His Last Wife

“Baba Seti?”

Garcia-Bell and Kerry turned to find Auset standing behind them, reading the words on the computer screen over their shoulders.

Garcia-Bell rolled her eyes instantly.

“You ever hear of him?” Kerry asked, seemingly happy to have another potential believer there.

“Yes. Of course. He’s a good brother. Works with the ALA,” Auset said low.

“Really?” Kerry looked at Garcia-Bell. “I guess that’s how he has his sources.”

“Sure,” Garcia-Bell confirmed shortly.

“I’m glad you’re finally seeking the light, sis. Good to know we have more sistren like you,” Auset said.

Kerry smiled back a response. This wasn’t her first visit to Baba Seti’s Web site. Since her conversation with Auset that day on the yard, she’d been thinking of Jamison constantly, dreaming of him, daydreaming of him and remembering every little moment they’d shared up until that day on the roof. Then, one afternoon, as she peeled potatoes for dinner in the kitchen, her thinking went past that moment and she saw something that felt more real than anything around her: Jamison alive after the incident. He was in the middle of a crowd of brown faces in Cuba. He was wearing a Havana shirt, holding a microphone and telling the listeners the next plans for the revolution. They were to unite and then they’d come up from underground to reclaim their power. Reaching the bottom of the box of potatoes snatched Kerry from her little pondering. She chuckled off the idea at first. Chalked it up to having been on Baba Seti’s Web page all morning and looking at several other blogs. But then, when she went to her cell and looked up at the picture of Jamison and Tyrian hanging over her bed, she felt something so deep in her being that told her it was real, it was true. He was alive.

Sister Auset put her hand on Kerry’s shoulder. “Don’t be surprised if the enemy starts to do things to make you give up your search. Like, now that you know the truth is out there, things will start happening to you. Trust me.” She leaned in and cocked her head to the side, making her long locks cascade over her shoulder. “There are undercover agents everywhere. Even behind these bars. Don’t be fooled.”

The three women suspiciously looked at the librarian, a svelte white girl with red curls who was a volunteer from Georgia State University, and then over at the black inmates who never spoke to anyone else, sitting at another computer.

“Jesus, Auset! Agents? Who are these agents?” Garcia-Bell said, annoyed. “And the truth is out there? Isn’t that from The X-Files?” She laughed.

Auset looked over at Garcia-Bell like she was a child engaging in a conversation far beyond her level of comprehension.

“My Latina sister, I am not expecting you to understand what we are talking about,” Auset said.

Garcia-Bell laughed again like Auset was crazy. “Because I’m Spanish?”

“No, your people have led many revolutions. It’s just that you’re not conscious.”

“Conscious of what? The agents you claim are lurking around the jail? Spying on criminals?” Garcia-Bell snapped.

“No, conscious of the white-supremacist regime and how it remains in power in the world. That this is the beginning of the New World Order—you can’t see it? The G Eight taking over the Middle East, killing any African leader who opposes their power? And it’s nothing new. It’s what they did to every true freedom fighter and revolutionary since the beginning of time. Patrice Lumumba, Che Guevara, Fred Hampton, Malcolm X, Jesus Christ.”

Garcia-Bell held in a sarcastic chortle. “You can’t be serious.”

But Auset and Kerry kept straight faces. Kerry nodded. This was the sort of enticing information she’d been reading about on the blogs.

“Laugh if you want, but it’s real. And it’s serious. Now, they tried to get Sister Assata Shakur, but she fled to Cuba. They even tried to get Sister Angela Davis. And then Jamison Taylor.” She put her hand on Kerry’s shoulder again. “They tried. But we’re getting stronger. And we protected him.”

“From what?”

“The CIA was going to kill him.”

“Why?”

“Because like everyone else I mentioned, he was going to do something revolutionary to help brown people. You know what was on the line with the scholarship program Jamison was working on with brother Ras Baruti? Getting black boys educated and not just working? An entire generation? Jamison was talking about getting people in his community to stop tithing to churches and instead donating time and resources and money to schools. No way they were going to let that happen. And with the help of the basketball teams? All millionaires? Black men with money putting that money up to educate other black men—not spending it on dumb stuff like cars and chains, food and houses, but in the community? Some of the Falcons were signing up too. It was all coming together. By any means. Now, they couldn’t let that happen in this city. In this city? The busiest airport in the world is here. Atlanta is about to become the center of the universe. Educated black men here means new business. Means black business. Competition in the marketplace—competition they can’t control. And imagine if that idea left Atlanta and all basketball teams did that? And then all football teams in all the cities in the country? What would white supremacy look like then in ten years? Twenty years? They wanted Jamison dead. It’s easy to see if you’re conscious of the truth.”

“You know what I’m conscious of?” Garcia-Bell asked slyly and didn’t wait for a response. “The fact that your ass is really crazy.”

“No, Garcia-Bell,” Kerry said, trying to stop her friend, but it didn’t work.

“And you have some nerve coming over here feeding all of this crap to this woman. She needs real help, not fake hope. You know what? I think you should probably get away from here and sit your ass down.” Garcia-Bell stood and her imposing frame might have made Auset, who was a couple of inches shorter, look weaker, but Auset clearly wasn’t intimidated.

She only stared blankly. Her crew of women, who were sitting at a worktable nearby, noticed Garcia-Bell’s move and stood, ready to defend Auset.

“Oh no!” Kerry stood and tried to step between Garcia-Bell and Auset.