If I Were Your Boyfriend (2 page)

  "Come with me," said a male Hispanic officer with a slight smile. His eyes and skin were brown and his black hair was freshly cut and styled. He had a medium build and walked with presence and purpose. He escorted me through a series of giant and impenetrable doors.

  "So, what are you in for?" he asked. The tone of his light Spanish accent seemed friendly and caring. His demeanor was nothing like the madwoman who had escorted me off of the bus.

  "I don't know," I answered.

  "Come on, man. There's no need to be angry with me. I'm not the one who put you in here. You did that all on your own." He was right. I didn't have any reason to have an attitude with him. He was just doing his job.

  "Alcohol abuse among other things," I said.

  "So, you have a drinking problem? You're too young to toss your life away over alcohol,
amigo.
"

  I didn't say anything because he didn't understand anything about what I was going through. And I certainly wasn't his friend.

  "I'm Officer Sanchez. You've been assigned to my unit. I'm going to process you into our system," he said. Officer Sanchez escorted me into a small room and sat me down in front of a desk with a computer.

  "Give me a moment, I'll be right back," he said, and then exited the room, making sure to lock the door. It was so quiet in the room that the silence seemed loud. Maybe it was because I could hear myself thinking. I could hear my thoughts lying to me, telling me that everything would be okay and that I'd be released. I looked around to try to distract my mind. The room was cold and uninviting. The walls were made of solid brick and were painted white and the floor was gray like a rain cloud. Ten minutes passed by before Officer Sanchez came back and sat at the computer. He took a deep breath, then began typing. He stopped pecking at the keyboard with his two index fingers and began talking.

  "Wesley Morris, why were you driving a stolen car while you were drunk?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he was actually concerned or just asking an obvious question.

  "The car wasn't stolen, it belongs to my mother."

  "When you take a car without getting permission, that's called stealing, even if it is your mom's car."

  "How is that stealing when I was going to bring it back? Last time I checked, true car thieves don't return a car after it's stolen." Officer Sanchez threaded his fingers together behind his head. His chair groaned as he reclined back. We looked at each other for a long moment before he asked another question.

  "What's your relationship with your mother like?"

  "I don't know," I answered.

  "Do you guys get along?" he continued questioning me.

  "Obviously we don't since she said I stole her car."

  "Hey, I'm just trying to understand what happened here, okay?"

  "I don't even know why I'm here. I didn't really do anything wrong." Officer Sanchez was silent again. It was clear that he could see right through me, but I didn't care.

  "Do you want me to call your mom right now?" he asked.

  "No, I'd rather be locked up in here than be around her," I answered truthfully.

  "Why?"

  "Because it's probably better for me here. I'll be away from her and all of her bull."

  "Do you think your mom is too hard on you?"

  "I don't want to talk about my relationship with her anymore. Besides, it is what it is," I said as I once again tried to adjust my wrists so that the handcuffs felt more comfortable.

  "Well, as a matter of procedure I have to call her," said Officer Sanchez.

  "Whatever, man," I uttered.

  Officer Sanchez pressed the speaker button on the phone and then dialed my mom's phone number, which I'd provided earlier. I sat in my seat, shackled up and glaring at the phone as it rang. I heard my mom answer.

  "Hello, Ms. Carter. This is Officer Sanchez from the County Juvenile Detention Center. How are you today?"

  "I've seen better days," my mom answered through the speakerphone. The sound of her voice made my blood pressure rise. My mother and father were divorced. Their marriage was always on shaky ground, but when my mom refused to stop drinking, that was the breaking point. After my mom won the bitter court battle for custody over me, she started using her maiden name. She didn't want any association with my father.

  "I can understand that. It's not easy for a parent to go through this sort of thing." There was a short moment of silence and then Officer Sanchez continued. "Ms. Carter, I have here in the room with me your son, Wesley, who said he wanted to speak to you." Officer Sanchez motioned with his hands for me to speak at will. I really didn't have anything to say to her, but he insisted that I speak.

  "Hey," I said.

  "Wesley, why are you doing this?" my mom asked.

  "I didn't do anything," I insisted.

  "You are just making things harder than they have to be. You're going down the wrong path, Wesley, and that hard head of yours is going to keep getting you in trouble if you don't change."

  "You know what, I wouldn't be in trouble if you weren't always on my back and pushing me so much. I mean, you don't like me, you pick your boyfriends over me and on top of that you're offended by my very presence. So you can save your little speech for another time."

  "Wesley, you know that's not true," she said, defending herself.

  "Then why did you report your car stolen when you knew that I had it? You knew your car wasn't stolen. Did one of your boyfriends suggest that you do it?"

  "Don't twist this around on me, Wesley!" The anger in her voice flooded the small room I was sitting in. "Why are you drinking again?" she asked.

  "You know what, just forget it. I can't believe you have the nerve to ask why I'm drinking. Now I know for sure that I'm better off here." I leaned back in my seat and refused to say anything more.

  "Wesley, I want you to think about what you've done while you're in there. Do you understand me?" she asked.

  "Whatever," I answered her just so she'd shut up. At that moment Officer Sanchez stepped back into the conversation.

  "Ms. Carter, will you be at Wesley's upcoming court hearing?"

  "Yes, his father and I will be there," she said. After sharing a few pleasantries, Officer Sanchez hung up the phone.

  "Why is your relationship with your mother so poisonous?" he asked.

  "Like I said, it is what it is, man. She doesn't care about me and I don't care about her."

  I suppose Officer Sanchez didn't know how to respond to my comment so he didn't. He went about the business of processing me into the system. After I signed several documents regarding my personal belongings, Officer Sanchez walked me through another series of doors and into a small shower, which was about the size of a tiny fitting room at a clothing store.

  "There is shampoo and soap over there on the shelf." He pointed. "I need you to get undressed and hand me your clothes."

  "What? While you watch?" I asked, horrified at the thought of him looking at me while I undressed.

  "
Amigo,
this is the way it goes down in here. These are the rules you must follow." He removed my shackles.

  "What if I refuse?" I asked.

  "Trust me, you don't want to do that." Our eyes locked and I knew he was dead serious about what he'd just said.

  "Fine, man," I said, then got completely undressed and handed over all of my clothes.

  "The shower is on a timer. By the time it stops I'll be back with our standard inmate gray jogging pants and sweatshirt. All of the detainees wear them. After you get dressed, I'll take you through orientation so that you'll know the rules and what is expected of you while you're here. After we're done with that, I'll show you your sleeping quarters and then take you to the common area where the other detainees are."

  Officer Sanchez shut the door and locked me inside the tiny shower. I pressed a white button on the wall and the water came on. I stepped under the showerhead and got goose bumps as the water splashed against my skin. It was freezing cold at first but then adjusted automatically. I preferred nice long hot showers, but since there were no sill valves on the wall to adjust the temperature I had to live with bathing in water that was barely warm. I closed my eyes, punched a wall a few times with the side of my fist and then thought about how I was going to survive. The shower turned itself off and I moved over to the door to open it but I couldn't. I stood at the door, naked, wet and cold, searching for any signs of Officer Sanchez. When I didn't see him I took a few steps backward and placed my back against the wall. I folded my arms across my body, exhaled and tried to keep myself from going completely insane.