Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row (6 page)

Your friend,

Damien

May 1996

Dear Damien:

I have told my friends about you, as you already know, so I was telling my very close friend Susan—she lives in the apartment above me . . . that you can only receive paper. Friday evening I was reading a letter that had just arrived from you—and she said—Oh! I have a present for him! So she pulled this out of her bag (the paper thing enclosed). It’s from Chinatown and you have to blow it up. I thought it was so sweet that she was thinking about you and got it. Susan is the best. I think the thing that makes me happiest in life is that I have been blessed with the sweetest people around me. People with hearts of pure gold.

It is so funny right now—here I am—on the grass—drinking water with my cat—the neighbors to the left are playing basketball—loudly—and the ball keeps coming into our garden—the neighbor to the right is sitting outside strumming a guitar (nicely). The neighbor in front is playing Dominican music. And my head is miraculously clear.

Damien, will you tell me one of your favorite memories?

Thinking of you,

Lorri

May 14, 1996

Dear Lorri,

One of my favorite memories? Well, when I was 16 years old, I was very much in love. Her name was Deanna. One day we skipped school together. We walked for miles until we found a place that was absolutely beautiful. There were hills, and the grass was so full and soft and green, the sky was grey and overcast. We spent hours talking, telling each other things that we had never told another living soul, our worst fears, our most wished-for dreams, and we made love several times. I never suspected that that would be the last time I ever saw her. There’s no way that words can ever do this memory justice, but it’s a day that has returned to haunt me every day of my life.

Friends forever,

D.

May 1996

Dearest Damien,

There is no doubt in my mind that you are a very strong part of my past. No doubt. All I had to do was see you, hear you speak—and I was gone. Literally. Some door opened in my head and all I knew was—“You have got to locate this person—contact him—it is crucial.” I was so scared you weren’t going to receive my letters. I know this is real—nothing in my life has been quite so real.

It’s funny, what you said about wondering what I do at night—every night (I usually go to sleep at 12:00 or so) I whisper good night to you and wonder what you are doing! I sometimes hope you can feel me thinking of you—but I’ve never tried thought transfer.

Does NY scare me? Well, really—no. I feel so strong here sometimes. No one even looks at you funny. I feel completely accepted. Sometimes I let the hair grow on my legs and under my arms and no one even looks—when I was in West Virginia last week, everyone looked. I can’t stand that. New York after a while is very accepting. It’s exciting, too. But at the same time—it’s perfectly possible to live a “quiet” life.

I know I’ve asked you already so if you don’t want to tell me—say, “Lorri—I’m just not going to tell you.”

But . . . when is your birthday? Mine is July 16th.

I have grey eyes and I weigh 120 pounds and stand 5´6˝. My hair is brown. I’m prone to freckles—have no birthmarks and am extremely fair.

There.

Affectionately,

Lorri

May 21, 1996

Dear Lorri,

With everyone who I ever become close to, I leave part of myself with them, and I carry part of them with me. I find it to be a very beautiful, if slightly weird, experience. I guess you can tell my hands are shaking now, my writing is not too good. This is along the lines of what I was trying to say in my last letter, about meaningful conversations, and examining each other’s thoughts, ideas, love, fears, and dreams.

Just relax and let things flow. Some memories stay with us all our lives.

Yes, the full moon makes me feel wonderful. When I am out on those nights, I can hardly even stand to wear clothes. I just want to strip down to my bare skin, and throw my head back and laugh with the pure joy of being alive. It would make me want to just run and run and run, just celebrating and wallowing in the fact that I existed.

I also used to do like you, I would sneak out, and sometimes I would go to the lake near my house and just sit silently watching the moonlight reflection on the water. Sometimes, I would also lie on a hill watching all the cars speeding over the overpass, thinking about where they were going, smiling to myself over the fact that they never even knew they were being watched. My favorite time was when it was so cold that I could see my breath. I love the cold. To me, there is no such thing as “too cold.”

I never looked in anyone’s windows, but I used to go to a store a
couple miles away from my house that was open 24 hours a day, where I would perch on top of a garbage can and just watch everyone coming and going. I’ve always thought human beings were the strangest, most beautiful creatures. Once I even told my mom what I had been doing and she wouldn’t believe me, because she said there was no way that someone could squeeze through the tiny window in my bedroom (it was really tiny).

I always went alone, because I knew no one else would understand. They would have asked questions like, “How long do we have to just sit here?” Or “Why are we doing this?”

What am I afraid of? The only thing I can think of that I am scared of is the same thing I’m attracted to—people! Sometimes they can be so cold, cruel, and mean, and it really hurts me. It’s worse than physical pain.

Your friend forever,

Damien

June 14, 1996

Dearest Lorri,

Did you see
Good Morning America
? It was great! I know you said you don’t want to hear anything else about me from the media, but it’s so wonderful down here now. Everyone is talking about it, and they believe me! It’s beyond words, it’s just too perfect. Our lawyers were even on the radio this morning, and everyone who called in was supporting us! It’s such a change, I can’t even believe it.

Also, some of the guards just came to my door talking about
Paradise Lost
. They believe me! They believe I’m innocent and they said all of Arkansas was saying the same thing! This is so great. They were also laughing, because they said if someone saw the film, and then looked at me, they wouldn’t recognize me. I asked them, “Why not?” and they said because in the movie I looked fat and bigger than I am, and I had short hair. One of them said, “Now you look like a bushman, you’re as skinny as a stick, and you’ve got hair halfway down your back.” Lorri, this is so great. I knew something like this would happen, but I still wasn’t prepared for it. It’s so overwhelming.

You really, really shocked me when you said that you were once married. The story about you and David, in a way it was very beautiful, but it was also so sad. I know the pain he feels, he still loves you so much that it hurts, but I also know how you felt, it’s like you said—you had to have him completely or not at all. Yes, it’s like you said—those feelings can be so very beautiful, but
they’re always so painful. It’s like being in heaven and hell at the same time.

Yes, I know what you mean about communicating like this, and it is wonderful. It’s sort of like both of us is pure thought, we have no form, just like two energy forms who meet to exchange thoughts, emotions, feelings, ideas, and information, only to discover that they are really extensions of each other, always connected, but just beginning to realize it. I’ve been thinking constantly now. You know the book you sent,
The Holy Kaballah
? Well, people who have made really in-depth studies of it say that it teaches that before a soul is born into the flesh, it is whole and complete—neither male nor female—then when it’s ready to be reborn in the flesh, it is split in half—male and female—and born into 2 bodies. Maybe that’s the case of you and me, maybe we were once “one.” I don’t know, but it would describe the way you explained how you think of me—neither young or old, male or female, just part of “us.”

I got a letter from my mom, and she said she’s thinking of moving to Tennessee, up in the hills away from everything and everyone. She says she feels really at peace up there, with nothing to distract her. I envy her. Anyway, she wants to know my opinion. I know it’s the best thing for her, but she already feels so far away, and she would be even farther. Why does everything always have to change? Why does nothing ever stay the same? I know that even I can’t stay in West Memphis forever, I have to move on, but I will miss it, and it will hurt to leave. I don’t know where I will go, I just know I’ll have to go west. I’ll stick a few things in a backpack and go until I find somewhere that feels right.

Sending much love forever,

Damien

June 17, 1996

Dear Sweetest Damien:

I have just received your letter telling me of the positive reactions to
Paradise Lost
. I am so, so happy. Believe me, I want to see all the media in the world that will tell the world of your innocence or will change some minds and get you out of there. Oh, it’s such a good thing. I am so thankful that the movie was made. I knew it was going to help—I have a feeling it’s just the beginning. When you get out, I’m going to take you to Ireland as a celebration gift!! Wouldn’t that be great?!

But Damien, please, please try to eat. Please, I can’t tell you how I began to cry so hard when I read that you only drink tea! You have to eat every day—you have to start. I know I sound like a mother hen, but if it helps any, think every day, “I’ll eat today for Lorri.” I mean it. You wrote in a letter recently about repaying me—and I scoffed at it—but now I know how you can “repay” me: Just eat. Try to keep yourself healthy. I know it’s hard—I know your life is hell right now. I know I write a lot of nonsense about bugs or worms or whatever, but I never forget where you are and how little I know about what you’re going through. It’s only when sometimes you tell me something like you weigh less than 120 pounds and you can’t eat solid food that I swing back to know you are hurting so badly and I feel so helpless. It makes me crazy sometimes. Please tell me you will try.

You asked why things always have to change. I’ve asked myself
that question a million times, and it doesn’t do any good—but I’ve learned that—you know, I don’t know what I’ve learned from it—sometimes it just plain hurts—but I’ve changed so much since I’ve met you—in the most incredible way—you have affected my life—in ways I have not yet begun to explain to you—but I will, in time.

I know I’ve said it before and all the time, but you mean more to me every day and I will never leave you, never, no matter where you are.

I have to tell you that I couldn’t write to you right away—I was crying so much—and Susan came downstairs and told me—I had been telling her about how sometimes I just send these terribly silly or edgy letters to you—like you were living in Palookaville, you know, driving round in a car or something. I was so shaken and sad—because you’re not. Susan made me feel better. She said that when she was really sad (for about a year) she was heartbroken—she used to come downstairs to hear me ramble on about, well, you know how I go on about things. She said it made her feel like there was something else to fill her head with for a little while. Something that didn’t hurt—it might make her nauseous, but not sad.

You needn’t respond to that.

Just know that I am aware of your pain, I can never imagine the depth, but I know it’s there—and I will spend my life trying to lessen it in any small way I can.

Please eat. OK??

Damien, I truly care for you so very much.

Yours, Lorri

June 17, 1996

Dearest Lorri,

Relax, sweetie, I know how you feel, I know what you mean. Words sometimes feel so useless, because they’re such small trivial things, and they can’t come anywhere close to explaining or describing the huge, intense emotions you feel. The word “emotion” doesn’t even begin to describe your feelings, because it’s so very much more powerful than the word “emotion” can mean. You don’t even have to try to explain unless you want to, because I can feel it. There’s no need to try to explain unless it makes you feel better.

The word “love” is too small to encompass all that you feel. No word will fit. At least no word that the human tongue is capable of producing. The only way I know to let you know that I experience the same thing is by telling you this—the only way to let you know how strongly it has affected me is by telling you what I almost did the other day. I have become friends with the man and woman who did a lot of the work for
Paradise Lost
. Their names are Burk and Kathy. Anyway, for the past month, they have been doing everything in their power to get me released. Anyway, they’ve been in charge of a lot of other films, too, including
From Dusk till Dawn
,
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues
, and
Hellraiser III
and
IV
. Well, I was talking to Burk and he said that they had been placing a lot of bets with people as to how soon I would be released, and he said that as soon as I am free, he wants me to come to Los Angeles, because he and Kathy could use me in a lot of their films. (I would actually be a movie star.
)
Well, the first thing that almost rolled off my tongue was, “I can’t move that far away from Lorri.” I caught myself, and I was kind of confused, because I knew he would have no idea what I was talking about, or even who “Lorri” was. So what I said was, “Sure, I’d absolutely love to.” But I knew that there was no way I could live on the complete opposite side of the country as you, because I feel I have to stay close to you.