Trying To Maintain

T W E N T Y - S I X

Drill

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Jones, but why are you going to Baton Rouge, Louisiana instead of your hometown in Houston, Texas?" My case worker asked. She is a middle age black woman, about ten or so years older than me. This about the third one I've had since being here.

"I don't want to risk going back around the same people and getting caught up in any unnecessary situations." I tell half the truth. I mean, I don't know what I would do if I saw my charge partner being that he snitched on the other two of us.

"I see. Do you have living arrangements and things of that nature upon you getting to Louisiana?"

"Yes ma'am, I'll be living with my grandmother."

"Good. And how do you plan on making a living?"

"Some of my relatives are working at the plants out there. There are opportunities for convicted felons to make a decent living." I explain.

"Okay, well, it sounds like you have everything figured out. That is good. That means that we really don't need to have any more meetings unless you just need to talk about something. Or, there is a change in circumstances and I need to help you make living and working arrangements."

"Thank you, ma'am." I tell her politely with a small smile.

"No problem, Mr. Jones. I just need to remind you that prior to you living with your grandmother, you will need to be at the halfway house for sixty days."

"I remember, ma'am." I smile at her.

"Okay," she returns the smile. "I just wanted to be sure." She starts to gather her paperwork. "So you'll be released within the next ninety days. Congratulations and I hope I never have to see you again."

"Damn, Ms. Thomas. It's like that?" I say faking like my feelings hurt.

She laughs a little, "boy you know that ain't how I meant it. I'm tired of seeing my skin folk in here. Stay your hind parts out of trouble."

I love black women. This lady went from professional to my auntie in a short span of time. I know she genuine too.

"I ain't trying to come back to this place."

"I hope not. You're far too bright to be in here. Get out, find you a nice young woman to settle down with and raise some black babies. Populate with more black lives but teach them to avoid becoming a statistic."

"I'm with you. I already know who I'm going to marry, and we going to have a few lil babies. I'm way ahead of you."

"Alright now." She spreads her arms indicating she wants a hug. "It was a pleasure working with you. You gave me hope that there are some still worth helping."

"Thanks to you, ma'am. You being genuine makes it easier."

She pats my back twice, removing herself from the hug. "Alright now, let's break this up before they think we screwing. I don't know why they think every woman that work here is ogling y'all." She shakes her head.

"Because majority of them do." I shrug with a smile.

"Right. Well, I'ma continue to mind my business and keep my opinions to myself."

"Alright, Ms. Thomas. You have a good rest of your day." I tell her being polite.

"You too, Mr. Jones." She waves goodbye.

I walk back to my cell both excited and a little sad.

Time went by fast and slow at the same damn time. Since I been having good behavior damn near my whole sentence, I was eligible to get out if I did eighty percent of my time. Which is sixteen years on my twenty year sentence. I've done fifteen years and eleven months total locked up. Either way my sentence would have been shortened because I signed for my fed time while I was still in the state. This is a year sooner than I expected, and I'm happy about it.