Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row (9 page)

“Secret messages!!!” So I began peeling the stamps off, reading about when you were 6 years old, and I was completely absorbed by it, then the next stamp I peeled off said, “Today is my birthday,” and my heart just sank. I said, “How could I not have remembered?” Then I immediately ran back to the phone and tried to call you, but you’re not home, so now I’m writing this letter. I feel so bad, how could I have not said something? I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe I was so stupid.

Love forever to my dearest one,

D.

July 23, 1996

My Dearest Lorri,

It’s driving me insane that I won’t be able to talk to you tonight. I miss you so much. I just keep thinking about how I will get to talk to you face-to-face in just 4 days. I can’t believe it. I’m going to try not to cry when you leave, but I can’t promise anything.
I’ll just be glad when this is over, and we can sit and talk for as long as we want, about anything we want, with no glass between us, and no phone that cuts off in 15 minutes. It’ll be so great. But until then . . . I see you in 4 days!!!

I was also thinking about what you said about there being so much in New York that you wanted to show me, and I formed a plan. As soon as I get out of that courtroom, I’m going to the nearest phone I can find. I will call and tell you I’m free, and I’m on my way. Then I’ll go straight to the bus station (I’m not flying anywhere unless I can fly with you) and off I will go. I’ve only ever ridden the bus once before, all the way from Oregon to Arkansas, and I thought it was pretty fun. I wonder which is farther away, New York or Oregon? It seems like Oregon would be. A long, long road trip. That sounds so wonderful after having sat here in one place for so long. When I was on the bus, I didn’t even get carsick for some reason. Maybe it’s because it’s so much different from being in a car. Can you drive? I don’t think I could force myself to do it. It’s scary. Listen to how I’m rambling on. I didn’t think I was nervous or excited.

*

I can feel everything here coming to a climax, I can feel it with every part of my being, that’s why I believe so very strongly that I’ll be out of here soon. And I can’t wait; I’m just so excited. It may sound strange, but until you found me again, I was a little afraid of being released after being here for so long. But now, I can’t wait, because I know that with you, there are so many more wonderful things in store. I would love to take you to the lake by which I used to live, and just sit quietly with you all night, watching the light reflect off the water, thinking. And I want so bad to be able to see the town where you grew up, to be able to see the very place that you were born. It would be wonderful.

Sending so much love forever to my dearest one,

D.

July 24, 1996

My Dearest Lorri,

I wish I could just explain what you mean to me, but it’s impossible. I can’t put it into words. I have to try, when I talk to you on the phone tonight, to explain myself, but I know I will fail miserably. Maybe if I try to write it and explain it, I can somehow make you understand at least a little.

So here goes, this is the only thing I can think of: For so long now, the quote, “In my darkest hour, grace did not shine on me” was my philosophy, my outlook on life; it became my “trademark.” But now I realize that the only way I could say such a thing is because I was blind. All the time, grace was shining on me, and it was shining more brightly than a spotlight, and the only reason I couldn’t see it was because it shone so brightly that I had to close my eyes to it, or it would have burned them out, as if I had been gazing directly into the sun. My eyes were closed so that I couldn’t see it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there all the same. Now, it’s as if my eyes have been opened, and I can actually see, and everything is so beautiful that it couldn’t even begin to be described by the human tongue.

For so long, I kept asking, “Why is this happening to me? I haven’t done anything to be punished like this.” But once again, I was only able to say that because I was blind. Now I see that it’s not a punishment, it’s a reward! It’s the reward of a thousand lifetimes, and now I ask myself, “What have I ever done to deserve a reward
like this?” And I’m more happy than I’ve ever been in my life, in any life. And I’m more thankful than anyone could ever imagine. It’s as if now I truly know how the saints felt when they were completely swept up in ecstasy, in bliss, and they would form the stigmata of Christ on their own hands and feet, or be able to hear the angels whispering, or even singing to them. I know how it feels. And I know that nothing else matters, because grace did shine on me and you are my grace, and I love you for it. Maybe I can explain it a little better when I talk to you tonight. Maybe you’ll understand. I know you will.

Sending love forever to my dearest,

Damien

July 24, 1996

My dearest Damien,

I can’t believe when you read this, we will already have seen each other. I wonder how we will feel. It’s funny, writing this . . . I feel like a fortune teller—I know the future—when in fact, I don’t know it at all. Maybe there’ll be an earthquake while we are together, and the walls of the prison will crumble around us and we’ll just walk out together, and you’ll never even see this letter.

*

Please don’t be upset about me saying I may scare you—I don’t mean my physical appearance—I know you better than that—I
know
why you love me, I just think sometimes seeing something that you’ve only had in your imagination can be jarring—and I must say I use the word “scare” in my own special way—let me think of an example . . . OK—since we’ve spoken of them—praying mantises kind of scare me and I truly love them. Does that help?

*

We should both try to read a book together, something we both love, or that we have never read—we could read 10 pages a day or something—(because I am so slow and you would finish so quickly). Think of a book—so will I—I love doing anything that will synch us up even more—if I could breathe in the air you breathe or wear your clothes, I would. Maybe we could read
Interview with the Vampire
, since I’ve never read it. What do you think? I’m going to read it, anyway.

*

I know that you will be the only one who truly understands me, Damien. This, I know. There is no doubt. You already do—and I understand you. All my life I have been so sad that no one could see me, or hear what I was saying, sometimes so quietly, sometimes screaming at the top of my lungs. But you know. You are my true one. And I’m so happy and feel that
all
the pain and struggles were worth it.

Thank you a million times.

Thank you for enduring.

*

This letter has now spanned from Tuesday night to Wednesday morning.

Sending much love to you,

L.

July 29, 1996

My Dearest Lorri,

Today is Saturday, the day after I saw you in person for the first time. I couldn’t write last night, I just had to lie and think. I don’t even really know what I was thinking, I was just drifting, feeling you. You are very beautiful, but still so simple at the same time. I don’t even know what I mean by “simple”; it just seems as if you are so “uncomplicated.” It hurt me to see the way you had chewed your fingers. I just wanted to kiss them, to kiss the places where you had chewed the skin away.

I felt extremely frantic twice. Once was when you began to cry, and the other was when you had to leave. I felt so desperate, there was nothing I could do, and it was ripping me apart. I couldn’t even touch you, I couldn’t do anything to make you feel better, and because of that I was in agony. It was a sense of desperation that was so close to being overpowering that for a second I thought I would lose all control. When you had to leave, I just wanted to scream, “No, no, no, no.” But I knew that if I ever started, then I would never be able to stop. I could see it very clearly in my mind: I would have been sitting in the corner with my head in my hands, eyes clenched shut, mouth in the shape of a perfect “O,” just screaming and screaming, but not being able to hear myself. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing that one day soon there will be no glass wall, and no one to come in and say it’s time to leave, and no one on either side of us constantly making noise.
That’s the only thing that kept me sane. Seeing you walk out the door was the worst pain I have ever felt. At that moment, I would rather have gone blind than to have to see you leave.

Isn’t it so wonderful to be completely overpowered by these feelings and emotions, even if they do also bring pain? To feel it so strongly that it destroys any hope of rational thought, action, or feeling? I love it. It’s impossible to not be completely swept away, devoured. Nothing else could even come close to it. This is what I have been looking for my entire life, but I never even knew what I was looking for. All I knew was that I had a huge hole in me, a sense of emptiness that nothing ever filled, but now I have a sense of being complete, the hole is gone, the emptiness is gone, the pain is gone, everything is gone, and now everything fits together. This is why I am here, this is what was meant to be. Words are so useless now, it’s as if I could keep talking forever and still never even come close to saying what I want to say, what I feel. But I know you understand.

Yesterday, I loved when we were both silent as much or more than when we were talking. The bits of silence were when I could feel the strongest sense of peace, the feeling of all being as it should be. I wish I could have prolonged them for eternity. To be able to just sit and feel you, look at you, to know you are so near. It’s just one more thing in a long list of things that I will never be able to describe.

*

Another thing I really hate about being here is that I have to wear the same clothes all the time, I can never wear what I want to. And today, I have an incredible urge to wear a suit, vest, and tie. I don’t know why, it’s just something I feel like doing today. I thought a lot
about what you were saying about wanting me to let you dress me in your clothes, and how you think it would be fun, and I have another idea, another plan. One night, you can dress me completely as a woman, I will dress you completely as a man, even hide your hair under a hat, and we will go out like that, just to see if anyone can even notice. We have to take lots of pictures, and we have to ride in a horse and buggy. Maybe that would be great. It would be just like in
The Witching Hour
when Julian and his sister did the same thing. She was evening smoking a cigar! They became the scandal of the entire town. We have to do that.

*

I thought you were going to start crying on the phone this morning, I couldn’t take it. It’s unbearable to hear you cry, especially when I can’t be there to help, to hold you. It’s agony. You were talking about how you felt bad because you were losing control. Lorri, it’s not bad if you just stop trying to control it. Just release all control and let it happen as it will, and I promise that you’ll feel better, you’ll love it. Just let it run and spread like wildfire. Trust me, OK? Everything’s going to be fine. We’re together, and nothing else matters. Just let everything else melt away. Nothing else matters.

*

They just told me that my father and his wife will be here to see me on Monday. This will be an ordeal. How will I carry on a conversation with anyone in the state that I’m in now? I can’t pay attention without drifting off, I can’t even think without my thoughts coming full circle to land right back on you, constantly wondering what you are thinking at every moment, wondering what you’re doing, wondering exactly how you’re feeling. It’s a never-ending cycle. I wonder if my father will even be able to tell the
difference. He always seems to be so caught up in himself that he more than likely won’t even notice. I guess that’s good for now though. At least I won’t have to answer 10,000 questions, the main one being, “What’s wrong?” I hate that question, and it seems that I hear it more and more often lately. Oh well.

Forever and after to my dearest one,

Damien