“Yeah?”
“I would never let anyone hurt you. You know that, right?”
My breath caught. After Ahmad. After everything I’d been through. To hear a man say that…
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I know.”
He tapped the roof of my car twice. Stepped back.
I drove away, watching him shrink in my rearview mirror.
My heart was racing. My lips were tingling. My whole body felt warm in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
Thad was different. I could feel it.
Maybe this was what healing felt like.
13
ZAINAB
I circled my hand around my belly, feeling where babygirl was kicking me. My little princess was active and letting me know she hated being in jail.
“I know, sweetie. Me too,” I responded to her.
The Los Angeles County jail was just as dank and depressing as the DC jail, not that I expected anything better.
The flight had been long as hell. Uncomfortable. My ankles were swollen from the shackles, my wrists raw from the cuffs. Seven months pregnant and they still treated me like I was about to make a run for it. Like my big ass was gonna waddle through TSA and disappear into the sunset.
Booking took forever. Fingerprints. Photos. Strip search. Some female CO with a nasty attitude told me to squat and cough while she looked at me like I was the scum of the earth. I wanted to tell her my fiancé and his family owned half of DC. That I ran a whole bakery. That I was somebody before I ended up in this hellhole.
But in here? I was nobody. Just another number. Another Black girl in the system.
They walked me to my cell around midnight. The CO—a thick white woman with a blonde ponytail pulled way too tight—shoved me forward when I didn’t move fast enough.
“Let’s go, baby mama. I ain’t got all night.”
I wanted to turn around and ask her if she’d like to carry a whole human being while wearing shackles. But I bit my tongue. Kept walking. Wasn’t worth it.
The cell was small as hell. Two bunks. A toilet in the corner with no privacy. A tiny window that didn’t open. The bottom bunk was already taken—a Latina chick with her hair slicked back, tattoos all up her neck and arms. She looked up when I walked in.
“Fresh meat,” the CO announced like she was dropping off a package. “Play nice, ladies.”
The door slammed shut.
I stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do. The woman on the bottom bunk gave me a once-over. Her eyes stopped at my belly.
“Damn, mami. How far along?”
“Seven months.”
She let out a low whistle. “And they got you locked up like this? That’s some bullshit.”
“Girl, tell me about it.”
She sat up and swung her legs over the side. Extended her hand with a firm grip.
“I’m LaLa.”
