by Tiana Laveen
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you want to pursue a relationship with her once you’re released?” asked Dr. Owen leaning over his desk.
“Yeah, but she’s hesitant about datin’ someone who’s spent time in prison. I believe she has feelin’s for me, though.
Actually I know. She told me,” Aaron said, clasping his fingers together.
“Aaron, your behavior has been exemplary. You’ve been open in regard to listening to me about your past behavior.
You’ve taken ownership of most of the mistakes you’ve made.
You also are appearing remorseful for the damage you’ve caused other people. I’m recommending that you be paroled two months early. In the meantime, would you like for me to arrange an approved meeting between Melissa and you?”
“Are you serious? That’s the kindest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Aaron smiled. “I miss my daughter so much, and yeah, I’d love to meet Melissa in person.”
“Due to your being out of Maximum Security and in General Population, as well as your ability to stay out of trouble in light of the current circumstances surrounding your status with the Nazi party here in prison, I may be able to arrange a conjugal visit. I’m not making any promises, but if your friend would like that, I’ll see what I can do.” Dr. Owen stood up and shook Aaron’s hand.
“A conjugal visit? Wow, I hope she agrees. I think about her all the time,” Aaron smiled.
“Aaron, you have a long way to go and a lot of pain to process, but you’re making great strides.” Aaron turned and waited for the Guard to retrieve him.
* * *
One day later…
“Mia, I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day,” Aaron said softly after Mia accepted the collect call. Mia smiled.
“That’s so sweet.” She laid across her bed and scratched her head.
“It’s not sweet. It’s true,” Aaron said as he lit another cigarette.
“You OK, Sweetness? You sound distracted.”
“Remember how I told you that my cousin was in prison there a few months ago?” Mia lied.
“Yeah, I asked around about him, but no one knew who you were talkin’ about,” Aaron responded.
“He’s friends with this guy named Peter. Peter’s a young guy – about nineteen. He said Peter’s getting abused, hassled, and – and…”
“…fucked.” Aaron blew smoke in the air as he filled in the blank for her.
“Well, yes. They had him moved to Maximum Security, but they put him right back, saying they needed his space. It just isn’t fair. I feel so badly for him.” Aaron was quiet for a moment.
“What cell’s he in? Did your cousin tell you? Never mind, I’ll find out.”
“What are you going to do?” Mia asked, sitting up in her bed.
“The less you know from this point on, the better. I’ll take care of it. Look, I don’t have much time. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sendin’ you a new letter soon and would love it if you’d send me a new one with some of that perfume you like on it.”
Aaron lowered his voice to ensure none of the inmates walking past heard him. Mia smiled and laughed.
“OK, Aaron. I will. Would you like some more cookies?” she asked, twirling strands of hair between her nimble fingers.
“I have a confession. I really don’t eat cookies. I ate one.
They were really good, Sweetness, but I sold the rest for cigarettes,” Aaron smirked.
“Aaron, are you serious?” Mia pouted.
“I’m just playin’, Sweetness. Look, I have to go. One more thing – I’m fallin’ in love with you,” he hung up the phone hurriedly. Mia sat with the dial tone ringing in her ear, stunned.
She smiled and laughed, squeezing the pillow to her chest.
“I’m falling in love with you too,” she said out loud.
* * *
Aaron laid on his cell floor doing push ups. He counted to one hundred backwards as he finished the first set of the day. He heard the buzzer for morning recreation and made his way out of the cell. Two other Nazis saw him and saluted. He held his index finger up quickly and placed it down at his side. They both immediately walked over to him, standing in front like perfect soldiers.
“Aaron, we’re honored to speak to you. What can we do for you?” one of them asked.
Aaron looked around and put out his cigarette, smashing it with his boot.
“There’s this pip squeak, Peter. He ain’t been here but a minute. It sounds like some of the boys from the Unknowns have turned him into a bitch. They’re turnin’ him into a goddamn faggot. Now, if he was your little brother, you’d want him protected, right?”
“Yeah,” both men said in unison.
“Go bring him to me,” Aaron ordered. The two men walked away as Aaron descended across the room towards Eddie, his best friend, and George. They formed a triangle. As Aaron’s speed increased, so did theirs. Aaron crossed over into Unknowns’ territory. One man stood up and spit on the floor as he saw Aaron approaching. The other men on the bench followed his lead and stood up. Eddie and George spread out wider. Soon, Mike showed up and stood in the back, forming a diamond. Aaron stared at the leader of the Unknowns.
“What the fuck do you want?” Jason, the leader, finally asked.
Aaron remained quiet until Peter was brought to him several seconds later. Aaron pushed Peter in front of him. Peter looked down at the ground, refusing to make eye contact.
“Look, Jason, I don’t want any trouble, but here’s the situation. I understand we don’t mix with you; you don’t mix with us and so on and so forth, so be aware that Peter’s one of ours now. If you or any of your little sissies over here fuck him again, we’ll fuck you back. I’m not gonna stick my cock in another man’s ass regardless of how depressed I get with the lack of pussy, but I’ll have no problem whatsoever breakin’ off a stick, bustin’ a bottle, or usin’ a butter knife to ram up one of your friend’s asses. If you wanna do some fuckin’, you should be on the receivin’ end too. Isn’t that what makes a man a great lover? He gives as well as receives?” Aaron taunted. “Why don’t you leave the faggot shit to the Niggers and Spics?” Aaron said, looking Jason directly in the eye.
“You have some nerve comin’ over here, you White Trash piece of dog shit!” Jason spat.
“We’ll do whatever we wanna to Peter Cottontail, there,”
Jason added. “Peter, come here! I need you to suck my dick!”
Jason laughed. Peter started to slowly walk over to Jason.
Aaron jerked his shoulder back and said in a low voice, “If you go over there, I’ll kill you dead. You’re gonna have to start fightin’ back.” Jason got in Aaron’s face and grabbed Peter’s arm. Mike moved quickly behind Aaron, and Eddie closed in from the side. George stayed in position, standing guard. Aaron grabbed Jason’s neck and elbowed him in the forehead, making him fall to the ground. He brutally kneed him in the face.
Several of Jason’s members jumped off the bench and began to fight with the four of them. Skinhead factions started to pour from numerous directions and assault the Unknowns. Soon they were outnumbered.
Aaron stood on a bench and yelled, “If anyone fucks this boy again, the same will be done to you. There’ll be no Vaseline or spit to ease your pain when we do it either. We’re goin’ straight in, raw, so prepare to bleed.” Aaron got off of the table and pulled Peter close.
“From now on, you’re a Nazi. You’ll be initiated later. Stick close and grow some goddamn balls!” he yelled as he stormed off before the guards came and broke it up.
* * *
Everyone thinks they’re a victim.
Everyone’s tears are more heavy.
Suicidal dreams turn to reality.
Sacred nooses holding dearly departed steady.
Whose strange fruit grows here?
Whose burning cross burns there?
Who left the children to die and writhe about in their parents’
sin Without a flinch, a cry, or a ca
re?
Aaron reread the poem trying to decipher its various meanings.
“She doesn’t speak this way on the phone or in her letters.
Her poetry shows me somethin’ else,” he said to himself as he gulped down a flat cola. He reread it again and again.
“She shows an untrustworthy duality,” he said to himself as he picked up the phone.
“Hi, Aaron,” Mia said as she accepted the call while cooking dinner.
“Good evening, Melissa. I know it’s a few minutes earlier than we agreed. Is that OK?” he asked, snuffing out his cigarette.
“Yes, that’s fine. I was just cooking myself something to eat.”
Mia sprinkled salt into the boiling water.
“What are you makin’?” Aaron asked, smiling over the phone.
“Spaghetti and meatballs,” smiled Mia.
“Sounds good. Melissa, I’ve been readin’ your poetry – all of ’em. You’re very talented,” Aaron said as he leaned against the wall.
“Thank you.” Mia turned down the heat and sat in the kitchen chair.
“I can see that they’re about racism. Is this your way of tryin’
to reform me?” he asked with ice in his voice.
“No, not at all. Those were written before I knew you,” Mia answered, feeling suddenly vulnerable.
“Melissa, I think we need to end this, and it pains me because I really like you.”
“What? But why?” Mia asked, startled.
“I feel like you’re up to somethin’. I can’t shake this feelin’.
Somethin’ about you is untrustworthy. I think you’ve been lyin’, and until you come clean, we should have no further contact.”
Aaron hung up the phone and asked to be placed back in his cell, leaving Melissa sitting there, trembling with the phone in her hand and her meatballs scorching.
* * *
“Dr. Owen, I don’t know!” Mia yelled.
“OK, calm down, Ms. Armstrong. Have a seat.” Dr. Owen got up and closed the door, then returned to his desk.
“Why don’t you know? Why didn’t you ask him what he was talking about? Regardless, you’ve got yourself into a fine mess.
Do you realize what this man’s capable of? You could send him back to square one if he discovers the woman he’s been falling for is Black. Why would you do something like this? Aaron’s getting better, but his convictions are still very much engrained, and he’s vulnerable.” Dr. Owen put his hand up to his forehead, trying to concentrate.
“You say he thinks your name’s ‘Melissa,’ correct?”
“Yes,” Mia said as she rubbed her eyes.
“He may think you’re married or lesbian. I don’t know, but more than likely, he thinks that we both set him up. Aaron’s extremely intelligent, Ms. Armstrong. You should’ve known he was going to get suspicious if you slipped up even once. He’s exceptionally observant and has a good memory. That poem you sent was a slip up. The earlier poems were on a different subject matter, so he didn’t respond in this manner. This poem was passionate, and he knows that only someone that’s experienced it firsthand can write about race relations in that manner.
For your sake, you better pray he doesn’t suspect you’re Black. I don’t see how he wouldn’t figure it out at some point.
Wait a minute,” Dr. Owen said.
“What?” Mia said, crossing and uncrossing her legs nervously.
“Aaron agreed to a conjugal visit right before this happened.
This could help him. I have to figure out a way to prove to him that I knew nothing about this. I’ll think of that later. In the meantime, I need you to agree to it in writing in order to get you past Security. I’ll have the conjugal visit scheduled at our sister prison. I’ll say it’s for Aaron’s safety because the woman in question’s a sister of another inmate. I can’t believe I’m going to have to tell all these lies to help you two, but it’s necessary at this point.”
“At the sister prison, there’s a small apartment complex that’s used for group meetings, conjugal visits, and other activities. I’ll schedule your meeting with him there. I’m going to have him meet you, then talk to him about what happened. It’s important, crucially important, that he sees you first so that he can connect his anticipation with the fact he could see another race as not only human, but loveable and desiring the same things in life he does. Expect him to be angry. He’s guarded and doesn’t trust easily, so this could backfire. I’m hoping the opposite will happen. Now, I have to get personal here. Have you and Aaron discussed anything intimate?”
“Um – yes,” Mia answered, reverting into her shell.
“Like what?” Dr. Owen asked with apprehension.
“One time he asked what I was wearing and about my underwear. That was the only time, though. Other than that, he’s been telling me how pretty he thinks I am, how much he cares about me, and how he appreciates me.”
“Has he told you that he loves you,” Dr. Owen asked.
“Kind of. He said he thinks he’s falling in love with me.”
“Oh, God,” Dr. Owen said, looking away. “This is bad. This is very bad. Do you understand how hard it is for this man to say things like that? He doesn’t express emotion because he sees it as weakness. He’s completely vulnerable now. He must love you to tell you that. He’s only loved one woman he told me about – the mother of his child, and now there’s you. Previously it was his mother who broke that trust, creating the ripple effect we now have.
Aaron’s running after love when he doesn’t realize it. That’s why he’s behaving this way. He’s trying to be loved. He wants to be respected and wanted. He doesn’t necessarily want to be feared, but if that comes along with the territory, so be it. This man has a brown belt in Kyokushin Karate. He also has extensive knowledge of military-grade weapons. He’s no one to mess with, Ms. Armstrong.”
“Why even chance it then? Just let him forget about me. Why do you think I’d agree to meet with him after everything you’ve told me!” Mia screamed.
“Because, Ms. Armstrong, you care about him, too. If it weren’t true, you wouldn’t be sitting here in my office right now obviously upset. The good news is he doesn’t beat women.
It’s part of his credo. Nothing in his file shows domestic violence or female assaults – nothing.
He’s never even pushed a woman. He has strict rules in his mind, as warped and nonsensical as they may be. He finds it downright repulsive to break those rules. Therefore, his being in love with a Black woman will either bring him out of it or make him revert even deeper. I don’t know how this is going to play out, but I now need you to complete the process. You’re in deep.
You might as well finish it.”
“OK, I’m scared out of my mind now. Just so you know, I’ve seen him before.”
“On the news?” asked Dr. Owen, looking down at some papers on his desk.
“No, on the basketball court. He kept staring at me,” Mia stated.
“Staring at you? Was this before, during, or after you two started corresponding?”
“After the first two letters. I wanted to see what he looked like.”
“Do you know what date that was?” Dr. Owen asked as he picked up his phone.
“Yes, let me look at my calendar.” Mia reached in her purse and read the date to Dr. Owen.
“Yes, Nancy. I need to get footage from the basketball court from several months ago. One of my patients is in the video.” Dr.
Owen went on to provide Nancy the date and time segment he needed.
“Ms. Armstrong, I’ll be in touch with you regarding the arrangements.” Mia nodded and left office.
* * *
It was 2:00AM before Dr. Owen found the section he was looking for. Mia wasn’t in the shot, but he could tell Aaron was looking at someone. He zoomed in on Aaron’s face. He couldn’t hear what was being said but read his facial expression. Dr.
Owen rewound the tape and played it again.
“He’s
attracted to her,” he said under his breath. He rewound the tape again, playing it slowly, zooming in even closer on Aaron’s face. The black-and-white tape showed Aaron’s eyes staring bullets towards Mia’s presence.
“What do we have here, Aaron?” Dr. Owen smiled. “The object of your desire has been in your pocket this entire time.”
The following morning Aaron came to Dr. Owen’s office.
“I thought our sessions were over,” Aaron said as he sat down, “but you requested I come here. What’s goin’ on?” Aaron asked, folding his hands together.
“You seem agitated. What’s the problem, Aaron?”
“I haven’t been sleepin’ well. Why am I here?” Aaron hammered on.
“Because I scheduled your conjugal visit and wanted to update you.” Dr. Owen looked at Aaron, trying to gauge his reaction.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m not communicating with Melissa anymore. I think she’s bein’ dishonest, and I don’t have the patience for game-playin’,” Aaron stated. He pushed down his feelings of sorrow and stayed focused.
“Really? What happened?” Dr. Owen asked, feigning ignorance.
“On one hand, she comes across as sweet and innocent. On the other hand, she has a deep, passionate side to her that only comes out in her poetry. I know somethin’s not right,” Aaron stated.
“Aaron, some people are very shy until they’re creating art or performing their craft. A perfect example’s Michael Jackson. He was known to be an introvert, but on stage he was very flashy.
Could it be the same here?” Dr. Owen asked.
“No, it couldn’t. Her other poems were passionate, but then there was this one about racism. It was thick with pain, anxiety, and melancholy. I can’t figure out the missin’ piece. I think she may be undercover tryin’ to bust me in somethin’. I think it’s a setup. I think the government’s usin’ her to find information regardin’ what I’ve done and who I hang with.
They’re tryin’ to frame me for crimes I had nothin’ to do with.
I’m fairly certain that’s what’s goin’ on, and the poem was meant to get me to admit somethin’, to try to elicit a volatile response,” Aaron said. Dr. Owen smiled and sighed with relief.
