by Jaci J.
I talk to her. I hold her hand. I lay Georgia with her, but not one fucking thing I do changes shit for her. At this point, I’m desperate. I’ll try anything. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to bring her back to me.
“Rampage, let me take Georgia home with me. I’ll take care of her until Lala starts pulling through this, because she will soon.” I’m not sure I can let my baby go. I’m not sure I can let her out of my sight.
“Sis, not sure I can do that.”
“If I have her, you can focus on Lala and help her get better.”
Sis, the eternal optimist. Her words fucking hurt. The tears in her eyes and the shake in her voice fucking kill me. She’s preaching it, but she doesn’t believe it. She knows, just like I do, that Lala’s not getting better. She’s not coming back to me.
“She’s not gettin’ better.” I tell her plainly, because it’s the goddamn truth. Lala isn’t healing.
“Shut up. She is. I’m taking Georgia home with me. You help Lala get better and then you bring her home, you hear me?” Lil grumbles at me around a sob. I do what I always do when these girls start crying − I agree.
“Okay, Sis.”
****
I agreed to let Sis take my baby home, but not before letting her say goodbye to her Mom, not before letting Lala feel her one last time.
“Here, baby.” Sitting on the edge of Lala’s bed, I lay Georgia next to her. My baby’s little feet are kicking around in that little dress Sis had to put on her.
The worst feeling I’ve ever felt settles in my gut. I know I have to let her go. I know we have to tell Lala goodbye. I know in my fucking heart this is it. I got the best kind of life a man like me can ask for because she was in it. I got it all and Lala gave it to me selflessly.
“Georgia, tell mommy bye. Tell her you love her.”
I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing anymore. I have no fucking idea. I feel lifeless and lost sitting here looking at my goddamn heart lying in this hospital bed. I don’t feel like me. I feel like a goddamn shell of a person. I’m on autopilot all the time. I’ve sat by Lala’s bed day in and day out, and nothing I do works. Nothing, not a fucking thing.
I’ve been given opinions and options. I’ve been told stories. I’ve been preached to and I’ve had hope shoved down my throat and optimism shoved in my face. I’ve been handed pamphlets and paperwork. I’ve been given medical advice of every kind from every fucking specialist, doctor, nurse, and person. None of it makes this shit any easier for me. None of it makes me feel any less empty, or any less guilty. She’s slowly dying on me.
I can’t let her go, but I can’t keep her like this. Lala’s had a hard life. She’s been though more than she ever should have been. She’s so goddamn strong all of the time, but now it’s time for her to let go and rest.
The doctors keep her heavily medicated, saying that she’s still in pain as she fades away. She’s still not the same. She’s never going to be the same. I can’t fix her and I can’t keep her here like this.
I can’t keep her anymore. I got my time. I got all of the Lala I was ever going to get, and I’m fucking thankful for that time. She gave me more than I ever deserved. She gave me her love and her heart, and that makes me one lucky motherfucker.
Kissing her forehead I breathe her in, sweet like always. I feel her skin under my hands, touch her hair, remembering the softness. I stare at that beautiful as sin face and those heart shaped lips, always happy and smiling. I remember her content and happy laugh.
“I’m sorry, Lala.”
I let the tears go. I fucking sob into her hair and hold her to me one last time. “Thank you for the beautiful surprise. Thank you for loving me and always being my Lala.” I’ll never truly let her go. I know it’d be impossible, but I have to let her rest. “Baby I don’t want to let you go, but It’s time.” Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hope and pray this isn’t it for us. I hope like fuck she’ll find her way back to me, back to us. “I love you, Lala. I have since I first saw you.”
Kissing her one last time, I soak in as much as I can. I have to tell myself to let her go. Walking to the door, I can’t look at her again. I remind myself I have to do this. “I’m sorry. I’ll always love you. It was always you, baby.”
Three years later. …
Rampage
“It’s today! It’s today Daddy!” A mess of dark hair and big blue eyes run toward the kitchen, clutching a doll for dear life. She’s smiling from ear to ear, looking exactly like Lala.
Coming to a stop in front of me, she smiles and nods enthusiastically. Patience isn’t her thing. She got that shit from me.
“It’s today, right?” She asks me again. Like she’s got to ask me. She knows. She puts her X’s on that calendar at the club ever goddamn day.
Sometimes it’s hard to look at her. She looks like Lala, yet she looks like me. She’s a perfect fucking mix of the two of us. She’s so goddamn beautiful. Everyone tells me she looks like me, but to me she’s all Lala. She’s all long dark hair and big blue eyes. She’s all sweet, perfect face, big smile, and a heart of fucking gold. She’s Lala through and through.
“Baby, yeah.” She jumps up and down a few times and squeals. Above all other days; Christmas, Halloween, Easter, even her own birthday, today is her favorite. Today is Lala’s birthday.
“You didn’t forget the cake, did you Daddy?” Forget it? That would be fucking impossible and unlikely. She would never let me forget that shit. She’s been collecting shit at every store for the past two weeks for this day. Hell, she hasn’t stopped talking about today. I’ve been reminded every day for the past six weeks. It’s our day for Lala.
“Baby, no. I would never forget such an important thing.”
Throwing her hands out to her sides, she giggles, “Up, Daddy.” Lifting her up, I sit her on the kitchen counter, right by the cake. She looks at it and smiles up at me. That’s all Lala right there. “You put Mommy’s name on it. It’s pink and pretty, Daddy.”
She loves pink. I hate it. She loves glitter. That shit gets on every fucking thing. She loves Barbie’s. They scare me. She loves princess shit, and those too, scare the shit out of me. She loves her Mommy and I love her too.
“Next year it’ll be blue.” I tell her.
She gasps and puts her pink finger nailed hands on her hips and glares at me. “No! Me ‘n Mommy love pink,” she declares. I’ve no idea if Lala ever liked pink.
“Okay, okay.”
The familiar and comforting rumble of pipes filters in through the screen door.
“Aunty Lil ‘n Aunty Peaches ‘n Cousin Rowan ‘n Uncle Tank ‘n Cousin Ty ‘n Cousin Owen ‘n Uncle Gin ‘n Uncle Stitch are all here, Daddy,” She rambles off all their names in quick succession. How she’s not out of breath after that shit is beyond me. That was a damn mouth full.
She squeals, hopping off of the counter like a little goddamn dare devil. She’s going to give me a fucking heart attack. I swear to God, I’ll never make it to fifty at this rate.
“Hi, baby. Come give your favorite Auntie some lovins,” Lil hollers as soon as she’s inside the house, scooping Georgia up into a hug.
Peaches glares at her and throws an elbow into her side, “Hey, bitch. You’ve got your own girl. She’s mine.”
I don’t know what I would have done without them, without all of them, really. The girls helped so much with Georgia for a long time. She needed women in her life and I couldn’t have picked better ones for her. They love her so fucking much.
“Alright pretty girl. Time to go get beautiful,” Lil says.
“Auntie, will I be pretty like a princess? Cus Daddy says Mommy looks like a princess, and I wanna look like my Mommy.” Lil looks over Georgia’s shoulder at me with tears in her eyes and shakes her head, trying to pull it together. The memories still sting for her. I fucking feel that shit, too. I just shrug because I really don’t have much to say, because to me, Lala looks like a princess.
“Yes baby. You’ll look j
ust like your Mommy and your Mommy is a princess.”
“I know,” Georgia sighs tiredly. She should know. I tell her the stories.
Every year on Lala’s birthday, the girls take Georgia to the nail and hair place. They shop and spend too much of my money. They go to some girl doll store thing and again, spend too much damn money there, too. I spend the day the same way each year, reading and rereading that letter.
“You gonna be okay man?” Tank asks me. No. I’ll never be okay with what happened, but I’m getting there. Maybe someday I’ll let it all go.
“Yeah brother, I’ll be good.”
****
The same day every year, I pull that wrinkled and tattered piece of paper from my nightstand. It’s only been three years, but that single piece of paper has seen better days. For the first few weeks, I read it hourly. After a few months, I read it daily. A year had passed, and I vowed to read it just one day a year.
Reading it only once a year almost makes it feel like it was the first time all over again. The pain is still the same. The ache still raw and fresh when I reread her words, words I know by heart. I should stop, but I can’t let it go.
I know I’ll never be able to. I don’t fucking want to. Every time I look at my baby, I see Lala. Every time I hear the girls laughing, I hear her. Every time I get on my bike, I feel her body on mine. She’s everywhere, right where I want her to be. I don’t ever want to forget that day, no matter how fucking much it hurts.
Sitting in an old wood chair on my back porch, I pour myself a drink and kick my boots up on the railing. Slamming it back, I repeat the process. Pulling out the letter, I remind myself of the greatest love I had and ever will have.
Rampage,
I’m writing this letter to you in case something ever happens to me. Morbid, I know, but I just wanted to tell you a few things, so I guess if you’re reading this, then something did happen to me. I’m sorry.
I want you to know that I didn’t want to leave you. I didn’t want to leave the way I did, either. I wanted to, at the very least, say goodbye. Ryan came back and said he would kill all of you, even describing what little Ty’s bedroom and blanket looked like. I couldn’t live with myself if I had led the closest thing I had ever had to a family into harm’s way. Everyone had been through enough with what had happened to Lil, and I couldn’t do that to you all. I left, hoping to lead him away. I’m sorry I was never able to say goodbye the way you deserved.
I’m hoping by now you know about Georgia. When I left I didn’t know I was pregnant. I wouldn’t have kept her from you if I did, but I’ve done the best I can to make sure she is healthy, and I’ve had a lot of help. You will love her. She is the most beautiful child I have ever seen.
Ryan kept us away after she was born. I had to stay to keep her safe then, too, but she is yours. I promise you that. I’m sure you’re terrified, but you’ll do great with her. She’ll love you, because I love you. You’ll love her too. You have enough love stored away for a lifetime of love for that little girl. I have no doubts in you. I know you’ll do me proud.
I’m sorry you missed the begging of her life. I could tell you about it, though. She was the best thing you could have ever given me. Thank you for her. She was born on March ninth. She weighed six pounds and nine ounces, nineteen inches long. She came out looking exactly like she does now; exactly like you. She was perfect. She still is. I named her after your Mom because I know how much you loved her. I won’t worry if she’ll be okay with you. I know you’ll take good care of her like you did me. You say you don’t love anyone, well you will love her.
She loves to be read to. She also loves when I tell her stories about you. She enjoys walks and seeing people. She sleeps with me, so sorry, I kind of spoiled her that way. She loves bananas, but hates peas. She loves to cuddle. She goes to bed at eight and usually gets up at nine. She’s a pain to dress, she never sits still, but she looks adorable in dresses. I know it’s a lot, but you’ll be a wonderful dad.
When she’s old enough, please tell her how much I wanted her. Tell her she is the best part of the two of us. Please tell her I loved her more than life itself. Tell her how much I loved you both.
Lastly, I hope you know how much I love you. You saved me. You made me feel safe. You showed me what it was like to have a family, and you showed me there really are wonderful people out there in the world. I learned what it was truly like to be loved unconditionally by someone. Even if it was never said, I know you loved me. I always remember the way you looked at me, and there was love there, always. I know I would have found you again. I know we would have had together forever.
I hope you know you were my best friend. You and Georgia have my heart.
I love you more than you will ever know.
Lala.
I hate this letter. I hate it so goddamn much it makes me fucking sick. Every time I read it, it makes it hard to breathe. It tears my heart up and it makes that ache worse. I relive every painful moment from the last four years. I see it all again. I feel it all again. I have to live with it all over again. I hate to read it.
Some days I’m mad at her, mad that she didn’t stay. Mad that she tried to take my chance at loving her for those years away from me when she walked out of our front door. I understand her decision to leave, we all did once we read the letter, but maybe if I did things differently, things could have been different.
I’m mad at myself for never telling her how much she changed my life, how much she meant to me. How much I fucking loved her. I’m mad it all had to fucking happen the way it did.
But most days are filled with good memories of Lala. I love her. I will gladly and happily spend the rest of my life with the terrible shit that happened because I got to spend the best part of my life being with someone who is so pure, so perfect, so amazing that I can only consider myself blessed to have known her. I would never give that time back, no matter how fucking bad it was at the end. No fucking chance.
She gave me the greatest gifts in life, a daughter and her unconditional love. And with those things, I am the luckiest motherfucker alive. With those things, I can live a life full of happiness and love, because I had Lala in my life.
****
The screen door whines and I listen for the soft footsteps. One, two, three, four. “Are you really out here torturing yourself?” Lala grumbles at me with a dramatic ass sigh. There’s my little bossy girl. Plopping down in the chair across from me, she smiles. All sweet and fucking perfect. She’s wearing those ripped up jean shorts and a t-shirt, looking fucking amazing. Throwing her legs over mine, she gets comfortable.
“Rampage. You gotta stop this.” She tells me sternly.
Shaking her head, she snatches the shot glass from my hand and throws it back.
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” I know she’s not, but it doesn’t mean I don’t need to remind myself. I need to remind myself how goddamn lucky I truly am. I’m fucking blessed, there isn’t another word for it. It doesn’t mean I still don’t think about it all. She’s here and she is never going anywhere.
“Goddamn right you’re not.”
I lost her four years ago. I truly almost lost her 3 years ago. After putting her in a rehab center close to home, we were with her every day ‘til she finally came out of her come. It’s been a long road with rehab, counseling, even reconstructive surgery on her face due to so many broken facial bones, especially around her eye socket. Lots of healing had to be done, but we all did it together.
I never truly understood what Tank went through with Sis. I never understood the drinking, the pushing, the pulling, but I fucking get it now. It’s hard to swallow the idea of almost losing someone. For us it wasn’t an idea, it was a possibility; a reality. I watched her dying on me. I watched her fight for her life. I know exactly what he went through. That’s a sick fucking bond we now share.
Instead of medicating with alcohol and insanity, I live. Just being around Lala helps that shit. With her I can push that
shit away. I can love her and that’s all the medication I need for that shit.
“Are you going to spend my birthday being a giant pain in my ass? Georgia is gone for the afternoon and I want to do something.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. If she wants to fuck, she sure the fuck doesn’t have to ask me.
“Whatcha wanna do today, baby?” Peeking up at me with wicked eyes, she smirks. Fuck me, this should be good.
“I want another tattoo.”
“Fuck no.” That is never happening. Throwing her hands up, she glares at me. “It’s my birthday.” Right. It’s her birthday, but she’s not putting more ink on her skin. I own all of that perfect skin and she’s not doing shit to it.
“And that,” I tip my head at her body, “is my body, and I don’t want anyone touchin’ it or puttin’ shit on it.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.” I know I am, and I know she loves it.
“You already said that, Lala. Pick somethin’ else.” For a minute she doesn’t say anything and that could be bad, really fucking bad.
“I know what I want for my birthday.”
“Give it to me baby.”
“I want you to get another tattoo.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Not the worst idea. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want ‘Lala & Georgia’ right across your forehead,” she laughs. That’s not going to fucking happen.
“Not on my face babe, but anywhere else, you name it and it’ll go there.”
“Really?” Really.
I’d give her and Georgia anything. There is not a goddamn thing I wouldn’t do for my family.
“Yeah. You want ‘Lala & Georgia’ tatted on me, baby?”
Nodding, she smiles, “Yep.”
