In This Life Read online

  Minutes later, a man clad in janitorial attire walked out of the building. In his late fifties with his baldhead shining, he looked the hard-working fatherly type. Sasha could tell he was complimenting Freddy on his clothes by the way he was pulling on them, trying to get Freddy to smile. They walked to the car.

  “Sasha, this is Smitty.”

  The old man looked at Sasha and then at the expensive car. He took a step closer, rubbing his hand down the fender. “Damn, son, you musta hit heaven’s lottery, and one of His angels is right here with you.” Sasha blushed.

  He took advantage of his view by looking down the meaty cleavage of her blouse. Her long curly hair cascaded down her shoulders, the wind haven given it that wild, untamed look that some men find irresistible.

  She moved her shades, throwing her hair back, looking him in the eyes. She knew the effect she had on men and now she flaunted it. It felt right, but most of all; she did it to impress Freddy.

  “Sweet Jesus, girl, you could make an old man like me hurt himself,” Smitty said, peering down at her.

  “Sasha, give the man fifty dollars.” Freddy said it like an order, and she realized he was showing off for Smitty. She reached into the back seat, and the old man’s eyes followed her curves hungrily as her dress rode up her thighs.

  She passed him the money and noticed that his fingernails were cracked and dirty as he tried to touch her hand in the exchange. They watched him dig into his pockets, still eye-balling her. He retrieved two plastic laminated cards with the words “Visitor” written in capital letters on each.

  Just as he was about to hand them to Sasha, Freddy snatched them, smiling congenially, “That’s enough flirting for one day, ole man.” Smitty scratched his head and then his butt, as if it were a ritual for enhanced cognition, shrugged his shoulders, and mumbled something about “…rags to riches…” as he shuffled off.

  “You’re going to need a coat or sweater or something. There’s something about institutions…they’re all cold and dreary places.” Sasha didn’t say a word, even though her mind was teeming with questions. There was no other way than to let him lead, and they had already come so far. This was the part of his life that she had never known.

  Freddy watched her pop open the trunk. She pulled out a black, cashmere sweater and put it on. If they had not been in a hurry, he might have asked her how she knew where to find the keys. She had her ways, as usual.

  They entered the asylum, the smell of disinfectant and fear hitting them in the face as they walked onto grayish marble floors buffed to a waxy high gloss. Somewhere in the distance, a loudspeaker blared, instructing someone to dial an extension.

  Up ahead, Freddy saw Smitty the janitor standing in his usual spot. A line was forming at the check-in station. Freddy paid no attention to the cops as he walked right past, Sasha holding tightly to his hand as they navigated the eddy of people and passed the security identification and clearance area. Once past, Freddy handed Sasha one of the Visitor ID tags and told her to pin it on her sweater. Freddy could see Smitty watching them furtively as they penetrated further into the asylum.

  A formidable sign was posted over a set of elevator doors, “WARNING: All persons are subject to search. No gum or candy is permitted. You must be over 21 years of age and have two valid photo ID’s.”

  Two huge, burly correctional officers stood on each side of the walk through metal detectors. Their girth was intimidating. Sasha was astonished to find that one of them was a woman, a very masculine lesbian looking woman.

  “Take everything out of your pockets and place it on the table,” the woman barked. Sasha got in line behind Freddy. She placed her hand in his back pocket, and he turned, smiling at her.

  “It’s cool baby,” he said, reading her face, bending down and pecking her forehead with a kiss.

  “Next!” Freddy walked up to the metal detector.

  “Remove everything from your pockets, sir, and slowly step through the detector.” He placed a large wad of cash, some loose change, and an Afro pick on the table and then stepped through.

  Sasha was next. A long line had formed behind her. Freddy could tell she was nervous. She placed her purse on the table, and the male officer dumped it out, pawing through its contents. When she stepped through the metal detector, it shrieked loudly as red lights flashed around its perimeter. Sasha thought to herself how ridiculous she must look as everyone stared at her impatiently. With careful poise, she turned to the large woman. “Ma’am, I don’t know what could have set it off.” She instantly regretted calling the woman, “Ma’am.

  The corpulent officer ignored her pleas and bellowed, “Walk back through!”

  Sasha did as the woman ordered and this time, the machine seemed to scream even louder. Sasha’s shoulders slumped and Freddy stood aside feeling helpless. All he could do was watch.

  “Do you have dentures, implants, prostheses or jewelry on other parts of your body…” The woman listed a number of things, and obediently Sasha stood there nodding her head at the big woman, feeling like a three-year-old, hoping that she would just let her go.

  The woman then looked at Sasha’s breasts. “What about your bra?”

  Sasha was about to shake her head no when she remembered that she had just recently purchased all new lingerie, and that her size 38C brassiere had an underwire cup support. Relieved, she smiled, “Ma’am, it’s my bra… It has metal in it.”

  The woman walked up so close that Sasha could see hair under of her chins. “Please follow me.”

  Sasha looked at Freddy, but he flashed her a I-don’t-know face. She placed all the articles back in her purse and followed the woman down the hall into a ladies restroom. Freddy and Smitty exchanged long distance glances. The old man was shaking his head.

  Inside the bathroom, the officer instructed Sasha to remove all her clothes.

  “For what?” Sasha asked with an attitude, her body language defiant.

  “So that you can be allowed to visit,” the woman said calmly as she ran a fat tongue over thin pink lips. “This is standard procedure. Did you read the sign out front?” The woman’s voice echoed eerily in the tiled room

  Sasha could hear a note of anticipation in the woman’s voice, and her breathing had quickened. Sasha felt humiliated. “But it’s only my bra!” She stomped her foot stubbornly in a futile attempt to rebuff the large woman’s command.

  “You will remove your clothes now, or you will not be allowed to visit.” With that said, the woman looked at her wristwatch. Sasha squinted her eyes at her and they just stared at each other for a long moment. A stertorous huff escaped the dyke’s mouth as she started to turn for the door.

  “Okay!” Sasha’s resolve disappeared. She imaged Freddy outside worried, waiting on her, and then to be turned away. She began to remove her clothes. It took everything in her power not to give this fat white bitch a piece of her ghetto mind. She bit down so hard on her bottom lip that it bruised. Standing in only her panties and bra, she shuddered.

  “The bra?” The woman held her hand out, fingers gyrating.

  Sasha removed the bra and passed it to the officer. She noticed the woman wasn’t paying any attention to the bra, but was instead leering wolfishly at the area between her legs. She read the officer’s mind, she now wanted Sasha to take off her panties.

  In an amiable voice that was inebriate with lust and the closeness of Sasha’s sybaritic body, the officer stuttered, “Er…are you a model or something?”

  With that hesitance, the once omnipotent dyke was reduced to nothing in Sasha’s eyes. The woman had lost her edge, she was weak, just like a man in matters of the flesh. “Hell naw, I ain’t no damn model, but I am a mad bitch about to go the fuck off in this muthafucka!”

  Sasha stepped forward and quickly snatched the bra from the woman, startling her. Hell’s fire flared in her eyes as Sasha quickly dressed, never once taking her eyes off the fat lady.

  Strangely intimidated, no, she was petrified by what she at first
thought would be a meekly beautiful girl, like all the rest of women the officer enjoyed harassing. This girl was a lot different, and the bathroom had never looked so small and congested as it was with just the two of them in there.

  Fully dressed, but disheveled, Sasha stormed out of the restroom past the officer, slamming the door behind her right in the officer’s face. Heads turned and people stared.

  Freddy looked up to see her approaching, her left eye saccadic, her chest heaving, and two buttons of blouse undone. “What happened in there?” he asked just as the female guard stepped out of the restroom. Sasha just shook her head, fuming, not trusting her voice to speak.

  They boarded the elevator with a group of other visitors. They got off at the seventh floor, where another officer was waiting. Instantly the officer recognized Freddy. “Hey, young buck! You’re looking good, my man.” Freddy gave the guard a weak smile.

  They walked down a corridor of steel doors, thick, as if they encased some kind of monster. In some cases, they did. The cacophony of agony and tortured anger, maladies of a caged mind, was broken by a linear giggle, and like a blotch staining a white dress, it stood out, following them as they walked. At each cell door a new face, a new howling, and always, always the sounds were expressions of pain.

  They stopped. As the officer got ready to open the cell door, Sasha looked at the face peering from a cell across the hall. A pink face, ashen, with dark greenish bags beneath the eyes, stared at her. The lips were so severely cracked, they had creases in them from bleeding. The face was one of insanity. It’s breath fogged up the small glass window in the door.

  “Heeey, heeey, heeey fuckin’ nigger,” and then the laugh, “Eeeee, ha, ha, ha.” The voice trailed off into a throaty giggle. Sasha looked at his chalky white lips creased with scabbed lines and moved closer to Freddy, who seemed not to notice.

  The officer inserted the large key in the door, but for some reason, Sasha couldn’t keep her eyes off the raving lunatic. She had seen insane people before, but never in real life, just in the movies. The guard opened the door, and Sasha peeked inside over the officer’s shoulder. What she saw made her legs buckle.

  The officer spoke sympathetically, placing his hand on Freddy’s shoulder. “She has been doing very well. I just don’t understand why they always keep her so sedated with all that damn medication.” Somberly he shook his head. “Y’all go on in and try to have a good time. She is such a sweet woman. I’m supposed to stand post, as you know, but I never do when you visit her. She’s such a sweet old lady. Y’all have a nice time. Hello, Mrs. Thugstin,” the officer said, waving a hand, walking away.

  They entered and Sasha closed the steel door behind them. Metal clanged against steel. Directly in front of her in the dim light, a figure sat hunched in front of a window. The window bars cast tenebrous lines across the marble floor. The room held a musty dampness, completely barren except for the metal toilet and sink, and right next to it, a small bed.

  Freddy’s shoulders slumped. “Mamma,” he said barely above a whisper.

  The head turned slowly in their direction. “Freddy?”

  “Mamma!” He staggered across the room, falling to his knees, placing his head on his mother’s lap.

  “Chile, you just as determined as you wanna be,” she said, her words slurred as she affectionately caressed his hair.

  “Mamma, I told you I’ma take you outta this bad place.” He fought with his emotions. Sasha stared feeling a lump in her throat, a timorous shiver seized her body, the room was freezing cold. She watched the scene unfold before her eyes. Mrs. Thugstin’s left arm twitched uncontrollably from the side effects of the potent drugs. Freddy stood up, looking over at Sasha embarrassed, and kissed his mother on both cheeks.

  “Baby, you’ve lost a lot of weight,” his mother said, pulling at the waistline of his pants.

  “Mamma, I brought someone with me.” His voice perked up as he smiled for the first time, looking at Sasha.

  Mrs. Thugstin turned to look behind Freddy and instantly her hand nervously mopped at the nappy kinks of her hair. It looked as if it hadn’t been combed in years.

  “It’s Sasha, Mamma.”

  “Who?”

  “Sasha Jinkins, Mamma.” Even in her drug induced haze, the name sounded vaguely familiar.

  “Hi, Mrs. Thugstin,” Sasha said, taking a step forward with her hands folded in front of her. The words came out choked, strained, and Sasha immediately regretted the sound of her voice.

  The other woman did not respond, acting like she didn’t even hear her. Nowadays, her mind was slow with the inertia of strong drugs. She just stared at Sasha, trying to unravel the mystery that confronted her. Her frail hand shook as it mopped at her nappy head. And then she began to laugh.

  Sasha noticed she laughed with Freddy’s eyes. He turned and looked at Sasha apologetically, as if to say he didn’t know what was wrong with mother. She then pointed at Sasha, her laughter subsiding, and smiled congenially with the same smile with which she had blessed her handsome son. Sasha could clearly see where he got his good looks.

  They watched as the woman reached through the fog of her mind, and found Sasha ten-years old with two big ponytails in her hair. “Lawd-have-murch-Jesus, you’ve grown up to be a very beautiful girl.” She chuckled, “I remember you used to chase my poor baby home from school every day, slapping him upside his head.” They all broke out in laughter. The rope of tension was released and most of the laughter was relief that her mental faculties were still capable of humor. As if daydreaming, she began to rock back and forth in the chair, her right arm occasionally jerking.

  Sasha walked right up to her and gave her a hug. Freddy watched as both of the women he loved embraced. Freddy heard a whimper come from somewhere in the hug. As they released he notice that Sasha was crying, her face covered in tears. She turned and looked at him accusingly. “All these years you never told me or anyone, and the whole time you were traveling all this way to see your mother.” Sasha shook her head, determined not to ruin this gently moment. Through her tears, she managed to smile, not bothering to wipe her face. “I…I’m pregnant with Freddy’s child,” she said quietly.

  “Y’all finna make me a grandmother?” Mrs. Thugstin asked. “How many months are you?”

  “Almost three,” Sasha responded, rubbing the slight swell in her belly.

  Freddy watched the two women’s behavior as he witnessed one of the most phenomenal acts of Black women. The two women ran their mouths casually, while Sasha walked over and, reaching into her purse, removed a brush and comb along with some kind of pink gel. Mrs. Thugstin adjusted her sitting position and then began to run her hands through her hair. It was like some kind of old ritual. Sasha oiled and combed out his mother’s hair and began to plait it into a stylish corn roll. They talked as if he was not even there. “Women,” he thought, listening to them gossip about what had been going on in the neighborhood since his mom had been away.

  Bored to death and feeling left out, he just looked at them. Sasha made a face, sticking her tongue out at him. He smiled with warmth that he had not felt in a long time. He walked over, sat down on the bed, and his mind traveled around the small cramped cell before drifting back to a dreary December morning when all of this started.

  He was sitting in class when it happened. His head began to hurt something awful, the riveting crimson lines tinged his mind, running on the back of his eyes, again a déjà vu of visions. They always hurt like this, only now the pain seemed worse, and there were vivid, gruesome impressions, silhouettes etched in his mind.

  The teacher stopped what she was doing to ask Freddy if he was feeling all right. Freddy could feel the rest of the class staring at him. He could also hear a scream inside his head. Eyes glaring wide open, he lunged from the chair, sending it tumbling as he ran from the classroom and all the way home for four blocks. Up the stairs of his house, he pushed open the door and the gory scene rushed at him. Rivulets of blood everywhere, he almost slippe
d in it. His mother stood there, paralyzed with fear. A pistol lay on the floor next to his father’s lifeless body. His eyes were open, his face had an angry scowl, as if his dad had tried to put up a fight.

  Freddy reached down to touch the body, but it was cold, and he was certain his father was dead. He cried hysterically. His mother just stood there rubbing a spot on her arm. She then began to make a low sound between a moan and a growl, almost animalistic. With her mouth closed, it came from somewhere in her throat, it got louder and louder. Freddy called out, “Mamma! Mamma!” She was in a trance, just rubbing at her arm, looking at the dead body and that strange noise coming from somewhere deep within her.

  Freddy called the police. It seemed like they arrived in just minutes. Helpless, he watched as his mother was handcuffed and carted off to jail while his father lay dead, looking at them. That impression would be forever imprinted in Freddy’s mind.

  Months later, justice would move swiftly, and Freddy’s mother would be found guilty by reason of insanity, and sentenced to the Institution for the Criminally Insane for the murder of her husband.

  Afterwards, Freddy lived a nomadic life, but swore to get his mother out of that place. He ran away from the Department of Child Welfare and Human Services, as well as from his derelict aunts who wanted him for no other reason than the extra income from the state assistance programs.

  Sasha was just finishing his mother’s hair when he walked over and gently took hold of his mother’s wrist. She looked up at her son’s eyes in surprise, her arm tried to jerk. Freddy held it steady, willing her to delve into the still dormant chambers of her mind. She held all the answers, the keys to the locks.

  “Mom, I know that you didn’t kill Daddy--,” she flinched uncontrollably, “but please, try to remember… What happened when you walked in the door and first seen Daddy?”

  She swayed her head from side to side in a sweeping motion like she was trying to repel some invisible force. “Ooh, God,” she drawled, her eyes watering as if about to cry.