Suicide, The Beginning of the End - Part 5

If you haven't read Parts 1 - 4, you can find them here:

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

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When we returned from our honeymoon, I started looking for another job. I was concerned that my illegal activities at work would catch up with me. I was paranoid, and rightfully so. I had been stealing from an employer who had given me a chance when I so desperately needed one.

I found another bookkeeping position with a local chain of grocery stores. The pay was great and the corporate office was within walking distance of our condo. It was yet another undeserved fresh start, and I kept waiting for the past to catch up with us. We never heard anything from the landlord in Wisconsin, and other than nasty letters from a collection agency that were easily ignored, there seemed to be little fallout from our months of of cheating the system in Wisconsin. I should have known things would spiral again.

Just a few weeks into my new position, “A” picked me up from work. The entire front end of the Isuzu was smashed in. The radiator was leaking and “A” was in a panic. He was involved in an accident at the intersection just a few blocks from our home and he drove away. There were other vehicles involved in the crash and he thought people were injured. He had been drinking all day. He didn't know what to do, nor did I. How do you fix something like this?

As we were headed home, there were several police cars and ambulances at the intersection. We took the back way to the condo to avoid any additional attention, but it was when he parked that I noticed the front license plate was missing from the truck, most likely left at the scene of the crash. When we got upstairs we devised a plan - “A” would continue drinking so that he could claim he had only started drinking when he returned from the crash, and I would call the police, telling them I thought he might have been involved in an accident. After about an hour, I did just that.

The police arrived and found our story highly suspicious. They knew, as well as we did, that there was far more to the story than we were sharing. They charged “A” with failure to yield and hit and run – they could not charge him with DUI as it had been over an hour since the crash and they had no way of proving that he had been drinking at the time of the crash, no matter what their suspicions were. It was the beginning of the end.

“A” sank farther and farther into what I now know was significant depression. He even asked me at one point if things could ever get so bad that I would take my own life. I thought it was an odd question - that he must be really concerned about me - but I told him there was always hope. He was worried about the truck, the pending charges for the crash, but I remained positive. The truck could be fixed (we still had it insured) and we would find an attorney to help out with the charges against him. I asked him then and there if he would ever take his own life and he assured me it would never happen. He lied.

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Suicide, Are We Home Yet? Part 3

If you haven't read them yet, here are PART 1 and PART 2

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We signed a 6-month lease the next morning and moved what little we had into the small, 2-bedroom home we were renting. The landlord seemed a little concerned, but the house had been vacant for a number of months and he needed the rental income. We had two mattresses, our clothes, a few linens and basic kitchen utensils – everything else had been pawned or sold for drugs before we left San Diego, or left behind when we skipped out that November night.

We hadn't considered that we would also need money to have our utilities turned on, so the new home was without heat, hot water, gas or a phone. With little brother's income from Perkin's, we were certain we could have the utilities turned on in just a matter of days. Now that we had an actual address, it was also going to be easier for “A” and I to secure jobs.

It wasn't long before I got a waitressing position at the local pub/restaurant. I was only working the lunch shift, but the tips were decent and gave us some much needed cash. One of the perks of my job was getting lunch for free. Since most of our cash was now funding our alcohol use, I was able to bring lunch home each day for the three of us to share. The portions were huge, and even though it was just one meal for the three of us, it took the edge off the hunger. At this point, the alcohol was far more important than food, and no one was giving us alcohol for free.

It was during the first weeks of my new job that we had the first issue with the credit card. I went to the local gas station and filled the truck up with gas, got a few food items from the store and went to the cashier to pay. I gave her the credit card. She looked at the card and informed me that they would no longer accept the card for payment. Not only that, but I owed over $400 in charges that had been declined and charged back to the gas station. I didn't have any cash – none – and at the very least I needed to pay for the gas that I had just put in my truck, but I couldn't. I didn't know what to do.

I left the food items on the counter and headed back out to my truck. I knew the clerk was calling the police, but I was out of options. I left, and hid the truck in the back yard of the house we were renting. We had just lost our transportation – this was a small town and the Isuzu truck with the California plates was going to be an easy mark.

When we lost the use of the truck, little brother also lost his job. The Perkin's restaurant was too far for him to to walk, and because of the trouble I was in with the gas station, we couldn't let anyone local know where we lived. I continued working at the pub/restaurant, but the tips weren't covering anything more than beer and a few personal hygiene items. I was stealing food from the restaurant - items that people had ordered but hadn't finished - so that we could eat more than just the meal I was able to bring home "legally." We were still without heat, hot water, gas or a phone.

Rent was due again. There was no way we could pay, nor could I ask another family member for help. We spent that month wrapped in blankets and eating the food that I was able to sneak out of the restaurant. That Christmas Eve, we decided we needed some “normalcy” for the holiday, so after all of the Christmas tree lots closed, we took the truck and stole a Christmas tree. We leaned it up against the living room wall that night and sang drunken Christmas carols. That was about as “normal” as things ever got.

Dispersed through the mayhem, there was a bright moment. I continued applying and interviewing for jobs in the accounting field. One of those applications was at a sports bar - it was a bookkeeping position. I did get the job, but it required quite a commute each day. It was across the border, in Minnesota, so there was less concern about the truck being spotted in Wisconsin, but this was a new restaurant that wouldn't be opening for another 4 weeks. We continued to just get by, as long as we had our alcohol we were happy, but we knew we had to make plans for another late-night skip. I didn't feel good about any of this, but the landlord was looking for rent and we were no closer to having rent money than we were to having the utilities turned on.

During this time, little brother met a girl and was planning on moving in with her. “A” and I were going to finally be on our own, but where that was going to be remained a daunting question. I decided to start looking for places to rent in the twin cities. Maybe, if I fudged the truth a bit (deception was becoming second nature), we could get into a new apartment there.

I found a loft condo for rent in the city. “A” and I went to look at the place and it was perfect. It was a huge step up from where we were and it cut my job commute in half. We talked to the landlord – told him we had just gotten into town and that we would like to start renting the following month. He rented to us based on my pending employment and didn't ask for references. All that we needed to do was stay under the current landlord's radar for a few weeks and we'd get that fresh start once again.

This had to be our much needed break ...

Suicide, Warm Thoughts. Part 2

You can find Part 1 of this story by clicking [HERE]

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It was November of 1988 when we headed north to Minnesota. Not the best time to make a trip north, but at this point it was a necessity. We loaded what little we had left into the back of my Isuzu pick-up truck and rented a small U-Haul trailer for the rest of it. We left the apartment in the middle of the night, skipping out on our obligations.

The drive was difficult at best. The three of us (“A”'s little brother came with us) were packed together in the Isuzu, and we were all going through drug withdrawals. About 5 hours into the trip we considered turning around and heading back. At least we knew who to get drugs from in San Diego. Maybe we could just cut back a little bit on the meth until we could quit. Maybe we could still make things work in San Diego. We knew better, so stopped at the next liquor store, picked up a couple of 40's and continued driving. Alcohol would be our way to cope.

We drove and drank – drank and drove. Hours and hours, miles and miles, until we finally crossed into Minnesota. We were all tired, hungry, crabby and a little too sober. I found it odd that “A” insisted we actually drive into a little town in Wisconsin – on the Wisconsin/Minnesota border – rather than finding a place to stay in Minnesota. Months later I would discover why this was so important.

Super 8 was the first motel we came to after crossing the Wisconsin state line. We, checked in, asking for the weekly rate. We had a plan. We would use the motel for temporary housing – maybe a week or two – until we could secure jobs and find a place to rent. Unfortunately, it was another plan doomed to fail. None of us had resumes or local references – not even a permanent address.

Against those odds, little brother secured a bus boy position at the local Perkin's Restaurant within a week and a half of our arrival. We had been looking at places to rent and we knew we could save enough for a deposit on a place with just two of little brother's paychecks. It had been 10 days since anyone had done any meth. Sure, we we drinking a lot of alcohol, but that was different. We were all certain we were on track for success.

At the two week mark of our Super 8 stay, we were told the credit card company would not authorize any additional charges on the credit card. We needed to check out the following morning. We had no where to go and no money to rent a place. We checked out of the hotel the next day in a bit of a panic.

We settled on sleeping in the truck at the nearby rest stop until we could come up with a place to stay. At least the rest stop was safe and had restrooms. We still had money for gas and food – the local gas station wasn't preauthorizing the credit card for charges so they weren't aware that charges were actually being declined. The drawback? November in Minnesota is COLD. Sleeping in the truck was not only uncomfortable for the three of us, but nearly impossible for any longer than an hour at a time. After an hour, the cold would wake us and we'd have to start the truck again to get warm. It was yet another “bottom” and one that I could help us out of.

We found a house in town that was available to rent. While discussing the terms of the lease with the landlord, we found we would need $600 to move in. My family had no idea the direction my life had taken. I didn't talk to them often, and when I did I was very vague about what was happening. I couldn't fathom the idea of asking either of my parents for help. Instead, I decided to call my aunt – one of my mom's sisters that I was quite close to – to see if she'd be willing to help.

I went to a pay phone and made the collect call. I briefly explained the details, leaving out those that were alarming enough that she might feel compelled to share them with my mother. She was able to help and wired the money to the local Western Union office the next day. We would be able to take immediate possession of the rental house as soon as we had the cash. One more cold, frequently interrupted night's sleep in the truck and we would have a “home” to start our new lives in.

TMI Tuesday

1. In the midst of a hangover have you ever promised to "never drink again?" How long until you broke that vow?

What I usually say is, "I will never drink like that again!" Now, that usually means I sampled at least one drink form every alcohol category, so I eliminate at least one alcohol group the next time I decide to lose my mind - usually about 2 years later. Hey! I'm "old"!

2. What is the stupidest thing you have ever done while drinking (or not if it is really stupid) but thought it seemed like a good idea at the time?

Let's just say that in my youth mid to late 20's, while in the Army, I did a LOT of drinking, and I even remember some of the things I did while I was drinking. I did wake up one morning after a tequila blackout binge and found rug burns on my knees and a bruise the size of an apple on my forehead. How, you ask, did that happen? I have absolutely no memory of it but I'm sure it was a really good story.

3. On a scale of 1-10, where do you rate green beer?

Any beer that is light enough that it turns green when food coloring is added is EVIL!

4. Have you ever kissed someone you shouldn't have (drunk or sober)?

You weren't looking for a number here were you. I've done more stupid things while drinking than I care to count, and only a few when I was sober *wink*

5. What is the stupidest thing you have ever seen a drunk do (besides driving a car)?

I think starting a fight with someone who is sober ranks right up there. I've seen more drunk guys get PUMMELLED when they got stupid with someone who could actually stand upright without swaying.

Bonus (as in optional): How do you cure your hangover(s)?

I am an aspirin and LOTS of water before you pass out, then a "hair of the dog that bit you" fan. Actually, not even a "hair of the dog that bit you" exactly, but rather a shot of tequila with a Mountain Dew chaser! I swear! It's the best ... unless you have a buddy who works at the hospital who can hook you up with an IV in each arm.