Yours for Eternity: A Love Story on Death Row Read online

  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.

  I understand, and I know. It would be impossible for it to be some type of physical thing, because neither of us even really knows what the other looks like. We have a general idea, but that’s it. In a way, I feel that it would be better if neither of us even had bodies. I can’t explain what I mean by that. It would be impossible. Once again, “words won’t do it.”

  It’s just so intense, like you and I are both so much more, and so much bigger than these small shells of flesh can contain. Sometimes, every once in a while, I feel like I am you. I can recognize these times because I feel so innocent, as if I am looking at the universe through childlike eyes. Sometimes it’s like I know that if my physical body were to change and conform to what it houses, I would appear as an impossibly old man, withered and eroded, but still nowhere close to death. But you seem so young and strong and beautiful. Never mind, I better stop before I get too weird for myself to understand. It just flows out of my mind and into my hand, onto the paper.

  Sending love forever to my dear one,

  D.

  June 18, 1996

  Dearest Lorri,

  I just got both of your letters. I kind of embarrassed myself. When the mailman came in, I was hopping from foot to foot with impatience. He handed me an armload of mail (you wouldn’t believe all of it!) and I started throwing stuff in every direction, looking for anything from you. The mailman just looked at me as if I were a lunatic. Oh well, they all think I’m crazy anyway.

  *

  I know, I’ll be so glad when you can come here, too. I don’t think you’ll pass out, but if you do, it’s nothing to be upset over. I was trying as hard as I could to keep from fainting when the jury said, “Guilty, guilty, guilty,” but it only lasted for a second, then it was replaced by a feeling of calmness deeper than anything I’ve ever felt. Even then, I knew it was going to work itself out.

  Oh, Lorri, you wouldn’t believe the reaction the film has gotten. I know I’ll be leaving here soon, and I can feel a path opening before me. I feel so excited, yet peaceful at the same time.

  Yes, I did know that I was above everything, and that no one could touch me, but sometimes it’s painful to know it. Sometimes it makes me feel so alone, even in a room full of people. Sometimes it makes me feel so very old, as if I’m the only adult surrounded by infants. Sometimes I would give anything to just be “one of the guys.” But at other times I wouldn’t want to be anything other than what I am, not for anything in the world.

  *

  I’m lying here now listening to people on the radio talk about me. It’s so strange, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. Sometimes I have to shut it all out, it’s so overwhelming. It makes my head hurt. They even dedicated two songs to me. Wow! It’s going to take time to take this all in. Sometimes it scares me.

  Sending love forever to my dear one,

  Damien

  June 25, 1996

  My Dearest Lorri,

  You have to stop worrying so much. Remember, I haven’t lived this long without doing something right. Me being here is not the reason I can’t eat; it’s because I have ulcers and most food hurts me. I have to be careful because I don’t know what will and won’t hurt after I eat it. I’ve always loved cereal, but the other day I wasn’t thinking and I ate some Raisin Bran. PAIN!! I was in agony for 3 hours. I couldn’t even stand up. I eat a lot of bread, because it’s easy on me. Yes, Lorri, I will eat more, just stop worrying. Man, I should have never told you that.

  I don’t want you to stop talking about the things you talk about. I absolutely love the way your mind works. I don’t want to sit around thinking and talking about this place all the time. Most of the time, it’s the farthest thing from my mind. It’s really not so bad here. I have plenty of solitude, which I love. Just relax, sweetie, everything’s fine, OK? I’ll be free soon anyway. Lorri, please don’t cry. Don’t you know that when you do that, you hurt me, too? You have to stop, for me. Everything’s going to be OK soon, and we’ll never have to think about bad things again. Just wait and see. It’s going to be great.

  You needn’t ever hold your feelings, thoughts, or anything else back. Just let it flow. Trust me.

  Sending much love forever to my dear one,

  Damien

  June 1996

  Dearest Lorri,

  I would love to be able to talk to you on the phone, but I can’t call until next month, because we’re only allowed to change phone numbers 3 times a year, and I can’t change them until the first week of July. I would absolutely lo
ve to talk to you.*

  I know what you mean about seeming like I’m older. Then again, I feel like I’m older than dirt most of the time. For some reason, though, it does seem like you’re younger. I feel a very protective urge toward you, like you’re so fragile, and I want to cover and protect you to make sure you don’t break. It’s not exactly like a “big brother” feeling, but it’s close to it. Am I making any sense?

  Sending much love,

  Damien

  June 27, 1996

  My dearest Damien:

  Today, I find myself thinking only of you. It’s been one of those days when I miss you so much. I keep having to look up at the ceiling to keep from dropping tears on this drawing I am working on.

  *

  Oh Damien, will this ever get easier? I sometimes am amazed at how people can walk around with such pain and longing in their hearts. How can people who are somehow a part of each other live their lives apart? How do they walk around day after day with gaping holes in themselves? How do they continue to get up, do the mundane things like cross the street, drink a glass of water—let alone the extraordinary things such as read a letter, hear music, or have their breath stolen from them?

  Time keeps going on, doesn’t it?

  I keep asking these questions daily—I keep looking for clues or evidence—and I don’t know why because I am living proof!

  I would endure it forever if it means having any part of you as part of me.

  It’s true, I feel better when you tell me to relax. Sometimes, however—this all gets the better of me, and this is the only thing that helps, to write to you, to share my thoughts with you.

  Sometimes I fear the fact that the life I have had is slipping away from me—eroding slowly. I do sometimes fear for my sanity—even though in my heart of hearts I know it’s intact. This is the way I need to be right now—I need to feel all of this, I need to close everything else out for a while, let things fall away from me—only then will I know what it will be or what it means.

  *

  I love you, Damien.

  You mustn’t ever doubt it.

  Bye for now.

  Yours, Lorri

  June 1996

  Dearest Lorri,

  The way your mind works is so delightful to me, it makes me smile from the wonder of it—chastity belts, 17-year locusts, it’s wonderful. You made me smile on a day that has been filled with the purest horror I’ve ever witnessed, but I’ll get to that later, I don’t want to think of it for now.

  *

  I know what you mean about wanting to know everything all at once, but I also love the way the mysteries unfold a layer at a time, holding you spellbound with the pure beauty of it. I don’t think we could fully appreciate life if things were revealed to us all at once. We need time to fully examine things, to “let them sink in,” as you say. Sometimes I spend ages contemplating the simplest things. I like to examine everything from every angle.

  Yes, I suppose some pretty devastating things have happened to me, but I’ve discovered something—that even when I was in the deepest depths of misery and despair, I was still in love and enchanted with the simple fact of my existence. It just seems so wonderful that I’m actually in this body, able to live and love, surrounded by so many beautiful souls, so much to do, so much to experience. It’s all so wonderful. I also realize that if I wouldn’t have been through the horrid, ugly, brutal experiences I’ve been placed in, then I would never have been able to recognize beauty, because I would have nothing to compare it to.

  *

  Yes, let’s both write down our thoughts on the night of the full moon. I think it’s a wonderful idea.

  *

  You’ve been approved to come see me if you’re ever down this way. I can’t wait to hear from you again, you mean a lot to me.

  Sending much love,

  Damien

  P.S. Don’t worry about losing me again, I’m here to stay this time.

  July 1, 1996

  Dearest Damien,

  You say you like the way my mind works—well, I think your mind is incredible. I just want to know more and more. I’m really starting to pick up little nuances about you. I can tell when you’re having good days or bad days by the way you write. I am so caught up in the things you choose to describe or elaborate on. It’s a never-ending Pandora’s box and I really can’t get enough of what your mind puts out.

  *

  If you don’t mind my asking—what is your legal situation with funds?—I know I asked if you were happy with your lawyer. I’ll do anything I can to help.

  *

  You know it’s a full moon tonight—and I am as promised writing down my thoughts to you. I am actually quite happy just now and full of hope.

  There is so much to tell you. So many more letters to write—so many descriptions to give you, explanations to make.

  I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I still can’t quite put my finger on it. One minute I think of you as a lover that’s been ripped away from me—my heart hurts so much, and I have to admit that I get jealous (even though I’m not jealous by nature—or not much). When I think of you and your past or present loves, that’s when I really believe we were together in that way somewhere not that long ago.

  Other times, I just think of you as the other half of me—so much like me—like my closest friend—but more than that actually—a part of me. That’s a less cagey way to feel. Then I’m more or less even-keeled—it’s when I think of you as a lover that I get totally confused—but I suppose that’s natural. I actually like when I feel a combination of the two.

  Everyone thinks my idea of a romantic relationship is so skewed anyway.

  But I’ve always been this way—but never like it is with you—it’s one thing to live with someone day after day—it’s another thing to have someone move into your heart and mind.

  *

  I’m looking forward to our next phone tryst—but I still adore writing to you.

  Lorri and Damien finally come into the 20th century.*

  All my love,

  Lorri

  July 1, 1996

  My dearest Lorri,

  I’ve been thinking a lot today. About all kinds of things, but they all have something to do with you. I was thinking of how you said last night that when I saw you in person, you were afraid it would scare me. The only thing I can think of that you could mean by that is your physical appearance. Lorri, you are very beautiful, but at the same time, it wouldn’t matter to me what your physical appearance was. It bothers me that you would even think that, like a tiny sliver of ice going through my heart. I love who you really are, and nothing else matters.

  *

  Today I was wondering, thinking, contemplating all sorts of useless information and I realized that if someone were to ask me how long I have known you, I wouldn’t know if I should say “a few months” or “a few centuries.” Maybe both. It’s a little confusing. But I love it. I would trade it for nothing.

  Sending love forever to my dear one,

  D.

  July 1996

  Hi Damien,

  I was thinking about what you said—that you always knew you were going to be known—I’m sure I’m not phrasing that properly, but it’s funny, I’ve always known something extraordinary was going to happen to me—but not like being known, or famous—something quiet and magical—behind the scenes, but very powerful. I’ve always felt that. I’m wondering and beginning to believe it has something to do with you. I know things like this don’t come easy, and this certainly hasn’t been easy—but it has been extraordinary.

  I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us—it’s sitting inside me like a small growing seed—it’s quite marvelous—although sometimes it’s a little uncomfortable.*

  Much, much love to you,

  Lorri

&n
bsp; July 8, 1996

  My dearest Damien,

  I am so giddy with speaking to you! It’s like a whole other world has opened up. Not that it makes you any more “real” to me—it’s just another layer. I must admit it makes me less anxious—at least I can direct my feelings somewhere—whereas with letters, as wonderfully romantic and dreamy as they are—I sometimes feel like they are just flying around out there—you’ll get these thoughts at some point—but with the phone—I can actually hear you breathe. I sometimes stop breathing myself just so I can listen to you.

  *

  I find myself almost pleased with the jealousy I was telling you I felt at times. When you were telling me about how you felt about creating a child—I was secretly thinking—that’s not fair—if I was going to have a child in this life—well, it most certainly should’ve been with Damien!!!! Isn’t that funny? But I feel perfectly at ease with those thoughts. They seem perfectly natural to me.

  *

  Even with as much as I have loved and love people in my life—I’ve never allowed anyone to take up residence in my soul, but you just seem to belong there—as a matter of fact I just welcomed you right away, like you’d been away for a while and then quietly returned. (Well, maybe not so quietly—I think you disturbed some very heavy pieces of furniture that make up my interior!)

  You, I adore you so much.

  *

  I haven’t felt like this for anyone. Yes, I’ve missed people before, and I still do. But with you, I don’t know, Damien, it’s all-encompassing. I don’t know what to do about the physical part—I mean—I can write you my thoughts and now I can hear your voice—but I don’t know about this physical part. It’s almost over my head. Do you understand? I mean, I can’t deny that there is a sexual aspect to it—I do think about being close to you in that way—which is even more perplexing not having anything to be physically attracted to—no smell, no touch, no skin—but it’s there, and I feel it—but it’s unlike any physical attraction I’ve ever had—because it does go beyond that. I wish we could just leave our bodies and meet somewhere because I get impatient with my body—it sometimes seems so base—I know the gist of my love for you is not physical—but my body likes to feel otherwise—and I’m certainly not used to feeling these things—I want to make it stop sometimes and other times I want to feel it all the more, because it’s for you and all I want to do is hold you in my arms. Do you ever feel this way? And are you utterly confused by it, or does it seem perfectly fine for you? I haven’t even wanted to discuss this with you—because I think or thought it made me sound weak or unevolved and I also think it very presumptuous of me, and then there’s the hesitancy even speaking of it because you have probably come to terms with such things in your life and why should I assume you would ever even think such thoughts—specifically, I mean, especially about someone you’ve never seen. Will you help me with this? Quite possibly, it’ll pass and it’s a natural state in any relationship, even one as unique as ours. And then again, maybe I’ll always feel these things for you—which makes me quite giddy to think about—because you are the warmest, sweetest person I could feel this way for—and I must say for now it makes me feel very special and blessed.