“I didn’t say that. I said I was minding my business just like I was doing before you started talking, and I am about to do now.”
I adjusted myself on my bed with my back facing him. I was hoping he would get the message that the conversation was over, but he didn’t.
“The guards had me pick up some of your uniforms from your cell. Tappy gave them to me, and he gave me this picture. This your girl and her mom?”
I turned around quickly to see him holding a picture of me, Torrey and Mom at my high school graduation. They were so proud of me and wouldn’t stop taking pictures. That pose was probably one of at least one hundred from that day. I snatched the picture from his hand.
“No,” I grimaced when the pain shot through my side from turning around too quickly. “This is my family, my mother, and my sister.”
“Your moth…” he stopped short and stared at me for a second. “A’ight Lil G, stay low.”
He turned and walked away.
I was so glad to see him leave.
* * *
I was releasedfrom the infirmary after a couple rounds of strong antibiotics just to make sure I didn’t get infected with anything. The guards asked me if there was anyone else involved in the incident other than the one that stuck me. I declined to answer. There was no way I was going to be labeled a snitch. They had the one who actually stuck me because I’d knocked him out before the guards took me down. They had no idea the other two had set me up, and I was not about to be the one to tell them. I would deal with those two when the time presented itself. As for now, I wanted to go back to my cell with Tappy and stay to myself.
The guard walked me up to the top floor instead of the third floor where my cell was.
“Sir, excuse me, my cell is on the third floor, Sir,” I informed the guard.
“Not anymore. You are going to the fourth floor, D-twenty-two.”
I followed him down the “D” corridor until we arrived at cell twenty-two. I stopped at the door and examined the cell. The floor looked like someone spent hours cleaning and buffing it. You could almost see your reflection in it. The toilet and sink were polished, the beds were perfectly made without one wrinkle. The uniforms were folded, so the black stripe on the pants was one continual stripe. The shirts were folded next to the pants, and all the buttons were lined up perfectly. There was a small bookcase on the wall full of books with titles like;The Souls of Black Folk, The Autobiography of Malcolm XandGo Tell it on the Mountain. I looked at the guard questioning this cell assignment, “Are you sure this is where I am supposed to go?”
He nodded for me to step into the cell.
“The bed to the left is yours. Your cellmate is working now, but he should be back soon.”
I took the entire box of my belongings and shoved it under my bed. I sat down and waited to see who would come in to share this pristinely clean cell with me.
Only a few minutes passed then I heard, “What’s up Lil G?” I looked up to see the inmate from the infirmary walking into the cell. “I see you made it out of the infirmary in one piece,” he said while sitting on a stool by the door and swapping out his sneakers for a pair of shower shoes. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t walk around in the cell with your outdoor shoes on. I have this little stool right here for you to change into your shower shoes.”
I looked down at my shoes then back at him.
“Huh?”
“There you go with that hard of hearing stuff again. I said, ‘please remove…’”
“I heard you. It just doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. It’s not like it’s carpet, it’s concrete.”
“Yeah but right now, it’s all we have. You have to treat your home with a level of respect and request others to do the same. So, you can keep your shower shoes here,” he pointed to the corner near the stool. “I put a towel down on the ground before I go to bed so when I wake up, I don’t have to put my feet on the cold floor. You are welcome to do the same.” He finished changing into his shower shoes then spoke again. “When you are entering another man’s home for the first time, you should properly introduce yourself. What’s your name?”
One of the unwritten rules in prison is to try to get along with your cellmate. Not getting along with your cellmate can make time unbearable. Plus, even though I’d had limited exposure to my new cellmate, I knew he ran things around here, and he was not to be messed with.
“Samuel.”
“Samuel? Just Samuel like Prince or somebody with just one name?”
“Valentine, Samuel Valentine,” I responded.
“Sam…”
“El,” I corrected.
“Reggie,” he responded. “Reggie Elkanah.” He extended his hand.