Third Try's a Charm

"Five pounds? Hon, with what you're eating you should be losing about one and a half to two pounds a week."

"My metabolism must have changed since I had the kids. Maybe I'll see one of those weight loss doctors that are all the rage. The pounds just aren't coming off the way they should."

Diet pills are nothing but low dosage legal speed. They increase metabolism and heart rate so you burn the calories. The pills suppress your appetite, so after two months Shannon was eating much less, losing weight, but always wired.

After four months her doctor wouldn't write her another prescription because she was taking twice the recommended dosage. Not to be deterred she went to another doctor, and then another, and another, before finding the one who would give her what ever she wanted—that is—for a price.

Can you say addict? Because that's what she had become. She took those diet pills morning, noon, and night, and not one at a time either. The weight was coming off, but along with the changes in her body, her personality and attitude also changed. Shannon had become hyper, short tempered, and God help you if you mentioned her weight or the pills she was taking.

"Honey, do you know you're spending two hundred dollars every other week on diet pills? I think it's about time you cut back on them, don't you?"

"And have you start calling me fat again? Not on your life. I've still got about forty more pounds to lose, and then I'll be done. So please, don't give me anymore of your shit. Just let me do it my way, will you?" And that was one of our nicer exchanges.

She was functioning as a wife, mother, and design tech at work, but barely. She went from never working out, to maybe once every couple of weeks, to almost five times a week. And don't ask about my love life. There was no love making anymore, she wanted it hard, fast, and at weird times of the day and night. If I didn't know any better I'd think she was using sex as another form of getting high in some perverted way.

I don't know how many times in the middle of the night I'd wake up to her mouth working its magic, which led to a slam bam thank you husband session. The crazy thing about it, I'd usually been turned down flat hours earlier. Something was wrong and had to change.

The next argument came when I told her if she didn't stop taking the diet pills, I would call her doctor and having him cut her off. I knew he was over-prescribing the pills, and would use that to get him to stop writing her prescriptions. You would have thought I was telling her to sell her first born. Listening to the way she protested, that idea might have been more palpable to her then giving up those pills.

"You can't do that, I need those pills to lose the last couple of pounds. You can't make me go cold turkey and expect the same results." Her hands were shaking.

"Look at yourself, you're addicted to those damn pills. You've got to get off them before they get a tighter grip on you." I already knew she'd been using them as a crutch.

"One more week and I'll stop, I promise."

"Okay, one more week then no more."

People like to see the best in others and believe them, especially the ones they love. However, when I saw she had purchased about a hundred more pills on Wednesday, I knew we'd have a serious problem come this weekend. How stupid did she think I was?

I didn't ask. Saturday morning, while she slept, I went through her drawers, purse, and medicine cabinet, collecting everything I could find. I dumped it all in the toilet, gave it a flush, and went downstairs to fix breakfast for the kids. I was waiting for the explosion I knew was coming.

"You did what?" she screamed at me as she started to go through her purse, not believing what I'd told her I'd done. "How could you do that without asking me? You had no right, that was my property."

"Don't you remember we agreed that this week was the last week you were to be on them?"

"Steve, the week ends on Sunday, God damn it."

"Shannon, you're splitting hairs. It's over, you're off them now." All right, who was I kidding? I couldn't go to her work and check her desk drawers. Like I said, what I could do was stop her from getting them from her doctor anymore, or at least the doctor she was currently seeing. You see, I had already threatened him on Friday that if he gave her another prescription I'd report him to the medical board. "Maybe they might be interested in knowing just how many prescriptions you've given my wife over the last six months?" He wasn't happy, but we did have an agreement by the time I hung up.

The next week and a half was ugly at best. I took over as mother and father because Shannon was worthless. Coming off the pills caused her to be argumentative and wild. She would alternate between sweating and having chills. It was hard to watch but it needed to be done. The doctor did what I told him to do—there were no more prescriptions.

I started spending more and more time away from her especially in the evenings after dinner. If she was upstairs I was in the living room, if she was downstairs I was up in the bedroom or with the kids in their rooms. After the kids were down for the count she didn't know what to do with herself. There was no way she could sit still to watch a movie, or even a half hour TV show, and forget about any nookie. I was the bad guy who had cut off her supply of drugs and was lower than whale shit in her eyes.

When she started to settle down I thought we were home free. She wasn't wired anymore, it was just the opposite. She was now way too mellow, something wasn't right. Also, she was coming home late almost every night. I decided to follow her when she left work. Since she knew my car I decided to use my motorcycle, she'd never in a million years expect that.

Shannon left work about four-thirty and headed in the direct opposite direction from where we lived. After driving for about twenty minutes we ended up in a rather seedy part of town. I watched in disbelief as my loving wife bought drugs from a gangster-looking hairy man on a street corner. It all took less than fifteen seconds—a hand with money sticking out the window, and five seconds later receiving something in return. Another five seconds, she was on the road again.

I continued to follow my wife after her transaction. She turned in the direction of our home. Her head disappeared from view at two different stoplights while making her way home. I wasn't sure what she'd purchased, but whatever it was she sniffed it up her nose twice. I was both angry and scared for her. My wife was a drug addict. It couldn't be denied any longer.

She pulled into the garage and walked into the house. I pulled my bike alongside her car and got off. It didn't take me long to find it. Wedged in between the seats was a little baggie still half full. I put it in my top pocket.

How do you approach someone you already know is going to lie to you? I went upstairs, hid the baggie, and sat on the bed trying to figure out my next move. This was no longer just diet pills, this was some serious shit, and the repercussions were going to affect the whole family. I wasn't looking forward to what would come next.

"There's my man," Shannon said, walking up and kissing me. Supper's almost ready so why don't you set the table." I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was all smiles—high as a kite—thinking she'd put one over on me.

Maybe this was her first time, I thought trying to reason my way out of this. Maybe when she sees it missing, she'll know I know and will stop. That was wishful thinking on my part, so that night I said nothing, taking the coward's way out. We went to bed, we made love, and I told her how much I loved her. I was sticking my head in the sand.

The next two nights she wasn't the happy-go-lucky Shannon of the previous night. She was irritable, seeming to be almost itching for a fight. The way she looked at me I knew she suspected I was responsible for her missing powder. I didn't care. I wasn't giving up on my wife without a fight.

"We need to talk," is how I started it when she came to bed. "I know what you're doing. I want it to stop right now. If you need help there are clinics and programs, but it ends here, tonight."

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about. I'm not taking diet pills anymore, you saw to that. I'm just a little stressed from work, that's all."

"Shannon, I saw you. I followed you and saw you buying drugs from that damn guy on the corner, so don't try to lie to me." She tried anyway. We had a huge argument and again I ended up sleeping on the frigging couch. Damn, I was starting to hate that couch.

When she came downstairs the next morning, she was a mess; her red, swollen eyes looked at me with the saddest expression I have ever seen. It broke my heart seeing her like this. I took her in my arms, and hugged her to me tightly. "I love you. We can do this together." And we did.

We beat it together. We went to meetings and counseling sessions. I think it brought up closer together. She did put on a few pounds in the process, but if that was the biggest problem we had, I couldn't have cared less. We were a loving and happy family again.

When Shannon announced that she was going on the South Beach Diet I said I'd help her all I could. We planned our meals together, and I helped her pack a lunch every night. Our love life was back to where it had been before. Once again I had my wife back with me and was head over heels in love. We were even hitting the trails like we had when we met, now as a family.

When you've gone through hell and back you remember the things that put you there. It was sutle but the signs were evident again. I searched the house, her car, and even went to her office, when I knew she was at lunch, and searched her desk. I sometimes got up in the middle of the night and tore her purse apart looking for something, anything. Nothing. I found nothing. I started following her again. I drew a blank again. Maybe I was wrong?

Two weeks later Shannon said that she had a business dinner. I got a sitter for the kids, grabbed my bike and headed out. Jerome, another man, and Shannon came out of her office building and got into Jerome's fancy BMW. They stopped at the downtown Hilton and picked up what appeared to be the other man's wife. I followed them to a local restaurant.

Watching from my discreet vantage point it looked like Shannon did most of the talking, and during the meal she handed the other man charts and displays. I was getting bored as hell. They were all smiles, and by the time the desserts and coffees were done I was ready to head home and go to bed.

They dropped off the other couple at the Hilton and headed back towards their office, most likely to get Shannon's car. I was in the lane to their right watching what was going on, thanking God Jerome's side windows weren't tinted too dark. Then I saw something I was praying I'd never see again. It looked like Shannon was shoving something up her nose. I needed to get closer.

"Fuck," was all I could say watching Shannon bring something up to her nose that a second later was gone. Looking out her side window for the first time she saw me looking right in at her. I think she screamed something to Jerome, but I was too pissed off at that moment and needed this nightmare to end.

Looking back, I wasn't thinking rationally, I couldn't have been. All I wanted to do was to stop that damn car and confront my wife right then and there. I sped up, pulled in front of them, and hit my brakes slowing my bike down. With cars on both sides of them, they had to stop. Right? Wrong! I hit the brakes—the BMW behind me didn't.

I don't remember a thing. I was told when his car hit the back of my bike, my motorcycle flipped it on its side. I somehow ended up on top of it. That is until it started flipping over and over taking me along with it.

I wasn't sure if I was alive or dead. There was no pain, still I couldn't move. What time of day or what day it was I hadn't a clue. I didn't recognize the two people flashing a light in my eyes and putting another bag of something that was dripping into my arm on the pole next to my bed. I closed my eyes, no use worrying about it as my body shut down again.

"Don't wake me," my brain screamed out to someone looking like a nurse. She took my pulse, then wiped my face with a cool cloth. I still wasn't sure what was going on. I think my brain was beginning to gather data and trying to process it against my will. Me, I was more than happy to just close my eyes and drift away. I was still floating, but now knew I wasn't dead.

The next time I opened my eyes there was a crowd of people around me. They were talking just not to me. A few smiled at me when they saw my eyes open, others looked worried. I still couldn't move or talk, I was able to close my eyes and sleep—that's just what I kept doing—until the next time I opened my eyes, that is.

The bastard ambushed me. I opened my eyes, and he was there with his blinding light, and a not too nice bedside manner.

"Mr. Moore, I know you can hear me. Please just nod your head if you don't mind."

What do you mean just nod my head? That's when I realized I couldn't talk much less open my mouth. My eyes must have shown my panic.

"Your jaw is broken and wired shut for now. Please, just nod that you understand." I nodded yes, but with great difficulty. "Good. Are you in any pain?" I shook my head, no. He made a note on my chart. "I guess you know by now you were in a serious motorcycle accident. You're stable, but we will need more time to analyze just how much damage was done, and if it is permanent. We will be keeping you awake now. If you experience any pain press this button," he said, showing me a gadget with a red button that was attached to my bed near my right hand. "I'll be checking in on you a couple of times a day. If you need anything just let the nurse know." Okay, how in the hell was I going to be able to do that? "You are one lucky person." He smiled, hung up the chart, and walked out of my room.

If I was so damn lucky, I'd hate to see myself if I wasn't. I suppose I could be dead. It took me a while to remember exactly what had happened. I was on my motorcycle next to the car Shannon was riding in and then it hit me, though considering the circumstances a better phrase might be, it all started coming back to me.

What was I thinking pulling out in front of them? A bike verses a car, not a good match up in anyone's book. I wasn't even sure of the number and extent of the injuries I had sustained, but I knew it was not good.

My doctor had kept everyone out and I do mean everyone. The first people to be let in were two policemen who needed a statement from me. With great difficulty I wrote down everything I could remember about what happened that night, making sure to leave out the part about Shannon and the drugs. They left talking quietly to themselves looking back at me. After that the floodgates opened.

My sister led in a barrage of people. Friends, people from my office, even Bob and Carol came to see me. Everyone wanted to know how I felt and to tell me how really lucky I was. I couldn't talk or move much so I just listened, nodded, and waited for everyone to say their piece. After about fifteen minutes the nurse came in to say I needed rest and everyone had to leave. Everyone but David and Sue were escorted out.

"Honey," Sue said, turning to David." I'd like a word in private with my brother, if you don't mind." I don't think he was happy about being excluded, but left anyway.

"Well?" I wrote on my tablet of paper.

"She's afraid to come. Steve, she's a total wreck, but holding it together for the sake of Carla and Robert."

"Is she fucking straight or still using?" I scrawled in big letters. At that point my heart monitor spiked just thinking about Shannon and the drugs. The nurse opened the door to tell me if I didn't simmer down Sue was going to have to leave.

"I saw her, I fucking saw her. I tried to stop that damn car and have it out with her right there and then. I pulled in front of them and that's the last I remember. You want to know a scream? The police are charging me with being responsible for the accident. Can you believe that? I try to stop my cokehead wife from using and I'm the one at fault." My fingers were now hurting, my blood pressure went up, and this time when the nurse came in she wasn't as nice.

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave." It wasn't a request.

"What do I tell Shannon?"

"Tell her to keep the fuck away from me. I don't want to see or hear from her. Ask her to try and be a responsible parent for a change and that includes laying off the drugs. I can't do a thing until I'm out of here and after that I don't care what she does." I handed what I'd written to my sister. By the look on Sue's face she wasn't in total agreement, though she said she'd pass along the message.

When I finally was apprised of my injuries, to coin a phrase, I was a fucking wreck. Multiple broken bones and enough fractures to keep me laid up for quite a while. The worst part being both my legs were a mess, and I would need additional surgeries to repair the damage. The doctors had saved my life, but I had a long and painful road to recovery ahead of me. I desperately wanted my jaw to heal so I could talk and eat real food again, instead of sucking down something that had gone through a blender. The doctor let me know my jaw would not heal for weeks, but since it didn't hurt much, that was the least of my problems. My legs were my big problem. They ached most of the time and when they didn't they weren't much good to me.

I was on medical leave from work receiving bi-weekly short-term disability checks, which I was giving to Sue to put in the checking account she was monitoring for me. I still didn't trust Shannon not to put the money up her nose. I had my children to consider.

Sue got my kids in to see me the week the wires came off my jaw. My tongue looked an ugly yellowish color but would get back to looking pink after I started eating and brushing again. They were happy to see me and asked when I was going to be able to come home. They brought me a dozen or so cards they had made for me, also a letter from Shannon. When, after an hour, they started to get bored Sue took them home. I looked at the letter knowing I didn't have the guts to open it. No matter what she said I was going to get mad. I was scheduled for surgery next week on my left leg, and figured I would wait until after that to read it.

This wasn't a cakewalk and even with the drugs I hurt most of the time. With the button next to my bed I could self medicate when I was in pain, and though I kept maxing out on my medication I still was in pain. Two weeks later I had my right leg done, and about cried with all the shit they were putting me through. The pain made me sick to my stomach. More than once I'd wake up sweating from the stabbing pain, hitting that dam red button until my thumb hurt, or the nurse came in to tell me to stop.

"How's my little pain in the ass brother feeling?" Sue asked, walking into my room. She came about three or four times a week, mostly late in the afternoon on her way home from work. I was feeling a bit better, but seemed to be angry all the time. "You know you're going to have to talk to her sooner or later, don't you?"

"And why is that?"

"Steve, you're going to be discharged soon, and when you go home she's going to be there."

"Not for long."

"What are going to do, kick her out? Who's going to take care of the kids? You? Hell, you can't even get around without a damn wheelchair right now."

"Between me and Marie we will manage."

"Marie was let go weeks ago. With you only getting a portion of what you used to make, Shannon couldn't afford to keep her any longer. Right now her mom comes over in the mornings, and Shannon worked out a deal with her boss so she can be home when the kids get home from school."