A week later
The air smelled of old furniture, urine and vanilla. Bob Grimes took a few steps forward, his arms immobile at his sides. He stared straight ahead, studying the mildew on the wainscoting of the intake wall, anything to take his mind off thoughts of what the error in judgement was about to bring into his life. He didn’t need those problems. There was no way to talk himself out of nearly killing two men. How could he have been so damn dumb and stupid?
The first time he ever lied to his boss to get out of work has cost him possibly his freedom. And from what he heard on the news…the state was trying to give him life without if Harry and Jonathan died.
He hasn’t been to this new facility for very long. He literally just stepped off the long, white transportation bus in a white jumpsuit and shackles a few short minutes ago. Escorted by two ivory-colored Marshalls.
Five inmates were on the bus with him. Bob was the second inmate to be processed. He studied what the first processed inmate had to go through.
“Grimes!” Corrections Officer Shelton Hodges said, smacking Bob on his naked butt after his paperwork was processed and handed back to one of the Marshalls, George.
Todd and George unlocked Bob’s shackles and left without saying a word to anyone.
Guardedly, Bob glanced at Officer Hodges, taking off his jumpsuit. Once he was naked, he tossed the jumpsuit in a blue bin by one of the iron counters.
“Answer me inmate one, five, three, three, two, one…! Since you have a speaking problem.”
“Sure, dude,” Bob said, barely above a whisper.
“Bend over and spread ’em!”
Silently, Bob complied, feeling humiliated.
Outside of his father and the doctor that helped deliver him during birth, no other man has ever seen his naked body. He was an aggressive heterosexual male that was used to making the ladies come all across the country.
He’d visited over thirty states throughout his life, and a good twenty of them, mainly New York, had the best pussy on earth, yet he wound up marrying Samantha and her white ass cleaned him out in court and took half of his life savings, custody of all his children and his house with her.
She used every benefit on her white privilege card. She had the system eating out the palm of her hand and used his money to pay for the bulldog lawyer that made sure she got what she deserved.
He was already in a huge fight at the first jail he was taken awaiting his formal hearing a week before, which hasn’t been granted yet because of the nature of his high profile DUI attempted murder case that wasn’t really being mentioned on the news as of late.
Honorable mentions, maybe. But Kayne West’s hospitalization propaganda was suddenly the talk of the entertainment world.
Who knew Jay Z had killers at his disposal, Beyoncé pulled a political move to win Video of the Year and VJ’s were paid millions from record labels to play the same songs by ratchet music artists. Payola. Hell, half of those Awards were bought, too.
But fake Hollywood illuminati puppets were they furthest thing from his mind.
Sadly, Bob wondered what his children thought of him. At the previous jail he worked up enough nerve and called his ex-wife, but after she accepted the charges she dropped a bombshell. She informed him that she and their children were moving to Canada with her new Canadian husband.
After lashing out at her, calling her everything but a Child of God, his teenage kids expressed their displeasure with his heinous crime and hung up the phone in his face after saying that they no longer loved or respected him anymore.
Something died in him right at that moment.
“Cough two times, DUI Bandit. Or is it the Drunk Rainbow Destroyer?” CO Hodges demanded, breaking his thoughts.
Bob coughed twice.
A few inmates stood in line behind him, going through a full cavity search.
Smirking, CO Hodges said, “Stand up, Mr. Grimes! Proceed your tall, lanky ass over to inmate Sharp in the inventory department and sign for your wardrobe.”
Silently, Bob walked past the water fountains and CO Hodges grabbed him above the elbow, his lips a few inches from Bob’s ear.
CO Hodges whispered, “That was a noble thing you did. I don’t approve drunk driving, but if those two sissies, well, flat lines, then you did your country a great service. You’ll be taken care of here, trust me.”
Bob glared into his eyes. “You’re crazy, black man. Crazier than cat shit.”
CO Hodges smacked Grimes butt again. “There’s a word you better start using that will get you far in here, suckah. The word is ‘Obey.’”
Angrily, Bob attacked CO Hodges, ramming the back of his head into the wall. It was like a Rottweiler snapping on a French poodle.
Grunting, CO Hodges kneed Bob in the gonads, pulling out his taser.
Bob ran at him and Hodges tased him.
Bob was twitching on the floor.
In a matter of minutes, guards threw him, naked and sweating, into solitary confinement.
Harry recovered slowly, but surely. Even though he’s been monitored, poked and analyzed a dozen times, he was happy that his health was improving.
Even though he didn’t remember her, his mother, Lady, catered to his every need.
Out of the blue, he asked for Jonathan. It wasn’t the first time.
Swallowing grief, Lady said, “Again, who is Jonathan, baby? You should be telling me who he is to you, and what he is.”
Harry stared into space, his heart torn asunder. “I don’t know who that is, Mama? I can’t remember. And you won’t tell me. I don’t even remember who you are. It’s like certain things in my memory are black.”
Lady rolled her eyes. “We’ve already had this convo, son.”
“Is convo even a word, Ma?”
Reaching past a few novels on his bed, he picked up a small cup of water and chugged it.
“You know convo isn’t a word, but you don’t know who your husband Jonathan is?”
Harry’s face beamed. “Now we’re getting somewhere, Ma. You’re the absolute best!”
“What do you mean, we’re getting somewhere?”
He grinned boyishly. “You just said that I should know who my husband Jonathan is. My husband?”
“Me and my big mouth.”
“And tell my friends that I don’t need any more flowers or teddy bears.”
Exasperated, Lady said, “How do we know you’re mentally progressing if you’re not remembering things on your own?”
“I’m still tripping off this I have a husband jargon.” Harry chuckled. Finding it amusing. “Mama. I’m the catch of the Year. Who marries a man name Jonathan? Let me guess. We had a house together, too.”
“And where’s the proof that I married a man? Am I gay? You mean to tell me that I’m gay? Come on, Mom! You’re lying. I’m too fine to be gay. April Fool’s!”
Reluctantly, Lynn entered Harry’s room, holding flowers, with a look of chaos on her face.
“And who are you?” Harry asked, confused.
“Nobody important,” Lady answered, giving her a cold stare. “Why are you here, Lynn? It’s because of you that my son doesn’t remember who the hell he is or was for that matter. He doesn’t even know he’s gay. He doesn’t even remember your son.”
Harry asked, “Lynn is it? Who was your son?”
Flashes of Lynn hitting his car with a Bible made him sit up in his bed, in a trance.
Alarmed, his mother was at his side, worried. “Baby! What is it? Talk to me, baby.”
Harry slowly stood up, taking a moment to get his balance and catch his breath.
“Who is Jonathan to you, Lynn, whoever the hell he is, my husband, which I highly doubt. I’m not a gay man. And why are images of you hitting my car with the Holy Bible jarring my memory?”
Lynn held up one of their wedding photos. Harry slowly rose his hands, taking the 5x7 color photo from her bejeweled hands.
In it his husband hugged him from behind, a flawless medium shot.
“Jonathan is my son. I’m your mother-n-law. I deeply apologize for hurting you and my son.”
“Hurt us how?” Harry asked, looking over the picture again. “I married a man...?”
A chill crawled up his spine and he fell back of his romp. The bed broke his fall.
“Oh my God! How could I forget my own husband? Jonathan. Where’s my baby? Is he OK?”
Harry had his memory back.
Lady placed her hand on Lynn’s shoulder, narrowing her eyes with contempt.
“Yes, Harry. He’s doing...better. He’s resting. He needs all the sleep he can get. Let’s just worry about your full recovery, then we’ll check on Jonathan.”
“You’re not sorry about any of this,” Harry said, infuriated. “Then we’ll check on my husband, not Jonathan. You can’t even acknowledge who he is to me. You’d rather call him by name.”
“Harry, I truly am sorry. I was childish, blatantly disrespectful.”
“That’s the guilt talking, it has to be. Your heart is too black for pleasantries. You never accepted me or my husband. As a matter of fact where is he? Take me to him.”
“When you get your rest,” Lady informed. “I promise. We’ll see about him later on tomorrow. You’re on bedrest. You were in a coma. Do you understand that you’re still under observation?”
“Well…have him come see me, Lady.”
“Get back in the bed, now, son. Let’s go. Now, boi.”
Hesitantly, Harry slid under the blankets, and said, “When I wake up, take me to see my husband.” Harry closed his eyes, still trying to remember Lady. “Or I’ll go and find him myself.”