Capturing Hearts - Faleena Hopkins Page 0,17
testimony. I didn’t rat out Bruce or Uncle Paul, for Bruce’s sake. The way I see it, my cousin and I were born into this life and we couldn’t help that. They taught us young. But I gave my folks a chance to run, warning Bruce I was going to rat them out, so he could warn them. He’s our go-between. Otherwise they never would have escaped. Now they’re on the run, and that I’m fine with. Serves them right for doing this to me. It’s their fault I am the way I am. Why should they live a normal life when I’m stuck in here? Yeah, not gonna happen.
“How’s it going, Brucie?”
His brown eyes harden, but then he sees my smile. “Don’t be like him. It’s not funny,” he grumbles.
“Well, you should know better than to come in here wearing that pink scarf.”
Bruce rolls his eyes. “It’s magenta.”
“Right,” I chuckle.
He waits for me to get serious. “How are you?”
I hit him with a stone-cold sober stare. “Seriously?” He shrugs, which irritates me to no end, forcing me to launch into him. “It’s two days to Christmas and they don’t exactly decorate in here. And this morning I got a visit from a guy who is offering friendship if I do something I don’t wanna do.” Off his look, I correct him, “No, not that. Worse.”
Bruce’s eyebrows knit together. “Yikes.”
“Yeah. So do me a favor and never ask me how I’m doing again? If you don’t have something good to tell me, then let’s just keep to the chitchat we normally have. I need the distraction. Alright?”
Bruce nods, but his attention leaves the subject as he shiftily glances to the crying lady next to him who’s flanked by two little kids, plus a baby on her lap. Then he glances to the guard standing by the entrance. The familiar gleam in his eyes when he looks back to me sparks my blood. But I don’t betray my curiosity. Neither of us wants the guards paying attention. “I’ve got really good news.”
Without inflection, I ask, “Yeah, what?”
Bruce casually mutters, “Do you know a Rita Sanchez?”
I make a noise. Everyone knows Rita in here. It’s hard to miss a five-feet tall Mexican transsexual with a crew of six fake-blonde fairy-dust blowers always at his/her side. “Yeah. I know him. Or her…or whatever. Why?”
“Ever see a little movie about hope?” Bruce asks, one of his eyebrows starting to twitch nervously.
Shawshank Redemption–that’s what he means, the prison movie we’ve both seen a million times. Scenes from it flash before my eyes: The hole Andy dug in the wall with a rock hammer over twenty, long years. Him coming out the other end a free man, holding his arms up to a thunder-filled sky, pellets of rain hitting the joy on his face. Morgan Freeman’s last words as he took a chance and escaped his parole, searching for a life free from the branding of having been a criminal: I hope.
The power of my cousin’s question ricochets through my veins as I stare at him, understanding what he means to do, and that somehow Rita Sanchez is involved. This I’ve gotta see. My eyes tell him I know exactly which movie he means, and this ain’t it: “Serendipity?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s the one.” He looks down at his hand and glances casually to the guard to make sure the guy hasn’t moved. He hasn’t. Bruce turns to me. “Well, I’ve found my guy just like how Kate Beckinsale did in that movie. Isn’t that great? Rita knows the guy, that’s why I bring her up. You never thought I’d find love,” he says, knowing full well I’ve said no such thing, ever. “See, there is hope. So you just keep praying and as soon as the appeal date comes, you know I’ll be there, sending you luck.”
I feel like I’m an arrow stretched tight on a bow. “Oh yeah? You found someone? Well, I’ll have to catch up with Rita and hear all about him…” I stop as the phone goes dead. Our time is up. Bruce’s eyes slide up to the guard who’s walked up to take me back to my cell. Bruce gives him a tight-lipped polite smile and we both get up, exchanging one last glance with each other.
Before he turns to go, Bruce mouths, “Merry Christmas.”
Merry Christmas, indeed. Walking back to my cell, it’s a lot easier to ignore the guard’s ribbing me about my cousin being gay. “You