They Remembered Me

Gizz called me. “I’m out of jail”, he said. He was arrested for breaking and entering (B & E). That’s his MO (Modus operandi). He’d say, “I been B & Eing since I was a baby.” He robs homes for expensive merchandise, mostly electronics, and then he’ll sell it on the streets for half the price. “You know Black?” he asked. Every hood has a dude so dark-skinned they call him “Black”. “Black who?” I asked “He’s from Plaza Park.” “Yes,” I said, “I know him.” “We were cell mates. We were talking about you. He was like – yeah, I know Talia.” We talked about Black for a bit. Then work. “I need a job T,” he said. After we were through talking, I wondered how my name came up in their conversation in a county jail cell. Were they talking about street work? Employment? Regardless, I was flattered to know that even while the young men I’ve worked with are incarcerated, they remember me. And hopefully, it’s because of something I said.