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When I nodded, Jas continued. “Well, that’s a category; being violent to dominate in a group. Then there’s impulsive violence where niggas can be triggered by anything. They can set it off without warning for logical reasons.” He counted off on his fingers. “The last category is calculated. These individuals cause violence in a planned out fashion…premeditated. They may possibly have goal-oriented reasons to perform. They plot, plan, and have a pay-out method in mind.”
“Which one were you?”
“I am more than one, according to them. When I got sent to theFEDs, I ain’t give a shit about dominating the inmates. Being top guy brings too much exposure. Being flashy can blind you to adversaries. I just wanted to be respected and left the hell alone, which is—”
“Probably normal.” I believed. “At least, that’s what most people I know would want under those circumstances.”
“Exactly. Being the big man in the pod is constant work. That wasn’t my thing.”
This shit was more fascinating than “Taking Tips from Tynisha!”
“What about impulsive? You can’t convince me of that for you.”
With a soft smile, Jas shook his head. “Nah. I’m a laid-back dude. Even before prison, I stayed low.”
“Then that leaves…” I did a quick calculation in my mind. Then I remembered and swallowed. “…self-defense and calculated. Which one?”
Jas nodded. “I didn’t go into prison to incite violence or start trouble, but I damn sure handled all the shit that came my way. I was young—mad young—and so were my contemporaries. It was like living with a bunch of kids in there. So, I acted violently in self-defense. Apparently, I’m also calculating with it.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I am. We had lots of educational and psychiatric sessions. Apparently, I tend to demonstrate antisocial personality disorder traits.”
“Like what?”First of all, what is that?
“Let’s see…” He sucked in a breath, and somehow my focus latched onto his lips. “Not often delineating between right and wrong.”
My forehead stretched. “Like a psychopath? Come on!” I rolled my eyes. “Or a sociopath?” Then I sighed deeply, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Someone said the difference between a sociopath and a psychopath is having a conscience.”
“Clearly…” I was trying to understand. “you have a conscience.” I mean…why would he make the effort of allowing me to get to know him—to helping me find a club?
“I do. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. I don’t even think either of those are diagnoses anymore. Doctors view those categories as antisocial behaviors, which can be so many diagnoses. So, with mine, I was told I’m Cluster B.”
“Cluster B?”
“There are categories with those, too. But mine is when a person exhibits strange or odd behavior.”
My hand clutched the glass. “Such as?”
“Antisocial personality disorder.” He slowly explained. “Not conforming to what’s deemed ‘normal’ rules of behavior, wildin’ out when agitated, lacking responsibility and accountability…overall cold-hearted and unsympathetic. That type of personality’s got a history of legal troubles. They’re aggressive and violent in relationships—all types. Feeling no remorse and never showing respect…basically not giving a shit about how their actions affect other people. That category usually abuses drugs and alcohol to help when they’re stressed, feeling tight and…” Jas shrugged. “…feeling bored.”
I was shaken. My ankles trembled and chest pounded. Jas had described a monster, and suddenly I wondered what lived in the storm he housed. What was behind the curated walls I’d been met with these past few months when trying to interact with him.
With little air in my lungs and no capacity to run from the table, I squealed, “Why haven’t you told me your name yet?”
Hardly perceptively, Jas nodded, eyes soft. Regretful. “At first, it was because I didn’t like you. The simple sight of you made me want to rebel. I knew you had your cold perception of me and it was correct. I didn’t want to fit it, but couldn’t deny it. I’ve never run from my past. I embrace who I am and the mistakes I’ve made. Sharing it all with you would have put me in yet another damn category. I’ve been labeled and filed away all my life. Don’t ask me why, but after you wouldn’t stop reaching out, I knew I ain’t want to be categorized by you. And now?”
“Yeah.” My throat painfully tight, words emitting lowly. “Now?”
“Now, I ain’t tryna scare you away.”
“But you’re sitting here, telling me about your sociopath diagnosis,” I could hardly get the words out against the furious pulse in my neck. “You’re not afraid that’ll scare me away?”
His eyes widened and forehead shrank when he confessed, “I ‘on’t know. But I promised you me, and that’s why I’m starting here.” Then Jas’ eyes peeled from me and lifted to the right.
“How was that?” I didn’t even sense the waiter nearing. He smiled, bringing my attention to my empty plate. “I think the chef did a great job.”
