Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row (11 page)

Completely with all my love,

Lorri

August 7, 1996

My Dearest Lorri,

Last night, after we talked I was so upset and hurting so bad that I was going insane. I didn’t know what to do, so I called Rick.
*
As soon as he answered the phone, I didn’t even give him a chance to say anything, I just began to rave like a lunatic, about pain and beauty, life and rebirth, destiny, chance, and just about every other abstract concept you can think of, and I was crying so hard that I’m surprised he could even understand a word I was saying. When I finally shut up, he sat there for a minute, completely silent, then took a deep breath and said, “So the rock star’s in love, huh?” I was struck completely dumb! Then I started laughing! I couldn’t believe I was so transparent. I think the strangest part was that he completely and totally understood. I knew beyond a doubt that he understood what I was feeling, even though he couldn’t feel it himself. Just like your friend Luis, and what he told you. They both understood. Maybe they can just feel it radiating from us or something. Maybe
only someone completely dead wouldn’t be able to see or feel it. I don’t know. It must be extremely powerful.

*

Yes, it will be so wonderful to be unclothed, completely naked with you, to have absolutely nothing between us. I would love to trace the shape of your entire body with my fingertips and mouth, to kiss every inch of you, from head to foot. To be able to have my arms around you, holding you against me, just flesh against flesh, nothing to separate us. That is the way I would want to stay for eternity, to just hold you forever.

I love you,

D.

August 8, 1996

My Dearest Damien,

Speaking to you on the phone tonight was
so
fun—I like finding out things about you, like you’ve acted. I would
love
to see you act—I know you would be so great at it—you have such presence. So . . . you were in the gifted program—that’s so funny because I was, too (as I told you)—did they have you take an IQ test? They did me—you had to have at least a certain IQ to get into the gifted class—I liked it a lot because we got to get on a bus and go to a whole other school for 2 days out of 5. That’s where I learned how to play chess and develop black-and-white film.

*

Damien—it would be
so
fun to have a bookstore together! I’ve been thinking about it. I can’t stand it that you don’t get each and every book that’s ever sent to you.

I have an image of that bookstore in my mind—what a wonderful place.

*

I’m lying on my bed, in my bedroom (imagine that—a bed in a bedroom (!))—the walls in my room are very pale yellow, the floor is wood, my bed is very plain—I have one lamp (very old) and a clock that is a
¹
/
₂
hour fast. There is nothing on the walls except a mirror I bought on Broadway 5 years ago. I like things very, very plain—bare
almost. There is one window in here with a plain white curtain. This is where I always talk to you. I want you to know where I am.

*

D: Will you try to explain your feelings of getting a second chance? What do you think it means? In a way, I think I know—even though I said I feel so new at
this
, meaning dealing with it—I feel we’ve been here before—I have felt that strongly since I found you. Also—could you tell me what you wrote about my breathing? I was so giddy on the phone—I wanted to hear more about everything!! Everything about you.

I love you and I miss you,

L.

August 12, 1996

Dearest loved one,

I just got off the phone with you and the thought of being in a bathtub with you is far too much to think about—
wow
I really love being attracted to you, it makes things like taking a bath or scratching your back take on a whole new meaning—do you like bubbles in the bathtub? I like just clear water—but very hot—till you almost pass out. We can lie in there together for hours and read to each other. I just love you
so
much!

How do you feel about spending the whole day in bed? That would be the best—reading to each other, eating ice cream or toast all day—sleeping for a little while—and yes—you
will
be very close to me while we sleep—making love—then starting all over again. That is my idea of a perfect day.

No one would bother us.

*

I like reading descriptions of people in your life. It’s funny, I would like to meet people who are close to you—but for now, it’s almost like how you described reading a book—I want to know them through you. I want to know how you feel about them—what they mean to you—why you love them, why you don’t. Like, I kind of know why you love Jason—but what was it that drew you to him to begin with? It’s funny isn’t it? Thinking about these things. Is it a look, a feeling, a gesture, does it take several events? It’s like
Franny and Zooey
—again—little things that make a huge impact. For me, it’s
always recognizing a fierce yet calm independence in a person. So if I have the luxury, sometimes it takes a while of just watching them—if I am in the least bit intrigued. It’s funny though—I haven’t been even slightly intrigued with anyone or anything since we’ve become
what we are
. I struggled with that—because I don’t know what to call us—is there a word for it?

David called me a zombie the other day. My friends Luis and Susan ask me about once a week if I am ever coming back. Isn’t it funny? I am now living in a world with you.

Yours,

Lorri

August 13, 1996

My Dearest Lorri,

It’s hard to explain what I meant tonight when I was talking about losing you. I’ve lost everything in my life that has ever meant anything to me. It’s always been snatched away from me in one way or another. But I’ve always managed to recover. But you and this entire experience mean more to me, are more magickal, than anything I’ve ever known. And if I lost you, there is no way I could ever recover. It would be like someone cutting me in half, and trying to live through it. Sometimes I just get so afraid that you will be the crowning glory of all my losses. And it scares me more than anything ever has. I don’t even like to think about it.

I love you,

Damien

August 14, 1996

My dearest Damien:

I do think we should live in some old Victorian house somewhere—a real haunted-looking house—maybe it
should
be in New Orleans—for some reason I’ve always felt drawn there—and you would have Rick and I would have Miss Fern.

I just had such a mixed-up happy/sad conversation with you on the phone. Damien . . . you
have
to know that I am
completely
with you, I will
never
leave you. You must never think about that.

*

Don’t ever forget or lose sight of how we found each other. Don’t ever lose faith—it’s the strongest thing we’ll ever have! It is truly precious.

Bye for now,

Lorri

August 14, 1996

My dearest Lorri,

The last IQ tests I had were when I was in kindergarten. The first time I took it, I was only half trying. About 2 weeks later, two men dressed in suits came to the school and made me take it over again while they watched, and I tried as hard as I could because I was scared that I was in trouble for not trying hard enough the first time. They finally called my parents to the school and called my teacher and therapist in to tell everyone what was going on. They said the reason I had to take it twice was because my score was so high that they believed someone had to have told me what to say, but I scored even higher the second time. After that, they would come back to school every couple of months to talk to me and ask me questions. I wasn’t afraid of them after the first time, because they always brought me candy when they came back. They would always make notes when they talked to me, and now I wonder who they were, what they were writing about me, and what happened to all those notes. They would never tell what my score was, but they explained that your IQ doesn’t show how smart you are—it shows how much you have the ability to learn. So technically speaking, a person can have a very high IQ but still be an idiot if
they don’t use it. They said I had an extremely high recall ability, which basically makes me a parrot. I remember 85% of everything I read or am told (but I forgot to tell you happy birthday, so I’m still an idiot).

*

Since you described your room to me, I guess I should do the same. The walls are white, and the floor is brown. I have a small mirror over the sink, but it’s made of metal and it’s so rusty that it barely casts a reflection. I have a white metal table bolted to the wall. Actually, you can’t even see the table, because it’s piled so full of books and papers of every kind. It’s piled so high that stacks of stuff are constantly spilling over to land all over the floor. There is a concrete slab which is supposed to serve as a chair, but mine is piled high with even more books and paper, which is also constantly spilling onto the floor. I have a green wooden box sitting against one wall; it’s about 4 feet long, 2 feet wide, and 2
¹
/
₂
feet deep, a lot like an old trunk. This is also full of old books and papers (and serves as a house for the rats) and on top of it is piled even more books and papers. There’s also a concrete slab that serves as a bed, and next to it is a cardboard box filled with all sorts of assorted garbage. That’s pretty much what my room looks like—a garbage dump. I have a bad habit of hoarding things, no matter how meaningless, until it turns into one giant clutter. And even though my room is only 9 × 12 feet, it still sometimes takes me a couple of hours to find something that I may be looking for, and usually by the time I’m halfway through the search, I forget what I’m looking for because I become so entranced by all the other strange things I
find that I had forgotten that I even had, like golf balls, plastic dinosaurs, Q-tips, pieces of multicolored origami paper, and much, much more.
*

I love you forever,

Damien

August 15, 1996

My dearest Damien,

When I was seeing this movie—I was missing you
so
much—I kept imagining holding hands with you, while we sat there—reading those subtitles! I always sit in the very first row. The image on the screen is so
there
—huge—I love sitting there. I hope you know, dearest, that you will be seeing
so
many movies when you are with me—I haven’t been seeing them it seems for so long—but with you—I feel like there is much to show you that I love.

*

Oh! I forgot to tell you—I
just
found out yesterday that the 17-year locusts are out
this year
! Isn’t it perfect—in the year we found each other—I love it!

Yours (forever),

L.

August 16, 1996

My Dearest Lorri,

Yes, it would be so much fun to actually be able to take a bath together. To just be able to lie there in the water, holding you, being lazy. I would also love to wash your hair, and to be able to dry you off when we got out. You would be the most spoiled person on earth; all you would have to do is lie there, and I would completely bathe you. No, I don’t like bubble bath, because it seems as if I can’t get clean unless the water is clear. I also love the water to be boiling hot. When I was at home, by the time I got out my skin was always red as a lobster, but I loved it.

*

Michael is rather odd. No, he wasn’t always the way he is now. Now, no one could force him to even harm an insect. He’s been through some very dramatic experiences the past few years—which leads to your next question—who sought out who. He sought me out. He had been experimenting with different rituals and forms of meditation to open himself up to a higher form of consciousness, and he was going through a lot of things that he couldn’t understand, and when he would try to talk to people about it, they kept telling him, “You need to go see Damien, you need to talk to Damien.” Everyone here knows about me, but very few people know me. Most choose to stay away, because this is a very superstitious place. Ever since I have been here, they have called me “The Wicked Witch of West Memphis.” Anyway, he came to me
and we got along very well. He has a hunger for knowledge even greater than my own. We learn from each other. Everyone else here is constantly playing games, and is only concerned with what they can gain or beat people out of, so we pretty much only ever talk to each other. Lately, he’s been doing just like you said Luis and Susan were doing, asking, “Are you ever coming back?” Only he keeps asking, “Where are you at?” The only answer I know is, “Lost somewhere in the spiral.” And I know that there’s no way out. Once you’ve danced the spiral dance, you can never return.

What drew me to Jason? Because we were the only ones who could comprehend each other’s pain, we were drawn together because no one else could ever understand. The first time I ever saw him, he was sitting at a table all alone eating lunch, and his eyes had a faraway look, as if he was stuck inside his own head, and he was. We both thought that everything we would ever attempt would fail and turn to dust, that we were completely doomed before we ever even began, that no one would ever understand. We both felt trapped, and we clung to each other like a life raft in an ocean of misery. We had so many plans and dreams that we knew would never come to pass. An artist and a poet.

I love you forever,

D.

August 19, 1996

Damien!

It is so amazing—that we are going through the whole lovely sequence of becoming lovers—each in our own way and together—the whole beginning—some kind of attraction—me, not really knowing how you feel—one day I read in a letter that you actually tried to catch my scent off a letter—you have no idea what effect that simple or maybe not so simple confession from you did to me—from that night on—I was lost—I had already fallen in love with you—but I’ve never been in love and actually wanted someone physically—you must know that—all of these feelings are
so
new to me—I honestly have never known the two things together. That’s why I’m so naïve about it—oh! But it’s wonderful to know that I can talk to you for hours and laugh with you or even cry with you and share our secrets—think the same thoughts—but then be able to become possibly very silent, take you into my body and into my soul and share the most incredible feeling and trust you so completely—so completely that you could completely have your way with me, and that I know I could be safe in your arms as I am in your thoughts—and to know completely without any doubt that every touch or kiss or act that you would inflict (or bestow) upon me would be so exquisitely wonderful that as with our constant search for knowledge of each other—or things that we want to know or teach or find for each other—the quest for that total physical/spiritual fulfillment (?) will never end.