My Sister, My Love (2 page)

WISH THIS WAS AN “INSPIRATIONAL TEXT”—BUT IT ISN’T.

Americans crave knowledge of
how-to
; all I can offer is a firsthand account of
how-not-to.
(My original title for this document was
Not All Survive: The Unexpurgated Story of Skyler Rampike.
Alternate title:
Down the Drain with Skyler Rampike.
) No uplifting Christian tale of sin—suffering—enlightenment—redemption; the kind of “searing”—“heartrending”—“genuinely transforming” memoir featured on TV talk shows in the fleshy-female torpor of late-afternoon TV before the male-sobriety of Evening News.

And I believe in redemption/forgiveness. For you others, if not for me.

The only person whose forgiveness can “redeem” me will have been dead, as of midnight tonight, nine years, ten months, and sixteen days.

Skyler where are you Skyler please help me

The tenth anniversary of my sister’s death is fast approaching. Which is the occasion for this document. I am squatting on the railroad tracks as the locomotive rushes toward me. I am staring into the blinding headlights as into a vision of God hypnotized/paralyzed/unable to move away.

Skyler it’s so dark in here

Skyler don’t leave me alone here

Skyler would you die in my place
?

And that is the crucial question, isn’t it?
Would you die in my place.

Reader, ask yourself: is there anyone for whom you would give up your life? Not a (mere) kidney transplant but a heart transplant? To save a
loved one
’s life?

(This is a confidential survey, don’t be alarmed! You have only to check the appropriate box, tear out the incriminating page and dispose of it and who’s to know the sobering truth you’ve discovered about yourself?)

(What a strange attraction I am feeling, to terminating this document prematurely: dousing myself in kerosene, lighting a match. A sanitizing death with ritual overtones that is also plenty showy/great filler for Tabloid TV.)

(We Rampikes! Veterans of Tabloid Hell who know which buttons to press.)

(Reader, don’t worry: I may be a self-centered kid but I am not a cruel kid wishing to set an entire house ablaze and burn up others in my funeral pyre, certainly I would take care to “incinerate”—“immolate”—myself in an outdoor setting. Preferably a bleakly romantic scene beside the moody Raritan River that isn’t too far to limp.) (Frankly yes, I would prefer a fiery-death scene on a high bank of the more picturesque Hudson River majestic and awe-inspiring beneath a storm-toss’d wintry sky, but the Hudson River is too damned far away, I’d have to borrow someone’s
car.) (More practical: behind this rundown residence at the southern edge of the sprawling Rutgers campus there is an alley of trash cans, overflowing Dumpsters, a whirlygig—whirligig?—of litter as in a pastiche of outtakes from a David Lynch film laced with a pungent smell of drains, yet—so wonderfully!—not a quarter-mile away on Livingstone Avenue there looms the bravely gleaming faux-gold cross of the New Canaan Evangelical Church of Christ Risen where each Sunday morning and each Wednesday evening and at other, uncharted times fervent Christians come to worship their elusive God and His Only Begotten Son. In this alley, the faux-gold cross of an unfathomable Christian sect suggestively in view, what more appropriate setting for Skyler Rampike to erase himself from history, as his sister Bliss was erased nearly a decade before?)

LONGTIME SUSPECT IN SISTER’S DEATH IMMOLATES SELF IN NEW BRUNSWICK, BLISS RAMPIKE “COLD CASE” OF 1997 REOPENED?

NIGHTS ARE HARD. “EARLY HOURS” OF THE NIGHT BETWEEN
1
A.M AND
4:30
A.M.
which was when the medical examiner of Morris County Dr. Virgil Elyse determined that my six-year-old sister Bliss died of “blunt force head trauma” though her body would not be found until nearly 8:30
A.M.
and the “cooling” of the body was impeded by the warmth of the place (furnace room) in which the body was found. And so during those “early morning” hours at least on unmedicated nights the “longtime suspect” isn’t able to sleep nor do I try to sleep.

Amateurs don’t know how to tell stories, even their own life-stories brimming like tears in their brown-doggy eyes. I acknowledge this, for my instinct is to spew everything out immediately, and keep nothing back, except writing is
linear
and
diachronical
meaning that, if you cast down your first card X, this first card X has displaced all other possible cards—Y, Z, A, B etcetera. If I reveal that I am nineteen years old—nineteen going on ninety!—this blocks out the possibly more crucial fact that since my sister’s death in the “early hours” of January 29, 1997, there has never been any murderer indicted, still less prosecuted and tried; the notorious case remains “open”—“unsolved”—in the trendy parlance of our time, “cold.” And why? Despite more than thirty thousand pages of police (Fair Hills PD, Morris County Sheriff, New Jersey State Police) and FBI documents, medical reports, and forensics reports? Reader, you will see why.

Not that I have read these reports. Much of the material is classified but even the available material is off-limits to me. For I intend to approach this subject from the inside purely, as one who lived through it. Trust me! I swear, I will tell only the truth
as I have lived it.

SKYLER? HELP ME PLEASE

Too late for already Bliss has been awakened in her bed. Someone has entered her room in stealth. The Mother Goose lamp on the bedside table is on, dim-lit. Just enough light to navigate by. Once this has begun, it cannot be stopped.

Cannot be stopped by Skyler who was sleeping in his bed at this time. Little punk-sized kid but nine years old.

Skyler who remains nine years old.

Already her small protesting mouth has been taped shut so that she can’t scream. Already her small wrists and ankles have been bound with duct tape so that she can’t struggle. Such a small child weighing forty-three pounds (as Dr. Elyse would inform us) she has been wrapped in a (pink cashmere) blanket removed from her bed, in haste she is being carried along a darkened corridor—past her brother Skyler’s room—to a darkened stairway and down this stairway to a yet darker stairs at the rear of the house into the basement as she struggles to free herself, and to breathe, desperate to breathe, a wild struggling animal desperate to breathe, heart beating frantically you could feel like a small fist
Skyler help help me!
but Skyler will not help because Skyler is sleeping in his bed in his room oblivious of his sister’s struggle so deep/dreamless/leaden a sleep you would think (possibly) the nine-year-old had been drugged for his frightened mother will have a difficult time waking him hours later and now it has been nine years, ten months, and twenty days and still the accursèd child has not fully wakened.

…AND NOW OUR NEXT LITTLE CONTENDER FOR MISS ATLANTIC CITY ICE
Capades 1995 here at the fan-tas-tic new Trump Hotel & Casino, Atlantic City, New Jersey, ladiez ’n’ gentlemen here is a little-girl skater who is truly little no word but exquisite! angelic! fan-tas-tic! there is a gasp from the audience what a luscious sight: platinum-blond cotton-candy hair cascading in curls she’s wearing a black-lace Spanish veil mantilla d’you call it? qui-ite a dramatic costume for a five-year-old one of the most eye-catching of this fan-tas-tic evening the audience is clearly appreciative! this little skater is a real pro left shoulder daringly bared tight black-sequined bodice black taffeta skirt very very short black lace matching panties peeking out beneath black eyelet stockings and sexy black leather high-top skates like boots with crimson appliqué roses! Look at those skate-blades flash this little girl is skating/dancing to the pulse-quickening Latin beat “Begin the Beguine” applause for MISS BLISS RAMPIKE of Fair Hills, New Jersey Miss Tots-on-Ice Debutante Winner 1994 Tiny Miss StarSkate 1995 runner-up last-month’s Miss New England Figure Skating Challenge 1995 what skating form, ladiez ’n’ gentlemen! look at those graceful glides Miss Bliss is positively angelic the crowd adores her ah! a near-perfect spin triple figure-eights and is it a jump spin? and Miss Bliss Rampike has executed the tricky maneuver bravely this might be the highlight so far of our evening here at Trump Hotel & Casino the audience is at the edge of their seats fierce competition for the gold trophy, $5,000 prize, photo and résumé on all Trump Hotel & Casino
promotional materials for a solid year The Don himself is rumored to be in the audience
in-cog-nit-o
could be, ladiez ’n’ gentlemen we have here a future Olympic gold medalist a future Sonja Henie (winner of ten world titles: Sonja Henie) ooops spoke too soon did I just a wee falter a moment’s hesitation quickly the skater has recovered from wobbling now spinning on two skates without wobbling now a traveling spin hold your breath ladiez ’n’ gentlemen this can be tricky judges are taking note judges are impressed judges will factor in the difficulty of these maneuvers in their scoring now is it? a flying spin such a sweet smile! but the mantilla seems to be slipping from Bliss’s head uh-oh looks like a—jump spin?—executed just a little uncertainly is Bliss favoring her left ankle? rumors of a previous injury to that ankle this is a brave little girl listen to that applause Miss Bliss Rampike along with incredible Miss Kiki Chang last year’s Trump Hotel & Casino Skating Capades champ (Junior Division) are clearly the audience’s favorites so far this evening uh-oh! gosh-darn mantilla is on the ice let’s hope Bliss’s skates don’t get tangled in the gosh-darn thing now a flying spin no hesitating wincing when she lands on her left skate throbbing beat of “Begin the Beguine” pulses ever higher, louder a second flying leap, oops! that was a shame this is a brave little girl Miss Bliss Rampike has recovered her poise not a quitter tears spilling down those doll-cheeks
she is not a quitter
the audience is hushed the audience is deeply moved the audience has erupted into applause the audience is on its feet let’s hope The Don is truly among us tonight
in-cog-nit-o
or otherwise a fan-tas-tic performance let’s have a final round of applause for Miss Bliss Rampike five years old of Fair Hills, New Jersey a very brave little girl with a very big future