Write about secrets revealed.

St. Joseph's Catholic Cemetery
Yonkers, Westchester County, New York

Graveyards are filled with secrets, the secrets people have taken with them to the grave. Mysteries. Ethel is dying, she will take with her to the grave any hope of my ever understanding my she has despised me my entire conscious life. Ethel is a compulsive liar. I know that about her, but she has concealed it from the rest of the world who thinks she is "a lovely woman."

I love to walk around in graveyards on the East Coast, to photograph the statuary. I look at the graves. I think about all the secrets that are buried. I see a husband and wife buried alongside each other. Often the wife has outlived her husband by a decade or two. Was she like Mrs. Mallard, overcome with a "monsterous joy," "free, body and soul, free" -- or did she love her husband and deeply grieve his death? What secrets about the marriage when to the grave with the couple? Did he ever cheat on her? Did she ever cheat on him? What lies were told to keep the marriage together? I think about these secrets, because I have never known any man who has been completely honest with me.

Secrets revealed. Steven lied about his crime. Kept the truth of it a secret from me. I always felt there was something "off" about Steven, but couldn't put my finger on it. Chastised myself for not believing in him because he is incarcerated. Told myself I had to give him every benefit of the doubt, even more than I would have given to someone with no criminal background,because he is incarcerated. Believed that if someone showed him that they believed in him, that he could move past his depression and separation from God and find serenity -- because this is what we promised to do for each other when we started our pen pal relationship.

I knew Steven was incarcerated for rape, kidnapping and assault. Even so, I was compelled to write to him. His eyes called out to me. Kullo maktoob, I can't explain it. He led me to believe the girl was over 18, but not yet 19 -- which makes her a minor in Nebraska. He told me she pursued him, and when he rejected her advances (because he was married and raising his infant daughter alone while his wife was incarcerated), she retaliated by telling the police he held her hostage in his house and raped her. He told me it was her word against his, that a rape kit showed “no evidence” of a rape, but because his wife was in prison for credit card fraud the police decided he must be a criminal, too, so they arrested him.

Then in December the newspaper articles covering his arrest, sentencing and conviction (a two-year span of time) appeared online – archives from the small town newspaper where he committed his crime. The secret revealed was incomprehensible. The girl was not 18, she was 13. He went to her house in the middle of the night, wrapped her in a quilt and carried her out to his van. Then he took her to his house and assaulted her twice. Then he took her in the van again, drove to the outskirts of town, parked the van in a parking lot and prepared to assault her a third time. However, the police somehow intercepted, a high-speed chase ensued, Steven crashed the van, the girl jumped out and ran to the police, and Steven was apprehended.

Steven says it’s all a lie.

I had a sixth sense that he was full of shit. I prayed to God to reveal the truth to me. God revealed those newspaper articles. I had a sixth sense that Steven was lying to me about writing to other women. I prayed to God to reveal the truth to me. God had the COs in the prison mailroom switch the letters Steven had written, and I received the perverse sex letter he was exchanging with some ghetto whore he’d just met.

Steven blamed me for his relationship with the ghetto whore. Said it’s all your fault because I asked him to discuss the newspaper articles with me and allow me to ask questions about his crime.

I’m still in the throes of this disgusting episode of my life, and it’s difficult to write about coherently.

I don’t like secrets. I don’t like to be deceived. I want to know the truth. Is the truth even out there? Is anyone capable of honesty and forthrightness there days? Who can I trust? Sometimes I don’t think I can even trust myself!

God revealed Steven’s secrets to me. It’s time for me to move on into the next phase of my very lonely life.