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“You always saying you a full grown man …

ACT LIKE IT!”

 

      Saturday morning 9:30 a.m.

      “I call.”

      “Play everything I got,” Corey says in response to White Boy Larry who just “called” the ten dollar minimum bet that the dealer stipulated at the end of the hand.  That means betting ten dollars was the only way for someone to win the hand they were currently in at the poker table.

      “What the fuck?  How much money does Corey have to play houseman?,” asks Larry in order to see how much it will cost to “play everything” that Corey has.

      “He’s up twenty five dollars on the books plus the money he has in his hand,” the houseman, who’s being paid to run the poker game, answers.

      “How much money you got in your hand Corey?,” Larry asks, leaning towards calling because he doesn’t believe Corey has shit in his hand.  His logic is usually when a person knows they have the best hand, they raise the pot by just a few dollars so they can get some more money out of the hand instead of running everyone off by betting everything they have.

      “I’ve got 19.75 in my hand plus the 25 on the books, so it costs you another 44.75 to play,” Corey responds.  And although 44.75 doesn’t sound like a lot of money, damn near fifty dollars in prison is probably the equivalent of 500 dollars in society.

      “Corey I know you aint got shit.  You don’t play poker like that.  You try to milk the pot when you got the best hand, not kill a motherfucker,” Larry says, trying to read Corey, looking for any sign that he’s bluffing.

      “Don’t kill me with your psychoanalysis of prison poker strategies,” Corey retorts.  “Either call, or fold your hand so we can get another hand in.”

      “Fuck it, I call.”

      “You need the wheel to win,” Corey says as he lays his cards down face up revealing an ace, two, three, four, and six, commonly called a six nothing in the prison poker game known as “low ball.”  In order to beat Corey’s hand, Larry will have to have an ace, two three, four, and five. Or as Corey called it, “The wheel.”

      “Good hand Corey.”  Larry throws his hand in the deck, unable to beat Corey’s hand.

      “Posey!  Viso!”

      Every head at the poker table, including Corey’s, turn in the direction of the officer who just walked under the gazebo calling Corey’s last name and informing him that he has a visitor waiting for him on the visiting park.

      “Can’t be me.  Ain’t none of my people driving 12 hours to Sneads, Florida for no viso.  And if it aint a mistake, and somebody came anyway, then they finna be mad as fuck because I’m refusing my visit.  I’m straight.  I already told everybody I know that I’ve got too much time for them to be worrying about me.”

      “Even your momma Posey? Because that’s who’s here to see you.”

      For a moment Corey is at a loss for words.  Hearing the officer say that his mother was waiting to see him on the visiting park was the absolute last thing he was expecting to hear.  Once he regains his composure though, he tells the officer “Yeah, even from my momma.  She of all people should’ve known better.”

      “Well, if you’re going to be that fucking selfish Posey, you’re going to have to let your mother see you refuse her visit because policy and procedure says you have to refuse the visit in person.  So no matter what you’re going to have to walk up front to the visiting park anyway.”

      Corey just looks at the officer before saying, “That don’t make no sense to make me walk up there for nothing.”

      “Rules are rules.  But if you’re not actually going to go to your visit, and you’re just walking up there to refuse, then you don’t need to take a shower and all that other shit y’all do when y’all have a visit.  So c’mon and get your pass so you can go before they start calling down here for you.  And let me call the captain and let her know that you’re refusing your visit so that she can meet you up there for the refusal.”

      “The Captain?” Corey inquires.  “What does the Captain have to do with me refusing a visit?  What’s the big deal?  Y’all acting like people don’t ever refuse visits.”

      “Actually they don’t.  Usually people are so glad someone out there was thinking about them, or loved them enough to come visit them that they’re damn near running to the visiting park.  You though?  I guess you’re just wired differently.”

      “It’s not that I’m wired differently, but how many of those dudes that you’re talking about running to the visiting park for visits are starting a fresh 80 year bid at 15 years old?”

      “Which to me would be all the more reason for you to be thankful that someone is coming to see you because your situation undoubtedly has to have already caused your family more pain than I could ever imagine.

      “I’m going to call the Captain.  Wrap this up and report to the officer’s station to get your pass.”  The officer walks off to go advise the captain of Corey’s refusal so that she can meet Corey up front to have him sign the refusal in front of her.

      Corey turns back to the poker table and begins to count out all his chips.  “Put my money on the books.  I’ll be back in like ten minutes,” he tells the houseman.

      White Boy Larry cautiously says, “Corey I know it’s not my business man.”

      “You’re right,” Corey cuts him off.  “It’s not.”

      “But I’m going to say it anyway,” Larry continues.  “I’ve got a natural life sentence.  And I didn’t have to tell everyone to move on with their lives.  Guess what?  They did it on their own.  I’d give anything to have somebody coming to see me man.  Especially my mother.  Just think about it.  And you can take your time to get back too with the way you just caught me in that last hand.”

      Everyone laughs at that and the tension lightens slightly.

      As the laughter subsides, Pop Jit walks under the gazebo and says simply, “Corey I don’t know what you’ve got going on, and really I don’t give a fuck.  Cash those poker chips in, go get your stupid ass in the shower so you aint stank hugging on your momma, and go hang out with Ma Dukes.  And tell her I said what’s up too.”

      All heads turn from Corey to Pop Jit and back to Corey, waiting to see how he responds.  Everybody at ACI knows Corey is bout his issues, meaning he’s more wild and violent than most other inmates.  And even having just turned 16 years old, he is all grown man as far as how he does his time.

      Everybody also knows that Pop Jit is a “chain gang legend” in every sense of the word.  And although Pop Jit isn’t friendly at all, he’s become somewhat of a mentor to Corey, and truthfully the only one that can talk to him sometimes.

      Corey’s anger immediately flares as he says, “I don’t know which one of you motherfuckers ran and got Pop Jit, but he is not my motherfucking daddy!”

      “Corey this is your mother we’re talking about, not just some random female or something.  And honestly, no matter who it is, don’t be that selfish.  AND CHILDISH.  You always saying you a full grown man.  ACT LIKE IT!,” Pop Jit challenges calmly.  But anyone who’s been around Pop Jit knows that he’s losing his patience with Corey.

      Whether Corey senses that as well, or the truth of Pop Jit’s words got through to him, he turns to the poker table and says, “Pop Jit gon play my money.”  He then walks off without another word, nor does anyone else, as he heads to his dorm to take a shower, get dressed, get his pass, and head to the visitation park for the visit with his mother.

 

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“God will not give you more than you can bear.”

1 Corinthians 10:13

 

      Fifteen minutes later Corey walks into the area designated for visitation, hands the officer his pass, and is searched before entering the area where the visitors actually are.

      Seeing his mother sitting there, her back facing him, he experiences a mixture of emotions all at once.  So many feelings and emotions that he either has suppressed or is continuing to suppress.  It’s no one’s fault, it’s just what it is.  But if there’s blame that has to be placed somewhere Corey is more than willing to put it all on his shoulders.  As far as he’s concerned his life is over anyway and he’s going to die in prison.  So what the fuck does he really care?

      Trying to push everything out of his mind, at least for the next few hours – or however long he’s at visitation with his mother, he walks up behind her and simply says, “What are you doing up here ma?”

      Turning in her chair, then standing to face him, instead of answering his question she spreads her arms wide open.  Overcome with emotions of her own, as soon as Corey steps into her embrace she begins to cry while squeezing his neck as tightly as she can.  It’s as if having her only child in her arms, even under these circumstances, makes everything right in the world and nothing else matters.

      For Corey though the reaction is the complete opposite.  It’s not that he doesn’t love his mother.  How many sixteen year old children ‑ boys at that, don’t absolutely cherish and idolize their mother?  No.  For Corey it’s more about him having to learn how to completely deaden his emotions.

      Everybody does their time, and deals with doing their time, differently obviously. Some dudes turn to drugs.  Some dudes lose their minds.  Some dudes join gangs.  Some dudes falsely run to a religion.  And some dudes even get involved intimately with another man ‑ sacrificing their manhood for physical, sexual and emotional comfort.  To each its own.  Some dudes are just built different than others.  Corey though will never be the dude that indulges in any of that shit.  PERIOD.

      So Corey’s lack of emotions have nothing to do with how he feels about his mother, although there are issues between them as well.  More than anything it’s the reality of his situation that causes his reactions, or lack thereof, to situations in such a different way than most people react to things.  So be it.  With an 80 year sentence Corey isn’t trying to make anyone else feel good, he’s trying to survive ‑ mentally, physically and emotionally himself.

      After the moment passes between Corey and his mother, and they disengage from their embrace, Corey again says, “You didn’t answer me ma.  What are you doing up here?”

      “I didn’t know I needed a reason or permission to come see my son.”

      “Maybe not permission, but I asked everybody ‑ you included, not to worry about me and let me do my time.  You were in that courtroom ma, you heard them people give me those 80 years.  So really all I’m waiting to do is die in these people prison system.  Nothing in between now and then even matters anymore.  I’m not trippin though.  I put myself here, that’s why I’m not mad and don’t have a problem having to do the time by myself.  I love you ma, but move on with your life and please don’t come back.”

      “The only reason I don’t slap the shit out of you right now Corey is because I’d rather be wrapping my arms around you to try to take the pain away instead of causing you more pain.  But you listen to me and you listen to me good because I don’t ever want to have this conversation with you again.”  Corey’s mother’s love for her son, mixed with her anger at him, leaves no room for misunderstanding that she means whatever she’s about to say with all her heart.

      “Whether you want me to or not, I’m going to be doing every day of this time with you.  Because every day that you’re locked up, I’m going to be locked up too.  There’s going to be a void in my life emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and physically that is always going to exist as long as we are separated.  That’s just what it is.  But I’ll respect your wishes to an extent because I do get it.  However, you’re not dead Corey so I’m not going to act, or treat you, like you are.  I’m going to continue trusting in God and believing that this isn’t how it ends for us because I know that God will not give you more than you can bear.”

      Tears began to slide down her cheeks once more as she grabs Corey again and hugs him tightly.  This time however, in response to her embrace Corey squeezes her just as tightly.