Brian Davis
The ConTextos Authors Circle was developed in collaboration with young people at-risk of, victims of, or perpetrators of violence in El Salvador. In 2017 this innovative program expanded into Chicago to create tangible, high quality opportunities that nourish the minds,,expand the voices and share the personal truths of individuals who have long been underserved and underestimated. Through the process of drafting, revising and publishing memoirs, participants develop self-reflection, critical thinking, camaraderie and positive selfprojection to author new life narratives.
Since January 2017 ConTextos has partnered with Cook County Sheriff's Office to implement Authors Circle in Cook County Department of Corrections as part of a vision for reform that recognizes the value of mental health, rehabilitation and reflection. These powerful memoirs complicate the narratives of violence and peace building, and help author a hopeful future for human beings behind walls, their families and our collective communities.
While each author’s text is solely the work of the Author, the image used to create this book’s illustrations have been sourced by various print publications. Authors curate these images and then, using only their hands, manipulate the images through tearing, folding, layering and careful positioning. By applying these collage techniques, Authors transform their written memoirs into illustrated books.
This project is being supported, in whole or in part, by federal award number ALN 21.027 awarded to Cook County by the U.S. Department of the Treasury.
The Extinguishing of My Twin Flame
Brian Davis
“Thank you for using Global Tel-link…” As I waited for the automated voice to stop speaking, I thought about how long it's been since I talked to my twin.
He answered the 15 minute call saying, “What you on, you don’t never hit the phone, you don’t fuck with mufuckas or some?” in a joking manner. I couldn’t recall the last time I called bro, these caseworkers ain’t making it easy on us with these six fifteen-minute calls per week.
Something inside me urged me to call and check on one of the guys I was just with 24 hours a day, 7 days a week before I got detained in the JTDC (Audy Home).
We chopped it up on what's been going on in the world and how I been holding up inside. He told me he was headed Downtown to meet with his girlfriend because she has somewhere to be for a potential job.
I let my boy know to be safe and stay (safe) dangerous because he know how hot the city is during the summer.
He also let me know how he been driving lately and been feeling confident about making moves on his own. I was excited for him because around the time being able to drive and make moves dolo was important to us.
I realized I had a video visit, which is rare in the Audy Home, and told him I’m going to try to get him on. We ended the call and I told him I’m going to hit the phone later.
Sadly, due to the strict rules coming from the caseworker I could only have family on the call, missing the chance to see his face one last time.
Later on that day I hopped on the jack and called him back. Tread told me he was Downtown now with his girl and I could hear the life and energy in this voice.
He say his girl went inside the job place and he was walking around thinking about bussin’ a move. I asked him with sincerity if he felt he was sure he was ready and he said it's some shit he was still working on. From his tone I knew he was confident in himself.
I rapped some songs I been writing and he said that I needed to hurry up and get back so we can jump in the studio together. After chopping it up some more the timer on our last conversation rang. “You have one-minute remaining” in that cold, soul-less automated voice.
I promised to start swinging through his line more often and told my boy “love” and he returned the feeling right back saying “love, head up ” before the zeros and ones which converted into sound waves blared “Thank you for using Global Tel-link.” This closed the door on our connection to each other on this Earth, unbeknownst to me at the time.
The next day went on as a usual day in the Audy Home watching movies, playing cards, and hooping in the gym. My homie from the block was on deck with me at the time. We decided not to really use our limited minutes until later that week.
The day crept on and around 4 or 5 o ’clock my homie decided on calling his brother and checking in. I was sitting in the TV area watching a movie that I definitely can't recall when I heard him moan out, “Naww lord!” with so much emotion it sent chills through my body from my cubicles to my eyelashes.
I started to get a gut feeling something tragic had happened, but I quickly tried to push it away hoping he was being theatric. One of his shorties probably found out he cheating, I assumed.
Jay slammed the phone down and walked toward the tv-area with anguish and despair written all across his face and demeanor. That gut feeling came back ten-times harder. As he sat in the seat behind me to the left he spoke the words that still make me numb to this day. “Tread checked.” I instantly went from anxious to angry when I growled, “What!” He repeated those same painful words.
Those 10 letters. Those two words. Those five syllables left with me so many emotions and trauma that I still struggle to control this day when they escaped his lips. I fought the tears in my eyes fighting to escape when I asked, “How?” barely recognizing my voice.
As he recounted the story his brother told him we both could no longer control the hurricane clouding our eyes. You know what they say, “You can’t stop the rain.” No one killed him, but he was gone. It didn't matter how it went down, it only mattered that it did.
My mind was wrapped around the cause, that effect shit was pending. I sat in a daze staring at the TV screen for the rest of the movie but I didn't register a thing that took place. It was an ethereal feeling of nothingness throughout my entire being as my mind raced at a mile-a-minute. Sadness, Confusion, Frustration. Despair. There was no way of pinpointing one emotion to describe how I felt or even understand what was going down.
The dinner came but I can't remember what it was so don’t get me lying. We sat at the table with the other detainees and they felt the energy shift and picked up on what went down. No one asked “ you cool” or “what happened” because everybody knows that's like prodding a sleeping beast. Everyone simply ate and engaged in small talk with the rest of the guys. Everyone but me. “How could they have an appetite?” I thought with malice. “Tread can’t eat no more ” I thought. I stared at my plate for some minutes before I pushed it forward towards the rest of them. Jay told me I got to eat but it went in the left ear and out the right. Caring words spoken on deaf ears.
Dinner ended and I went to hop on the jack to get some answers. I needed closure. I needed someone to tell me Jay brother made that shit up or heard the wrong thing.
Dialing my auntie number I tapped my leg in anticipation as the phone rung. Her first words after that cold, automated voice concluded were “I’m so sorry. ”
I tried to speak but a frog formed in my throat and the salt-water glided from my eyes. I slammed the end call button and tried to hold it in. The last thing I needed was for someone to bring up this moment against me in the future because all I would see was red.
The rest of the night drifted by. It felt as if there was no sense of time, but all I wished was that I could turn it backwards. Jay cell and mine were next to one another so we talked the entire night until our eyes were heavy and our voices were raspy. We talked about all the good and bad shit about our fallen soldier, reminding ourselves that we gotta sit back and laugh about the good times we had with him because it's all we had left of him.
We did our best to be positive and I can't speak on another man ' s feelings, but deep down I couldn’t douse the flame that burned inside me and threatened to corrupt my mind. I already had ill-thoughts on my mind from past events, but at that time I fell into a dark place that I can’t truthfully say I fully recovered from.
