by Tiana Laveen
Things had changed. Over the last few days, she’d ignored Trudy’s calls, even got her lock changed. Too much had happened – too much pain, too many damn tears…
Approximately twenty-one minutes later, she was driving up her gravelly pathway, illuminated only by two deep yellow lights she’d left on in the kitchen, which highlighted her cream lace curtains and the small, circular, yellow table given to her by her mother.
I forgot to turn the porch light on… Damn it.
Her home was shrouded in black, swallowed whole by the unforgiving night. Had it not been for the kitchen, a stranger may have completely missed the house altogether. She parked haphazardly, grabbed her purse, then paused to stare back down the road.
Damn it! I forgot the mail.
Looking back up at the house, then back down the road, she sucked her teeth and huffed, then, pulled out her cell phone and used the flashlight app to light the way as she made her jerky trek. She pushed aside the sound of the chirping crickets – tiny animals that were only heard and not seen as they scurried about – and the unmistakable slithering noise of a snake winding its way through a thicket of slightly damp grass. Her beige canvas flats barely provided enough cushion from each stone that attempted to dig into the heel and balls of her feet.
“Uh… ow!” She gritted her teeth as she continued on the path, almost toppling over a time or two. She finally reached the decrepit thing, swung the lip of the mailbox open, and exposed an abundance of mail stuffed inside so tightly, it amazed her she was able to release the mass. Hitching her cell phone under her chin, she pilfered through the mess, blowing away a bug or two that drifted to her, enchanted by her artificial illumination. As she made her way back up the walkway, she paused…
One of her packages was a small box, and on the front of it was Aaron’s name, and Holman’s address. Curling her lips in a smile, she hastened her steps up her porch steps, one of which was fractured and in terrible need of repair. The next few minutes were a mere blur… She slung her purse and keys down somewhere, and she’d have to send herself a text to find her phone, which she’d haphazardly deposited on a forgotten surface. Sliding her shoes off, she rushed inside her bedroom and closed the door. She gently placed the box down on the middle of the bed, then removed her light pink jacket. Scooting up close to it like some lover she’d not seen in a while, she tucked her leg under herself, while the other swung slowly back and forth along the side of the bed.
On a sigh, she opened her dresser drawer, removed a sharp metal nail file, and split the cardboard box down the middle like a poppy seed and lemon muffin prepared to be buttered. Inside sat a letter, neatly folded and hand-written on stark white notebook paper. She removed it, primed to read, then took notice of two tiny white objects…
What are these? Birds…
They were made of paper, folded to perfection.
Origami… He does origami?
“How pretty!” she uttered softly as she handled the tiny, fragile things with extra care. After taking a few more impressive glances at them, she placed them down delicately on her nightstand, and unfolded the letter, ready for her main course. Sitting back against her headboard, she smelled the familiar prison soap scent encasing the entire box, but this time, with something else added to it: lemon zest. This was now the second time. The strong scent enveloped her in a fresh, crisp cocoon.
Where is he getting this lemon zest from?
Melissa,
I hope you like the birds I made. When I was a kid, my art teacher in 7th grade, Mrs. Jacobs, taught us for an entire week about origami. At the time, I wasn’t too much interested in it. While here, however, I found a book in the library about it, and since I have a lot of time on my hands as you can imagine I decided to give it a try. It’s funny the things we don’t forget…
That brings me to my next point. I did what you asked me to do, Melissa. I spoke to a black inmate. While talking to him, I felt a lot of different things, some of which I can’t even really explain to you right now because I can barely explain them to myself. I haven’t discussed any of this with anyone else; I can’t bring myself to do it just yet. So, in speaking to you, it is to let you know that yes, I followed up, but I also need to discuss it. Not to mention, I want to be honest with you, as I always have been.
I doubt it is of any surprise that I did not want to do what you asked, and I didn’t think it would make any difference. I’m not a person that changes easily. I readily admit that about myself. I did not believe anything would change my mind about my convictions. Not only that, I’ve spoken to black people before. I didn’t feel that this would be any different, but – it was.
The difference this time, Melissa, was that we were not having a casual conversation or confrontation. Those were the only instances in which I’ve spoken to black people and this was my first time truly realizing this. I’d never given it much thought previously. If I wasn’t in some sort of argument, or just acknowledging that they’d said, ‘hello’ or ‘nice weather’, then it just didn’t happen. As a child, I’d see black people on television, and we had a small number of them in my neighborhood, but that was about it. I had played with a few black boys as a kid, but I was so young, I barely remember… But what I do remember is my mother not wanting me to play with them anymore.
Melissa, the man I spoke to the other day gave me a lot of food for thought. His name is Marcus Cunningham. Marcus was scared of me, and for the first time in my life, that didn’t make me feel good, powerful, or any better than him. He didn’t let his fear stop him from talking to me though, and standing up to me like a man, and being truthful. We had a long conversation, the kind that shakes you a bit. You, as a teacher, handed me an assignment. I try to not fail at anything that I do, and I didn’t want this to be any exception. So, I caught myself several times from interrupting him. I didn’t want to react the way I normally did. After all, I’m in this prison cell for a reason. Yes, my crime was self-defense and I stand by that but I spent the better part of last night realizing that I wasn’t the only one that needed protection. I realized that, if my so-called victim, the guy that approached me, getting loud and trying to pick a fight with me, had been someone else, I wouldn’t have had as much anger explode out of me.
Melissa, the man that put me here, in this place, is still in the hospital according to my attorney. He got the beating he got because when we were children he made my life a living hell. You see, when I was in foster care and before a lady that meant the world to me took me in, I was at one school for a little over six months. In that time frame, this boy would torment and torture me, so much so, I would literally shake when I saw him coming. He was much bigger than me at the time and though I could fight pretty good, I wasn’t any match for him. When I saw him at that store, I didn’t notice it was him until he got in my face. He was still bullying, Melissa… still a predator. I couldn’t believe here I was, an adult, a grown man, being bullied again by the same bastard.
I wanted to make sure he never did it again. Not to me, not to anyone. I’m twice his size now, but he still thought he could take me, probably because I’m white and you know what I realize now? I realize that sort of thing don’t give a shit about what color you are. Being afraid or resentful has nothing to do with the race of the person in question. My own issues with race and injustice toward my people in this country have occasionally clouded my ability to see things the way they truly are. Maybe it’s more than occasionally; only time will tell.
I feel like I’ve awoken from some dream, but I feel worse than I did before, Melissa. I don’t know what I feel, but it’s all messed up in my mind. Am I reformed? I don’t know, but I’m angry, yet it’s a different type of anger, and I’m scared, baby. I don’t know what the future holds and if there’ll be any lasting results from this, but I do know, due to you, I’m at least open to listening and learning now… and listening is where understanding begins. Thank you for the suggestion. It seems so simple, like a little thing to say, ‘Just tal
k to someone’, but for me, it was not a simple thing. It was big. It was huge. It was everything.
Love,
A.P.
P.S. I have permission to speak to you again via phone. Same time, same number… I need you to help make that happen. I miss the fuck out of you.
Mia’s chest rose and fell as she drew in air, low, deep, slow, and ragged. Had it all been worth it? Yes! Inside she rejoiced, for that miracle she believed could happen was transpiring. Her lips kinked in a smile, then morphed into an all out, ear-to-ear grin.
Aaron, I knew you could do it, and I knew in my heart to not give up on you just yet… You have a long way to go, but you’re getting there. You’re getting there, baby, and I love you all the more for it!
“I LIKE IT; I’m not complaining. You listen more, you answer my questions more directly, with more detail and without the extra urging. I just want to know if there is a specific reason behind it?” Dr. Owens questioned.
Aaron glanced towards the windows behind the man and watched the tips of the dark green trees sway in the light breeze.
“Just been doin’ some thinking is all.” He glanced up at the clock, then back into the man’s eyes. “A lot of thinking.”
“Would your pen pal, Melissa, have anything to do with this?” the man asked, a bit of a half-cocked smirk on his face.
“It’s almost time for her to call…” Aaron twisted in his seat, wanting that phone to ring as fast as possible. “I want to talk to her.” He gripped the chair arms over and over, his excitement bubbling just beneath the surface, despite how he attempted to contain himself.
“I can tell.” Dr. Owens glanced up at the clock, too, then slowly rose from his seat. “I will go sit there.” He pointed across the way. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get access to that other office again for you, but I promise to not interrupt.”
“Will you put on your headphones, like you promised?”
Aaron shot the man a glance from over his shoulder as he went past him and sat in the corner, a book tucked under his arm.
He needed a semblance of privacy, just like before. He had things to say to the woman; things he wished to go to her ears, and her ears, only.
“Yes, I will be able to hear you if you speak loud enough, but not in your usual tone.”
Aaron nodded in understanding then stared at the black phone sitting on the man’s desk. He swallowed down a nerve driven throaty gulp until the next second past, the one that made it officially 4:00 P.M. Once 4:01 P.M. rolled around, copious beads of sweat tickled his forehead. He swiped at the damn things, took a gander at his moist fingertips, then turned towards the window again, counting seconds. As he slid into a daydream, the phone rang, bringing him out just as quickly as he’d sunk into the thing.
“Answer it?”
“Of course,” Dr. Owens smiled sardonically as he put his ear buds in place. “We know it’s for you.”
Aaron turned back to the phone, gripped the receiver and brought it to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this… is this Aaron? It sounds like Aaron.” He could hear the elation, the smile, the winter and summer and the other two seasons all vying for attention in her melodious voice.
“Yeah.” He cracked a smile as he leaned back real cool and leisure like in his seat. “Is this my baby?”
“Yes. Hi… I got your package. Those birds are very nice. I placed them on top of my curio cabinet.”
“They get a special display?” he teased. “That’s nice.” He ran his hand down his thigh, warming it, and looked back out the doctor’s window, now taking notice of a guard walking the grounds.
“Yes, I like to see them when I go into my living room.”
The two were quiet for a moment or two.
“So uh, I wanted to talk to you, Aaron, about your meeting with Marcus. I believe that’s what you said his name was.”
“Yeah, that’s his name…”
“So, now that you’ve had more time to think about it, think it through, how are you feeling?”
“Mmmm.” He stretched his leg. “About the same, confused. I’m still going over it in my mind. It’s like I’m fightin’ inside of myself. I’ve been doing a lot of reading too, Melissa.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, and more writing, too. Just trying to think, get some thoughts out. I’m also under some stress… like I told you. This is all I’ve known for a good part of my life and I still don’t think everything I believe is incorrect, but… I’m questioning it now… I’m questioning all of it…and some of it… some of it is completely wrong, Melissa. I don’t understand what happened or how it happened. I mean, some of it I do, but, it’s like I’ve been sleepwalking or something. I can’t even trust my own judgment, now…”
“We should always ask ourselves questions, Aaron. You’re on the path to self discovery and that can be upsetting at times.”
“Yeah, I s’pose you’re right. You know.” He grinned into the receiver. “I thought about you last night…”
“You did? What did you think about?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course I want you to be honest.” He glanced over at Dr. Owens and then turned back around.
“I want to imagine you right now, this very second.” The doctor seemed to be engrossed in his reading, and his ear buds were still jammed into his ears. “What do you have on? Describe everything, baby…”
“Um, I have on a white shirt, button down with little dark blue buttons. I have on a pair of navy blue slacks, too. Not very sexy, but I wore it to work.”
“Yeah? What’s under that getup, honey?”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on now, don’t tease me, baby…we ain’t got much time. You know what I mean… What is goin’ on underneath the outfit?”
“Oh.” He heard a nervous little cluster of giggles. “I have on a white bra, with lace… and matching panties.”
“I got a question.”
“What is it?”
“What kinda cookies you got?”
“Um, well, I just made some more chocolate chip and—”
“No, no, baby.” He laughed lightly, leaning into the phone and whispering now. “What color are your nipples? Are they strawberry? Caramel? What?”
Sucking her breath, she leaned back in her seat. “…Caramel.”
“Downstairs… the landscaping…you got a lot to trim, just a little bit, or is there nothin’ there at all?”
“The landscaping is light…”
The man’s breathing grew heavier, huskier…
“I bet your skin is soft as butter, Angel. I bet you taste better than those brownies you sent me…and those damn things were delicious.”
“Thank you.” She laughed lightly.
“Would you be offended if I told you that I wanted to lay you down and push inside you over and over again? ’Cause I do, baby… and it’s all I think about now…”
HER BREATH HITCHED as she scanned her collarbone with her fingertips.
“I want the chance to make you feel good, baby… kiss those sweet, caramel cookies, suck on ’em, rub and caress them… push my hand between your thighs and feel the heat from your body climb up and down my fingers… I love eatin’ pussy, baby… and I would do damn near anything to get a chance to run my tongue over your clit right about now. I love to fuck, too… I’m sorry if I’m bein’ too candid, too upfront, but from the way you’re breathin’ on the other end, you want it too…”
“I do…” She snaked her hand in her panties and rubbed her pussy as he continued to speak the dirty words, over and over, never letting up.
“You want me to slide my cock inside your pussy, baby?”
“Yes!”
“Come on now, baby. Don’t be shy… talk to me, say all the shit you dared yourself not to!”
“How big is it?” She gulped as she threw her head back and kept stroking her clit, faster and faster. “Do you have a big dick, baby?”
; “You’ll be more than satisfied, Sweetness. That’s a promise. I’mma make sure I get it all the way inside you, too…slow thrusts, easy and steady… Make you feel it, take your goddamn breath away… in your mouth, your pussy… your ass, too… I’ll own your body, honey. Yeah, when I see you, you’re gettin’ this fuckin’ dick! Good ’nd hard, I got energy for days. Make you cum so much you’ll lose your mind.”
“Ohhh shit, Aaron…you are turning me on.”
“Good, sweetheart… that’s my job. It’s been a while for you, baby, hasn’t it?”
“Yes…”
“I can’t wait to get my damn hands on you. When I see you I’m gonna fuck the shit outta you, Melissa! Make you never want anybody else but me ever again!”
“Piiike!” someone called out. “One minute left.”
“Mmmm, baby, I have to go. I don’t want to, that’s for damn sure… we get to talk again in a couple of days. I am going to write you some letters tonight. It was a real pleasure chattin’ with you. It makes a difference, you know? Hearing your voice – it makes everything more real. You’re my woman, you hear me?”
“Loud ’nd clear.”
“I don’t share! Don’t give those lips to nobody else. Don’t give that pussy, not even those damn cookies, the real ones that you bake in the oven, to no other motherfucker. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, baby…” She stifled a laugh at his declaration, but loved the words all the same.
“Good, glad we got an understandin’. And if you need anything you let me know… I’m just a letter away…”
Chapter Seventeen
MIA DIPPED LOW and close to Rodger. The slim man, his frame paper-thin and his lips even thinner, collapsed forward from her tender touch across his bony shoulder. He shook like a tree branch in a heavy rainstorm with twenty-mile-an-hour winds. She leisurely looked up at the clock, her heart beating more rapidly as each second passed, then set her sights on him once again. A tear budded in his right eye; the blue sphere glimmered with moisture but he quickly swiped it away with the back of his tattooed hand.
