The 'N' Word, Book 1 (23 page)

“You’re tired? How about dead? Would you prefer to be dead, Mia? When he gets out he might be one of those crazed maniacs that slices throats for fun. He is seeing a damn psychiatrist!”

“Mia, almost all inmates are required to see a psychiatrist and, for your information, that is the right thing to do! If you were in prison, you may want to see one as well. It’s a really rough life.”

“What kinda shit are you on, Mia? I refuse to believe you’re this stupid!”

“I’m not taking anything, damn it.” She heard the woman sigh. “Why do you think I didn’t tell you? Because of this sort of reaction right here! And besides, this is different than you think. This pen pal program is really helping him. So what that I enjoy talking to him? We have a connection that I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Do you see how you sound?! You’re gettin’ in over your head. You look for his letters in the mail, you creep away into your bedroom after they arrive, and then you read them over and over as if they are the declarations of a long lost lover that has gone off to war. You’re falling for him. You’ve been cooped up in that house so long, you’re starting to lose your mind, not to mention dealin’ with all those kids with all those problems! Mia, I’m saying this because I care… You’re crackin’ up.”

The woman on the other end was silent for a moment or two, entirely too damn long.

“Mia…”

“Yes?”

“Cut it out! Don’t write that man another single letter. You made him feel better, okay, fine. Your good deed is done now be finished with it all.”

“I can’t…and I don’t want to.”

“And just why the hell not?”

“Because…I really care about him, Trudy.” She yawned, seemingly unmoved by the severity of the situation, and disregarded her screams and curses. Mia barely argued with her that evening… now
that
was unheard of.

“Mia… tell me something, please. Have you seen him?”

There was no answer, as if her cousin’s voice had been sucked into a damn vacuum, never to return.

“You have, haven’t you?”

“Yes…”

“Where, how, and why?!”

“The prison… I have my ways… because I needed to put a face with the letters, see who I was speaking with.”

“…And what did he look like?”

“Danger covered in flesh, hot flames jumping in his bright eyes, tall as a city building, wide and hard as a brick wall covered in graffiti and just…damn…near…beautiful. Trudy…you just don’t understand. We understand each other so well… Yeah, I like him, okay? I like him as more than a friend. I didn’t mean for this to happen, but it did, and neither you nor nobody else is goin’ to make me stop speaking to him. We’ve all made mistakes and we’ve all needed forgiveness. You ain’t a saint, and we’re all sinners. Now give me my damn letter back and leave me the hell alone about it… I have an early morning ahead of me.”

Trudy placed her hand over her chest, taken aback by the shocking declarations. She’d expected the typical rundown of hair color, height, things of that nature. Instead, Mia flooded her with poetic words, and cursed her out, too…

“Jesus … Mia, you’ve done gone and fallen in love with a felon! God help you!”

T
HE STEELY BARS
felt colder than usual…

He wrapped his hand around one, and then the other, pushing aside the loud moans from down the way as he simply stood there, married to thoughts he hadn’t had in so many years. But his deliberations were choppy, interrupted time and time again. A prisoner wailed out, demanding to be heard despite repeated ignored protests. Aaron’s palms felt cool against the iron, and as he took a deep breath, he inhaled the stale air. He slowly looked to his left then to his right, becoming strangely more aware of his surroundings; in a different way, things were sinking in, messing with his mind, slowly tearing him apart…

He felt more than ever like an animal behind bars, caged, shackled. Being believed to be dangerous had its pros and cons, but this time, it was definitely a con. He found himself gripping the damned bars, over and over like stress balls, wishing he had the power to melt them away with a mere glance. The man he’d stomped into soup had slipped into a coma, and his new attorney, an intelligent, sly guy he’d had the pleasure of getting to know as of late, was working diligently on obtaining statements that would corroborate his side of the thing. Regardless, for the first time, he was beginning to lose hope.

Maybe Donna was right all along… Maybe I’ve got too much of a past and this time, I’m just not gettin’ out of this…

He made his way back to his bed then looked lazily up at the sliver of a window in his bunk. The damn thing had a row of bars too, a prison cell within a prison cell as it were. A wispy trace of sunshine broke through, making him smile ever so slightly. Grunting a bit, he placed his arm across his ribcage. He’d worked out a bit too rigorously, doing pushups to the triple digits to burn off some steam, but he went on and ignored the discomfort. Instead, he concentrated on something much more pleasant…

A new letter from Melissa…

A package really, not a letter. Wrapped in bright red paper, the box had been taped back together after a thorough penitentiary inspection. He surmised she’d had it looking much prettier before security had gotten a hold of it – clawed into the thing like the motherfucking monsters they were.

He took his sweet time removing the thick streams of clear tape, digging his short nails under the grooves of the cardboard and lifting the flaps just so to expose the bounty. The scent of rich chocolate and sweet vanilla immediately surrounded him. On one side of the box was a clear Ziploc bag full of what appeared to be chocolate chip cookies. He grabbed it, pulled the yellow and blue lines apart and sniffed it… inhaling the delicious aroma.

I could almost bite the air and taste these right this second.

She bakes… The woman fucking cooks, cleans, teaches, writes, walks, travels, laughs, and bakes… These smell so damn good!

He placed the heavy box down beside him and delicately opened another sandwich bag, exposing more dessert-like treats. Sliding his hand into the thing, he removed what appeared to be a small piece of homemade fudge cake, and then another, savoring the sweetness that tasted like heaven going down. His fingertips were now coated in the chocolaty mess, so he did as he would have a child, and licked them clean.

Brushing the crumbs away from his lap, he took his time perusing the box further. More things sat inside – packs of spearmint gum, a fancy blue and gray toothbrush, a couple of pairs of thick white socks, and a blank journal with two brand new silver pens. Her letter had been oddly sent as a separate delivery. He’d placed it neatly folded along the side of the container with the rest of the items, but refused to read it just yet. He wanted to save the best for last…

He continued to forage through the items until he’d tasted what could be savored and inspected the rest. Finally, all that remained was the letter… this time written on hot pink paper and smelling of red vine licorice.

“Mmmmm…” He smiled and placed it directly under his nostrils, eyes closed. At that moment, he imagined her sitting on his lap. He envisioned wrapping his arms around the sweet little thing, drawing her close, and planting a kiss against her lovely neck. Jerking himself out of the deliberations, he heated with internal embarrassment at his body’s response to such a fantasy. Looking down at his crotch, he shook his head in disbelief…

…A damn hard on…

He spread out the tri-folded papers and started reading, taking special care to relish each and every word written…

Dear Aaron,

Thank you for the letter you sent to me a couple of days ago. I read your beautiful poem. I know you stated poetry isn’t really your thing, but it is mine, and I’m promising you that you did a great job. We have something else in common now. I must admit that it took me a bit by surprise. I also have a confession. Though I stated that it would be ill-advised for me to date a man that is imprisoned, I must admit that you truly intrigue me, and I want to know more. I find your communication style refreshing, your honesty a relief, and the way you present yourself remarkable. I think about you in between letters now. I can’t believe I just wrote that…

He paused, unable to remove the smile from his face as his chest puffed with pride. “I’ve got ’er now!” he whispered to himself.

I wonder what you’re doing, and sometimes daydream about you, wishing that things were different, such as you not being in there. You are intelligent and know exactly what you want out of life. I like that, Aaron. As the daughter of a preacher, I have been taught the value of compassion and forgiveness. None of us are without sin. You’ve committed a crime. You haven’t disputed that you committed the crime in question. The details, I do not know of, though I would like to, for my own understanding. I care about you; I have feelings for you, Aaron, so it is time I get a better understanding of what has happened. I would like for you to tell me, actually, in your own words, why you are in prison.

I am really big on hearing, as they say, the truth out of the horse’s mouth. What I do know is that no sin is worse than another, though at times we act as if that isn’t true. I’m a sinner, you’re a sinner, we all are sinners. And that leads me to my next train of thought.

I am beginning to second-guess myself, Aaron. I am not sinless, as I stated, so why do I have the right to write you off as anything more than a friend if I in fact like what you are presenting to me? I am worried, however. My rational mind is telling me that this is not a good idea; yet, I can’t deny my attraction to your words and the way you conduct yourself. I don’t consider myself to be easily swayed, but you do something to me. Just know that I am wishing you the best and you’ve impressed me beyond words. I have to protect myself, be cautious, and use discretion. I have a career that I love, and don’t want that jeopardized due to poor judgment, but… I feel how I feel…

It is a strange place to be in, mentally, at least… to be emotionally attracted to someone you can’t actually have, are not certain it is wise to get romantically involved with, and don’t have all the information needed to make a completely informed choice about. I suppose nothing is accomplished without taking a risk or two, though, and quite honestly, we’re already involved. I’ve read your letters countless times; you’ve already told me you want me on more than one occasion. I didn’t want to say it, but I am now. I want you, too.

Well, in conclusion, I look forward to your next letter and hope that the words I’ve shared with you help you in some way, since that has always been my main objective despite how my heart feels. Your well being will always come first, Aaron. I am telling you that, yes, we can move forward, see how it goes.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your gifts and can make use out of many of them.

Until next time,

Melissa

Aaron’s heart swelled in his damn chest as brand new excitement grew within him. He looked up at the tiny window once more, and broke out in yet another smile, this one coated with the sheen of renewed promise – an opportunity to spread one’s wings and forge a true blue relationship, with a woman he’d begun to obsess about.

On a swallow he reached out to the bedside table and retrieved a pad of paper, then uncapped one of the brand new, shiny pens the woman had gifted him. Placing the tip to the paper, he let the black ink flow, and before he knew it, he was filling up page after page until his hand cramped. He didn’t pause to give himself a moment of rest. No, the ideas were coming, and each line proved more important than the last until finally, the entire letter had been drafted. He eagerly waited for the thing to be carted away and sent off, and something he hadn’t felt in so long came and tapped him on the shoulder, whispered in his ear and declared secrets all along the way…

…He was falling in love, and… he liked it…