible in your free time. A lot of men in here could learn from you.”
She turned her attention to me and collected my paper. “You must be new to our study group.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Well, I hope you come back. You might get something helpful out of it.”
I nodded, although I didn't plan on coming back.
She counted all the papers and then counted the inmates.
“Oh, gentlemen, you know what I just noticed? We are one over. The limit is fifteen for my group.” She looked over at me and offered another one of her smiles. “Since you're new and all to the group, you are going to have to wait for the next round. I don't have another pen pal right now.”
I nodded.
Tyson snickered at me like I was really missing out on something and whispered, “Don't worry. I'll share my zus-zus and wham-whams with you
baby
.”
I held in my laugh as the pastor's wife spoke to me. “But I will keep your paper in case we get another person. I doubt it, though. The church members are busy with their own lives. It's a struggle to get the fifteen that I have now to help me out with this charity. But I try to remind them that if it were them behind these ugly walls day in and day out, it might bring some joy to their day to get a friendly letter from someone, even if you don't know them.”
She grabbed her Bible and opened it up. “'Now today, gentlemen, we will be studying the Book of Job.”
It was hard for me to focus on what she was saying. I always believed in God, but I couldn't understand how he could punish me this way. He took away everything that meant something to me. I was stuck in this hell. If this is not what God wanted for me, why didn't he put a stop to this?
Chapter 12
The next week I was rolling up my mat and getting ready to tie my sheet around it so I could work out. Tyson had finally got his meeting with the committee. When the guard came to escort him we played it off like it was nothing. On one hand, I was just as excited as he was that this day was finally here and they were going to either keep him or let him go. But on the other hand, I didn't want to lose Tyson.
He rushed into the cell. “Aye yo. Chance.” He was out of breath and stood in front of me.
“What's up?”
He looked around at the other cells near us to make sure no one was listening or looking. But you never could really tell, they knew how to play their ear hustling shit off.
He sat on his bunk and tossed a paper to me with his eyebrows raised.
I nodded, unfolded the letter and scanned it, knowing Tyson didn't want the info on the letter being passed to anyone else. The letter showed that he was approved for a release from prison! I kept my face normal in case I was being watched.
Tyson had already told me the night before, “I don't want anyone else knowing but you, 'cause you my boy. Remember what I told you before. I'm not trying to have no niggas in here smoke my release date,” he had whispered.
I nodded again and handed him the paper back. I simply stared at him, silently saying congratulations.
He got it.
“Thanks, man.”
I looked down. I'm not gonna say I wasn't happy for himâI wasâbut damn, I would be stuck in here by myself and more importantly I would be stuck.
“Don't trip. You got good news coming soon.”
I waved a hand at him and picked up my mat. I lifted it over my head, squatted, and lowered my tone. “I'm happy for you, man. I'm gonna miss you, but it's good you're getting out. I have to admit that sometimes I don't think it will ever be the same for me.”
He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “How you know?”
I squatted again. “I don't. I'm just saying how I feel more times than not.”
“Your name is Chance, not God, dude. If I had that defeated type of attitude you have, I would never have tried to get out. I would still be here.”
I blew air out of my nose and inhaled through my mouth.
He shook his head at me. It was clear I wasn't trying to hear what he was saying.
I squatted and lifted the mat in the air and held it for five seconds.
“Chance, if I ain't taught you nothing, you always remember this: You let somebody else tell you no. You don't tell yourself no.”
“Yeah? What if they told you that you had twenty years?”
“Then I'd fight for twenty fucking years until they let me out.”
“With life?”
“I'd fight for the rest of my fucking life if I was in here for some shit I didn't do. Fuck that, they would give me my life back. I wouldn't sit around and wait to die in here. I'd fight as long as I fucking could, Chance.”
I sat the mat down and tried to catch my breath all while taking in what he was saying.
“I'm just saying, man. Try. You got so much to offer this jacked-up world. You don't belong in prison. They know it, so I don't even know why they sent you here. I could give a fuck what a witness said.”
I laughed at that.
Guys had been leaving left and right for their visit. I wasn't expecting one and Tyson never got a visit, so we both were surprised when a guard gave me a piece of paper with my mother's name on it.
I cursed under my breath. I had told my mom the last time she came not to come back for another visit. It was a day I didn't like to think about. I had hurt my mother really badly.
It was the same week that Toi and her dude had come. Seeing my mother that Sunday was not something I was looking forward to and to make matters worse, that punk ass Roscoe was making all kinds of comments about my mother as I walked to the visiting room.
“Your mama single, Wallace?”
I ignored him.
“Come on nigga, you can tell me.”
I didn't reply, just kept walking.
“Man, I sure wouldn't mind hitting that pussy.”
I stopped walking. I balled my fist and clenched my teeth. I was going to turn and swing on that muthafucka. But just as I was, I though about going back to solitary and getting another charge.
He shoved me. “Walk, muthafucka!”
I unballed my fist and walked.
“What you think, your mammy too good for a nigga like me? Shit, I heard different. The guard that was there the day you got sentenced said she don't even know who your daddy is. And if that shit ain't embarrassing enough, the bitch used to sell her box.”
I stopped walking and turned to face him.
When he saw my frowned-up face, his grin faded and he looked a little shook.
“Look, muthafucka. Keep my mama name out your mouth.”
Then, as if he remembered that he was the one with the power, he pulled out his baton, put it against my throat, shoved me against a wall, and got all up in my face.
“Yeah, muthafucka? And if I don't, what the fuck you gonna do about it?”
I looked at him with hatred because I did hate his ass.
“Reality is you ain't shit, nigga. You ain't got power to do shit to me or anyone else. If I want to fuck, I'll take her ass in the bathroom, fuck her, and kick her out without a visit. You gonna learn not to fuck with me. You should have just sold that shit like I asked you to, then you wouldn't be having these problems. 'Cause one way or another you gonna sell the shit for me. And believe me, your problems are just starting with me.”
He pressed the baton to my neck so hard that I was choking.
My eyes continued to lock with his as he held it there.
After a few seconds, another guard yelled, “Roscoe, you need some help over there?”
“Naw. I'm good.”
He moved his baton from my neck and shoved me ahead of him.“Walk, nigga.”
When I finally made it to where visiting was I didn't waste any time. I sat down quickly. Calhoun wasn't with her this time. I told my mom simply, “Don't come back here to see me, Mom. Pretend that your son is dead.”
Alarm and hurt hit her face but I didn't sit there long enough to hear her response. I stood, pushed the chair in, and walked away toward the guard. Nevertheless, I could not get her hurt face out of my head.
It had been a while since I had seen her. During that time, Calhoun still came and told me that I needed to stop tripping and see my mother. But when I told him the situation he understood and said he would probably fuck the guard up if he had said something like that about his mother. “But you did good just shutting up. A lot of times you're going to have to let a lot of shit roll off your shoulders in here,” he said. “And your mom. I'll talk to her and I'm sure she will understand.”
“Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
Not being able to see my mom was killing me. She had been writing me letters, though, as if nothing bad had transpired. In her letters she told me that she was still working for that elderly woman, Ellen as her in-home health care aide. Ellen and my mom had so much history that when she found out my mother was homeless, she let her stay in her house even though Ellen's daughter didn't approve. Ellen had a block on her phone, according to my mama. But my mama said she was going to get a cell phone and sign up for some type of private service where she could put money on her phone and I would be allowed to call her. As much as I wanted to talk to her, I couldn't help but be bothered by the fact that my mother had to stay with the person she worked for. I appreciated Ellen opening her home to my mom, but at any moment she or her family could have a change of heart and throw my mother out on the street. Then where would she live? The guilt of my mama not really having a stable home killed me.
She said she was putting her checks away for my lawyer. But with her only making minimum wage and her not getting full-time hours I knew that wasn't a possibility. We were starting from a zero balance, because not only did Toi take the money for the house but she cleaned out my bank accounts.
“Just go see her,” Tyson said, snapping me out of my trance.
I stared down at the paper with my mother's name on it and nodded to myself.
“And you know what? Roscoe's not here today.”
“He's not?” I asked, surprised. He was not a staff known to miss work. I knew he always worked visiting so he could check out all the ladies that would be coming in. See, the thing was I did not want my mother to come anymore because I didn't know how long I could hold myself back from fucking Roscoe up for disrespecting my mother and making the comments he made about her. It was always a struggle for me not to put hands on him. The last run-in with him I came really close to knocking the shit out of him.
When I got to the table my mother was seated at I noticed how anxious and skinny she looked. I had to look away.
I sat across from her, still not giving her eye contact. “Mama, I told you not to come backâ” My voice trailed off at the sight of her shaking hands on the table in front on me.
“We have to do this quickly, Chance,” she whispered.
My eyes shot to her face. I narrowed my eyes at her and asked, “Do what?”
She looked around and slid her hand under the table.
“Mama, what are you doing?”
“Shh and do what I say. Slide your hands under the table,” she instructed.
But before I could even move a finger, two guards rushed my mother like she was a man!
They leaped over the table and knocked her out of the chair.
She fell to backward, crashing hard on the floor. One more rushed over to us and they all crowded around my mother. She didn't move. She just lay in the spot they dropped her in and buried her face in her forearms.
One of the guards bent over and pulled her up by her hair.
“You muthafuckas ain't gotta handle her like that!” I yelled. “That's my fucking mama!” I was grabbed by three other guards before I could rush forward. Two secured both my forearms and the other hooked his hand around my throat.
“It's okay, Chance,” she said, crying.
“Shut the fuck up!” the guard who grabbed her by her hair yelled.
She nodded and closed her eyes.
I watched tears fall from them and felt some slip from my eyes. Being helpless to stop them from doing my mother like that made me feel like shit.
Every time I moved the hand around my neck tightened.
“Don't fucking move,” he whispered in my ear.
They twisted my mama's skinny arms up so tight I thought they were going to pop. Then they applied handcuffs.
The guard still had her ponytail from his tight grip.
“Get off of her!” I raged.
I struggled against the guards. “Y'all some dirty-ass muthafuckas!”
“Oh yeah?” one of them whispered.
“Yeah, you bitch . . . ass . . . muthafucka!” My voice got an octave louder with each word.
I tried to twist my body out of their grasp. That's when they tased me.
Chance,
How you doing baby? Listen. Don't worry about me. I'm okay. I just hope and pray that you are okay in there. I know what I'm about to say will get you upset which is why I almost don't want to tell you. But I'm sure you are wondering why I did what I did. I had been getting calls. I was surprised because I had never given the number out to anyone. The person calling started to threaten me. They told me that if I didn't bring the drugs into the prison that they were going to hurt you and they knew where I stayed. After all the stuff you have been going through I couldn't let nothing else happen to you in there. At first I ignored the calls then they started getting more frequent and then I couldn't sleep at night because when I did close my eyes, Chance, it never failed, I would have this nightmare about a man being stabbed. That man was you. Then that person started getting worse. He wouldn't give up. So I realized I could not let anything bad happen to you on account of me not doing what he asked me to do. I am so sorry. Maybe I should have gone to the cops. I know with me in here I can't do much for you. Anyhow, I pleaded guilty and took a deal so the judge sentenced me to only four years. They said it could have been worse with my past and all. It's not so bad in here. I work at the prison on the cleaning crew and whatnot. You know me. My regret about all of this is that I'm no help to you. All of this is killing me to know you are still in there, Chance. Lord knows you don't deserve this hell. I'd gladly take your place if it meant you could come home. What I did was dumb. But I know why I did it. You are still alive so for me it was worth it. I love you and I hope you can write back. I'm not giving up hope. You are going to get out of there.
Ma