“You going soft Bianci?” Cheech asked, trying his best to rile me up. He probably had half his commissary down on my fight.
I cracked my bruised knuckles, debating if I should tape them now or wait since I still had time before the fight. The C.O.’s wouldn’t be bringing us out to the yard until after visiting hours were finished. Sunday’s were a big day for visitors and the hours stretched long, everyone and their mother trooped it up here to see the guys. Me? I didn’t get visitors, not on Sundays, not on any days, not really even on holidays.
It wasn’t always like that. When I was first incarcerated, I had many visitors. Victor and the guys would come up to talk business with me and make sure I was keeping my head. Vic was really concerned that I’d go fucking crazy in the pen. I kept my cool, keeping to myself, spending most of my time boxing, and at night, when I closed my eyes, I’d dream of her.
She didn’t visit me much in the beginning but she did write to me on a weekly basis. The letters stopped after one visit, when I told her I didn’t want her coming up here anymore. I just couldn’t stand sitting across from her looking into her sad eyes, knowing I was the reason she looked so broken. I broke her heart the day I stepped on that state bus, and then I completely crushed it the day I made her believe that I didn’t love her anymore. I told her she needed to stop coming to visit me because she was only making a fool out of herself.
She was no fool.
I was the fool. The fool that pushed her away and let her go.
I didn’t just love her; I fucking cherished her. That woman owned me; my body, my soul and my black heart.
I jumped off the top bunk needing to shake her from my head, I positioned myself on the concrete floor and started to do push-ups. It was the one thing I did to distract myself whenever I thought of her. Sometimes I would feel my arms burn from the vigorous repetition before the ache in my heart dulled, or the vision of her gorgeous face faded from my mind. I wondered if I’d ever forget her luscious full mouth or what it felt like kissing her until her lips swelled, or even just looking into those chocolate eyes that looked at me like I was something, even though I was nothing. Would I always be haunted by the memory of long, brown hair that I’d tangle my fingers through, or her body that I had worshipped like it was my temple?
I grunted as the sweat beaded on my forehead, pushing my body up and then dropping my weight half way off the ground, doing it over and over in an effort to erase her from my mind. I ignored the sound of the bars sliding open and pretended like I didn’t hear the C.O. had just stepped inside my cell. I prepared myself to block out what would happen next, telling myself I didn’t give a fuck, that no one came to see my sorry ass anymore or that it didn’t sting when Cheech left our cell because his woman came from Yonkers to see him.
“You too Bianci,” the correction officer said, forcing me to pause mid push-up. “Something happen to your hearing when Gomez knocked you out? I said you too, now let’s go.”
I rose to my feet, slowly turning around to glance at him. Cheech patted me on the back and stepped out of the cell following the other officer into the visiting room. The C.O. raised a single eyebrow as he crossed his arms against his puffed out chest.
“Move it Bianci, I don’t have all day.” He grunted impatiently, before mumbling something about losing fifty bucks on a schmuck like me. My wide shoulders brushed past him through the tight entryway of the cell and I made my way down the cellblock. I could make out the inmates whispering as I passed by, wondering just as much as I was, who the fuck could my visitor be. The C.O. walked me through a door handing me off to another officer who would take me to the visitor’s room.
I tried to go through the list of people that were approved to see me, trying to figure who I’d have to face, but then again, it didn’t matter, whoever was here probably only came on Victor’s behalf anyway. I cracked my knuckles as the C.O. opened the metal door to the packed room, the loud sounds of hundreds of people talking washed over me, forcing me to look around at the mostly happy reunions of the prisoners with their loved ones.