Third Try's a Charm

"I bet I know how she's worked out that deal with Jerome." My anger spiked again.

"He's not there anymore. After the accident he took a transfer to their Atlanta office. I don't know who her new boss is."

"It doesn't make any difference, anyway. Once a cokehead, always a cokehead."

"I know you don't want to hear this, but she still loves you, and is sorry about what happened. Steve, she's straight. I know because I dragged her ass down to the clinic a couple of months ago and had her tested. There was nothing in her system. Do you think I'd let her be around Carla and Robert if she was still using? Give me some credit."

"It doesn't make any difference, I'm done with her ass."

"Don't do anything stupid until you have all the facts. You will still need her to help you when you get home. If nothing else, she is a great mother to your children."

Sue stayed for about twenty more minutes telling me not to be hotheaded and to listen to reason. She wasn't the one in the wheelchair.

Friday afternoon one of my many doctors came strolling into my room. I was sitting in my wheelchair looking out the window and daydreaming about days gone by.

"Steve, I know you still don't believe me, but you will be able to walk again. It's going to take time. There was a lot of damage, and you've got enough pins in each leg to set off every alarm when you go through the screener at the airport." He was smiling over his little joke—I wasn't. "I'm going to be discharging you next Tuesday, however you are going to need to go to physical therapy at least four times a week from the onset. After that we'll have to see how it goes. You've still got a long road ahead of you. Just remember as hard it may be, you survived and can go back to your family." Neither he nor I had a clue what was waiting for me back home.

It was somewhere around three a.m. My throbbing right leg woke me, and even with two pushes of the button the medication would take a while to work. I wasn't really tired, more restless, and feeling very angry about where my life was at. That's when I opened the drawer on the table next to my bed and pulled it out.

I laid it on my lap and just looked at it. I'd stuck it in there the day Sue brought my kids to the hospital to see me. I'd thought about opening it numerous times before, but my anger always seemed to stop me. Hell, I almost ripped it up one night when the pain got so bad I had tears running down the sides of my face. Must be that my anger was stronger than my curiosity because I put it back in the drawer, and until the wee hours of this morning never took it out again.

It wasn't heavy and when I put it up to my nose and smelled it, there was no recognizable odor. It sure as hell didn't smell like I remembered Shannon used to back then. I would see her in a couple of days whether I wanted to or not. I decided I might as well read what she had to say—hell, what did I have to lose?

I had half expected it to be typed for some reason. She probably thought with her writing it by hand it gave it that personal touch—good luck with that. I crumbled up the envelope, tossed it across the room and started reading. It was time for answers.

'I'm sorry,' is how it started. No, 'Dear Steve,' or 'My Love,' or 'My Husband,' just 'I'm sorry.'

I know you're angry with me and you've got every right to be. I let you down and screwed up our marriage and your life in the process. They wouldn't let me go with you in the ambulance that night. I was wild and screaming at literally everyone, and yes, I was high. I didn't even notice you next to his car. As you saw I was preoccupied with putting that shit up my nose. We'd had a great day of meetings and had a signed contract in our possession. I'm not going to even try and lie to you that this was the first time I'd done it because it wasn't. I wasn't doing it all the time like you're probably thinking, just when the stress from working on that account became too great.

I put the letter down on my lap. At least I wasn't wrong this time. I thought I'd seen the signs. I knew she was stressed, but why didn't she let me help? She was an addict. Didn't she know that you couldn't go back for a taste and expect not to get hooked again? Without ever being addicted to anything I couldn't understand how someone could be so weak they would do anything, and I do mean anything, to get that fix, that high. Though, after being on pain medication for these last few months I could kind of understand it better—understand, not condone. I read on.

There was no way I could lose those damn pounds on my own, I just didn't have the will power. Don't get me wrong I wanted to lose them, I just didn't see the rush, but you were persistently going nuts on me so I figured I'd better give it another try. The diet pills made it a lot easier and the more I took, the faster it came off. This was easy, I thought, until it got away from me. I didn't realize it until I was hooked. I tried a couple of times on my own to stop but until you pushed the issue and made sure I was completely cut off I never could have stopped on my own.

I had to stop again. Bullshit was the first word that came to mind. If she would have just stopped, I wouldn't be sitting in this damn bed with a couple of fucked up legs, along with other various injuries. Thank God, I wasn't connected to that heart monitor, I know my blood pressure spiked as I got angry again. I didn't even want to read further but since I'd started it, I figured I might as well finish it.

You can thank Jerome for turning me on to cocaine. I was so wired when I couldn't get any pills I didn't know what I was going to do. He said if I was interested, he knew a place where I could score if I wanted to come down a little easier. In his car I took my first hit after lunch one day and damn, I felt good after that. Hell, with a couple of hits of this I could beat that damn pill withdrawal. I was an addict, just didn't want to admit it to myself. I scored a couple of times a week until you caught me. If you hadn't stopped me, I might be in the gutter by now, but at least you wouldn't be where you are. Steve, I did beat it, or should I say we beat back my demons together. I was clean. I really was. There was no way I was ever going back again. I had you, the kids, what more could I have wanted.

That night Jerome knew I wasn't totally clean; he was, after all, the one who turned me back on. He said we needed to celebrate our success. That's when he brought it out on our way back to pick up my car. I told him no, I wanted to stop now that the stress of that job was over. He convinced me one more time wouldn't hurt, saying I could stop tomorrow. Just like a true addict I told myself I could handle just one more hit. I took the hit and when I looked out the window and saw you my world crashed.

"Steve, I told him to stop and let me out, but he was afraid of what you were going to do. He was more worried about himself and his job then he was about you or me. I can't believe you pulled in front of us. I kept pleading with him to stop, but you know he didn't."

I didn't see you go down, but knew you had. I reached for and grabbed the steering wheel forcing him to stop; only it was too late by that time. I thought you were dead. There was blood everywhere, and I couldn't see you breathing. They told me I went crazy. Jerome was holding onto me when the paramedics loaded you into the ambulance. I yelled that I needed to get to the hospital, but Jerome told me they would see that I was high and wouldn't let me see you.

Hours. It took hours for me to get straight enough to call your sister and my mother to take care of the kids. I saw Sue at the hospital, and after taking one look at me she told me to go home. She said I had done enough damage for one day. She was right. God, I am so sorry. I came to the hospital a couple of time and chickened out before I got to your room. I know you probably hate me, and I deserve that and much more. I don't know if Sue told you, but I'm straight now. I'm under a doctor's care because I couldn't trust myself again. The kids are doing well, though, as you can imagine, are worried about you and want you to come home. Sue is keeping us updated on your condition. It's not the same as actually seeing and talking to you. I know you won't believe this, I do love you, and it's killing me what I did to you. Please, don't hate me too much and after you get well and you want me to leave I will, no questions asked.

She signed it 'Your Loving Wife.' I put the letter back in the drawer and closed it.

The day of my release arrived. Between Shannon and Sue, they set up the den into a makeshift bedroom for me, because there was no way in hell I was making it up those stairs. David and a few of his friends built a ramp for me to get into the house with the wheelchair. Shannon had leased a specially equipped van so I could get in and out of it with my wheelchair. When I was stronger, I would be able to operate it with just my hands because the dead limbs I was carrying around were basically useless. I may have been out of the hospital, but not yet out of the woods.

Strained, is how I would describe my first night at home. My kids went nuts on me almost knocking me out of the wheelchair when I came in through the front door. Shannon, well she just stood back and watched.

Sue and David stayed for about two hours mostly making sure I could do what I had to do downstairs.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow for your first therapy visit. They told me to remind you to dress in loose fitting clothes, so I bought you a couple pairs of sweats." I thanked my sister and told her and David to go home.

"You guys have done enough. Go home and have some fun for a change." They smiled. David had to literally drag my sister out of there.

Dinner was tense. Shannon and I exchanged glances but few words. The kids more than made up for any and all gaps, wanting to know if I was home for good, and if I would need anymore surgeries.

"No more hospitals for me, anymore. I will have to go through physical therapy but you're stuck with me from now on." They were wild and after dinner they insisted that I watch the Spiderman 3 movie with them. Robert moved the chairs around so I could move my wheelchair in front of the television. We all sat in the living room with the lights out trying to be a family once again. It wasn't working. Neither Shannon nor I watched the movie; we were caught more than a couple of times looking at one another. Her eyes were pleading, and mine? Well, they were cold and uncaring.

"Carla, Robert, time for bed," was Shannon's announcement that ended our first night together. They kissed me and told me for the hundredth time they were happy to have me home again. They quickly ran up the stairs with Shannon in pursuit. Me? Well, I wheeled myself into my new quarters.

The hospital bed was lowered about four inches to make it the same height as the seat on the wheelchair. A metal holding bar had been installed in the shower, and another between the sink and toilet, but not much else could be done with the bathroom. At least the sink and toilet were low enough they didn't present any huge problems for me, except now I had to pee sitting down. It took me about twenty extra exhausting minutes to get ready for bed. Worn out by ten o'clock, I was lying in my 'new' bed wondering what was next. Staring at the ceiling I never heard her come down the stairs or knew how long she stood in the doorway watching me.

"You need anything else?" brought me back to the present. "Do you need another blanket or pillow? If you'd like we can put a small refrigerator by the side of your bed with cold drinks in it. Have you got your pain pills handy?" She was asking me question after question.

"Shannon, I've got everything I need," I started to say before she interrupted me again asking if I needed a night light or something to that effect.

""Shannon, I've got it under control. I think you've done enough!" That statement stopped any additional questions. The look she gave me after that was something l thought I'd never have to see. Tears came as she fled the doorway, running up the stairs. The bedroom door closing was the last thing I heard, with the exception of the coo coo clock, for the rest of the night.

I was a complete ass. Over the next several months I treated Shannon like shit, and she took every bit of it without saying a word. I was going to make her pay big time for what she did to me.

My physical therapy sessions were something out of some medieval torture chamber. What they wanted I couldn't do, or didn't have the balls to do.

"Steve, if you ever expect to walk again, you're going to have to try harder. You say you want it, but your actions aren't showing me that." My physical therapist berated me every session, pushing me beyond my self-imposed limits. Shit, I was feeling so sorry for myself I wanted everyone to pity me too.

"It hurts, God damn it! You're expecting miracles, for Christ's sakes."

"Steve, I've got little kids working twice as hard as you. I know it hurts, but that's the price you're going to have to pay to walk again, or are you content to just tool around in that wheelchair?"

I tried, but only to a point. They had taken me off the strong meds and after an hour with the therapist from hell I had to take a double dose. Even then it didn't take all the pain away. And for every ounce of pain I received, I gave it back to Shannon ten fold.

When Carla asked me not to talk to her mom like that anymore, I told her it wasn't any of her business. When I yelled for Shannon to get her ass in here to help me, Robert told me I wasn't supposed to use words like that in the house. I didn't listen to either one of them. Sue, however, rode my ass.

"She's going to leave, you know that, don't you? And what's this crap about you going to therapy only twice a week? Don't you want to get better?"

"You go and let them do to you what they do to me, and see how you like it. It hurts, and I'm not getting any better."

"So you want to spend the rest of your life in that damn wheelchair? What happened to my hard ass brother?"

"I'll do it, but I'll do it at my pace, not theirs." I knew she was right, and although I was playing my pity card at home and everywhere else I could get away with it, Sue wasn't cutting me any slack. When I went back to work I took my attitude with me. I was becoming someone even I didn't want to be around.

Shannon did everything in the world to mend the fences, but I wasn't ready to let her off the hook. I hadn't gotten my two pounds of flesh yet.

When Shannon stopped asking me to me about my therapy sessions, I didn't think much about it. Most likely she got tired of me ripping into her after they put me through hell. I didn't take notice when she stopped asking me how I was or what I wanted for dinner anymore. When I started watching porn and jacking off all over the sheets she said nothing. She'd strip my bed and wash the sheets without saying a word.

I found, after six months, my kids started treating me differently. I had developed an attitude with them too; we didn't seem to be as close anymore. They stopped asking me to go places with them, however they were always glad to have Shannon's company. More than a few times I found myself sitting alone in my room with only my television for company. Then came that one particular Saturday night.

Shannon had lost almost every bit of the baby weight she'd carried for so long. She was now getting up on the weekends and going running like we both used to. That evening when she came downstairs dressed to the nines the kids told her how beautiful she looked. Me? Well, I just wanted to know where the hell she was going.

"Out with friends if you must know," was her immediate reply.

"Anyone I know?"

"No, just a few people from work. They've been asking me for ages to go out with them, and tonight I figured, what the hell."

"Are there going to be any men there tonight?"

"Probably. Why would you care?"

"You're my wife, God damn it!" I shouted at her.

"Used to be, but no more. All I have now is a whiney little baby who can barely take care of himself. I need a real man not some wasteoid who has forgotten what to do with a woman." That statement hurt more than you can imagine.

"Don't forget who put me in this damn wheelchair."

"I remember, and even if I didn't, you make sure to remind me every day, and I'm sick of it. The doctors all say you could walk again, but I guess it's a lot easier to cry and whine, than to get off your lazy ass and do something about it." She wasn't pulling any punches tonight.

"What if I say you can't go tonight?"

"Please, don't embarrass yourself. Like you could stop me? Go back to your little room and watch your porn and beat your pud. I'm going out and do what I should have done months ago," she said, with a look of disgust. "Don't wait up." With that she was gone.

Shannon came home sometime after two in the morning. I was still up and had my door open. Our eyes met as she walked by but neither one of us said a word. I didn't hear the shower or anything else from upstairs. I wanted to know in the worst way what she'd done. Did she cheat on me? She must have, why else was she out half the night?

I should have talked to her then and there, but was way too pissed. I imagined the worst every time she now went out. I tried to make her life a living hell, but she no longer listened or even cared when I went off on her. It got so bad that my kids didn't want to be around me either. I had become an angry, sorry excuse for a man

When he walked in and served me with divorce papers I shouldn't have been surprised, but in my delusional state of mind I was. "How dare her?" was my first reaction. Unbeknownst to me, she'd taken Carla and Robert and moved out of the house that morning with the help of her parents and a few friends. I went home to an empty house and threw a fit. Well, I tried to, anyway.

My twenty phone calls all went unanswered. I yelled, I screamed, I threatened, but she never picked up or returned any of my calls.

"She's not asking for a thing from you except full custody of the children," my attorney informed me.

"Gary, she can't do that, my kids belong with me."

"Maybe so, but it's not going to happen. Steve, you're in a damn wheelchair. You get around, but that's about it. No court in the country is going to give you custody over Shannon."

"But, I have the house and make more money than she does. And what about the drugs?"

"So? She makes a nice wage and has glowing recommendations from all her bosses. The drugs, well, it's in the past, and a drug test can easily put that to rest. Steve, you don't stand a chance in hell."

My sister wasn't near as nice. "I told you, you were going to lose her, but you wouldn't listen."

"What? Are you now siding with her?"

"I'm not siding with anyone. She helped to put you where you're at and you've made her pay for that for the last eight months. I guess pity only goes so far in her book. You stopped going to physical therapy and have put on what? Forty pounds?"

"Not quite forty, but that's a far cry from what she put on."

"She was wrong, and so are you, but right now you're the one who is fucking up his own life."

"But she took my kids!"

"They're not just your kids, and if you asked them, I bet they'd pick living with Shannon over you in a heartbeat. I love you to death, but you are your own worst enemy." I fixed everyone. I went home and got drunk.

Before I could get to the toilet, I shit all over myself the following morning. I almost slipped in the shower and was running so late I never made it to work on time. When I finally did get to the office the look on my face told everyone to not say a word, just stay away. My ugly mood of the last few months showed. I was alienating myself from most of those who used to be my friend. Being a cripple no longer got any pity from anyone, and I do mean anyone.