“Zainab.”
“Zainab.” She said it slow, like she was trying it on. “That’s pretty. You Arab?”
“No but my family is Muslim.”
“Cool, cool. I’m from East LA. Born and raised. Third generation.” She nodded up at the top bunk. “That’s you. Unlessyou wanna switch? I know climbing ain’t easy when you got a whole belly.”
I swear I almost started crying right there. After the strip search, the shackles, that CO calling me “pregnant” like it was a dirty word—this random chick showing me basic human decency hit different.
“Thank you,” I said. “For real.”
“It’s nothing.” She started moving her stuff around. “What they got you in here for? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Murder.”
LaLa’s eyebrows damn near flew off her face. “Murder?”
“I didn’t do it. Long story.”
“Ain’t it always.” She finished moving her stuff and nodded toward the bottom bunk. “It’s all yours.”
“Thank you. Seriously.”
“It’s nothing. I remember being new in here. Shit’s overwhelming.”
I sat down on the thin-ass mattress. The sheets felt like sandpaper. But it beat standing.
“What about you?” I asked. “What you in for?”
“Shit, I’ve done a lot.” She laughed a little. “Robbed a few people. Sold drugs back in the day. But what got me popped? Defending some kids from ICE.” She shook her head. “These agents rolled up on my block trying to snatch up this family—mama and her three kids. I wasn’t having it. Things got physical.”
“Damn.”““Yeah. They wanted to throw me in a detention center so bad. But I was born here. Right here in LA. Third generation. So they couldn’t touch me like that.” She shrugged. “So now I’m in here waiting on my bail hearing.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“It is what it is. I got a decent lawyer. Should be out in a few months, God willing.” She looked at me with real curiosity.“What about you? You got people fighting for you on the outside?”
I thought about Prime. Camille. My whole family back home.
“Yeah,” I said. “I got somebody.”
“Good. That’s what matters in here. Don’t let this place break you, mami.”
I nodded and laid my back against the wall as my legs stretched out in front of me in the bunk, staring up at the bottom of the mattress above me.
Don’t let this place break me.
I was trying. Lord knows I was trying.
Next morning, a CO came to get me for a legal visit.
Different one this time. Tall Black dude with a shaved head and eyes that looked like they’d seen too much and stopped caring a long time ago. He cuffed me way too rough, yanking my arms back like I was resisting. I glanced at his badge so I could remember his name. Officer Cooper.
“Easy,” I said through my teeth. “I’m pregnant.”
“Okay—and? I ain’t ya baby daddy. Let’s go.”
He gripped my arm too tight the whole walk there. Every time I slowed down even a little, he pushed me forward. By the time we got to the visitation room, I was blinking back tears.
