I remember the day Pookie came to visit me in prison, a few days after Flex and Ms. Sasha got shot up in the Ville. I was sitting on my bed in that grey cold cell by myself while my cellmate had clean up duty for starting a fight in the lunch room the previous day. I remember something dripping from the ceiling of my cell. Some kind of dirty water running from one of the pipes above my bed. I remember that dripping pipe was only one of the thousand reasons I couldn't sleep that night. I had moved my pillow out of the way and tried to sleep curled up in a ball so I wouldn't feel the cold moldy water drip on my legs.
I had gathered a cough that stayed with me for a few weeks. I was never really sick, just always cold and so the cough came and went. I remember stifling that cough in the night as not to wake my cellmate who seemed cool with me but had the temper of an abusive alcoholic father. Nevertheless, I was never his target. And he was only my cellmate for a month before getting transferred out to a more longterm prison. That morning, during his clean up duty I was sitting on the bare bed with no sheets. I set the sheets out to dry by hanging them on a part of the shelf above my bed. They wouldn't be clean but at least they wouldn't be wet.
I remember looking at my black shoes that had developed holes right at the tip. I think the holes might have always been there but were now becoming more pronounced as the sentence went on. I remember getting up from the bed, rotating my shoulders, cricking my neck and getting down on the ground to do some push-ups.
I remember my rough hands touching the damp and dirty prison floor as I got in the proper form.
One.
Two.
As I make my way down and push back up, the stench of piss on the floor comes up with me and my nose burns, though I am used to all of this already.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Si-
"Inmate." I heard one of the guards. My eyes reach his black shoes and then my eyes trail up to his face. I remain in a planking position. He wasn't one of the guards I had a relationship with, the other guards knew my name and they knew I hated to be called that and they didn't do it.
The name was never one I would ever let myself get used to. But I answered when they called, I kept my head down, I was good. The goal was to make it out as quickly as possible.
"Yes." I respond.
"Stand up." He says harshly.
I get to my feet and breathe out, my face close to the bars.
The other guards wouldn't speak to me in that tone either. They knew I didn't like it. They knew I listened and they knew it wasn't necessary.
"You have a visitor." He said. His dark black eyebrows shading his smaller brown eyes. His white skin looked pudgy, like bad pudding.
He opened the cell and walked me down the hallways.
I remember hoping it was Chanel coming to see me, coming to talk about the entire thing, needing my help somehow, needing my comfort. I remember battling myself with how to react to her, how to react to the entire thing.
The guard opens the doors to the glass cut outs with the phones in each booth and directs me to booth number 6.
As I walk to booth number 6, I can't make out the person because their back is turned away from the window and they can't stop moving. They shake out their leg like a dog would after it pees. They stretch out their arms, jumps twice and breathes.
For a moment I remember thinking it was a drug addict that had came to visit. Confusion creasing my mind. But then he turned around.
Pookie turned around in all his glory.
Eyes bloodshot and bags down to his cheeks, no haircut, clothes dirty, and I couldn't smell him but I knew he couldn't have smelled good.
His eyes meet mine and he is still for a moment before he picks up the phone.
I stand in place looking at him for more than a few seconds, hoping my face can say more than my words.
I sit down and pick up the phone then place it to my ear. My heart beating out of my chest.
Already I know something is terribly wrong.
"Yo." I speak first. "Why do you look like that?"
He laughs and it remains a smile. Bright and lingering but off. Not like any of the smiles I've seen from Pookie before and I've seen him smile since he was five years old.
"Trev. These niggas aint shit boy." He says to me, excitement filling his eyes.
"What niggas? And why do you look like that, man. Are you on something? Have you been drinking?" I say low into the phone moving closer to the window.
"Nigga, I'm fine. I'm trying to tell you that them niggas is pussy yo." He is serious now, the smile wiped away from his lips.
"Who's pussy?" I question.
"Julius's mans. They really thought they was bout to get aw-"
"AY!" I scream into the phone before he can continue. Had he forgotten where he was? All these calls are being monitored, everything is on camera.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Pookie?" I question stern.
He chuckles and puts his head down before it pops back up again.
"I took care of it, is what I'm trying to say. That's what I'm trying to say to you." He motions with his hand."That's what I'm tryna say."
I stare at him, my eyes wide and wild. I knew what he meant but I didn't want to ask anymore questions and I didn't want him to be there anymore.
I knew what he meant.
I knew.
I knew as soon as I saw the back of his fucked up little head that he wasn't okay. That he had done something out of character. And now, I watch as it eats him alive in front of me.
"Listen to me." I say, my voice breaking slightly. "You need to leave and I don't just mean here. You need to LEAVE."
"Man, you buggin. I ain't goin nowhere." He mumbles moving back on his chair.
He laughs again, spastic.
"Should have saw his face." He adds.
"POOKIE! Get the fuck out!" I scream.
The gaurd looks at me momentarily confused. I signal to him an apology for screaming.
Pookie's eyes stare at me hard. As if for a moment I've gotten through to him.
Tears roll down my face.
"I love you man but you need to leave... and I swear to God you better not be on no shit. I'll beat your ass as soon as I'm out this bitch. Please go. Get a plane ticket, my mom has some extra money. Go see her. She's gonna check if you on no shit and let me know. She's gonna give you some money. Take it. Get your clothes. Get the fuck out until I get out of here. Do you understand?" I whisper stern.
Pookie's eyes look scared for a moment. He swallows hard. I get a small glimpse of a lost child, scared and alone.
"No one saw me do-" He begins.
"I swear to God if you say ONE MORE-" I begin.
"HEY!" The guard's deep voice yells. I apologize again for being loud. "Nope, visiting times are over. Let's go." The guard snaps back.
"Do what I told you to do. NOW!" I say before I hang up the phone.
Pookie remains seated on the chair, his breathing sharp and visible. His scared eyes watch me leave.
I held his glare and turned around before I let him see my eyes begin to water.
_______________________
"Ma, please help him. He needs you right now." I whisper low into the phone. My hands cup the receiver so no one else can hear me.
I haven't been able to shower for a few days as rival gangs occupy the bathrooms until they settle whatever beef they have going on. You learn not to complain, not to get involved. You learn that eventually in this place, things figure themselves out. Whoever is supposed to get jumped, gets jumped and then things go back to whatever normal is in jail.
I can smell myself through my clothes and my jumpsuit shaves me in more places than I can imagine. My mother sounds lost on the phone and worried. I can tell she wants to cry but she holds back.
"Baby, I just don't understand. Please explain to me what's going on." She pleads.
"I can't, I just need you to check on him, make sure he's healthy then give him the $500 for the plane ticket." I say calmly, hoping that my calm will make her calm.
"I had the doctor run some tests, there are drugs in his system, Trevon. I can't be involved in whatever Pookie is tied up in. " She admits. I feel a lump in my throat and a rock in my chest.
"What?" I question, needing to hear it again.
"We found different substances in his bloodstream... and it's not marijuana. We found that too but I know that's not why you asked me to test him." She adds.
"What was it?" I question trying not to let her hear how upset I was getting but it's hard to hide that from Mom.
"It's bad baby. It's bad." She mumbles.
"Where is he now?" I question.
"We're preparing him for release. We had him over night and he's doing a lot better. Going through a bit of withdrawal but we can't keep him and not have him on the books, I'll lose my job." She whispers hurt.
"He's going to come by the house tonight. Just give him the money and an extra couple hundred, take it from the money Chanel's been sending." I say begging.
"Okay. Where is he going?" Ma asks.
"Ma please with the questions. Just do what I'm asking. It will be over soon." I answer.
She sighs and sniffles a bit.
"Ma..." I call quietly.
She breathes into the phone and when she talks I can barely understand.
"I raised you all, I just don't understand what's going on. You're in jail, Pookie is on that shit. Where did I go wrong? What did I do?" She cries now, her voice muffled and distorted.
Tears come to my eyes. I scan the hall before I bring my wrists up to wipe the water from my face.
"Let me know when he leaves for the flight. Thank you." I say before hanging up the phone.
I clear my throat and walk out to the hallway where a guard escorts me back to my cell.