Page 31 of Stand on That

“You got it,” I offered slight encouragement as we walked toward the exit.

“So, I’ve never in my life done this,” she stated slowly making me glance over at her. “Do you have a girlfriend?” she gave me a sheepish look before palming her face. I assumed she wasn’t used to making the first move on a man, and it made sense. I’d watched almost every male in class try to get her attention or spark conversation in one corny way or another. I was probably the only one that hadn’t. I’d even peeped an older, married man flirting with her.

I knew more than likely, my honesty would make me sound like a lame, but I was gon’ keep it a stack with her. “I don’t have a girlfriend, but someone has my heart. That’s lame as hell, huh?” I laughed.

“No. Actually, that’s very sweet. She’s a very lucky lady.”

“We’re not together. Haven’t been together in a minute. We don’t even talk. I just like to be honest. Anything the opposite of fun, lust filled, and casual, I don’t want any parts of. I’m not a fuck boy. I don’t get off on disrespecting women. Just don’t have the energy for anything remotely serious, and I’m not out here selling dreams.”

No matter how many times I told Bree I wasn’t the man to marry her and give her kids, she never stopped hoping. Even after I got a girlfriend and stopped having sex with her, she was still adamant about being in my life. Her persistence paid off in a way because she did get the baby that she wanted. She was a perfect example, however, of how women didn’t hear a fuck ass thing that was said to them. They wanted what they wanted and would plot on a way to get it. More than likely, Bree knew she was ovulating the night I got her pregnant. It wasn’t even like me to hit her raw. I could blame it on the alcohol, but it was on me. Nobody else.

“I get that. I really do. And I still feel like she’s a very lucky lady. Most men won’t even be that honest and intentional about a woman they’re actively with. I hope she comes around and realizes what a great guy she has in her corner.”

“I feel like one of those lame ass guys that got friend zoned or something,” I laughed. “Like a heartbroken simp that’s out here getting advice.”

“Not at all,” Ebony shook her head.

I pushed the door open and held it for her. A few students were coming in, and Lo was one of them. It had been a minute since I saw her. “I’ll holla at you later, Ebony. What up, Lo?”

She looked up from her phone. “Hey,” she replied slowly. I was sure I was the last person that she expected to see.

“How you been?”

“Between having a three-year-old, being a full-time college student, and working part-time, I don’t have time to be anything other than tired,” she chuckled. “I’m hanging in there though.”

I gave a curt nod. “I don’t know how often you talk to Hailey, but Vani is set. Clothes, shoes, money, cell phone, a crib, car, all that. It’s hers. With no strings attached.”

Lo gave me a small, sympathetic smile. “You know she was distant with everybody. There were times she didn’t call home for a week. Used to have us going crazy, but she was depressed. And rightfully so. You having a kid hurt her, but she was hurt before that. You’re not the only person who she stopped reaching out to. And I’m sure she will appreciate everything you’ve done for her.”

Again, I nodded. Vani more than likely felt some type of way because I didn’t visit her the entire time she was in prison. But getting on a person’s visitation form wasn’t an easy process. You had to fill out an application, send in a copy of your ID, get a background check run, and be approved. I wasn’t doing all that. I was a whole ass drug dealer. Putting all my information like address and phone number on a government document was a hard fucking pass.

Vani should have understood that, but that didn’t mean she liked it. And I knew for sure having a child with Bree probably sealed her hatred for me. When it came to Vani, things had gone so wrong so fast, I barely had time to comprehend it all. One day we were great, and the next day, I didn’t even know where she was. From there, it only got worse.

If I was given one hundred guesses on how Vani and I would end, her doing time would have never been one of those guesses. All I could do was keep moving forward and know that whatever was meant to be would always be.

“Stop looking so nervous, Oakford,” CO Davis grinned.

I legit had the bubble guts. Never would I have imagined that being released from hell would have my anxiety in overdrive. Hell was the only correct term that could be used when describing prison. I was almost as nervous as I was the day I was sentenced. Three years in prison had felt like a lifetime. There were days I tried really hard to make the best of my situation. I conversed with other inmates, watched television in the rec room, went out on the yard for fresh air and exercise, but those decent moods never lasted long. Most days, I was either overly sad or angry.

My first three months were the toughest. I got so tired of people trying me because I was so small that I damn near got into a fight two times a week. By the third month, other inmates were calling me Laila Ali because I had whooped so much ass and more importantly, I didn’t back down from anybody. I had a tall ass had to be two hundred plus pound bitch always popping shit. The day I walked up on her and asked her what was good, the hoe tried to say she wouldn’t even fight me because I was so little, and she’d hurt me.

I stood there for another minute or so staring at her and giving her every opportunity to hit me, and the bitch walked away. Little or not, the anger I had brewing inside me almost welcomed confrontation. Win, lose, or draw. I didn’t even really care. After that, people left me alone for real. I had a reputation for being with the shits, and I wasn’t an easy target anymore. My cellie, Jordyn was cool. She had been down for three years and had four more to go. She had been a part of some kind of real estate scheme where she stole like $800,000 from someone. She got locked up at the age of thirty, and she had four kids on the outside.

I was also real cool with an inmate by the name of Endia. She was fifty and had been down for ten years. She was a drug queen pin and had ten more years to go. She’d be sixty when she was released. Endia was married, had three kids, and five grandkids. During my time in prison, I met so many different women from so many walks of life that it was insane. Old women, young women, Black, White, Hispanic, Indian, African, German, Italian.

“I am nervous,” I confessed. “Is that normal?”

“More than you’d think. Sadly, adjusting to the free world takes some time once you’ve been incarcerated. Especially when it’s been years.”

I nodded as I watched one of the newer inmates give me the side eye. Davis was fine. Like fine as fuck. There weren’t too many inmates under the age of fifty that didn’t think he was handsome. His skin was the hue of milk chocolate, he had super thick eyebrows, long lashes, and deep dimples. His five feet eleven stature wasn’t even too unappealing considering where we were. Eye candy wasn’t plentiful. As far as I knew, Davis kept things professional with everyone and had never slept with an inmate. But that didn’t stop his male co-workers of being jealous of him, and the female co-workers would really beef with any female they felt he was drawn to.

Sadly, that had been me a few times. I was one of the rare ones that didn’t throw myself at him or try to pay him to sneak contraband in for me. He felt like being cordial with me was safe. Despite his professionalism, there were still hoes that hated to see us talking. Prison had done a number on my mental but physically, I was in my prime. I allowed myself two soft drinks a week from the canteen, but I mostly drank water and sometimes, orange juice or fruit punch. It was hard, but I tried to go at least seven days a month with no sweets. I walked on the yard and did squats and crunches five days a week. I also mostly wore my hair in cornrows. My body was tea, skin flourishing, and hair, long, thick, and healthy. Even when I didn’t feel good, I for sure looked it.

I had been awake for three hours and with each passing minute, I got more anxious. They should have let me leave as soon as morning count was over. They were taking their sweet time, however. I had plans on braiding hair and helping my mother and grandmother at my grandmother’s soul food restaurant. Some people were released from prison with nowhere to go, so I was grateful that my parents were welcoming me with open arms. But I was almost twenty-six. For the past three years, I hadn’t had any privacy. I couldn’t even take a shower alone. To say I was ready to get my own place would be an understatement.

Another officer spoke into the walkie talkie they carried and asked Davis his location. When he told him where he was, the person on the other end gave him instructions to walk me to the front for release. My heart fell into my ass as I turned around, went back into my cell and hugged the women that were gathered and conversing. The ones I called friends.

I would never forget a lot of them. As I was walking down the long corridor, my heart began to gallop in my chest.