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Dear Lyle,
Pretty much the only thing that saves me is that it's beautiful here — whenever I'm in the yard, I can see a little glimpse of the mountains. They're so beautiful. I took it for granted when we lived in Beverly Hills, that clear mountain view.
There's a kind of beauty here that goes beyond aesthetics. There's a sort of Zen, a peace, so deep that it's beyond just being ‘calm.’ I feel a constant pull to be with you, though.
You're the only person in this world that I really love. You're the only one who knows me at my innermost being.
My new celly is a good guy. His name's Andy Burnham. He's 33, from Riverside, and he's in for armed robbery. He just got down on his luck, though. He looks out for me, and says I remind him of his little brother. You'd like him.
Leslie keeps in touch. She sends me a letter every month or so, just checking in. It kills her that we ended up where we are. She says she's trying to get us placed in the same prison. She doesn't seem very hopeful, but I'm not going to give up. Miracles happen. We'll be together again soon.
I miss you. I love you!
Erik.
“Hey Erik, are you okay?" Andy asked the question in a tone that clearly conveyed that Erik's usual reply of I'm okay wouldn't cut it.
Erik's therapist was at her wit's end. After three months of sessions, of Erik sitting in stony silence for the hour allotted to him, Dr. Connors was ready to give up.
In therapy, Erik was supposed to put his feelings into words, instead of crowding up the space in his head.
“I'm a little sad today. I miss Lyle. It's beautiful here, though. That's helping me cope.” Erik gave a half-hearted grin.
Last night, he had dreamed that Lyle was underwater, gasping for air. Erik had jumped into the water too, and with just the touch of his hand, Lyle was able to breathe again.
“I’m sorry you're sad, Erik. I'm here for you if you need me, alright?” Andy smiled, but his eyes were wide and wary.
Erik blinked and nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak, afraid that he would start to cry. He felt trapped, caught between despair and denial. Maybe the dream had been about death.
“I…think I'm gonna go take a shower.”
Andy tilted his head to the side and watched Erik with a gentle smile, as if expecting him to break down and sob. He'd done it before.
Lyle was going to die. He was going to die, too. Maybe not today, or tomorrow. Maybe not for 50 years or more. But someday, eventually, they were going to die, and they were never going to see each other again.
Andy got up and followed Erik down the hall. “I'll walk with you. I need one, too.”
Great. Erik walked toward the showers and felt a bead of sweat run from his hairline down his neck. Andy wasn't going to let Erik out of his sight for the rest of the day. He was trapped here, imprisoned by fear and grief and his celly’s concern.
In the shower room, Erik and Andy took off their uniforms, folded them up, and draped them over a bench. Then they grabbed a bar of soap, and turned on the water. Erik and Andy turned their backs to each other.
Erik slowly tiptoed away, walking to stand under the shower head closest to the back. Torrents of water rained down on Erik. He turned his face up toward the shower head and opened his mouth.
As water filled his stomach, Erik imagined himself drowning, welcoming the water into his lungs, waiting for Lyle to join him at Heaven's gate.
Suddenly, Erik felt a blunt, bruising force shove him out of the way of the water. Erik coughed and gasped while Andy pounded his back. “Erik, what the fuck are you doing?!”
Erik vomited up a rush of bile and water, and then collapsed, coughing and moaning weakly. He could have died. He could have drowned, or died from shock.
Andy shouted above Erik, saying words that he couldn't understand. He flopped around like a fish, coughing and sputtering. Andy grabbed Erik's arm and yanked him to his feet. “Erik, don't you dare die on me, you son of a bitch! Come on, we're getting out of here, now!”
His furious voice forward through the cobwebs in Erik's head. He stopped struggling and let Andy drag him out of the shower room. Next he let him dress him like a doll, and drag him back to their cell, sobbing silently, cold, heavy, and numb.
“Jesus, Erik, you scared me!” Andy hugged himself and rocked side to side. “You could have died. Was that the idea?” Andy's face twisted in fury. “Were you trying to kill yourself, huh?”
“N-no…y-yes, yes, I'm sorry!” Chest heaving, Erik shivered and laughed hysterically.
“Shut the fuck up, you psycho.” Andy's furious face crumpled, and he raised a hand to cover his eyes. “Don't ever do anything like that again. If you do, I'm gonna kick your ass, you got me?”
Erik made a small, soft sound, somewhere between a giggle and a sob. “Yeah. I got you.”