Cruisin On Desperation. Pat G'Orge-Walker
can’t help your medical condition. Check out Mother Blister,” Cill continued. “Her breath can stop a Mack truck.”
Cill wanted to know the real story, so she decided to sacrifice Mother Blister’s reputation since the old woman had finally gone to the bathroom and couldn’t defend herself. “Go ahead and tell us what really happened.”
Birdie wasn’t sure if she believed Cill’s sudden interest and particularly the part about Mother Blister since she’d never smelled the old woman’s breath. But then again, she hadn’t smelled her own either. With her dignity hanging by a thread, Birdie continued explaining.
“Like I said, I was talking with one of the guards.” Birdie stopped. She was momentarily distracted by Mother Blister reentering the room and sitting down. “As I was saying, the guard only mentioned my outfit once as he wrote out my visitation pass. No doubt he knew class when he saw it.”
“We already know you went there to visit. So if you didn’t get a date with the guard, who was it?” Needy asked with a touch of agitation in her voice as she dismissed Birdie’s mention of class.
“It’s not that I couldn’t have had a date with a guard; but it was with a guy that was being processed for release,” Birdie replied almost apologetically. She let her head drop in shame.
“Say that again,” Petunia said, rising like a stalk of wheat from her seat. “You got us all riled up and hopeful and your date was with a man that was just getting out of jail?”
“It wasn’t exactly that simple—” Birdie hesitated before going on.
It was starting to get ugly as if ugly wasn’t already present in the room.
“I didn’t know at that moment that he was a guest of the state.”
“I betcha they didn’t treat him like a guest,” Cill snickered.
Birdie let that remark slide. She needed to hurry and finish telling her side of the story. “It was while he was waiting for his papers to leave, and I was waiting for mine to go in, that we started talking. He seemed so nice. All the guards that passed by seemed to know him and they called him by his first name. I didn’t find out until many months later that at that time he was being released from prison. On that day, we just never talked about it.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Cill said as she slumped back in her seat. “What in the world were you thinking?”
Birdie’s face reddened as she tried to explain. “At the time, with him being so popular, I figured he just came up there a lot.”
“You mean came in there a lot,” Needy snickered while getting high fives from Cill and Petunia.
It was like watching a speeding car wreck waiting for Birdie to finish. There would be casualties but it would have to wait for the story to end.
Birdie ignored Needy and continued. “Anyway, after about ten minutes of sweet conversation that day, we exchanged telephone numbers. And, he also gave me a snapshot. I’ll show it to you—”
“A snapshot or a mug shot?” Mother Blister interrupted. She had returned around the time Birdie mentioned something about a man in prison.
It was only about the second time that Mother Blister had bothered to interrupt because Birdie’s story was too familiar and she wanted to see how much so.
While the others snickered and nudged one another Mother Blister leaned forward in her seat to hear better. Although the clicking sound made by her false teeth distorted some of Birdie’s words, she listened anyway. Mother Blister only mildly began to feel sorry for Birdie’s apparent predicament. She wasn’t sure if Birdie would know the difference between DeCon or an ex-con.
“I think I have it right here in my pocketbook,” Birdie said, rumbling through her purse still searching for the questionable photo and, hopefully, a Tic-Tac.
“Don’t feel bad honey,” Petunia said, “I had one of those experiences too. I even went so far as to accept some collect calls from a fella in prison. He sent my phone bill up so high I thought I’d have to use a carrier pigeon to keep in touch with folks.”
“Been there and done that,” Cill added.
Needy was the first one to ask Cill what the others were suddenly thinking. “You had a man in prison, too?”
“Girl, please. No way. I was talking about having a high telephone bill,” Cill said, laughing so hard her chin hair was starting to wiggle. Her laughter seemed to lighten the tension that was starting to build.
“Here it is!” Birdie said, excitedly. It wasn’t just because she’d found the photo, it was also because she’d found an old dinner mint. She quickly popped the mint in her mouth and continued.
“It will be difficult to see his entire body because it’s only a side-view shot of him from the waist up. Although it’s his left side, you can believe he is a fine-looking man.” Birdie used the photo as a fan to show just how hot she thought the man was before handing it to Needy.
Needy’s reaction was hard to read. Her jaw fixed, she looked at the picture of a young, honey-complexioned man with jet-black wavy hair. He looked to be somewhere in his late thirties. She studied the photo long and hard before she finally spoke. “Birdie, dear. I know this is only a side view but why does his eye look so teary?”
“Oh, I ain’t no ordinary fool. I asked him the same thing. He said he’d had some drops put in his eyes because they were dry,” Birdie replied, impatiently.
It looks more like he’d had drops of liquor. This man looks high, Needy thought before continuing. “Birdie, dear. What is he being measured for? There are height measurement lines on the wall behind him.”
“I asked him about that too,” Birdie replied in a huff. What had started out to be a brag session was quickly turning into an inquisition. “He said he took the picture in a doctor’s office. He said the doctor’s office was really small so instead of a scale with a height pole on it the lines were drawn on the wall.”
“Birdie, dear,” Needy asked, slowly that time. “These numbers along the bottom of this photo, I guess they are his medical identification information?”
“In fact, Needy, that’s exactly what it is.” It dawned upon her that the others might start to think that she wasn’t hip so she quickly added, “Well you know I’m quite sharp. Like I said before, I ain’t no fool so I asked him about those numbers on the bottom of the photo, too.” Birdie was quite pleased with herself. Apparently, she’d asked all the right questions.
“And why is the last name smudged off?” Needy asked. She ignored Birdie’s last enthusiastic response. “I can still read the first name. It looks like his name is Lyon,” Needy added while holding the picture at an angle to see it better.
“Oh that. I asked about that too because I wanted to know his last name.”
While Needy and Birdie carried on with their foolish question and response routine, the other women looked on, totally captivated by what was happening.
“So, what did he say? How did he explain it?” Needy asked, slowly. Suspicion was riding her like a jockey with his butt glued to the saddle trying to sprint in the mud. Each step, like each question, was getting dirtier and harder.
“He said that they had misspelled his last name so rather than leave it that way, he decided to erase it.” Birdie was starting to get an eerie feeling like perhaps they thought she wasn’t telling the truth. “But, he did tell me his last name,” she offered.
“Really,” Needy pushed. “Care to share it?”
“L.I.P.P.S.” Birdie recited each letter slowly. “His last name is Lipps.”
“Lyon Lipps? Is that his name?” Needy asked while still studying the photo. She was about to ask another question when the quiet in the room was suddenly disturbed by the sound of rustling