Evangeline Arnold's world was turned upside down the day that the father of her child, Javonte Wells was sentenced to 4 years in the slammers due to a gun charge that resulted in death. Now all that she has is his voice over the phone which was rare...
Disclaimer: This book is in no way, shape, or form glorifying those that do commit crimes and are serving their rightfully earned time in jail/prison. I do not and won't ever support that type of criminal behavior because I don't find it cute or acceptable. This book is about an innocent man with no prior criminal history being wrongfully convicted.
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YOU KNOW SOMETIMES I FORGET WHAT TRUE HAPPINESS FEELS LIKE then I look at my daughter and I see she has his eyes. The eyes of her father―Javonte Wells who was my first everything.
My first real love then Kaley came along. I swear she looked more like him as the days progressed. There was this old wives' tale that claimed things like that only ever occurred when you are angry at a certain person prior to going into labor.
Well, that must be legit because our baby girl was proof.
The day I was rushed to the hospital he was being arrested. Silly me, I had everybody calling around for him only to discover the news. I imagined my screams while giving birth substituting the sounds of them slamming him onto the hood of their vehicle. Throwing handcuffs around his wrists. And ultimately shutting the car door after reading him his rights.
But the loudest scream was from the thought of the cell door closing right as Kaley made her grand entrance into this world.
My anger became happiness only once I saw the tiny infant pulled from between my thighs. Shedding the tears, I no longer could cry with her tiny hands curled into fists as if she knew he wasn't present.
Now I remembered what happiness felt like.
I stood from the park bench "c'mon Kal we gotta head home now because it's getting late."
She slid down the yellow plastic slide on the playground with a broad grin on her chubby face "one mo' time pweaseee mommy!"
How could I tell her no?
"Okay." I went over there and watched as she climbed up the stairs only to frown when I insisted on helping her.
"I do it myself." she told me "I, big girl!"
"Yes... yes, you are."
Her arms reached towards the blue sky as she went down the zigzag slide again while cheering as I clapped for her.
"Yayyyy!"
Nothing special ever happened on Slauson, Avenue―where I come from it's either jail or the cemetery for the dudes and pregnant or unwed for the chicks.
Sad to say, but I was no exception.
I should've listened to my mama when she told me not to up the cookie until I got a ring maybe then I wouldn't be having to work two jobs making minimum wage to provide for mine and me if I used my head and not allowed love to blind me because Lord knows all the signs were there with Javonte.
But all I cared about back then was that he was fine and mine.
I gripped Kaley's hand as we crossed the street after standing on the sidewalk for what seemed like hours. It always killed me that folks in cars showed no consideration for the ones who were on foot.
"Can we have donuts?" she asked.
"I'll think about it."
"Good afternoon, Eva." Ms. Janice greeted us as we passed through the neighborhood. Kaley and I waved back, "I saw the postman snooping around your front door maybe he left something."
My grip on my child's hand tightened as I fast-walked over to my little two-bedroom apartment that I had rented some years back. Checking through the black mailbox before I pulled out a light pile of envelopes ranging from gold to white. I went and searched through them as one, in particular, caught my eye.
It had Javonte's name scribbled on the front of it in blue ink. Which was his favorite color considering that's what he mostly repped like many young Black men in this area.
"What is it?" Kaley questioned as I shooed her inside "can we get donuts now."
I flicked on the light switch in the living room then switched towards the kitchen getting the box of hostess glazed treats from above the fridge and placing a pack on the roundtable before taking a much-needed seat of my own.
These letters from him were like gifts on Christmas morning.
Slowly, I ripped it open.
Unfolding the notebook paper from it's two creased sections. For someone who dropped out of school in the 6th grade, Javonte had good handwriting. Some of the best I had ever seen.
He never believed me when I told him he had a way with words.
My hood Shakespeare.
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DO NOT PLAGIARIZE THIS STORY OR ANY OF MY STORIES BECAUSE NOT ONLY WILL I REPORT YOU AND HAVE YOUR ACCOUNT DELETED BUT I WILL TAKE FURTHER ACTION AGAINST YOU IF NEEDED!!! GET YOUR OWN FKING IDEAS THIEF!!! PERIODT.
