BOUNDLESS (Mama's Story) (8 page)

“We’re done here,” I said. “Do you hear me? Don’t approach me again.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune once you know what I have to offer,” Tama said, looking me up and down. I hated the way her eyes roved my body. It made me feel dirty. “I can make you feel so, so good.”

“No thanks,” I said. “The next time you touch me, you’ll be singing a different tune. You’ll be spitting out your own teeth for weeks.”

I stalked to the garbage can and dumped my tray.

“Hey! What was wrong with lunch?”

Marlee was there when I turned around. I realized that I’d barely touched my food, but I wasn’t hungry. Not after Tama’s advances.

“It was all delicious,” I assured my cellmate. “I’ve just got to get going to the GED class.”

“I know it was delicious,” Marlee said. “I made it, after all. I just get concerned when I see inmates throwing away perfectly good food—especially inmates who told me they loved my cooking. You weren’t lying to me, were you?”

“I lost my appetite,” I said. “That’s all there is to it. It’s definitely me, not you.”

Marlee laughed. “Famous last words,” she said. “It’s me, not you.”

“I’ll see you later,” I said, waving her off.

The GED class was in the library, and I was insecure, at first. I didn’t like going to the class because I didn’t like people knowing I didn’t finish high school. Hell, I’d barely started it. But there was such a crowd in the class that I felt a little better. There were plenty of girls who were in my exact situation.

Chatting in between worksheets, they talked about the different reasons they didn’t finish.

“I had a baby,” one of them said.

“I had to work to help support my family,” another said.

“I just hated it,” another laughed, shrugging. “Never thought I’d need to know this shit.”

I breezed through the math portion of the class, having enough success for several of my classmates to ask for my help. But the reading and writing portion killed me. Numbers were finite, predictable, and reliable. But words could do anything. They could shift into different forms, take on a myriad of tenses with little warning. And spelling? Forget it. I labored through reading a short article, then had to reread it several more times to understand it enough to respond to the questions that accompanied it.

“The best thing to do about struggles with reading and writing is to read and write,” our instructor told us. “Read whatever you can get your hands on. It doesn’t have to be literature. It can be a magazine, a newspaper, a romance novel.”

Several inmates tittered at that.

“I encourage each and every one of you who are having troubles with reading to check out a book from the library today,” the instructor continued, undeterred. “Take it back to your cell. Read it whenever you get any free time. Remember—it can be anything. Pick something you’re interested in.”

We all fanned out through the library, searching for books that interested us. Unless there was a book full of numbers—or full of hooch—I was really not interested. Finally, I pulled the slimmest novel off the shelf that I could find, checking it out with the inmate manning the desk.

“You read that one before?” she asked me, pointing at the book. I hadn’t even read the title.

“Nope,” I said, examining it dispassionately. “Is it any good? The GED instructor said we all needed to check out books for homework.”

“That one’s awesome,” the inmate said. “Super romantic. Really beautiful. It’s like poetry.”

“Poetry?” I said, my head jerking back down to the title. “This was in the fiction section. Maybe I better get something different.”

“No, no,” the inmate said. “I said it was like poetry. It’s really beautifully written. The language is like a song. It’s not difficult to read. You should definitely give it a try.
A Message to Jasmine
is like my favorite book.”

I shuddered at the name Jasmine. Too many bad memories with that one.

“I’ll try,” I said uncertainly, weighing the book in my hand. Honestly, I’d wanted the shortest book possible, and this was the thinnest book I’d spotted. I just wanted to try to do what the GED instructor said. I didn’t care if the book was good or not. I only wanted to complete the program.

I left the library and went back to the cell, but Marlee wasn’t there. She was getting ready for dinner, I figured. Without much else to do, I opened the hateful book to a random page and started reading laboriously, forming each word on the page with my lips.

“I’m cursed, just like my entire family before me has been cursed,” Jasmine said. “This is my destiny.”

“They only destiny that exists is the one that you choose for yourself,” the stranger said. The sea punctuated his words, the waves pounding on the rocks below them.

“You’re wrong, stranger,” Jasmine said. “The only destiny I have is the curse. It says I must die, and so I will. My only comfort is that I am the last of my family. No one else will suffer this curse but me.”

“Then the curse is a blessing,” the stranger said, weaving his fingers through the grass at their feet.

“Wrong again,” she said, tossing her head in the wind, her long hair streaming behind her. “I hate the curse. It is evil. It takes everything.”

“You will see that not everything is pure evil,” the stranger said, standing and offering her his hand. “And you will see that not everything is pure good. There are shadows to every light, and light to every shadow.”

I blinked, wondering if I was reading it correctly. Something had to be wrong. I was incredibly enchanted.
There are shadows to every light, and light to every shadow.
I’d never gotten along with reading or the written word, but this resonated within me somehow.

Shadows to every light, and light to every shadow.
I formed every word with my lips, tasting the rhythm of the idea. It meant—it meant that none of us was all bad, and none of us was all good. We had shades of both within us. No one was perfect.

The flow of inmates in the hallway outside the cell let me know that it was time for dinner. I seemed to float there, buoyed by the words I’d just read. I hadn’t been able to understand all of it, but I’d understood enough to be enchanted. The inmate in the library had been right. This was magical stuff.

When I sat down at my usual table, I found that I couldn’t keep quiet about the door in my mind that had just been opened.

“Have any of you ladies ever read
A Message to Jasmine
?” I asked.

“Fuck yes,” an inmate said intensely, grabbing my hand and making me drop my plastic fork. “That book changed my goddamn life.”

“We’ve all read it,” another said. “Well, practically all of us. Don’t tell me you’re only just getting around to it.”

“Guilty,” I admitted. “It just wasn’t on my radar. I picked it up at the library today.”

“I want to read it again,” another girl moaned. “Will you hurry up with it so I can check it out next?”

“I’m a slow reader, but I’ll do my best,” I promised. Honestly, I wanted to keep that book as long as possible. I wanted to savor every word of that rich language. It made me feel like a different person. It made me feel like anything was possible.

The girls started chatting about their favorite parts of the book, but I wasn’t upset at the spoilers. It helped me to understood what I’d read in the time before dinner, made me look forward to continuing to read it. I hadn’t had anything to look forward to for a long time.

Dinner was made even better with Tama not there. It made me relax. Even the food tasted extra good. I figured the book had something to do with that. My heart felt open to the poetry.

After dinner, I went back to the cell and waited excitedly for Marlee. I wanted to tell her all about my day—the commissary, the GED class, and especially the book.

“Have you ever read
A Message to Jasmine
?” I gushed the moment she walked in.

“Who hasn’t?” she asked. “We passed it around like contraband when the library first got it. It’s quite a love story. Quite a life story, too.”

“I’m reading it for my GED class,” I said. “It’s pretty much amazing, sugar. I’ve never liked a book this much. In fact, I usually hate reading.”

“I’m glad you’re liking it,” Marlee said. She looked a little troubled.

“What about you?” I asked. “Did you not have a good day?”

“I’m worried about you,” she admitted.

“About me?” I asked. “I don’t understand. I had a good day. I worked at the commissary and I went to my GED class. I’m—I’m going to your meeting tomorrow. I told you I would.”

“It’s about Tama,” Marlee said. “I heard that she’s been pursuing you.”

“She can pursue me all she wants, sugar,” I laughed, waving dismissively. “She’s not the first and I hope she won’t be the last.”

“You don’t understand,” my cellmate said. “Tama wants you, and Tama always gets what she wants.”

I frowned at that. Willow had told me something similar.

“Well, I don’t want Tama,” I said. “I made that very clear today, sugar, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“That just makes her want you even more,” Marlee said. “She likes the hunt. You need to be very careful. Try not to be alone.”

“Alone?” I laughed again. “This is prison, doll. You’re never alone.”

“You are sometimes,” Marlee said, “often enough to make it easy for someone to jump you. In the showers. In the hallway, walking to work or to a class or something. I’m going to enlist some people to make sure you have an escort for the next few weeks.”

“That sounds ridiculous,” I scoffed. “I don’t need any sort of escort.”

“You will need one,” Marlee said, “unless you want to become Tama’s bitch. And she’ll make you her bitch. You can count on that.”

“Nobody makes me their bitch,” I said, propelling myself off my bed. “Least of all that bitch. I’ll handle her, and I can handle myself.”

“You don’t understand,” Marlee insisted again. “Tama always gets what she wants. There hasn’t been anyone who’s been able to resist her in the end.”

“Has she ever come on to you?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“No,” Marlee said. “Tama has very specific tastes in women.”

I eyed the differences between Marlee and me. She was thin, white, blonde. I was thick, black, dark haired.

“You’re saying she likes big, black women,” I concluded.

“You fit the bill,” Marlee said, throwing her hands up. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Well, she can’t have me,” I said. “I’m not interested. I’m not going to play that game.”

“You can’t not play it,” Marlee said. “Don’t you see? This is prison. You’re locked up in here with her. For most women, it’s easier just to give in to her. Get it over with. She’ll eventually find another target and move on. If you drag it out, it’ll be worse for you. She won’t be able to help herself.”

“I’m not just going to roll over and give it to her,” I said, wrinkling my nose with disgust. “There’s not a single person on this planet I’d do that for.”

“Then you should accept the escort,” Marlee pushed. “Get Cheryl to walk with you to lunch. Buddy up with some of the GED girls—walk with them to and from class. Don’t be in the cell alone. Stick with Willow’s friends. You need to build a support system around you and fast. Tama won’t try for you unless you’re alone.”