“I won’t forgive you, Daddy,” I told him as Betsy gently ushered me toward the curtain. “Ever.”
“I can live with that,” he said, then he ignored me and stalked right up into Zeus’s face. He was a lot smaller because every man was a lot smaller than Zeus, but he still threatened him. “If I ever see you anywhere near my daughter or this family again, I will personally see to it that your life is ruined beyond all hopes of repair. Understood?”
Zeus looked down at my daddy as if he were a bug that landed on his boot, easily crushed but not worth the bother. “You threaten a man like me, Lafayette, be prepared to reap the fuckin’ consequences.”
Then with his head high and his body at ease despite the handcuffs, Zeus led the officers out of his curtained room and through the emergency room to the waiting police car outside.
Betsy let me watch as they drove away, tucked under her arm and against her breasts so that my tears got caught in her pink scrubs.
That was the last day I called Benjamin Lafayette “Daddy”.
2008-2009
Zeus is 26 and Louise is 7.
Dear Mr. Guardian Monster,
I hope you feel better now. Daddy told me you went away to a place where bad people go. Does that mean you are in hell? Can I visit you there?
I am worried that if you are away no one will look after me. Mum and Daddy are too busy because they are super important people. Nanny doesn’t speak English real good. My little sister Bea is okay but she cries a lot because she is still a baby.
I am still really sick. I had a Christmas play last week and I threw up all over the Baby Jesus. Mrs. Peachtree tried to pick me up, but I threw up on her too. I had to go to the hospital again and I hate the hospital. Nanny told me the doctors told her that there is something really wrong with me. When Mummy came to visit, she cried.
Do you think I am going to die? If I do, can I come stay with you in hell?
xoxo,
Louise Margaret Lafayette
Lou,
Not gonna die, kid. Anyone ever tell you, you got a dark imagination? Little kids get sick all the time and then they get better, yeah? Wasn’t gonna write back but I had to tell you to cut that shit negative stuff out. Now, don’t be sad or anythin’, but we can’t write to each other. You don’t get it now but I’m a grown man and it’s fuckin’ feckin’ weird to write a seven-year-old little girl from prison. That’s where I am, prison. And yeah, Lou, it’s a lot like hell, only worse ’cause I figure there’s women in hell and a whole lotta sinning. Only thing I do here is read and do prison labor on a feckin’ farm.
You’ll get it when you’re older, but this is goodbye. Have a good life, kid, and keep outta trouble, you hear? I may not be there to look over ya, but I’ll be able to tell if you stay good.
Z.
Dear Mr. Guardian Monster,
I know you said that I couldn’t write to you anymore but I thought I should tell you that I am not going to get better so I will probably see you in prison in a little bit. See, I got cancer. Nanny told me it’s in my blood so they can’t even do an operation or anything. Daddy got really mad and he said he’s gonna get me a doctor like Super Man to help me get better. Betsy told me that lots of kids get cancer but she looked scared. I wouldn’t tell anyone but you, because you are my guardian monster, but I’m scared too.
I hope you write me back but if not, maybe see you soon.
xoxo,
Louise Margaret Lafayette
P.S. Do you believe in God? I do but I don’t know why he made me sick. I promise, I pray every day.
Lou,
Jesus Christ, Fuck me, God fucking dammit.
No, Lou, I don’t believe in God. How can a man believe in an all-powerful nice guy who lives the high life behind pearly gates while the rest of us suffer down here on earth? How can a man believe that a little girl sweeter than sugar freakin’ pie deserves to get cancer?
You are goin’ to get better, kid. I know it. You know how I feckin’ know it? ’Cause you are a little warrior. You didn’t cry in the face of a huge biker with a gun pointed at your heart and you ain’t gonna cry ’cause of this, you hear me? You are strong and you are gonna fight this.
It’s still a feckin’ stupid idea for me to write to you, but Jesus, how can a guardian monster abandon his girl when she needs him?
Here still. Tell Betsy to write me a letter with more detail about the cancer, yeah?
Z.
Dear Mr. Guardian Monster,
Betsy wrote you a letter about the cancer. I tried to read it, but I don’t understand any of the words. Betsy told me to tell you what I feel like because I don’t know the doctor words for it. I have to stay in the hospital most of the time now, for medicine that makes my head really hurt and my heart skip rope in my chest. My bones really hurt, kinda like if dogs are chewing on them. I drew a picture of hellhounds biting on my legs, but it made my little sister cry and my mummy’s voice got really high and tight when she called me disgusting. Mummy threw it out but Betsy saved it and I gave it to her to send to you. Do you like it? That’s you, the big man in the clouds with your thunderbolts so you can save me.
Are you going to come and save me? Or is prison too far away to get here before I die?
xoxo,
Louise M. Lafayette
P.S. I am worried about you in prison. Do they at least have lollipops there? I love lollipops, especially the cherry kind.
Little Loulou,
Yeah, kid, I got the letter from Bets. You have Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I looked it up in the prison library. The bad news is, it’s gonna suck to fight this and you’re gonna get real tired doing it. Good news? Those docs really know how to treat this shit. There are stages to cancer, kid, four of ’em and you are stage 2. This is really good, yeah? The odds of a kid beatin’ this thing are high and the odds of you beatin’ it? Even higher.
Really like the drawing, Lou. I got a few from my kids in my cell and now I got yours here too. Makes the place a little brighter. And I don’t got any lollipops, but gotta say, I don’t have a hankerin’ for them and straight up, kid? Those things will rot your teeth right out.
Z.
Yeah, before I forget again, cut it out with the Mr. Guardian Monster, yeah? Just call me Zeus.
Dear Mr. Zeus,
My hair is falling out. Betsy told me it was going to happen and a bunch of other kids in the cancer ward don’t have hair but I’m really sad. My hair was really pretty. Do you remember it? I think there was blood in it last time you saw me but mostly it’s gold and thick and long. Nanny used to brush it for me before bed and it felt really nice. Nanny shaved the little bit I had left off so I’m bald. Now, my head is super cold. It doesn’t matter really, I got to stay in the hospital right now and it’s always warm in here. I’m fighting, Mr. Zeus, really I am, but I’m super duper tired and even though you told me I was too strong to cry, I cried last night.