Get off my mom.
Samuel shared this story with me a little while back that kind of stuck in the back of my head for many reasons. It was about this time he witnessed his mother being attacked during one of her jobs. I decided to set up a call with the prison and ask Samuel to talk a little bit more about his mom, and to share that story.
“You have a call from Sammy ****** an inmate at the Kern Valley State Prison, Delano, California. This call and your telephone number will be monitored and recorded. You have a prepaid call. You will not be charged for this call. To accept this call, say, or dial five now. *BEEP* Thank you for using global Tel Link.”
Magida: Hey, are you cool with me recording this call?
Samuel: Ummmm, yep I’m fine with that.
Magida: What was the hesitation about?
Samuel: Nothing, I’m just cleaning at the same time.
Magida: Okay, so there was a story I wanted you to share with me. It was about the time you walked in on your mom being attacked. Can we chat a little bit about that?
Samuel: Yeah. Okay, so I remember I think I was 14. I was at my mom’s and she was having a bad day. She was not feeling too good and I had to go fucking find her some heroin.
Magida: How does a 14- year-old boy find heroin? Did she tell you what to do?
Samuel: Well, I mean, yeah, that’s super easy. There would be times where I would wake up in the morning and she'd be like, come on, let's go. And I remember my mom had this funny walk. She couldn't really walk. She would literally hold on to my arm because her motor skills were not good due to her being in a coma earlier on and fucking up her equilibrium. I used to be so embarrassed because she used to look like she was drunk. So, anyways, she would hold onto my arm and take these little small half steps. She was maybe 90 pounds at the most. I knew she was getting high or whatever, I would have to take her to the corner to pick up heroin in Skid Row. So, little by little, she was “training” me, I suppose. So, eventually she would start to call me and say, “Yo, come here and help me.” And if I didn't get there on time, she’d freak out. She couldn't get out of bed because she was too sick, so she'd say “Oh, go down seventh, down by the bus station and look for that guy. Just make sure you get me two bags of heroin” or we’d call it, “black”. And I would just go and fucking score dope for her and come back and I would hold her arm or tie her arm and then she would shoot up heroin like nothing, not really a big deal.
Magida: Wait, sorry, you would tie up her arm?
Samuel: Yeah, she would ask me to help her and I would hold a tie, like a rubber tie or a fucking belt or whatever, and I would hold her arm for her and she would fucking shoot up drugs.
Magida: What were you thinking as she was doing this in front of you?
Samuel: It was kind of normal, I mean, I don't know how to say it. I don't know if I was angry because I was like, “fuck, she's spending all her fucking money on fucking drugs.” Sometimes I would take money from her and she would freak out like, “oh, you want me to be sick.” And sometimes I would lash out at her, like I don't give a fuck. So, on this one day she was trippin’ out that I didn't want to get off my ass and go get drugs for her. So I reluctantly went downstairs and I scored for her and came back and she was okay and super cool with me once she got high. I think it was towards the afternoon on this specific day and we were hanging out and my mom was like “hey, can you leave for a couple hours." I'm guessing so she can work and make money. So she gave me a couple of dollars so I could go play at the arcade down the street. I was only gone for like 45 minutes and I was like, “fuck this man. I'm going back home. I'm tired. I want to smoke some weed and go to sleep.”
…“This call and your telephone number will be monitored and recorded”
Samuel: ... So I go back home and I'm downstairs and I'm thinking she’s gonna bitch at me because I’m early. So I get to the door and I hear screaming and yelling, so I fucking open the door and there's this 200 pound guy on top of her. I don't think he heard me because he didn't turn around. They’re both naked and he has my mom by her throat and he’s fucking punching her in her face. I just remember running and grabbing a knife and I just started stabbing the dude. I stabbed the guy in the back of his lower spine. I mean I don't think I had enough strength to really hurt him. He stopped, and straightened up. Then I stabbed him again and again and again in the shoulder. Once he turned around, he just backhanded me and it was fucking hard. I fell backwards and got up again, and I fucking started just lashing out with a knife, and stabbing him. Then he started beating the shit out of me. By that time, people were already in the hallway and stuff. Once he left, my mom started yelling at me like, "what the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking stupid motherfucker. You know I told you not to fucking come here."
Magida: Do you think he wasn't going to pay her? Like, why do you think he was attacking her?
Samuel: I don't know. Like, I don't know if that's a part of her thing, for pleasure? I don't know. I have no idea. But that was my first time I actually realized, “oh shit, my mom's a fucking prostitute.” I didn't really see her like that. But I didn't judge her, or think she was bad or whatever. That was her fucking life and she was supporting her own drug habit.
Magida: Do you have any good memories of her?
Samuel: Yeah, I think I do. I haven't really thought about it. One time I had this discussion with my Aunt Norma. And my Aunt Norma, had this vision of my mom, because my mom was the youngest of all her siblings and she was very beautiful, and everybody loved her. So when I spoke to my aunt, she’d say “Oh wow, your mom was so good to you.”
Magida: No, really?
…“This call and your telephone number will be monitored and recorded”
Samuel: But I think it's true though. Like, I think it's true. Up until five or six years old when that robbery happened. I think that was the changing point. Once I got taken away from her, I didn't talk to her for fucking years because she went to prison. And then I think when she got out of prison she was worse from all the drugs. Then she fucking OD'd and was never the same again. She was no longer good to me or friendly any more.
Magida: So, I asked you, do you have any good memories of her?
Samuel: Okay, I know, okay, so yeah, I do. I remember living in the apartment. It was me and her, and she was really nice to me at the time. I was really young, maybe five years old and I would shower with her. She was very affectionate to me. Nothing weird, just a mother and her child kind of love. I was her baby and she was good to me. She would bathe me and comb my hair, so I remember those things about her. Her feeding me and caring for me. I remember that.
Magida: So, no memories of you guys playing, going to the park, or going to the mall for fast food or something?
Samuel: No, I really don't actually. Unfortunately. But I'm sure those memories are there in my head somewhere and maybe I'll start to remember stuff. But right now, I can't really remember anything like that. No good memories.
Magida: So, a good memory for you is her being a mother figure that you kind of craved for and needed. A woman caring for you physically and emotionally, the softness of a mother’s touch... Sorry I need a minute.
Samuel: Are you crying? Please don’t cry.
Magida: No… actually, yeah. I'm crying. It’s not that I feel sorry or bad for you. I just think that. I don’t know. I just want you to know that you are worthy of love and being loved. I think you were just placed in a very unfortunate circumstance and that it was unfair for you as a child to not have the tender love from a mother that a child needs.
Samuel: It’s okay. I’m okay.
Magida: Yeah. I know. You’re more okay than you should be, I think. Anyways, thank you for sharing that memory of her. I think it's a beautiful memory for you to hold on to.
“You have 60 seconds remaining…”
Samuel: I know that you know how much my mother warned me not to trust women and it's been very hard to actually see my worth as a man. So, I appreciate you allowing me to share these stories and work through some of these memories.
Magida: Of course Samuel, I think it's important to talk about it. Okay, I think this is gonna hang up. I'll talk to you later, thanks again.
Samuel: Good looking out, be safe.
