Rich Man, Poor Man

By the time the red haze cleared from my eyes, "Disco Dan" and two others were lying on the floor holding their heads or crotches. I probably would have still been beating on them but Thomas the bouncer wrapped his arms around me and led me back to my table. Not many people could have controlled me right then but at 6'5" and 300 pounds Thomas was one that could stop me.

I'm actually glad he did stop me; I really didn't want to spend the rest of my life on death row. And I had no doubt that I might have killed one of those men that night. I don't know if it was the way that Rebecca was dancing or how I'd worried about her since the bike accident or that her actions reminded me of her "wild child" days, that caused me to go nuts.

I asked Thomas if I should wait for the police but he just shook his head and told me to go home. Rebecca was standing at our table with her eyes wide open and her hands held over her mouth; she had never seen me go berserk; it must have sobered her up a little. Even that night years ago in college, I had been in control when I took on the three that were assaulting her.

Once again I had to help Rebecca up to our apartment. I had planned to get on her case for the way she'd been acting but decided it wouldn't help; she was too drunk to understand. I got her to bed with a plastic trash can on the floor because I knew she would get sick later.

I went into our bathroom to clean up and saw that at least one of the three guys had gotten in a couple of good punches. My top lip was split open and my right eye was swelling. In a few days I was going to look like a raccoon. An ice pack and two fingers of Gentleman Jack made me feel better. But I knew that tomorrow morning Rebecca and I had to straighten some things out.

I called work and left a voice mail for my boss telling him that I was taking a day off. Should I take something to settle my stomach and try and get some sleep or I should I drink myself into oblivion and forget about my troubles, at least until tomorrow. Sleep was my choice; I had been there, done that, and puked on the T-shirt by doing the drinking to oblivion thing.

I slept in the guest bedroom; hearing, seeing, and smelling Rebecca upchuck all night wasn't my idea of a good time. Let her suffer by herself, I thought. Relatively early the next morning, I showered and fix a breakfast for one; Rebecca was still sleeping it off.

It was 10 AM when I heard her stumble into the bathroom and I went to check on her. Rebecca had crawled back to bed and pulled the covers over her head. About an hour later I heard her moaning and knew wake up time was near. I put a small carafe of coffee on the night stand along with water, aspirin, and a large Mimosa. A Mimosa is champagne and orange juice, sometimes a little hair of the dog helped a person recover faster.

It was noon when Rebecca came into the living room walking gingerly as if her head was going to fall off. She looked at me and started to say something but I held up my hand for quiet and pointed to the sofa. I set another Mimosa on the end table next to her and watched her drink about a third of it before I spoke.

"Would you care to tell me what last night was all about?

Holding her head she said, "I'm sorry Jamie. I let things get out of control last night. Please, I'm sorry," Rebecca answered.

"What was that bullshit way you were dancing with that asshole and then telling us to decide who got you for the night?" I was angry and it showed in my voice.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I was so drunk I didn't know what I was saying."

"You know I might have seriously injured that guy and his two buddies if Thomas hadn't stopped me. All because you were too drunk to know what you were doing!" I wasn't letting up on her.

"I know. I've never seen you like that." She paused and then said, "I really am sorry Jamie. Please forgive me."

Enough I thought, she knows how upset I am. No need to beat her into the ground. I nodded and Rebecca came and sat in my lap. She put her arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder. We just held each other as she cried on my shoulder for a couple of minutes

Again Rebecca rebounded and seemed more like her old self but still there was something just off center. Sometimes at night she would sit for 15 minutes or more staring at nothing; if I spoke to her she would flinch or jump as if unaware that I had been there.

I tried to be upbeat around her, hoping I could bring her out of whatever place she was in; nothing I did had any lasting effect. When I asked her if anything was wrong or if something was bothering her she would smile sadly, kiss my cheek and say everything was fine, that she was just tired or stressed about her work. There was something eating at her but I couldn't find out what it was.

We lived in this sort of limbo for three months. Our sex life suffered during this period; Rebecca never refused to make love with me but she never initiated it. She was responsive during our loving but the fire and intensity wasn't there. Thinking back over the last few months I realized that everything went to hell starting with her motorcycle accident. I wondered if the accident was what was behind her behavior but after thinking about it I knew that whatever caused her to go nuts on the bike was the cause of her depression and sadness.

One morning at work, Sylvia called and told me that Jason would like to see me in his office when I had the time. When the boss calls you make time so I told her I was on my way up. As I came into her inner sanctum, Sylvia handed me a cup of coffee and told me to go right in.

Jason was on the phone and motioned me to a seating area off to the side of his desk. He finished his call and joined me. Jason asked about my department, what I thought about the two new hires in I T, and generally made small talk. Finally I realized he was stalling before getting to why he had called me to his office.

"Okay Jason, what's going on? Why did you want to see me? Stop stalling and get to it, I have work to do," I said. Being his son-in-law gave me a little leeway in our boss/employee relationship.

"Are you and Rebecca having problems? I know it's really none of my business but something's wrong. She walks around in a daze most of the time and her work is suffering. If she wasn't my daughter, they would have let her go by now. Please, if there is a problem let me help," he said.

At first I bristled at his interference but then relaxed; he was a father worried about his daughter. And I was worried too.

"No, we're good. I've watched and worried about her actions for the last few months. It started right after the accident but I can't get her to talk about what's bothering her. And there is something bothering her!" I replied.

"What about the night in the bar when you did your Bruce Lee impression on those three guys? What caused that?"

"How'd you know about that Jason? And to answer your question, I have no idea. We talked about the next day and smoothed things out, but I still have no idea what caused her to behave that way," I said.

"A friend of mine and his wife were there and told me what happened. He said you went ballistic when the guy tried to pull Rebecca away from you," Jason said with a smile.

We discussed Rebecca and the way she seemed to be just going through the motions but neither of us could figure out her problem.

"Do you think we should get her into some type of therapy? I'll pay for it but I think she needs more help than we can give her," Jason suggested.

"First of all, the only we here is Rebecca and me. Second, I can pay for any treatment for my wife that's necessary. And last, it's worth a try; I've been thinking the same thing," I told him.

That evening at home after dinner Rebecca and I were sitting on the sofa together. By together I mean we were sitting on the same piece of furniture, we weren't snuggling or holding hands or even touching. We didn't do that much anymore and then only when I initiated it.

"Becky, what's bothering you? No, don't say everything is fine because it isn't. You walk around as if you're not really here, out sex life is suffering, and you always seem to be sad. So what's bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me. I've told you before I'm just stressed about work. My energy level is down so I guess I need to take vitamins or something, but I'm okay," she answered.

"Bullshit," I said softly. "It's more than a vitamin deficiency and it's more than a low energy level, something's on your mind. If you won't talk to me about it, how about seeing a therapist for help? Maybe talking to a neutral party would help," I suggested.

For the first time in several months Rebecca reacted with some fire. "Damn it I told you nothing is wrong. I'm not going to talk to some egghead and have him tell me I'm nuts and need medication or treatment. If you can't stand to be around me, then leave. Now for the last time, I'm fine," she was very angry and almost screaming as she stomped off to our bedroom.

Well hell I thought, that certainly went well. I was even more concerned and confused at her reaction. How can I help her if she won't admit something's wrong and refuses to talk about it?

An hour later I was still on the sofa pretending to go over a report. Actually I was staring at the wall trying to come up with some way to get my beautiful wife back. The woman in the bedroom wasn't the same Rebecca that I fell in love with.

Rebecca came to the sofa, pushed the report I was holding to the side, and sat in my lap. "I'm sorry for blowing up like that Jamie. I know you're just trying to help but please just let me alone. I'm okay, really I am. I'm just tired of everyone asking me what's wrong. Okay?"

I looked into her eyes for several seconds and then I nodded at her. She got off my lap, took my hand, and led me to the bedroom. We made love that night but it wasn't the same; Rebecca was tender but the old enthusiasm wasn't there, she was holding back or something.

Weeks went by and Rebecca seemed to rebound. She was more attentive and seemed to be happy. But it was artificial; it was like she was forcing herself to be happy to please me. Or maybe she was trying to get me off her back about what was bothering her. It was strange behavior and I was still worried.

On a Friday, Rebecca called me at work and said a charity group she was involved in asked her to come to a meeting that evening. She said she should be home by ten and would see me at home. I didn't think too much about it; she worked with three or four charities and there was some kind of meeting a couple of times a month.

At 10:30 and with no Rebecca, I did start to think about it. Most of the charity meetings were during the day, not at night. At 11 PM, I was pacing back and forth in our apartment, wondering where she could be. By 11:30 I was in full freak out mode; I started making phone calls but other than the charity's office and her office there wasn't too many places to call. I did call the security guard at her building but he started his shift at 7 and hadn't seen her. He did go check her office at my request and called back to tell me no one was there.

Calm, I told myself, you need to stay calm. At midnight I couldn't sit around anymore; I went to look for her. No idea where to look, she hadn't told me where the meeting was taking place but I had to look anyway. I left a couple of notes that she couldn't miss explaining that I was out looking for her and to call my cell. Our hotel had security 24/7 and I explained to guard where I was going and asked him to call me if Rebecca showed up.

The first place I looked was her office building; I know the security guard told me she wasn't there. I went to check the parking garage to see if her car was there. Driving up and down the rows of parked cars on four levels had no results; her car wasn't there. Next it was the offices of the charity that was supposed to be having the meeting and I searched for her car; it wasn't there either.

It was 1:30 and I had one more idea. I checked the valet parking of the three hotels near the charity's office, thinking that a meeting might have been held in a conference room in one of them. It cost me $150 and got no results. I was out of ideas and couldn't think of any other place to look for her. I knew the police wouldn't do anything until she was missing for 24 hours but I had an in.

Several months ago I had played in a charity golf tournament with a Ralph Jennings. He was the Captain of the precinct that served the area around my apartment. During a couple of beers after our round he mentioned that the precinct was having problems with some new software they had loaded onto the computers. Listening to him I had an idea to solve the problem.

On Monday I took a long lunch and met him in his office. Examining the computers I found that the problem was what I thought and it took about forty minutes to fix. Apparently I made a friend for life. Ralph told me to call him if he or the police could ever help me. He said that if he wasn't there to tell whoever answered the phone to look in his Rolodex under my name; he would leave instructions to provide me with whatever I needed. He also gave me his cell phone and told me to call if I needed his help.

I don't know why fixing his problem was so important to him but now it was going to pay off. The worst he can do is hang up on me, I thought as I dialed his cell.

Ralph answered on the second ring, sounding as if I woke him up. "Jennings," he said.

I told him who I was, apologized for waking him, and explained about Rebecca and my problem. "Is there anything you can do to help me find her?"

"Give me your number Jamie, I'll get back to you in ten minutes," he answered. "Sit tight."

The ten minutes seemed like an hour. He called back and told me that he had a put a Bolo out on Rebecca's car and her description with an order to contact him if she was spotted. Ralph told that now we would just have to wait.

"What's a Bolo?" I asked.

"It means 'be on the lookout' and all patrol cars will be checking for your wife's car. I made it a personal request so we should get something soon. I know it's hard but go home and try to take it easy. I'll be in touch," Ralph told me.

"Thanks Ralph, I owe you big time," I said.

"All part of your police department at work Jamie. Go home."

I was half way home when my phone rang. "Jamie O'Connor," I answered. It was Ralph.

"We found her and her car Jamie. She's in the parking lot of Jackson's, it's a bar on 47th and Broadway," he said. "One of our squad cars spotted her car about two minutes after my Bolo."

"Is she okay Ralph?" I asked almost dreading the answer.

"Yeah, aside from being really drunk, she seems to be fine. From the looks and smell she threw up in the floor board of her car before she passed out. My boys need to call the EMTs or you need to come get her."

"I'm on my way but I thought you said she was okay," I said puzzled.

"Yes I did, but she's had a lot to drink; the officer said she was really out of it. He couldn't get a response from her; she could have alcohol poisoning. Your wife should be check over by qualified medical personnel," he suggested.

I knew Jackson's very well; it was the same bar that Rebecca had gone nuts in a few months ago. As I pulled in next to the police car one of the officers came over, verified who I was, and helped me get Rebecca into my car. She looked bad and smelled worse. I took her to Hope General's ER to have them examine her; Ralph could've been right about the alcohol poisoning.

While the doctor began to examine Rebecca I filled out the necessary papers and then went to the waiting room. I sat there staring at nothing and a nurse come over and stood in front of me. When I looked up I recognized Nurse Mary Wells, she had been one of Rebecca's nurses the night of the motorcycle accident.

We said hello to each other and she asked what I was doing in the ER tonight. I explained that Rebecca had way too much to drink and on advice from a friend I thought it best to bring her to the hospital. Mary agreed that it was a smart decision.

"You know it's funny, well not funny maybe strange is a better term, but it's been one year ago today that Mrs. O'Connor had her accident. I checked the records when she came in. Isn't that strange or ironic or weird or something? Let me go check and she how she's doing for you. I'll be right back."

Did this all have something to do with that accident? Was that why Rebecca went on a bender tonight? Everything seemed to revolve around that night a year ago. Rebecca's strange behavior started then. I needed to find out what caused her to almost kill herself on the bike.

While Mary was finding out about Rebecca's condition, I began to think about the last time she had gotten out of control drunk; strange it was in the same bar. That night I had wondered how far Rebecca would have gone with that guy if I hadn't interfered.

Tonight I hadn't been there and I wondered if she had gone too far. Had Rebecca reverted to her free spirited college days, at least for this one evening? If she had returned to her "wild child" days it would mean the end of our marriage. I wouldn't live that way back then and I'd be damn if I'd put up with it now.

Mary came back and told me that Rebecca would be fine; they would get the excess alcohol out of her system and keep her overnight. I thanked her for taking the time to help me and asked if she could do a favor for me. She looked at me expectantly waiting for me to explain.

Without going into our entire history I told her about Rebecca's last drunken binge and what happen. I asked her if she could check or have Rebecca checked to see if she'd had sex that evening. Mary was a little surprised; first by my request and second because I would want to know if she had.

"Mary if she was with another man tonight and confesses tomorrow when I confront her, I believe I can handle it and we can get past it; I love her very much. However if I find out about it later and she has lied to me I don't know if I could forgive and forget."

Nurse Wells looked at me for a full minute trying to decide on what to do or say.

"I know it's a lot to throw on you, I mean we're not exactly close friends. But I, we, really need some help here. Please Mary, it could save our marriage," I laid it on thick. I wasn't proud of myself, using and misleading Nurse Wells. One thing I had told Mary was true; if Rebecca had sex tonight our marriage was over.

Mary nodded and said she would run the test while they were prepping Rebecca for the treatment and let me know in about an hour. Whatever happens, I owe that nurse; I'll have to think of some way of thanking her.

It was an hour to the minute when Mary came back to me, bringing a large cup of coffee and with a smile on her face. "Here, this is from my private stash," she said handing me the coffee. "I guess the only thing you'll have to talk about is why Mrs. O'Connor got so drunk," she told me with a big grin. "She didn't have sex with anyone but a bottle of Jack Daniels tonight."

I sort of slumped down in my chair and put my face in my hands. Mary patted me on the back and told me that I could see Rebecca in about twenty minutes. But the hospital would keep her overnight and that after seeing her I should go home and get some rest.

The ER staff pumped Rebecca's stomach to get rid of excess alcohol and I was able to see her before I went home. She was out of it and I don't know if she even knew I was there; a combination of her treatment and the residual alcohol in her system. The next afternoon I took her home and put her to bed; she was in no condition to talk right then. But a talk was coming and this time I was going to get some answers.