Laroo Jack

Love Bird

 

 

In my dreams, I imagine the perfect man.  He's good looking, but not in a movie star way.  He has nice eyes and a good body.  He gives a shit about my problems.  He's caring.  When he jacks off there are only thoughts of me running through his mind. 

         

I haven't had any luck finding him.  I'm only thirty-five, but I know I'm past my prime.  I've put on weight, and my boobs are starting to sag a little bit.  No hunk is going to take me home, not sober anyway. 

         

You might have guessed the rest.  I don't have many friends and the ones I do have are married.  I don't go to church.  My job is a joke.  I'm lonely.

         

Don't judge me—your time is coming.

 

         

My cousin is in prison, doing light time for her ongoing shoplifting problem.  She tells me that she's posted an ad on a site called "Pen Pal Prisoners," and now there are dozens of guys sending her mail, telling her that they can't wait to do her on the outside. 

You can practically see the jizz on the paper, she said.  She tells me there are some hot guys on the site and that I should check it out, just for fun.  So I do.

         

It's a funny thing, this site – just like any old dating site.  You can write in an age range, say what kind of race and religion you're looking for.  You can even search by astrology sign.  I guess even felons were born under some kind of stars.  If you see a guy you like, you can click on his profile.  They write up a little bio—who they are and how they're sorry for whatever it is that they did.  Some of them even post artwork—mostly tattoo designs.  The only thing the profile doesn't mention is what they're in for, but it's easy to find if you click on the link to the federal database.  

         

At the bottom of the screen are a bunch of little check boxes.  Looking for a lifer?  Check the box.  Looking for someone getting out in the next year?  Check the box.  Looking for someone on death row?  That one got my attention.  I like my men a little rough.  Rough, but safe and what could be safer than a cage with an expiration date.  I check the box, and that's when I find Derek: athletic build, inked, a former maintenance worker, cute as all get-out.  And scheduled to die sometime in the next ten years.  In his profile Derek says that he respects women and that he's looking for an old-fashioned courtship.  That he wants to promise himself to someone.   I write him a letter.

 

October 5, 2010

To: Derek Janson--#90068-1819

South Carolina State Correctional Facility

 

Dear Derek,

I saw your profile on "Pen Pal Prisoners," and I feel real bad for you.  It must be hard being locked up for the rest of your life. Here's a picture of what I look like.  If you're really interested in a lady friend, write me back:

Yours truly,

Cheryl Anne Holt

 

 

October 10, 2010

Cheryl Anne Holt

1607 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

Dear Cheryl Anne—or do you like to be just Cheryl?  Don't matter to me, just let me know.  I got your letter and your picture, and I think you're a real pretty girl.  It would do me great honor to write to you.  As you know, I'm set to die in 2016, but I got one more appeal coming and I pray every day that something good will happen.  You writing to me gives me hope, like you're some kind of angel come to comfort me.  Bless you. Why don't you write back and tell me something about yourself.

Your true friend,

Derek

 

 

October 17, 2010

To: Derek Janson--#90068-1819

South Carolina State Correctional Facility

 

Dear Derek,

I was real happy that you wrote me back.  Thank you for saying all of those nice things.  My life is pretty quiet.  I live by myself and work as a secretary at an insurance agency.  I'm studying to take my insurance test, so that I can do a little better for myself and do more than just answer phones.  I don't have any kids.  I almost got married once, but it fell through.  What else?  My astrology sign is Pisces, but I don't put much stock into that kind of thing.  Let me know what else you want to know.  And let me know about you.

Yours truly,

Cheryl Anne

 

 

October 25, 2010

Cheryl Anne Holt

1607 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

Dear Cheryl Anne,

I'm sorry it took me so long to write back, but I've been busy working with my lawyer on the appeal.  It's coming up in three months.  Bentonville is only two hours from Aiken, which is where my appeal hearing is going to be heard.  Maybe you can come see me?  I guess since you're writing me, you already know what I've done to get myself in here.  I should tell you that I did beat that guy up.  I also robbed all those places, like they said.  But I never killed nobody.  The other guys did that.  I was a good thirty feet away when it happened.  They're real strict, though, in South Carolina.  You just got to be at the scene of the crime to be guilty, but I don't think that's fair and neither does my lawyer.  Still, I take responsibility for my bad doings and I don't blame nobody for what's happened to me.  If I could go back, I'd do it all different.  Everything.  And then I might have a little house in the country and be settled in with a nice gal like you.  No use crying over spilt milk, I guess.  My folks are dead, but they was never anything to write home about.  On the outside, I liked to fix things for people, like their roofs and their pipelines.  I guess you could call me handy.  I've never been married, but I have a little girl by an ex-girlfriend.  Sometimes, she writes to me—my little girl—her name is Eileen, and she's twelve now—but not as much as I would like.  I'm studying for my GED.  My sign is Virgo.  I don't believe in astrology, even though I read my horoscope.  Please write soon.

Your true friend,

Derek

 

 

Twenty letters later:

December 2, 2010

To: Derek Janson--#90068-1819

South Carolina State Correctional Facility

 

Dear Derek,

My cousin, Cindy, is on the inside.  She's also on "Pen Pal Prisoners," and she tells me that I can send money to your account, so you can buy extras like candy and magazines.  I know you didn't ask me to, but I wanted to, so you probably have fifty dollars in your account to do what you want with.  I'm real proud of you for passing your GED exam.  Maybe now you can do a correspondence course.  What would you study?  You should try computer science, since you like to fix things.  Like I said, my computer never works.  I took a walk in the woods yesterday, and I thought of you.  I feel bad that you can't go outside, except in that little cement yard you told me about.  When I'm walking I imagine you out there with me, holding my hand.  Maybe someday some luck will find us both.  Keep your spirits up.

Truly yours,

Cheryl Anne

 

 

December 9, 2010

Cheryl Anne Holt

1607 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

Dear Cheryl Anne,

I wish you could come and visit me.  I wouldn't let my little girl see me in here—not that her mother would bring her here anyway.  I'd let you see me.  And then I'd miss you when you left.  They don't let me keep your letters.  They let me read them, but then they take them away.  What do they think I'm going to do with them?  Set them on fire?  I guess I'm feeling kind of low today.  My lawyer tells me not to get my hopes up.  Cheryl Anne, won't you come and see me?  I ain't gonna bite.  They won't let me—just kidding.

XO Derek

PS – Thank you for the money.  They don't give the death row guys much to choose from when they come 'round to the cells, so I used it to buy paper and stamps to write you with.

 

 

December 14, 2010

To: Derek Janson--# 90068-1819

South Carolina State Correctional Facility

 

Dear Derek,

Don't be down, especially with your appeal right around the corner.  I worry about you being lonely.  I know you can't be social with the others on death row—that they keep you so you can't even see them.  I called up the prison to see if I could visit you.  They said that death row inmates get two visits a month, but that I'd have to see you through some kind of partition.  Still, I'm going to make it a point to come and see you before Christmas.  I wish I could bring you a present, but they told me that death row folks can't get anything from the outside.  It sure seems cruel and unusual to me.  I guess I'll just put the money into your account.  I'll be thinking good thoughts until I can make it over to see you.

XXOO  Cheryl Anne

 

 

On December 18, 2010, Cheryl Anne went to visit Derek at the South Carolina State Correctional Facility.   They touched hands through the glass partition and talked into telephone receivers for over an hour.  Driving back to Bentonville, Cheryl Anne got two tickets, one for speeding and one for running a traffic light.  That night she wrote a letter:

 

December 18, 2010

To: Derek Janson--#90068-1819

South Carolina State Correctional Facility

 

Dear Derek,

Oh baby, I couldn't believe that you were just a couple of feet away today.  I was so nervous about the visit, but as soon as I saw you I knew everything would be OK.  It's so unfair that we can't even hold hands.  No wonder they have so many problems in prisons—folks are frustrated.  I know I was.  As I told you, I'm coming to your appeal hearing in two weeks.  I'm glad you got a good lawyer through that Death Row advocacy group.  Anything is better than a public defender—at least that's what everybody tells me.  You were so cute and sweet.  I feel real lucky to have you in my life.

Love,

Cheryl Anne

 

 

December 23, 2010

Cheryl Anne Holt

1607 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

Oh Cheryl Anne—I sure wish you could come every week to see me.  When I saw your pretty face and smile, I knew that I had finally found someone I could love.  I wish they'd let me keep a picture of you in my cell.  I felt kind of sexy after we talked and I would have done anything to have a photo of you taped to the wall beside my bed.   It's a lucky thing that I have a good memory, so I can keep you in my thoughts even when you're away.

You're my one and only.

Love always,

Derek

 

 

Two weeks later, Cheryl Anne attended Derek's appeal hearing.  His attorney was a sharp young man in a tailored suit, and he kept his hand rested on Derek's arm.  Cheryl Anne found that creepy, even though she assumed it was an act of solidarity or a reminder to keep his mouth shut.

 

Still, even the lawyer looked surprised when the judge found that there had been something called "Abuse of Discretion" at Derek's original trial.  Derek's sentence was converted to life in prison without the possibility of parole.  Cheryl Anne supposed that was a good thing—at least for Derek.

 

 

January 15, 2011

Cheryl Anne Holt

1607 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

You'll never believe what they told me, Cheryl Anne!  Now that I'm not on death row, I can have trailer visits four times a year with my wife.  Oh sweetie, I know this isn't the most romantic way to ask for your hand in marriage, but will you baby?  Will you marry me, so that we can be together once a month?  The Assistant Warden says we can get married right here in the prison in the Visitor's Room.  I already got the Chaplain to give me a wedding packet, which has all the forms we got to fill out.  What do you say!!!  I love you so much …

XXX Derek

 

 

This letter gave Cheryl Anne a moment of pause.  It wasn't what she had signed up for.  She imagined a fervent love affair followed by a tragic execution, not a converted sentence and conjugal visits.

 

She slept on the matter and woke up convinced that things weren't all that different.  She and Derek could get married.  He'd still be locked up.  Even though she'd be sleeping with him, he wouldn't have the time or space to get mean.  It might be kind of romantic.  They'd be thrown together for two hours and then torn apart, leaving each other to pine through the mail until the next visit.  It's not like there was a line out the door with men aching to marry her, and she didn't want to go to her grave as an old maid. 

 

She wrote "Yes!!!" on a sheet of paper and mailed it to Derek.  A week later she received an envelope full of forms, along with a bill for $370.  She'd also have to buy the rings.

 

It took the prison board a few weeks to approve the ceremony.   Cheryl Anne had a private meeting with the Assistant Warden.

 

"You haven't been pressured into this, have you miss?"

 

"No, sir."

 

"Has Mr. Janson apprised you of his crimes?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"And has he also informed you of the length of his sentence?"

 

"Yes, sir. Life in prison."

 

"If approved, you'll be eligible for private visits once every three months …"

 

At this, Cheryl Anne smiled.

 

"… We have a couple of trailers on the south side of the facility, designated for that purpose."

Cheryl Anne nodded.  He looked at her and shook his head: "Do you have any questions for me?"

 

"Can we get married now?"

 

The ceremony was held in the visitor's room.  It looked like the rec room at a shabby YMCA, with vending machines lined up against a wall, families clustered around industrial picnic tables and a wild group of children playing tag. Cheryl Anne and Derek took their vows in a corner, the prison chaplain shouting to be heard over the din and hubbub.  Whenever there was a pause, Derek or Cheryl Anne would say, "I do," hoping that it would be a timely response.  The chaplain seemed satisfied and told them that they were married.   Cheryl Anne bought two colas from a vending machine, and she and Derek held hands and toasted the nuptials.   It wouldn't be legal in South Carolina until they had consummated the marriage, and that would likely be several weeks coming.  It was all well and good for Cheryl Anne, who was perfectly happy knowing that her caged husband had nothing better to do every night than think of her.

 

Six weeks later, she received a phone call from the prison activities coordinator, offering her a choice of weekends for her trailer visit.   When she arrived at the prison, she was given a towel, a tube of lubricant, a box of condoms and two hours.  Derek was everything she thought he would be, for better or worse.

 

March 31, 2011

Cheryl Anne Holt

1607 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

My darling Cheryl Anne,

I think about you all day, every day.   You light up my life.  I know that's from a song and all, but I mean it.  Poetry ain't my thing, so sometimes I have to borrow a little.  You don't mind, do you?  Those panties you wore were awfully sexy, Cheryl Anne, but not half as sexy as you.  I knew you'd be a firecracker, but Geez Louise … I might just have to put my pen down and come back to this in half an hour.  I can't believe we have to wait for a whole ten weeks to be together again.  Might be time for a jailbreak, LOL.  A guy on my floor saw you in the rec room, and he's told all the other guys what a lucky man I am.  So now I'm some kind of stud or something.  I don't mind if they look at you, baby, 'cause I'm the only one touching, right?

All my love and then some,

 Derek

 

 

Cheryl Anne kept that letter in the drawer of her nightstand, right next to her vibrator.  On the wall of the kitchen was a calendar, counting down the days until their next private visit.

 

 

April 15, 2011

Cheryl Anne Holt

1607 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

Cheryl Anne !

I'm so excited I can hardly write this.   Remember that lawyer who got me out of the death penalty?  Well, he found a bunch more problems with my case, and now the state has to let me out!  Seems I served enough time to make up for the robberies and all.  I'm coming home, baby!  I ain't never been to Arkansas, but I'm sure it's going to be my favorite state now!  Just think – we can be together all day, every day for the rest of our lives!  Oh, baby … it's a miracle from God.

Your loving husband,

Derek

 

 

Cheryl Anne dropped the letter to the floor.  Her heart felt like it was bursting.  He was coming home?  To her home?  Here?  She found herself hunched over the toilet throwing up. 

 

"I should have used a post office box," she thought.

 

"I should have kept it just at letters," she thought.

 

"I never should have married him …"

 

"Or slept with him …"

 

"Oh."

 

"Shit."

 

This was not what she had signed up for.  If she'd wanted someone in her house, she would have just gone to a bar or a church picnic.   And they were married.  She was in a real pickle.

 

 

May 1, 2011

 

My very own Cheryl Anne,

Look outside your window.

Love, Derek

 

 

Sure enough, standing by the apartment building parking lot, was Derek holding a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers.  He wouldn't have known when – or if – she had opened the letter, so she had time to think things over.

 

"I could just pack a bag and leave.  He's standing by my car.  I'd have to leave my car.

 

"I could just tell him that it was all a big misunderstanding, that I wasn't ready for this level of commitment.  He would probably think I was kidding, and then he'd probably hit me.  I could ask one of my friends to come over and tell him that I'd died.  He'd want to see my body or at least my gravesite, and I don't have enough time to get one. Besides, as her lawfully wedded husband, he'd come into her apartment and take all of her stuff, her being fake dead and all.

 

"Fuck it.  It's easier to let him in."   

 

For the next ten days, they stayed at home and ordered pizza and Chinese food, watching TV and making love.  She didn't ask him if he planned on getting a job.  She didn't nag him about leaving his stuff everywhere or for smoking in her kitchen.  He was happy as a clam.  She wasn't taking any chances.  God willing, he'd get sick of her and leave.  But he didn't, and Cheryl Anne didn't want some freeloading jailbird sitting on the sofa for the rest of her life.

 

 

May 16, 2011

 

Derek Baby,

Don't be sore.   I thought it might be a good idea to put this in a letter, since all our important talks have been written down J I think you're real great, Derek, and you will always have a special place in my heart.  I just don't think we should be married anymore.  I'm real sorry.  I should have thought things through more, but I didn't, and here we are.  In the long run, I don't think you and me are compatible.  So, I'd really appreciate it if you could leave in the next couple of days.

Thanks for understanding.

Cheryl Anne

 

 

Cheryl Anne heard Derek unlocking the front door and decided that it might be a good idea to lock herself in the bathroom while he read it.  After fifteen minutes had gone by, she pressed her ear against the door.  It was very quiet.  She opened the bathroom door: "Baby," she called. "You still around?"  Then she saw that he'd written a letter in return.

 

 

May 16, 2011

 

My sweet and lovely Cheryl Anne,

You're breaking my heart.  But if that's the way you want it, then that's how it's going to be.  It hurts too much to say goodbye.  Maybe you could go out to the mall or something, so I can gather up my things.  You will always be my one and only,

Derek

 

 

Cheryl Anne sat down and read the letter again.  He was being so nice and reasonable about the whole thing that she almost felt tempted to take the whole thing back and let him stay.

 

Would it really be so bad, even if he did turn out to be a couch potato?  She closed her eyes and imagined him five years older, ten years older, twenty years older…She stopped there.  The thought was just too awful.  It was a good thing she kicked him to the curb.

 

She sighed and picked up her purse and her keys and walked out to her car.  He must be watching me from somewhere, she thought.  She thought she saw something move behind the neighbor's pickup truck.  As a final show of good will, she blew a kiss. 

         

Five minutes later, her car careened off a steep ravine and rolled 17 times before landing in a bog.   It took her a moment, her face immersed in the fetid water, to realize that her head had separated from her body.  By the time she was found by the highway patrol, most of her body had been eaten by the wild dogs that roamed the neighborhood.  Her head was found fifty feet away, carried off like a bowling ball by some kind of animal.  Not much was left—just the skull haloed in a nest of blond, frosted hair.

         

The police knew all about Derek, so they did a full investigation to rule out any foul play.  Cheryl Anne's body was so cut up at the end of the autopsy, they gave up trying to reassemble everything and sent it to the funeral parlor in a plastic bag.  They were disappointed to learn from the coroner that there wasn't so much as an aspirin in her system at the time of death. 

         

The car was given the same treatment, ripped apart from the taillight to the spark plugs. After all was said and done, and with Derek's alibi rock solid, it was decided that a disconnected tie rod had done her in.  The investigating officer noted that the parts in the car were so worn that it was only a matter of time before something gave out.  It should have been heading to the junkyard, not the shopping mall. 

         

They didn't know just how handy Derek was.

         

When they broke the news to him, he sobbed like a baby.  After they left, it took him a little over an hour to get Cheryl Anne's computer up-and-running.  

 

 

May 21, 2011

Maylene Simpson--#90027-6323

Georgia State Correctional Facility

 

Dear Maylene,

I saw your picture up on the "Pen Pal Prisoners" website.  It's a crying shame to have a pretty girl like you locked up for no reason!  Just looking at your picture, I can tell you're innocent.  My wife died, and I'm feeling kind of lonely.  Maybe you're lonely, too.  I'm putting in a picture, so you'll know who you're writing to.  I sure hope to hear from you soon.

Your true friend,

Derek Janson

1617 Warbuck Road

Bentonville, Arkansas 71712

 

 

 

Laroo Jack lives in Los Angeles.  By day, she teaches composition, critical thinking and the occasional genre class to college undergraduates.  At night, the shit hits the fan.  You can read more of her (depraved) work in the summer 2015 issue of Dark Moon Digestand the fall 2016 issue of Ghostlight.