Read Online Upstate by Kalisha Buckhanon - Free Book Online Page A

once in a while with me, mostly about music and shit on TV. He love to talk about girlz too. Claim he got all the mamis in Harlem riding his dick. When he do talk, it’s mostly about pussy. He be telling me about some girl he been with, where he fucked her, exactly how he did it. He told me how he did it in Central Park, the Cloisters, the Bronx Zoo, the Times Square McDonald’s. He told me to name a place in New York and he said he bet he would have done it there. I said Coney Island and he said Done. Then I said the Statue of Liberty and he said Done. I said my address and he said Done. Then we both started laughing. I shouldn’t have been surprised then when I found out he was in here for raping somebody. But he don’t seem like the type, cause he one of them shy, Puerto Rican boys with that thick curly hair. The kind of guy all the girls like, the type who don’t have to pull the panties down cause they slip down for him. But then I guess he is obsessed with sex. I know he beats his stuff every night. He in the top bunk and I hear the covers moving back, you know, in that beat we make when we doing something. Sometimes I hear him making noise too, whispering Gloria or Laura or something like that. I don’t know, maybe that’s his girl and who he be writing letters to like I write to you.
    Mohammed don’t say shit to us when we talking about that stuff. He one of those Hebrew Israelite or Nation of Islam people. Him and Benito gotta love-hate thing, like a
old couple. They slide mirrors through the bars and stare at each other’s reflections and kick it once in a while. Other than that, Mohammed don’t speak much. He just read his books and write in these notebooks and shit. He got a thousand books and notebooks, and Benito hold onto some of it for him. Him and Benito got into it one time. The very first day I got here, about all of Mohammed shit. They almost went to blows, but the guards came over and settled the shit. I told Mohammed I didn’t care if he took my space. They gave me my pictures and letters back. That’s all the stuff I got right now, barely enough to fill my property box. I got my pictures on the wall, and my letters and stuff under my bed. I ain’t trying to collect too much more than that. This place ain’t my home, so I’m not even gonna get in that mind-set of making it all cozy. Mohammed claim he ain’t never done nothing wrong, he claim he ain’t killed nobody. He in here for armed robbery or something like that, but he said it wasn’t him and he was framed or whatever. Well, regardless of what he says, he in here for a very long time, and he said he trying to be on his best behavior so he can get out when his parole come up.
    I’m sorry this letter so long baby. It’s late at night and I can’t sleep. And I’m sorry it took me so long to write you. The truth is honestly, and don’t take this the wrong way, I was trying not to think about you and your pretty face because I would tear up, I miss you so much. And the wrong thing to do in a place like this is cry and seem soft. I ain’t spoken to my mother either. When I did call her, she cussed me out for waiting so long. I tried to explain to her that I
didn’t want to be calling all the time, running up the phone bill and being a burden on her. Daddy gone, so she got enough on her mind to do without paying for my collect phone calls. She told me that was the stupidest thing she ever heard me say, so I promised her I would call her twice a week right after Wheel of Fortune cause I know she at home watching that and she’ll pick up the phone. And baby, I promise I’ll call you and write to you too. This is the last time I’ll ever go this long without communicating to you. That’s a promise.
    Well, I gotta wrap this up because it’s almost time for roll call. The sun is almost up. I can tell cause the little bit of sky I can see