Suicide, The Wedding - Part 4

There are parts of this story that I want to preface with an explanation, or maybe a justification. I want to be able to explain away the things I did - the choices I made. This is one of those times. It is extremely difficult for me to share who I was - likely because I've worked so hard to leave that person behind - and yet that person is still very much a part of me. I've promised myself that no matter how shameful the story is, I will trust the process and wait until the epilogue to share with all of you how I got from there to here with a little bit of dignity still in place.

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We were able to put the current landlord off long enough to get my first paycheck from the new employer and pay the deposit and first month's rent on the loft in the city. Little brother had moved in with his girl friend's parents and we had packed up what little we could fit in the back of the Isuzu truck. “A” and I left in the middle of the night, in the cover of darkness, and drove to a rest stop in Minnesota. We spent the night at the rest stop, met the new landlord at the loft the following morning, signed the lease and moved in.

The loft was beautiful! It was part of a warehouse conversion. It had 8' tall windows, exposed brick interior walls and a sleeping loft. It really was an amazing home for “A” and I. Not long after we moved in, “A” finally secured a job. He was working for a landscape company and one of his coworkers lived nearby and provided transportation daily. For the first time in almost a year, we were both working, we were able to pay our bills and we were once again “respectful” members of society. I even had the opportunity to meet “A”'s grandmother and aunts and uncles who were still living in Minnesota. Things were really looking up. That should have been my warning that the bottom was about to fall out ... again ...

“A” was back in touch with some of his childhood friends. One night he decided to go visit them. I had to work the next morning so stayed at home. I expected him home around midnight and became quite concerned when he still wasn't back by 2 AM – then the phone rang. It was one of those calls – the ones that start with, “The following is a collect call from the county jail. “A” is calling, will you accept the charges?” I should have said “No” and walked away, but I was in love, we were making plans for our wedding, for better or for worse, right?

This was the reason “A” had stayed out of Minnesota. He had outstanding warrants for drug possession charges - this was the reason he moved to California. The party he went to on this night got out of control, the police were called and “A” was taken to jail on his outstanding warrants. There was nothing I could do. We were paying our bills, but we had no extra money for bail. There was no way I was going to ask my family – or his – to help out in this situation. “A” spent the next 30 days in jail and was release on his own recognizance pending his court date. I spent those 30 days drinking myself into oblivion each night.

Just a few days after “A” was released from jail he had, what we would eventually learn was, a panic attack. I had medical coverage through my employer, and after a one-hour evaluation from a “mental health professional”, “A” was prescribed Xanax. Now, in addition to drinking, he was taking multiple doses of Xanax. I had no idea the quantities involved until we attempted to renew the prescription and were denied. Xanax is a controlled substance and refills are handed out on a schedule based on the prescribed dosage. “A” had been taking twice, sometimes three times, the dosage amounts. The meth had been replaced by alcohol and prescription drug addiction.

“A” was not the only one out of control. I started staying late at work, drinking at the bar. They let me drink for free and it was fun to hang out with "normal" people. Some mornings I would go into work and head straight to the bar to pour myself a drink before starting my work day. At least twice a week, I was driving home drunk. “A” lost his job due to his time in jail, and I was carrying the family financially again, only we were falling further and further behind with our finances. I started considering other ways to "earn" money from my employer to cover bills and our planned wedding.

There was a lot of cash that was relatively unaccounted for that came through my office daily. I knew enough about keeping books to be dangerous. The first time I took money from my employer, I took $100 dollars. I didn't spend it, wanting to make sure that I had covered my tracks as well as I thought I had. The money was never missed. Over the next few months, I took somewhere in the neighborhood of $5,000 – enough to pay for our wedding and our honeymoon, as well as catch up our delinquent bills.

We looked like such a normal young couple to those looking in, but both of us were in the depths of self-loathing behavior. We often talked about what we were doing – how wrong it was – and how we could make amends when we finally got back on track – and I kept embezzling cash.

We planned our rooftop wedding, we sent invitations to the all of our family members, we made reservations for our honeymoon in Las Vegas and we continued living the lie. We were married at sunset on September 2nd, 1989 and we appeared to be happy. My parents were so impressed with the relationship that “A” and I had, and how far we had come since moving to Minnesota, that they set all of their previous concerns aside. I had become an expert at deception and I hated myself for it.