Story 2: During chow that evening

(from Luke)

During chow that evening, I secluded myself from my normal dining companions, while brooding over my dilemma.  Due to the stress which our “relationship” had been wrecking on my body, my weight drastically declined (by close to 30 lbs in less than two months) from lack of nutrition; and this evening was no exception.  I could not help, but to concern myself with Mrs. Johnson’s emotional and mental well-being; for I took responsibility to keep her safe, regardless of what may happen to me.  I felt I was miserably failing my duty; besides if I hadn’t agreed to become involved with her, my presence would not be compounding her entire grief (with respect to her marital situation)…still, I could not fathom a life, without her in it.  Staring at the now cold food before me, nauseum settled in my stomach; so I gave the food away, and headed for the exit.

Stopping outside to light a cigarette, a spanish gentleman approached me.  We recognized each other from a previous institution, as he happened to be an old cell partner of Bushwick’s, while the three of us were there.  Handing me a piece of paper, the amigo nodded his head, and returned to the small cluster of spanish inmates.  Finishing the cigarette, I made my way back to the dormitory and went straight to my rack.  I was a little anxious to read what the amigo had to say; for we hardly spoke to each other, except for the occasional words of respect, at having the same friend.

Pulling out the letter, I recognized that the handwriting was feminine, but I didn’t recognize whose penmanship it was.  The only thing that struck a vague cord of recognition, were the initials at the letter’s conclusion.  The initials were “Brenda’s”, Bushwick’s baby sister.

pencil on pillow case. by Josh Wilson

Bushwick was approximately my age, and a drug runner out of the Hampton Roads area.  Traveling between Virginia and South Carolina, a tight crew of three or four guys, had worked for a rising “kingpin”, from the deep south.  Somehow or another, during one of their expeditions, a substantial amount of drugs and money came up missing.  After all the accusations and finger pointing reached its critical apex; Bushwick decided to walk away.  Seeing how he had to care for his sister, a girlfriend, and three young children (only one sired by himself), Bushwick began operating on his own, back in Virginia.  (I shall get into more depth shortly).  Anyhow, he got busted and sentenced both here in Virginia, as well as South Carolina.  Brenda, his overly paranoid sister, who I greatly adore; believed he had been set up.  Her avid belief in this, coupled with two notably violent incidents involving her brother and myself; caused Brenda to be excessively discreet, when communicating with specific friend’s of Bushwick.  Whenever Brenda seeks to reach me, it is done in one of two ways: she will have someone else write and send me a letter, or; she will send a letter to a mutual acquaintance of Bushwick and I, for the message to be delivered.