Soldier of Love

Dear Naomi

May 23, 2007

 

Dear Naomi,

 

I read your letter.

I read your letter over and over again.

I read your letter over and over again so I could make sure I understood how you felt.

I read your letter over and over again so I could make sure I understood how you felt and learn what I could do to make it better.

 

But I’ve come to the conclusion that I cannot make it better. No matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to heal the pain I put you through. No matter how hard I try, I can’t make up for the trouble I caused. I want to and I’m trying but from the looks of it, it’s not possible.

Naomi, a simple sorry just won’t be enough. Am I sorry? Yes, yes, Naomi I am so sorry for all the pain I put you through. But reality is that sorry doesn’t heal a broken heart. Sorry doesn’t make anything okay.

And no, I’m not sorry because of my consequences. I’m not sorry because I want you and I can’t have you. I’m not sorry because I’m getting what I deserve. I’m sorry because no woman should ever have to deal with that and unfortunately there are men like me who don’t realize that until the damage is done.

Don’t take what you’re about to read as excuses.

They’re not excuses.

It’s the truth.

You know me. You know the real me. My cousins know the real me. My mom knew the real me. You still know the real me but then again maybe you don’t because in the eyes of you and everyone else I’ve changed so much, but the only excuse for that is I got caught up in the wrong crowd and the attention got to my head.

You know that as a child I, well we, didn’t get much attention. We were bullied. No one wanted to be around us and of course, a few years ago we figured out why—because of Fatou. But that’s beside the point.

As I got older, I guess I started to look better and soon girls were throwing themselves at me. I didn’t mind it at first, but the more attention I got, the more I started to open up. I didn’t know how to handle the attention because I didn’t know how it felt to have people wanting to talk me. I didn’t know how it felt to have girls running up behind me.

Am I making sense? If not, let me break it down. Because I never got the attention I was getting, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to go about the situation because I’d never experienced any of it. As a child, I didn’t care about having friends. I had you and that’s all that I really cared about. It was us against the world. But in high school things changed. I suddenly felt the urge to want to fit in. You’re supposed to have fun in high school. It’s supposed to be memorable in a good way. Therefore, I did everything I could to fit in.

I smoke weed.

I drank alcohol.

I hooked up with girls, but Naomi, never did I ever have sexual intercourse with them. It was always 1st base or oral on their part. My penis never went inside of them and never did I ever eat them out or suck on anything. What I’m saying may not making it any better but I just wanted you to know that you are the only person I’ve gave myself to. You’re the only person I’ve had sex with. You’re the only person I made love to.

I’m not sure what you and Daniel have done and I’m only assuming that you two have had sex. The thought of you making sex with another guy angers me, but I have no right. We aren’t together and it’s my fault so whatever you do with another man is your business.

What we did have was special but I took it all for granted. I did feel those connections you felt. Naomi, your love was more than good. Too good to be honest, but I was caught up, only thinking of myself. You weren't the problem. It wasn't you. It was me. Don't blame yourself. Don't say what did you do for me to stop loving you because the truth is you did nothing and I never stopped loving you.

I have no logical explaination besides I got caught up. I was greedy. Once I was fed, I wanted more. I was wrong. How could I stand you up on your birthday? How could I miss your showcase? I don't know. How could I break those promises that meant so much to you? I don't know. I was stupid. I was out of my mind. 

I wasn't myself.

But there's another thing.

My mom.

My eyes water as I write this part because I miss her so much. And I wasn’t there to save her. I wasn’t there when she was gunned down. I wasn’t there when six bullets pierced her body. I was too busy smoking weed when I should have been at home protecting her.

Having her death thrown in my face by everyone around isn’t the worse part. Having people talk about me for not being home with her is not the worse part. The worst part is having her calling me.

She called me.

I denied the call, thinking I was too cool to answer the call around my “boys”.

She left a voicemail but I did not check it.

I did not check it until after her funeral.

Her thick Hispanic accent crying out for help: “Jay, Jay! I hear noises! Sweetheart, I’m scared. I’m hiding in my bathroom and I can hear shuffling in the kitchen. Baby, whatever happens, I love you.—Ahh! POW, POW, aaaaaaah, POW, POW, POW, POW!”

She called me. She told me she needed help and I denied her call. I ignored her voicemail. I can’t live with this, Naomi. I slit my wrist and cring. I'm ready to give up. I'm ready to end it all but I want to make my mom proud. I know she's watching over me and I'm doing this for her. I'm also doing this for those who think I won't be anything. 

I can imagine everything so perfectly. She needed me and I wasn’t there. I break down a little more every time the sound of her voice crying out plays in my head. Everything is played so perfectly in my head, I can see it clearly even though I wasn't there like I should have been. 

I can’t make up for hurting you and I can’t make up for her death but Naomi I need you. I need you here with me because you’re one of the very few people who understand me. My family won’t admit it but I know they’re disgusted with me and you’re all I’ve got left.

Every time I visit my mom’s grave, I fall to my knees and cry. She didn’t deserve that. She was so young and beautiful, full of life and you remind me so much of her. She really liked you.

Naomi, I am so sorry.