Forever My Lady

by Jeff Rivera

  Mom cried like a baby when she found out and then when she found out it was yours she got pissed! Like you did something to me. But I didn’t let her do that. I know I take responsibility too. I should have been more smart.

  At the same time. It kind of makes me more determined to make it. Cause I’ve gotta. I can’t be that mother on the bus living in that hole in the wall downtown. I won’t do that.

  They say the baby’s due like around October or November sometime. I’m sorry you won’t be out in time to see the birth but I’ll send you pictures and I’ll tell you how I’m doing.

  Just be patient with me okay with the letters? I want to see you too. There’s things we need to talk about that I can’t write about. And I’ll do it as soon as I can. OK?

  Take care,

  Jennifer

  A wave of excitement rushed over Dio and he could hardly contain himself. He was going to be a father, a real father! He and Jennifer were going to have a baby. They were going to be a real family, with a real baby! It was like a miracle. It was like a dream come true, and he had to tell somebody. But who? Nobody in his new squad really knew him. He had never taken the time to connect with them. And he didn’t really know his officers all that well. He felt like he was going to explode with excitement.

  Nothing this wonderful had ever happened to him, and he knew that now, forever, he and Jennifer would be connected. They had a love child, someone who would be testament to their love forever.

  Dio tried to contain himself as he asked his officer if he could use the head. The officer looked at him suspiciously, then excused him. Dio walked as fast as he could, then raced to the kitchen. He knew he only had a few minutes, and if he got caught . . . But it was worth it. He had to tell Louise.

  She looked at him with surprise as he tried to catch his breath, the biggest possible smile spread across his face.

  “What’s going on with you?” she asked.

  “I . . . she . . . I can’t . . . believe it. It’s . . . she’s pregnant.”

  “What?”

  “It’s mine. It’s ours,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Oh, my God, that’s wonderful! Does she know what it is?”

  Dio shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t think so. But I hope it’s a boy. A girl, a boy, so what? As long as it’s ours.”

  “You’re so young.”

  “Who cares? Lots of people have babies when they’re young and they turn out just fine. ’Sides, I’m going to college, remember? And I’m going to provide for Jennifer, me, and the baby. Jennifer and I are getting married.”

  “You are?”

  “Well, of course. Eventually.”

  “That’s . . . that’s good . . . well, I’m happy for you. Have you written her back yet?”

  “No, but I’m going to. I knew this would happen. I knew a miracle would happen. And I’m going to be the best daddy ever. I’m going to take him to ballgames and to school and to—”

  “Wait, wait, don’t get ahead of yourself. One step at a time. First get out of camp. Graduate, make a life for yourself.”

  “I know . . . I know . . . I just had to tell somebody.”

  She smiled, but something seemed to be bothering her. “I’m happy for you.”

  “What’s wrong?” Dio asked.

  She worked up a smile again. “Don’t worry about it. You better get back.”

  “You sure?”

  “Go on, now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered. He hated to see her like this, especially when things were going so great for him. But he raced back to the tent anyway and began his letter.

  Chapter Seven

  Dear Jennifer,

  I about crapped in my pants when I got the news. I am so excited baby. You don’t know. And you don’t have to worry about anything, porque as soon as I get out I’ll work 2–3 jobs whatever it takes to support you and our baby.

  I’m going to be the best dad there is. Te lo prometo. That news is the best thing I’ve heard all year long. It makes me feel motivated.

  I’ve even been thinking about some names. I was thinking if it’s a boy he could be Dio Jr., or Luis after my dad, or Roberto and if it’s a girl how about Jennifer, or Lupe, or Cristina just like your favorite talk show host.

  I knew it was meant to be that we’d have a familia. See? I love you mija. I knew it was inevitable. Know what that means? Learned it from class. It means it’s destiny. It’s meant to be.

  When do you find out if it’s a boy or girl? I hope it’s a boy. Did you tell Daniel yet he’s going to be an uncle? Que dijo?

  I can’t get over it all that you told me. Wow, I’m going to be a daddy. Wait ‘til I tell Louise. Simon’s going to get locced when he finds out.

  I know you probably can’t make it to the next Vistor’s Day with you being pregnant and all but I’ll be out soon. You’ll see. But you be careful I’d rather have you at home safe than risking everything. If there’s anything you need you know I’m there for you. You can get a hold of Spooky if you need some money or something and le pago para tras. I’m there for you baby.

  I’m asustado but I know things are going to work out. I feel like I’m floating on air cause everything’s happening the way I want it. We’re going to be a family baby. And I want to have more kids like 2–3 little Dios & Jennifers runnin around. If this one’s a boy then I want a girl too to match. Ha-ha-ha! I know, I know one step at a time.

  And don’t worry about being unwed cause as soon as I get out we can start planning the wedding too. I want to do it at the church on Valley View. You know the one we used to go to all the time when we were younger with Father Martínez?

  And you can invite all your relatives (even your mom. Ha-ha-ha.) I don’t care I want the world to know, nothing’s going to break our love. Nothing. This is the best news ever.

  Some things happened here and it may take a little bit longer than I expected but I love you baby.

  Love,

  Dio

  Ever since Jennifer’s letter arrived, Dio had had an extra bounce in his step. He was more motivated than ever. He didn’t just exist when his officers gave him an assignment, he was driven. He told anyone who would listen about him becoming a daddy. Even if they didn’t listen, he’d tell them anyway. He made plans in his head and plans on paper of what he was going to do, step by step, as soon as he got out. He started to dream, to dream big. He started to make a list of who he wanted to invite to their wedding, what kind of food they were going to have at their reception, what toys they should get for the baby. He wrote list after list and name after name. He dreamed and he fantasized, the days turning into weeks. Everything seemed to flow; everything was going well for him, everything—until that night.

  Simon never was the strong type. Sure, he had a fire inside him, but he never let it out. He kept everything pent up inside and he was destroying himself.

  He knew Dio was right about sniffing. He knew drugs had ruined his life, but he couldn’t stop. No matter how many times he had been in counseling, no matter how many times he’d been in rehab, no matter how many times he’d been arrested, there was something inside him that just had to have them. He had to escape. He felt like he was drowning in the world of drugs. But he loved the drowning. He loved that light-headed feeling they gave him. He loved hallucinating. He loved how happy it made him feel, like at that moment everything was fine.

  He could forget about all the problems at home, about all the times he’d disappointed his parents. He could forget about not being wanted, about being bounced from home to home. He could forget about the future, because if it were anything like his past, he wanted nothing to do with it.

  Simon snuck out that night, as he had been doing for weeks now, and went to a back shed area where he had stashed a bunch of stuff he could sniff. He was digging through his pants pocket when he found Dio’s old hate letter stuffed in there.

  “Shit!” he said, and dropped it in the mail on the way outside.

 
It was scorching hot for August and quiet, very quiet, as Simon inhaled the aroma.

  “What’s up, nigger?”

  Simon jumped as Grossaint cackled in his ear. He froze, trying to control his breathing. Grossaint and his boys surrounded Simon, and he knew there was no way out.

  “I asked you a question, fuckin’ coon.”

  “N-n-n-nothing. I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine, little darky,” Grossaint said, circling him.

  “D-d-don’t . . . don’t call me that. I’m not. I’m not.”

  Grossaint just laughed in Simon’s face as he yanked his head back.

  “What’s wrong, Simon? You got a p-p-p-problem? Huh? Huh?”

  “No.”

  “Seems to me you got a p-p-p-problem. Well, I know something that can fix it.”

  “No. Please. Don’t. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

  They laughed.

  “Come on, you love it. You always love it.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He yanked Simon’s head back again. “I said you love it. You want Senior Jackson to find out about your little trips to the shed every night?”

  A tear trailed down Simon’s cheek. “Please.” But they just laughed in his face as each of them unzipped his pants.

  “Now do it the way I like it, nice and slow.”

  Tears streamed down Simon’s cheeks as he gagged and did as he was told to each and every one of them. But that wasn’t enough.

  He spat out what he could, and his stomach turned. They just laughed in his face.

  “Come on, faggot. You know you like it.”

  “I want to go to bed.”

  “I want to go to bed,” Grossaint mimicked. “I’m not done with you yet.”

  Grossaint grabbed a broom from the shed and broke it over his knee as his boys grabbed Simon. He kicked and screamed until they gagged him with a rag and shut the shed door behind them.

  “You ever tell anyone and I’ll kill ya,” Grossaint warned.

  It was Visitor’s Day again. Dio, as usual, stood in line as he watched the other trainees chatter with their guests. It was halfway through and Dio just wanted it over with so he could get back to the tent and dream up more plans for himself and Jennifer and their baby. He let his mind wander and drift into space. Then he noticed something, or someone in the distance.

  It was some fat girl, no, some pregnant girl waddling inside. Her hair was long and brown and . . . then Dio realized it was Jennifer.

  He couldn’t breathe, suddenly he couldn’t breathe, and when he did manage to breathe, he felt like he was hyperventilating. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a fantasy. But it wasn’t. She really was there. She was really in the same room.

  She froze when she saw him. His whole face lit up at the sight of her. She might have been thicker than he remembered, but her hair was longer and she had colored it lighter and one side of it covered part of her face. She looked more beautiful than ever. He had to restrain himself from running over to her.

  She too lit up for a second. She seemed blown away by his appearance. He looked more muscular than she had remembered. He looked healthier. He just looked good, real good. But then she stopped herself and her face became more withdrawn; she could barely look at him.

  He took her by the hand to lead her over to a bench, but she pulled her hand away. That should have been the first clue that something was wrong, but Dio was too elated that she was there with him to notice.

  She looked around and noticed that everyone was staring at her, all the trainees, all the officers. She turned away. It was too weird for her.

  Dio just looked at her for a moment. She was like the greatest piece of art he’d ever seen.

  “Your hair,” Jennifer said.

  Dio smiled, feeling it. “I know. They cut it.”

  He leaned over to kiss her.

  “You look . . .”

  She turned away, and as her hair brushed back he saw it, a nasty thick scar across her left cheek. It looked awful. He was shocked. She just looked at him, embarrassed. Something else was in her eyes, anger.

  “It’s from the drive-by,” she said coldly.

  Thoughts of that day flooded him. He felt guiltier than ever. He wanted to forget that day forever and have a new beginning, but now she’d carry that scar with her as a memory for the rest of their lives.

  “I got your letter,” she said.

  Of course you got my letter; I sent it weeks ago, Dio thought.

  But there seemed more to it than that. Dio hoped that his smile might melt away whatever bothered her; it usually did.

  “You look . . . I can’t believe you’re here. I didn’t expect you to come.”

  She just looked at him blankly. He looked at her belly. She was already getting huge. He started to put his hand on it.

  “Don’t,” she snapped.

  “Baby—”

  “Don’t ‘baby’ me.”

  “Jennifer, I know I was a real cabrón before, but—”

  “Dio.”

  “No, let me finish. Por favor. It’s going to get better when I get out. I’ve told you that. Te lo prometo. Anything you want.”

  She just looked at him. Her eyes burned with anger, then with tears. Her lips quivered. He hated seeing her like this. He wondered if it was just a pregnancy thing. When his mother was pregnant with Daniel, he remembered, she was even more moody than usual. He wanted to hold her. He didn’t care about the scar on her face. He loved her and wanted her to know it.

  “Baby, please. I’m sorry. I’m different now. I am.”

  “Time’s up,” an officer called.

  Dio could have just shot him right then and there.

  Jennifer gathered her things together. She seemed more preoccupied with collecting her purse and things than with Dio.

  “Hey, Jennifer.”

  She looked at him furiously.

  “No matter what—siempre. Eh?” he said.

  She continued to gather her things.

  Dio reached for her.

  “Do I get a hug at least?” he half-joked.

  She looked him dead in the eye and shoved some papers into his chest hard. Then she stormed off and out the door as fast as any pregnant woman could.

  “Jennifer!”

  Dio looked down at the papers. They looked familiar. Then he recognized his handwriting and felt the color rush out of his face. It was the hate letter he had written her, the one he thought he’d thrown away. Somehow it had gotten to her; he knew his world would never be the same again.

  Chapter Eight

  HE MOPED AROUND THE CAMP FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, still in shock.

  When it hit him that it had actually happened, it hit him hard. It felt like he had been knocked over by a sledgehammer. He dropped to his knees and felt sick to his stomach—so sick that he puked. He cleaned it up before anyone could notice, but he still felt completely weak.

  It was like God was teasing him. It was like God was constantly showing him what he could have, but never giving it to him. He felt anger. He felt embarrassment. He felt hurt. He felt numb.

  He wanted to pray, but why? What good would praying do if it resulted in this?

  Simon never was the same after that night. He seemed more than just in another world: He had withdrawn into himself like a black hole. He had no one to talk to. Dio wasn’t around. No one in the squad ever talked to him, and even if they ever did, he’d never say anything. He was always mumbling to himself. His nails were just stubs and he had already started biting the skin around his fingers.

  It was almost as if he were a ghost, a ghost that no one could see and no one knew even existed. He was in his own galaxy, his own universe. But that didn’t stop Grossaint from keeping a good eye on him. Simon held a secret that was screaming to come out, but couldn’t. Grossaint knew it, so did his boys, and they were going to do whatever they could to keep it that way.

  They knew they had power over him. Simon would never say anything. H
e was scared shitless and Grossaint enjoyed every moment of it. They’d spit on him when nobody was looking. They’d make little comments and Simon would just take it until finally, one night, Grossaint puckered his lips at Simon and whispered into his ear, “You’re going to be my bitch tonight.”

  Something snapped in Simon, something that took him over the edge. He took his toothbrush out of his box and began sharpening the back end over and over again against his mattress frame until it developed a sharp point, like the tip of a knife. He kept mumbling to himself over and over again, and everyone kept telling him to shut up throughout the night, but finally the last person in the squad fell asleep. Simon’s eyes were dead set on Grossaint in his bunk.

  “They hit you, you gotta hit ’em worse . . . they hit you, you gotta hit ’em worse . . .” he kept saying, moving closer and closer to Grossaint.

  His footsteps creaked against the wood floor, his rage building and building, until finally he was in front of Grossaint’s bunk.

  “Die, motherfucker,” he said, yanking the covers off Grossaint, whose eyes flickered with fright as Simon swung the weapon at him.

  Quick as a flash, one of Grossaint’s boys caught Simon. But by that time he had already taken a few swings. Grossaint covered his bloody throat with his hand as the rest of the trainees got up and started calling for Senior Jackson.

  Jackson and the rest of the officers came busting in, screaming on their CB radios, grabbing Simon, who was like a raging animal. The others rushed Grossaint to safety.

  “What the hell’s got into you?” Jackson demanded. “What’s the fourteenth general rule, trainee?”

  Simon looked away.

  “Answer me, dammit,” Jackson said.

  Simon looked up at him, straight in his eyes, and said, “Sir, they hit you, you gotta hit ’em worse.”

  Jackson was outraged.

  Half of Dio’s squad was already out of the tent by the time Dio woke up from all of the racket. He rubbed his eyes as he squinted and became conscious of the fact that all of the yelling and screaming was coming from Simon, whom it took three officers to contain. He was yelling, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, fuckin’ puto.”