Beyond the Walls

The Question

"Visitation Log #13"

Malik: "Hey, Trouble."

Alina: "There you are."

Malik: "You been thinking about it all week, ain't you?"

Alina: "Thinking about what?"

Malik: "See... now you lying."

Alina: "Just ask me the question."

Malik: "We'll get there."

Alina: "Malik!"

Malik: "Patience, Trouble."

Patience.

I was starting to hate that word.

Especially when it came out of Malik's mouth.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

For seven whole days, he'd left me wondering what he wanted to ask me.

Seven days.

Multiple thirty-minute phone calls.

Plenty of opportunities to tell me.

And every single time I tried to bring it up...

He changed the subject.

Tuesday night, I tried being casual.

"So..."

"So what, Trouble?"

"You remember Sunday?"

"I remember every Sunday."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I don't."

"You said you had something to ask me."

"Oh, that."

"Yes. That."

"I'll ask you Sunday."

"Why can't you ask me now?"

"Because I said Sunday."

I rolled my eyes so hard I was glad he couldn't see me.

"You get on my nerves."

"I know."

Wednesday, I tried again.

He laughed before I even finished my sentence.

"Nope."

"Malik!"

"Sunday."

"Why are you like this?"

"You keep answering the phone, Trouble."

Thursday, I refused to ask.

At least that's what I told myself.

Twenty-three minutes into our call, I cracked.

"Can I get a hint?"

"No."

"One little hint."

"No."

"Does it involve me?"

"Obviously."

"Is it something bad?"

"No."

"Something good?"

"Depends."

"Depends on WHAT?"

He laughed.

"Goodnight, Trouble."

"We still got seven minutes!"

"I know."

"You are so irritating."

"And you still gonna answer tomorrow."

Unfortunately...

He was right.

By Saturday night, I had created at least fifty possibilities in my head.

Maybe he wanted to ask me to bring something to the visit.

Maybe he wanted my opinion about something.

Maybe he had news about his case.

Maybe it had something to do with his family.

Maybe—

"Stop."

I said it out loud to myself.

Whatever it was...

I'd know tomorrow.

...

Sunday morning came.

My alarm didn't get a chance to ring.

Again.

I opened my eyes, reached for my phone and checked the time.

5:11 a.m.

I stared at the ceiling.

"Seriously?"

There was no point trying to go back to sleep.

I was wide awake.

And nervous.

Not nervous about the visit.

Those nerves had faded weeks ago.

This was different.

This was Malik.

And his stupid mystery question.

I climbed out of bed and started getting ready.

I changed clothes twice.

Then three times.

Finally, I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself.

"Why are you acting like this man about to propose?"

I immediately laughed.

"Girl, please."

But even after I said it...

My stomach still had butterflies.

...

The drive felt longer than usual.

Every song irritated me.

Every red light lasted too long.

And every few minutes, my mind went right back to his question.

Whatever it was.

By the time the prison came into view, I had decided something.

I wasn't going to ask.

Nope.

If Malik wanted to play games...

I could play too.

I was going to walk into visitation, sit down, smile, and act like I'd completely forgotten.

Perfect plan.

Except Malik knew me.

Probably better than I wanted to admit.

...

I made it through security and into the visitation room.

Then I took my usual seat.

I didn't go near the vending machines.

I never did before he came in.

That was something we did together.

So I sat.

And waited.

Every time the door moved, my eyes automatically lifted.

Not him.

I looked away.

A few minutes later, it opened again.

This time...

There he was.

My entire plan disappeared.

His eyes found mine almost immediately.

That smile appeared.

And there went every ounce of attitude I'd planned to have.

He walked toward me with that calm confidence that always got on my nerves because he knew exactly what his presence did to me.

When he reached the table, he held out his hand.

"Hey, Trouble."

I looked up at him.

"There you are."

His fingers wrapped around mine.

Firm.

Warm.

Familiar.

He gently pulled me from my seat, and before I could say anything else, his arms wrapped around me.

Tight.

Firm.

The kind of hug that made me close my eyes without thinking.

I wrapped my arms around him.

This was always my favorite part.

That first moment.

After an entire week of hearing his voice but not being able to touch him...

There he was.

Real.

Right in front of me.

His arms tightened for another second before he pulled back.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

Then he leaned down and kissed me.

Soft.

Familiar.

Just enough to make me forget the speech I'd prepared in the car.

When he pulled away, he was smiling.

"What?"

I asked.

"You."

"What about me?"

"You ain't said nothing yet."

"About what?"

His eyebrow lifted.

I fought my smile.

"What?"

He laughed.

"Trouble..."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, aight."

He kept holding my hand as we walked toward the vending machines.

"What you want?"

"I don't know yet."

"You've had all morning to think about it."

"I was thinking about something else."

He stopped.

I realized my mistake immediately.

His grin widened.

"Oh?"

"Don't."

"What were you thinking about, Trouble?"

"Food."

"You just said you don't know what you want."

"I hate you."

He laughed.

"Nah, you don't."

I didn't.

Not even close.

...

We picked out our food and carried everything back to the table.

For the first ten minutes, I refused to mention the question.

Malik didn't mention it either.

He talked about his week like nothing was happening.

I told him about work.

He told me about something funny that had happened in his unit.

We argued about what movie was better.

We laughed.

We ate.

And the whole time...

I could feel him watching me.

Finally, I put my food down.

"Okay."

He looked innocent.

"Okay what?"

"Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

I stared at him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh.

"Malik."

"Yes, Trouble?"

"Don't play with me."

"I'm not playing."

"You told me you had something to ask me."

"Ohhhh."

He dragged the word out.

I leaned back in my chair.

"You know what? Never mind."

"Come back."

"Nope."

"Trouble."

"I don't care anymore."

"You been thinking about it for seven days."

"No, I haven't."

"Every phone call."

"Whatever."

"You asked me for hints."

"That wasn't me."

He laughed.

"Who was it?"

"My twin."

"I ain't know you had one."

"You don't know everything."

"I know you."

The teasing faded from his face when he said it.

And suddenly...

So did mine.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

"Come here."

"I'm right here."

"Nah."

He reached across the table and held out his hand.

"Give me your hand."

I looked at him suspiciously.

"For what?"

"See? That's why I call you Trouble."

I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine.

He looked down at our hands for a second.

Then back at me.

Something about his expression changed.

He wasn't joking anymore.

"Can I be real with you?"

"Always."

He nodded slowly.

"You know I don't really know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"This."

He motioned between us.

"Relationships?"

"Feelings."

I stayed quiet.

He continued.

"I told you before..."

"I know how to love people."

"I love my family."

"I love my people."

"But being in love with somebody..."

He shook his head.

"I don't know nothing about that."

"I know."

"And I don't wanna lie to you."

"I don't want you to."

"I don't wanna tell you something just because I think that's what you wanna hear."

"Then don't."

His thumb moved slowly across the back of my hand.

"I've had women in my life before."

"I know."

"I've cared about people."

"I know that too."

"But this..."

He paused.

"This different."

My heart started beating faster.

"Different how?"

He looked at me for a moment.

"I'm still trying to figure that out."

And there it was.

Malik.

No rehearsed speech.

No grand declaration.

No pretending he understood something he didn't.

Just honesty.

The same honesty that had pulled me toward him from the beginning.

He looked down at our hands again.

"I think about you when I wake up."

"I wonder what you doing during the day."

"When something happen, I wanna tell you."

"When something bothering me, I wanna talk to you."

"And Sundays..."

He smiled slightly.

"I be waiting on Sundays harder than you do."

"I doubt that."

He laughed.

"There she go."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

His expression became serious again.

"I don't know what to call what I feel."

"And I'm not ready to call it something just because everybody else would."

My chest tightened.

Not from disappointment.

From understanding.

"I don't need you to."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I'd rather you give me something real that doesn't have a name than give me a word you don't mean."

He stared at me.

For several seconds, he didn't say anything.

Then he squeezed my hand.

"That's why I mess with you."

I laughed.

"That was almost sweet."

"Don't push it."

"There he is."

He smiled.

"But that ain't my question."

My eyes widened.

"WHAT?"

He burst out laughing.

"Malik!"

"Calm down, Trouble."

"I thought that was the question!"

"I know."

"You did all that on purpose."

"I had something I needed to say."

"You could've said that on Tuesday!"

"Nah."

"Why?"

"I wanted to look at you when I said it."

That shut me up.

Completely.

His smile softened.

"Now..."

He adjusted in his seat.

"Here's my question."

I leaned forward.

"I'm listening."

"You sure?"

"If you don't ask me this question..."

He laughed.

"Aight. Aight."

Then he looked directly into my eyes.

"I want to know what you want."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"From me."

The question wasn't what I'd expected.

"What do you want this to be?"

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

He continued.

"Everybody always asking me what I'm gonna do when I get out."

"Where I'm gonna live."

"What kind of job I'm gonna get."

"What I'm gonna do with my life."

"But..."

He squeezed my hand.

"I wanna know where you see yourself."

"Not where you see me."

"You."

The question hit somewhere deeper than I expected.

"What do you want, Trouble?"

I looked down.

For years, that question had always been easy to answer.

I wanted my family okay.

I wanted stability.

I wanted peace.

I wanted everybody I loved taken care of.

But when was the last time someone asked what I wanted...

Just for me?

"I don't know."

He didn't laugh.

He didn't tease me.

He simply waited.

"I think..."

I took a breath.

"I want peace."

"Okay."

"I want consistency."

He nodded.

"I want somebody I don't have to question all the time."

His eyes stayed on mine.

"I want to feel safe with somebody."

"Not just physically."

"Emotionally."

"I want to be able to say when something hurts me without somebody making me feel like I'm doing too much."

He nodded slowly.

"I want honesty."

"Even when the truth isn't pretty."

"I want somebody who chooses me when I'm standing right there..."

"And when I'm not."

His thumb stopped moving across my hand.

For a second, I wondered if I'd said too much.

Then he asked quietly...

"You think I can give you that?"

I looked at him.

"Some of it, you already do."

"And the rest?"

"That's something you'd have to decide."

He leaned back slightly.

"What you mean?"

"I can't teach you how to choose me."

"I can't teach you how to be honest."

"I can't teach you how to respect what we're building."

"Those are choices."

His eyes stayed locked on mine.

"And I'm not asking you to be perfect."

"I don't need perfect."

"I need real."

He nodded.

"I can respect that."

"Good."

"Anything else?"

I smiled.

"Yes."

"What?"

"Pancakes."

He stared at me.

Then burst out laughing.

"See?"

"What?"

"Trouble."

...

The rest of the morning visit felt different.

Not heavier.

Closer.

Something had shifted between us.

We still didn't have a label for whatever we were becoming.

Maybe we didn't need one yet.

Malik hadn't told me he was in love with me.

I hadn't asked him to.

He hadn't made promises about forever.

I hadn't asked for those either.

Instead...

We had done something that felt more important.

We'd told each other what we were afraid to say.

The morning announcement came.

"Visitation will be ending shortly."

Malik squeezed my hand.

"I'll see you this afternoon."

"I know."

He stood first.

Like always, his hand reached for mine.

He helped me from my chair.

Then he pulled me into him.

Tight.

Firm.

For a few seconds, I rested against his chest.

"Trouble."

"Hmm?"

"I heard everything you said."

I pulled back enough to look at him.

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He kissed me.

Then whispered...

"I'm listening."

...

Between visits, I sat in my car replaying the conversation.

Not the kiss.

Not the hug.

Not even the question I'd spent seven days obsessing over.

One sentence.

I want to know what you want.

I couldn't remember the last time someone had asked me that.

Maybe that was why Malik was becoming so important to me.

He didn't always know what to say.

He didn't understand love the way I did.

He wasn't emotionally perfect.

Neither was I.

But he was learning me.

And I was learning him.

...

By the afternoon visit, everything felt lighter.

When he came through the door again, his eyes immediately found mine.

He smiled.

"Hey, Trouble."

I smiled back.

"There you are."

Just like that...

We were us again.

His hand reached for mine.

He pulled me up.

Firm hug.

Kiss.

Then we walked together.

Our routine.

Our Sunday.

Our little piece of normal inside a place that was anything but normal.

...

Near the end of the afternoon visit, we sat holding hands across the table.

Malik looked unusually thoughtful.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"That's a lie."

He smiled.

"See why I call you Trouble?"

"Tell me."

He looked down at our hands.

Then back at me.

"You said you want somebody who chooses you when you're there and when you're not."

"I did."

He nodded.

"I'm gonna remember that."

Something about the way he said it made my stomach flutter.

Not because it was a promise.

It wasn't.

Malik didn't make promises easily.

Maybe that was why I believed him when he said he'd remember.

The officer announced the end of visitation.

We stood.

He pulled me close one last time.

I held him tighter than I had that morning.

When we separated, he kissed me and looked into my eyes.

"Drive safe, Trouble."

"I will."

"And answer when I call."

I laughed.

"Don't I always?"

"Yeah."

He smiled.

"You do."

We walked toward opposite doors.

I looked back.

So did he.

And for the first time...

I realized something.

Maybe Malik wasn't the only one learning what being in love meant.

Maybe I was learning something too.

Love wasn't always hearing the words.

Sometimes...

It was being asked what you wanted.

And realizing someone actually cared enough to listen to the answer.