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Third Try's a Charm

By: Slirpuff



I sit in the dim light of my apartment and watch my two children sleep, thinking about the decision I'm going to soon have to make, and every time I do my stomach clenches up. Am I a wimp or the most forgiving son of a bitch on this planet?

How many times can a person be forgiven? Two, three, more, before the words 'I'm sorry' just don't cut it anymore? In the last four and a half days I have flip flopped so many times I feel like a fish out of water gasping for breath. Like the fish my time is also running out, tomorrow is decision day.

I too should be sleeping, but tomorrow arrives in less than six hours, and even though I think I know what I want, I'm not sure it's possible. Any decision I make is going to affect my kids, our estranged marriage, and what's left of my family. I just wish God, in his infinite wisdom, would give me a glimpse into the future so I don't screw this up again. Oh well, no matter what I decide I know it won't give me the fairytale life I once thought I had, but at least it will give me some closure, one way or another.

So, I give each a kiss on the top of their head, sit in the big overstuffed chair by the window, and look out at the lights below, hoping once more for a little divine guidance that I know won't come. I'm on my own on this one and can only hope I get it right this time. 

'**************************

As soon as he walked through the front door I knew why he was there. Jeans, tee shirt, and sandals, I thought he'd at least be wearing a suit. Looking down the main aisle he spotted me and walked towards me like any normal customer would.

"Are you Stephen Moore?" 

"Maybe," I replied. Not to be deterred he looked at the picture attached to what he was carrying, then back at me. 

"Mr. Moore, you are served." He handed me the brown manila envelope I saw him walk in with. 

I didn't open it. I just tossed it on the counter by the cash register. I wasn't surprised, though I hadn't expected it just yet. Hell, we weren't arguing anymore, but I guess not talking was about the same thing. I pushed my wheelchair towards the front door.

I screamed at the server who was just walking out the door. "Tell her this changes nothing." He didn't give a shit; he had done what he came to do and left. I was nothing to him.

"What did he want?" my sister, Sue, asked, walking up behind me.

"He just wanted to tell me I no longer have a marriage."

She looked at the paperwork and shook her head. "Both of you are such idiots, neither one of you deserves those two wonderful children of yours." This wasn't the first or last time my sister would go off on me.

"Just get the papers to Gary and tell him I want full custody, and to make sure she gets nothing." It had been a long, stressful six months. All I wanted was to go home and sleep until I woke up, or not, because at this point I no longer cared.

Was I angry? I was way over that, but self-pity came to mind. We'd both played stupid ass games with one another, though looking at where I currently was at, I think she got the better of the deal. 

'***************************

I was only fourteen when my father, sister, and I buried my mother. She had just turned forty and thought she had her best years ahead of her, but it wasn't to be. 

You see, my mom was overweight, and not just a little. Standing all of five foot four, she tipped the scales at almost three hundred pounds. She was the best cook in the world and loved to eat. Hell, she lived to eat. How my sister and I remained thin all those years growing up is still a mystery. I guess being hyper kids and always being active had a lot to do with it.

Everyone, especially Dad, was always on Mom about her weight. She would lose a few pounds on this diet or that one. A month later those pounds were back on and most of the time they'd brought along a couple of their friends.

"You worry too much," she would often tell us. "My mother was a big woman and so was my grandmother. They both lived until their middle nineties, so don't worry." But we did.

When Mom's doctor put her on a strict diet she switched doctors. When she started having a hard time moving around, and her ankles looked like two balloons, we begged her to lose weight. She just became more sedentary, though she still managed to cook even more. 

It was a Thursday night, we were all sitting in the living room watching the stand up comedians on the Comedy Central channel on television. They were so funny I thought I was going to pee in my pants I was laughing so hard. Then it happened. Mom stopped laughing, her eyes got big with panic, and her mouth opened—nothing came out. Her flailing hands and arms tried to tell us what was wrong. We got the message too late. She fell forward onto the floor remaining lucid for a moment or two longer before finally closing her eyes. My sister had already called 911.

My dad and I rolled her over onto her back. I never knew my dad knew CPR, but he did. He did his best, we all did, but it made no difference. My mom still died that night.

The doctors told my dad, and he told us, Mom had had a massive heart attack along with a stroke, and even if she had lived, she probably would have been paralyzed on the right side of her body. 

"Mr. Moore, your wife's heart just couldn't take the stress of carrying around that much extra weight." 

The surprise came when her autopsy showed this wasn't the first heart attack she had experienced. There were signs of previous damage, showing she'd had three minor ones prior to the massive one that killed her.

I heard the phrase, 'if only' too many times over the next week before we laid Mom to rest. We were all devastated. After a while I thought life would go on normally for us again, it didn't.

My parents owned a small hardware store with my Uncle Roy. Previously my dad had spent about fifty hours a week there, but after Mom died, he never seemed to come home anymore, and even when he did, he wasn't really there. 

His usual routine now was to get up at about six o'clock in the morning, go to Denny's for breakfast, spend ten to twelve hours at the store, and then two more hours at a local tavern before coming home. He repeated this six days a week. When he got busted for a D.U.I. he took a cab to and from our house, but his routine never changed. 

"Dad, you're burning the candle at both ends, you can't keep this up," Sue would plead with him, it did no good. His life now revolved around work, food, and booze. My sister became the mother, I the father, and Dad? Well, he became the walking corpse of the family. 

It took just three years for my dad to kill himself. Between the eighty extra pounds he put on and the sugar from all the liquor he consumed, he died of unchecked type two diabetes. Up until the very end we tried our best to get him help, no matter, he was bound and determined to join his dead wife, and there was nothing either of us could do to stop him.

However, the one thing he did do, was to take out an insurance policy on himself that paid off the house in the event of his death. So when he passed away the mortgage was paid in full. Being that it was a four-bedroom house we both had more than enough room for all our stuff. The only things we had to pay were homeowners insurance and real estate taxes, which made for a cheap monthly payment.

Dad also left his share of the store to the two of us. He split them right down the middle. We figured we'd get enough income from the store to at least live on while we went through college. 

As was customary, in the death of a partner, my dad's lawyer, Gary, had the books audited. It proved to be a real eye opener. Our Uncle Roy, for the past two and a half years, had been skimming off thirty to forty percent of the profits. This was over and above what he was paying himself and showing on the company books. When the auditor confronted him, at first he lied saying that he had made a few accounting errors and had corrected the books months later. He was right; he had adjusted the figures—in his favor. 

If he wouldn't have lied and then got belligerent saying he was the one that had saved the business from going under and deserved the extra money, we probably would have let most of it slide. However, when we asked him to repay the money and he refused, we filed charges of embezzlement against him. That in itself didn't make us too popular with the rest of the extended family. When Roy saw he was going to lose and do jail time, he was forced to work out a plea deal. We ended up with ten thousand dollars cash and his share of the business. We dropped the charges, but were now the black sheep of the family, even though our uncle was nothing more than a common thief.

Neither one of us knew anything about running a business. We knew we had to hire someone to manage the store, which was our next eye opener. Most wanted the world including a share of the business. We settled on a middle-aged couple, Bill and Carol Boyd. They had previously owned their own store in New Jersey before selling it and moving south. Bill said that a year after they moved south, they got bored to tears and needed something to do with their extra time before they went nuts—something about you could only golf so many hours a day. We gave them free rein. It was the best decision we ever made concerning the store.

They trained us in the inner workings of running a business. No wonder my dad spent so much time at work, there were a hundred things we had to learn. I was a senior in high school, my sister two years into her college education, and though neither one of us had wanted to run the family business, we were told that we needed to understand the business in order to even own it. It took us two grueling years to cut our teeth on what it took to own and run a successful business. Fortunately for us we had good and, most of all, patient teachers.

Putting in four to five hours at the store and then going to college at night was rough and didn't give me much free time. My only me time was in the mornings and on Sundays. I would get up early, lace up my running shoes and head out to the paved trail that wound around the downtown lakes. Early in the morning it was quiet; I only had to share the trail with a couple of other runners. 

On this particular Sunday, with my iPod on, I was in my own world when something streaked by me. It was tall, blonde, had a nice ass, and was moving fast. Before I knew it, she was out of sight but not out of mind. Most women weren't that fast. They normally jogged around the lakes looking pretty, but this girl was running flat out.

It was three days later before I saw her again. She came up on me fast. By the time I dropped into a lower gear and started to chase her, she was too far ahead. My competitive nature took over.

The following Sunday I was ready. I kept looking back for her. After about twelve minutes on the trail I saw her coming up behind me, I sped up. I could almost feel her hot breath on my neck as I strove to keep her at least two steps behind me. She was fast and had one hell of a lot of endurance. I was almost running flat out and knew I had about reached my limit when I heard her footsteps start to slow up. I turned around to see her jogging close behind me. I slowed up to match her pace.

"Morning," I said, when she caught up to me. She gave me a puzzled look. "Okay, I just had to see how fast you really are. I'm sure glad you slowed up, because in another couple of minutes I'd be puking my guts out." She smiled hearing me say that.

"Normally I like to blow by guys like you. By the time they realize what's happened, I'm too far ahead for them to catch me. I guess you can say it gives me one hell of a rush. Looks like you were expecting me this morning."

"Not really, but hoping. And besides, you're probably every bit as fast as I am. Been running long?"

"About two years seriously, and before that just now and then. Going to school and not having any extra money has a lot to do with it. All I need is a pair of good running shoes, and I can do it whenever I have a few extra minutes, besides, it keeps the weight off me. I can eat and drink whatever I want if I run four days a week." She laughed.

"My name is Steve, and you are?"

"Shannon," was her quick reply. "After we finish, you want to grab a cup of coffee?" I didn't normally like coffee much but I wanted to see more of her.

"Sure, why not," she replied.

"Okay, then last one to the parking lot has to buy," she called out, sprinting past me.

Like I said, Shannon was fast. It didn't take me long to know I would be buying the coffee that morning. She was grinning like a damn Cheshire cat when I finally made it to the parking lot.

"I think that was cheating, but I'm a man of my word, where do you want to go?"

Jimmy's was a coffee shop just about a mile from the trail. They had a dozen or so types of coffees including espressos and cappuccinos, along with homemade cookies and small snack cakes. I chose a hazelnut latte and Shannon went for a double iced cappuccino. 

Sitting at one of the outside tables I finally got a good look at her. Shannon had to be at least five foot six and couldn't have weighed much more than one twenty. She had beautiful, long blonde hair she wore pulled back in a ponytail, and the whitest teeth I'd ever seen. Her smile was full, but she didn't have those puffy lips like a lot of the actresses now had. She had a lean body, which I took more than a few minutes to admire, and from what I could tell from her tee shirt no more than "B" cup breasts. The girl wasn't shy by any means—she was sizing me up the same time I was giving her a final once over.

We got to know each other a little better over the next hour, and made a running date for the following week. At about nine o'clock she begged off, something about a term paper due on Tuesday of the following week. I didn't get a kiss or hug, only a handshake goodbye—heck, maybe next time.

After the following Sunday morning we had a standing running date for either Saturday or Sunday. I was right—she was as fast as I was, even when she didn't cheat. Since running with her, I'd dropped two more pounds, combining that with hitting the gym twice a week, to pump a little iron, I was getting stronger.

The next Saturday I asked her to run a race with me. "You up to doing a 5K next Saturday morning? The Wellness Center at the hospital puts one on every couple of months and they're pretty cheap if you sign up in advance." 

"Why do you want to run the race? You've got something to prove?"

"There's this guy whose beats me every time. He doesn't beat me by much, nonetheless, he still does, and next week I want to change that."

"A little competitive, are we?"

"Shannon, let's just say I don't like to lose, and leave it at that."

"And you need me, why?"

"You're fast enough that you can pace me through the first half, then I can finish the last half by myself."

"Since you want to use me as a rabbit, don't you think you should be paying my entrance fee?" I agreed and we made it a date. 

The following Saturday I was pumped, the adrenalin was flowing and for the life of me I couldn't stand still. I looked around for my competition. Our eyes met and the prick smiled at me. I would beat his ass today or die trying. We milled around the starting line anxiously awaiting the start signal.

"Steve, I hope you ate your Wheaties this morning because today you're going to need everything you've got. You need to keep up with me no matter what, you understand?" I nodded, looking at my watch as we moved up to the starting line. At the sound of the air horn we were off.

After the first quarter mile I knew for sure Shannon was trying to kill me. We did the first mile in just over six minutes and my chest was already starting to feel the effects of going out so fast. Then she picked up the pace. At just over the two-mile mark she told me I was on my own and not to wimp out on her, I didn't. Even though my heart and lungs had burst through my chest and fallen to the ground, I ran as though my life depended on it. I pumped my arms for all they were worth, yelling at myself to run faster. I crossed the line at just over eighteen minutes and preceded to lose a mouthful of something I previously had in my stomach.

I was rinsing out my mouth with water when Shannon crossed the line and found me.

"Well?"

"Eighteen minutes and four seconds." I smiled.

"That's it? I thought for sure you'd break eighteen. How did your buddy do?"

"Eighteen minutes fifty-one seconds," I said, with a shit-eating grin. She jumped into my arms.

"We won!" At that point I didn't care about the win, I was holding her in my arms. 

I took first in my age group and so did Shannon. In fact, I took second place overall in the men's division and Shannon took first in the woman's. We got these cheesy little medals, and I offered her a celebration breakfast.

"Steve, I need to change first. I'm not going to eat breakfast sitting in theses wet clothes. Why don't we meet at Denny's over on First Street in say, forty-five minutes?" It was a date.

I flew home, ran into the house and up the stairs. Grabbing clean clothes I hit the shower, shaved, and was coming out the bathroom door when I ran into Sue.

"I don't think you could have been any louder if you tried," my sleepy sister told me. "Where are you going in such a rush?"

"Breakfast with Shannon at Denny's."

"How did you do this morning?" she called out, watching me run down the stairs. All Sue heard was something about taking first and I'd talk to her later. I felt a little bad about waking her and hoped she went back to bed.

I walked into Denny's looking around for Shannon. Down one of the aisles I saw a hand waving at me, and told the server I'd found my date. 

"You clean up pretty good," she said, giving me the once over as I slid into the booth across from her. "I've already ordered coffee and some fruit to munch on." Glancing briefly at the menu she continued to watch me. "They've got great French toast here and with three strips of bacon that should hold me over until dinner." She put her menu down on the table. I ordered oatmeal and two pieces of wheat toast.

Saturday mornings were always busy there. After two hours our waitress was giving us the evil eye. We knew it was time to leave.

"Do you want to catch an early matinee show?"

"I would love to, but I just can't. I've got homework to do. How about next Saturday or Sunday?"

"Well then, let's plan on next Saturday night. Give me directions to your place, and I'll pick you up around seven." I was praying she wasn't busy.

She scribbled her e-mail address on the corner of my napkin and told me to send her mine. That way she could e-mail the directions. 

"I had a nice time this morning and now we have another thing in common." I looked confused. "You and I are both winners. It doesn't get any better than that." A small peck on the lips and she was gone. I'd gotten my kiss.

My sister was having breakfast in the kitchen when I got back. It looked like eggs, toast, and fake bacon made with soy not meat. Although I try to eat healthy, I believe that some things should never be messed with, and bacon is one of those things.

"How can you eat that stuff? It's not real."

"Steve, it's real, just not real meat."

"I can handle the veggie burgers, but when it comes to bacon or sausage, I need the real thing." This wasn't the first time we'd disagreed about what we cooked in the house.

"I watch what I eat because there is no way in hell I'm going to end up like Mom or Dad, if I have anything to say about it."

"Sue, they ate everything that wasn't nailed down, especially if it was fried. And neither one of them ever exercised, so we're one up on them already. Besides, if either one of us started to look like them I hope to God the other would slap the shit out them. We're not like Mom and Dad." I knew she was concerned, but sometimes she went a little overboard. We ate right, exercised, and watched not only our weight, but also our blood sugar, especially since Dad had died from complications of diabetes.


Third Try's a Charm



"So, who's the new girl? Someone I should know about?"

"Just someone I recently met, no big deal."

"No big deal? You rush in, shower, and even shave on a Saturday morning for this girl, and she's no one special? Please!"

"Just let me know in advance if you decide to have a sleep over. I don't want to be having my morning coffee and see both of you buck naked chasing each other around the house."

I gave her the eye. "Like when you have David stay over?"

"That's different, we don't leave my room except to get something to eat." We looked at each other and burst out laughing. "I think if Mom and Dad could see us now, they'd be proud of us." I agreed with her.

Our date the following Saturday night was great, fantastic, wonderful, and another dozen or so adjectives that meant the same thing. I planned for dinner and a movie—we never made it past dinner. 

Olive Garden wasn't the fanciest place in town but it was nice, has good food, and best of all is quiet. We spent two and a half hours eating, drinking a bottle of wine, sharing a dessert, and mostly talking. 

We exchanged our life stories, where we were at this time in our lives, and where we saw ourselves in the future.

I explained to her I was taking business classes in school. Since I was half owner of the store, I felt I needed to know as much as possible to grow the business. It was my sister's and my livelihood, therefore we needed to be up on all the new trends, especially all the new online advertising, if we were to make it with all the new big box mega stores popping up.

Shannon told me she was also taking business courses and wanted to get into marketing and advertising. 

"Creating something out of nothing gets my juices flowing. I've got a million ideas banging around in my head. I just need some type of creative outlet for them. There are a few internships out there I'm interested in, but so is everyone else. If you can get on with a big marketing firm, and do well, you're pretty much assured a job when you graduate. And, that is what I plan to have happen." Twenty minutes later the place was closing—they kicked us out.

For the next hour, we made out like a couple of teenagers inside my car, up on the bluffs overlooking the city lights. By the time we stopped, all the windows were fogged up and her blouse was wide open, and her bra? Well, it had to be somewhere inside my car.

"I think we need to stop right here tonight. You get me any hotter I'm going to explode, and there is no way in hell I'm doing it in the back seat of a damn car. Been there, done that, and never again," she said, buttoning up her blouse, stopping every once in a while to give my pouting lower lip a kiss. We held hands while I drove her back to her place. 

We made out for another ten minutes or so in front of her parents' house, before I walked her up to her door and called it a night.

"Next time," she said, giving me a kiss and grabbing my package that was trying to explode out of my jeans. She went in and shut the door. I started walking back to my car, when I heard the door open and a voice yell out. "Remember, seven thirty tomorrow morning, and don't be late or I'm starting without you." She blew me a kiss, shutting the door again.

I got there early and had just finished warming up when she pulled into the parking lot.

"Sleep okay?" she asked with a little laugh, starting to stretch. "I've got more than a little excess energy this morning to get rid of. How about if we do a quick six miles and go back to your place?" I had already started running when she yelled for me to hold up.

We were sweaty, salty, and grungy, but it made no difference as we thrashed around on my bed. Lips, tongues, fingers all came into play. I made her scream twice before finally finishing. If we were sweaty before, we were dripping wet now.

"Damn, I needed that," Shannon said, rolling over on top of my chest giving me a kiss. "Only now I think I need a shower even more because I'm smelling a little ripe at the moment." She sniffed the air. "And it seems I'm not the only one."

"That's the smell of love," I said, trying to sound sexy.

"Love, hell. It's the smell of body odor and a combination of both our juices. Come on, I'll race you to the shower."

We got into the shower and between all the laughing, screaming, and finally the moaning, we made a lot of noise. After showering we ran back to my room for another session, followed by another quick shower. It was shortly after noon when we emerged and went downstairs to the kitchen. Sue was sipping on a cup of java when I chased Shannon down the stairs.

"Morning Sis, this is Shannon. Shannon, this is my sister, Sue." Sue smiled briefly before putting her coffee cup down.

"Rule number one—no loud laughing or shouting on a Sunday mornings until ten o'clock. Rule number two—no using up all the hot water. Rule number three—if you're going to hump my brother to death try to be a little quieter especially if my boyfriend isn't here. Do all that and we'll get along great. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to call David and tell him to get his ass over here. After listening to the two of you for the last couple of hours, I've got a real need only he can take care of." Sue got up, walked up the stairs, and made her phone call.

"Is she pissed?" a worried Shannon asked.

"Pissed no, horny yes. How about some breakfast?" 

We ate and went back up to my room for most of the afternoon. At three thirty Shannon said that she had homework to finish up but would call me later. It took nearly twenty minutes for her to finally get out the front door. I was in lust!

For the next year, Shannon and I were joined at the hip. Sue was happy I'd finally found someone special. We even double dated with her and David on several occasions. I had one semester left of school, and was longing for the day I would have no more schoolwork hanging over my head.

"I'm engaged!" screamed my sister, when she stormed through the front door running into our kitchen waving her left hand bearing the ring. I gave her a big hug and told her congratulations. By this time David had finally made his way into the kitchen and had this little smirk on his face.

"She wore me down," David started to say. Sue grabbed him and gave him a huge kiss.

"Well, it's about time. I'm happy for the two of you. I only wish Mom and Dad were here to see this day."

Sue looked up and then at me. "Don't worry, I know they're looking down from heaven and are proud of the two of us." She was on cloud nine. We broke out a bottle of wine and started celebrating. At nine o'clock David said he had to go, something about work in the morning. He grabbed Sue, gave her a kiss on the lips, a quick pat on her butt, and was out the door.

"He's a nice guy. I know the two of you are going to be happy."

My sister couldn't take her eyes off that ring. She kept twisting it on her finger and stretching her arm out, I guess to see how it looked on her hand from a distance.

"I can't believe it's really going to happen. We've been together for almost three years. I think things came to a head six months ago when I told him I wouldn't move in with him. He had just bought that new house and told me since we spend most of our time together anyway, I should move in with him. I thought about it but remembered what Mom told me, 'If he wants you bad enough, he'll put a ring on your finger.' Looks like she was right."

"Well, I know the two of you will be happy no matter where you live."

"How about you and Shannon? Any wedding bells in your future?"

"I know she loves me, that goes without saying, I just don't know if I'm ready for that step yet."

"What do you want to do, still play the field?"

"No, it's not that. It's that I don't want anything to change. I love my life right now; I've got the best of both worlds. In a couple months I'll be done with school, I've got a great job lined up, and life is good."

"Steve, nothing stays the same, you should know that by now. If you love her, grab her before someone else does. Life is too short to take chances with your happiness." She was probably right. 

"Maybe I will, but not quite yet. After all, we've got your wedding to plan."

I graduated in May. We had a quiet celebration, just me, my sister, Shannon, and David. June 18th my sister and David got married. It was small, intimate, and memorable. She moved into David's, or should I say their new house. I debated for a while, but told my sister that as soon as I could see myself clear, I'd buy out her share of the house or we'd just put it on the market. I had a little time, anyway.

In July I started my job with Davis Standard, and was pulling down a pretty decent salary. Most of the money coming in from our hardware store went straight into the bank or was used for upgrades. That's when I bought a little toy for myself. It wasn't the newest or the biggest motorcycle out there, just big enough for Shannon and me to tool around on.

Sue was now doing the accounting books and ordering most of the stock and materials for the hardware store. She really took to retail and had a lot of great ideas, most seeming to work. In December Bill and Carol told us that they planned to work only another year, and then retire for good. Bill said that Carol had talked him into getting a travel trailer and wanted to see the country. I told them there was always a job waiting if they ever wanted to come back.

Sue became the acting manager, and we hired a young and energetic kid out of the local community college. We started planning for the post Bob and Carol era. I was putting in about ten hours a week, mostly on the weekends, which gave my sister a much needed break.

Though my life was busy, I found more than enough time to spend with Shannon. During the holidays I met her entire family. It was kind of nice and different spending time with a normal family. My only concern came when I met her mother. She had to weigh well over two hundred and twenty-five pounds. The old adage, if you want to know what your wife is going to look like when she gets older look at her mother, started to concern me. Shannon's mom had personality plus, but all I could see in her was my mother.

"You don't want to marry Shannon because her mother is fat?" A surprised Sue yelled at me. "Just because her mother is heavy, is no reason to believe that Shannon also will be. Look at me! Mom was huge and I'm probably five pounds underweight, at least according to the charts in the doctor's office."

"But you're going non-stop."

"And she isn't? She works out four days a week, she's finishing up school, and I don't see her slowing down when she finally starts work. How about you? You' don't have a bit of fat on you, yet look at Dad. I think our generation knows being grossly overweight can be lethal. Have you even talked to her about it?"

"I'm kind of afraid to. She might think I'm some type of shallow asshole and dump me. I'm not, you know that."

"I know it, but she doesn't. Look, sit her down and express your concerns, and make sure you tell her about Mom and Dad. I know she knows about them, but explain to her how it affected you. If she's the girl I think she is, she'll understand."

Unfortunately it didn't go quite as smoothly as Sue thought it would. When I tried to talk to Shannon after dinner one night at my house she became livid.

"You think my mother is a fat pig, is that what you're saying? What, do you have a scale strapped to your damn ass?"

"Look, I'm just being honest and up front with you." In desperation I tried to explain it to her again, and was again met with hostility and belligerence. 

"So you think I'm going to be overweight and will pork out if we get married? At least now I know what kind of prick you really are," she said, standing up getting ready to walk out on me.

"Shannon!" I yelled to her. "I don't want to have to bury you, I love you too much." That made her stop and turn around. "It would kill me to see you get sick and have a heart attack like my mom. I buried two people I love. I don't think I have it in me to do a third."

"Steve, think about what you're saying. You say you love me but with conditions."

"Not conditions, fears."

"What happens if say for some stupid reason I decide to marry you and I gain a couple of pounds? Are you going to stop loving me?"

"Shannon, I loved my mom even though she weighed close to three hundred pounds. It was her heart that gave out because she was carrying too much weight."

"Steve, why are we even having this conversation? I'm never going to balloon up like that. Hell, I'd have a stomach bypass if I got that gross. I love you, but you've got to lighten up. You're driving yourself nuts chasing ghosts. I may gain a few pounds down the road, but three hundred pounds? Let's get real here." 

At that point she confronted me with her ultimatum. "Look, until you get your head out of your ass, please don't call me anymore. I don't like being put under the microscope by you or anyone else."

I started to say something but stopped. It crossed my mind that I had already said quite enough for one day.

For the next week I went to work, ate, and did little else. I went to the gym with my sister and listened to her try to pound some sense into me. I took long rides on my motorcycle to clear my head, but nothing worked."

You know you're going to lose her, don't you?" 

Sue, you were the one who told me to talk to her about my fears.

Talk to her, not accuse her. If David had said to me what you said to her, I'd have told him to hit the frigging road and not look back. Look at her, she's drop dead gorgeous, any guy would feel fortunate to have her. You, however, are letting your fears dictate your life, which is not good." I knew she was right.

Apologizing to Shannon was easy, but getting her to accept it proved a lot harder. The girls at the marketing firm, where she was doing her internship, told her to dump my ass. Shallow, a chauvinistic pig, and a few other choice words were used to describe my actions. She was taking my calls, but said maybe we needed a break in our relationship to see what we both really want out of life. I objected—she wasn't giving me a choice.

For the next three weeks I did everything I could think of to get her back. I was not above groveling, just saving that for the next time we saw each other in person. Then I was thrown a curve ball when a buddy of mine said that he saw her having dinner at a nice restaurant with a tall black man. Hell, no groveling from me, that's for sure. Instead I got angry and concerned—maybe I had gone too far—maybe it really was over. 

It was a nice morning. The sun was out, it was almost sixty-five degrees, and I had recently loaded a whole new set of songs on my iPod. I planned on running until my legs gave out. I hoped it would help, since I had more than a few issues to work out of my system.

When she flew by me, I made no attempt to catch her. After looking over her shoulder and seeing I wasn't trying to catch her, she proceeded to pull away from me until she was out of sight. I did think about trying to catch up, but this morning it seemed more like a game to her. If it was a game, I wasn't in the mood to play.

I ran for over two hours. I could have gone on longer but lost interest after I'd heard my playlist twice. I would have to load on a couple dozen more songs if I was going to do this again next Sunday. I was just finishing my bottle of water when I saw her leaning up against her car looking at me. I could see she wasn't in the greatest mood even from where I was standing. I waved, got in my car, and left a surprised Shannon. I wasn't ready for a huge confrontation, besides I had to open up the store in less than an hour and a half.

Sunday mornings we had the usual rush of customers, but by eleven thirty it had quieted down. A few were browsing the shelves, that was about it. I was refilling a display in the main aisle when I heard her.

"Why didn't you talk to me?" I knew who it was without even turning around.

"You said you needed your space and time away from me, I was giving you what you requested," I replied without much emotion.

"We can still talk, can't we?"

"If you want. Dating much?" I asked. She didn't respond right away, I could see the wheels turning in her head.

"A little, how about you?"

"Nope, been too busy."

"Steve, it was just a couple of dinners and a movie, that's all," she said, probably still trying to figure out how much I knew.

"It's your life. Hell, it's not like we're married or anything like that." She was quiet, maybe looking for some type of comeback, but I didn't give her the chance when a customer walked up and asked for help. "You'll have to excuse me, I've got to get back to work." With that I turned to help my customer. When I was finished assisting the customer she was gone.

Later that night I told my sister what had transpired between Shannon and me. She chastised me for screwing up a good thing.

"Sue, if I can't talk to her about my concerns, who can I talk to about them?"

"But Steve, you should have talked to her after your run instead of just leaving. You probably could have worked out all your issues then and there." She may have been right, just that with the store, a bunch of crap at work, and Shannon now dating, my brain was scrambled.

"If you're wondering, he's one of the guys in the marketing group at the company where I'm interning," her e-mail started. "We were just casually going out, no real big deal. Two lunches, one dinner and a show, that's the extent of it, if you're interested. We really do need to talk. I don't know where your head is at right now, and from your reaction to me the last two times I'm not sure what to make of it. Let me know if and when you want to get together." It was signed with Love, Shannon.

When I e-mailed her back and suggested next Saturday, she replied that she had already made plans, but was open either Friday or Sunday, I didn't respond. I guess I wasn't as important to her as I thought. 

Over the next couple of days I got a few e-mails from her on which day would be better for me, but I ignored them like the two phone calls I let go directly to voice mail. I wanted to ask her what she was doing on Saturday night that was so damn important she couldn't change it for me, but I didn't. After another two weeks of e-mails and phone calls she stopped trying.

For the next two Sundays I half expected to see her blow by me—it didn't happen. When I explained to my sister my reasons for breaking it off with Shannon, she understood. She said we both had a communication problem. Maybe this was for the best.

Early Saturday morning I lined up for the 5K. I was in the second row and my stomach was tight like always. I had on my digital stopwatch and was just about ready to start it when I heard a voice behind me.

"I hope your ass is still in shape because eighteen minutes isn't going to cut it today." The horn went off.

She was three steps ahead of me the first mile, and just over one step at a mile and a half. At two miles I started pulling away from her, my anger taking over. I wasn't running against the clock anymore, I was running to beat Shannon, and by as much as I possibly could. After two and a half miles and with a little more than half mile before the finish I started my kick. It was a bit early, but I wasn't going to leave anything on the table, not this time. When I could see the finish line I started to sprint. There was a guy about fifteen yards ahead of me and I was pulling him in with every step even though he was running flat out.

I caught him just before the finish line. For once I didn't even look up at my time when I crossed the finish line. I was concentrating only on getting there as fast as I could. I had been looking down at the pavement in front of me, my arms pumping for all they were worth, and I was digging deep for any ounce of energy left in me. If someone in my age group had beaten me that morning, they deserved it because I had absolutely nothing left. This time I didn't puke, though I felt like I might. 




Third Try's a Charm



When I fully recovered I made my way back to the finish line to wait for Shannon. I never saw her cross it. Maybe she crossed while I was gasping for air after I had finished. I walked around for another couple of minutes—no Shannon.

When they posted the times I saw for the first time I'd broken eighteen minutes: seventeen minutes forty-nine seconds is what it had me listed at. I was smiling ear to ear when I got my medal. Everyone congratulated me on a great run. I was still floating on air when I got back to my car. Sweat continued to pour off me. Grateful I had remembered to bring a towel I proceeded to wipe down my sweaty ass, then the rest of me. I wrapped the towel around my neck, picked my cell phone up off the seat, and saw I had a text message.

"I think a thank you would be nice, even if we don't have breakfast together anymore," is what she'd texted me.

"Yeah, too bad. We used to have fun. How's breakfast with the new man in your life?" 

I knew it was a cheap shot, but that's how I felt. If she had just said it was over, we had a good run, but it wasn't working for us, that would one thing. To want time away from each other, and then start dating without saying anything, that was crossing the frigging line, in my book, anyway.

Saturday was busy. After the race I worked at the store for the first couple of hours. Afterwards I went home, cut the grass, and planted some flowers in the front bed. By six o'clock I was just stepping into the shower when I heard the front door bell ring. "Damn," I said. I wrapped a towel around me and made my way down the stairs, flinging open the front door. 

"If this is the way you greet people at your door, I'm going to have to come here more often," Shannon said with a bit of a laugh. I tightened my grip on the towel.

"Shannon, what do you want?" I replied in a not so nice tone of voice.

"To have that talk you promised me weeks ago."

"Look, I'm just getting ready to get in the shower," I started to say, but she pushed her way in. I shut the door behind her.

"That's all right, I'll wait for you in the kitchen." She walked through the living room into the kitchen. "Go take your shower, I'll just wait here." She sat down at my kitchen table. I was going to say something, but figured what the hell.

"Give me about twenty minutes and I'll be down."

"No hurry, I'm not going anywhere." I went upstairs.

I jumped into the shower and thought maybe she might surprise me and jump in with me, but that didn't happen. I put on clean jeans and a tee shirt since I planned on going out somewhere later, though I didn't know where. I figured I would decide where exactly I was going to go after making a few phone calls, but I knew sitting home lamenting my situation was not an option. 

She was sipping on a bottle of water with her feet propped up on another chair when I came down half an hour later.

"You're as slow as a girl, I expected you fifteen minutes ago." I held my tongue going over to the refrigerator to grab a Corona. Leaning back against the counter it began.

"Okay Shannon, what do you have on your mind?" With that said, she sat up in the chair and put her water down.

"I don't like the way you talked to me. You treated me like I'm a little kid not an adult. You had concerns, stupid idiotic concerns, but concerns just the same. You never heard a word I said to you when I tried to reason with you. You had it in your mind that I was going to blow up into a fat pig as soon as I said, 'I do.' What would happen if and when I got pregnant? Would you ration what I could eat and God forbid, what would happen if I gained a few pounds? You were making both me and you crazy."

"I wasn't that bad."

"Steve, you were. Answer me this, did you love your mother before she died?"

"Of course I did."

"Even though she was fat?"

"I know where you're going with this. I never stopped loving my mother, but it about killed me to see what she was doing to herself. That's all I'm saying." I had started to raise my voice and needed to cool off a bit.

"Steve, you love the person not what they look like. If we were married, and something happened like I became crippled or disfigured, would you still love me, or would you be out there looking for a replacement?"

"That's a horrible thing to say, of course I'd still love you."

"Look, we can go round and round over this and bring out a million what ifs. I guess it all boils down to what is really important in a relationship. To me love, respect, and having a caring husband is what it's all about. If you can fit the bill great, if not, well, there are a lot of other guys out there."

"I guess you already found that out." It was another cheap shot, but I wanted to put all my cards on the table.

"Steve, that was uncalled for."

"Was it? Were we officially broken up when you started accepting lunch or dinner dates? Was there any kissing, handholding, or anything else? I just feel you blindsided and sucker punched me."

"I told you what I did, are you saying that you don't believe me? And if that's the case, maybe I don't want to talk to you any longer."

"Shannon, look at it from my perspective. We were exclusive but you wanted a little ME time to figure out if you still wanted me. As it turns out, you brought at least one more person into the mix. How am I supposed to feel? You were spreading your wings to figure it out with someone else, and don't give me this crap about it being CASUAL. There is no such thing as a casual date when you're in a relationship." I was starting to get angry.

"I didn't do anything."

"In your eyes, not mine. By the way, what was so fucking important that you couldn't meet with me that Saturday night? It had to be something life threatening, I'm sure of that."

"I went with Jerome to a business dinner with a client and his wife."

"He couldn't have gone alone?"

"Steve, I promised him, and I didn't tell you because I knew you wouldn't understand." She was right, I didn't understand.

"So in other words, he was more important than me?" I knew her next response was either going to make or break it for us.

"Steve, you own a hardware store and have a great job. I, on the other hand, have another month until I graduate. On top of that, I am working as an unpaid intern at a really great marketing firm. When Jerome asked me weeks ago to go to dinner with him and a client I had done the initial ad mockups for, I was flattered. But when my boyfriend asked me at the last minute to cancel so I could explain to him what an asshole he'd been, what do you think I was going to do? Give up a shot at making a name for myself, possibly getting the job I dreamed of, or smooth over a bruised ego? I guess you know which one I choose." She stood up and started making her way towards the front door.

"Good answer. I would have done the same thing." She stopped, turned around, and smiled at me. "I'm not going to say I like what you did, but I understand and support it." She screamed and ran into my out-stretched arms.

I'd like to say that we went to bed and made love all night—sorry to say, we didn't. That is the stuff you seen in the movies, real life is much different. We had issues we needed to talk through, which took until way past dinner. Shannon wanted me to be less controlling, and I needed for her to make sure she wanted me for who I was, not someone she wanted me to be. It was two weeks later before we finally and totally made up.

Shannon put it this way to me. "Okay, I won't try to change you, only you've got to ease up and stop being so controlling. Life is too short for you to be stressed out all the time. Just relax and you'll find things aren't always black and white, and the petty bullshit is just that, in the scheme of things not worth worrying about." 

I think after that blowup we became even closer. Three months later I was on one knee, holding up a ring, asking her to be my wife. I think her exuberant reply was heard around the world. Shannon said she knew we would eventually be together, just that she thought I'd do it on a major holiday.

"If you want I can wait and maybe ask you later," I said, snapping the ring box shut.

"Not on your life, buster. You're mine, now and forever."

We had a splash because Shannon said this was the one and only wedding she will ever have. A wedding dress with a train four feet long is what she wanted and what baby girl wanted, her daddy made sure she got. I was relieved when the wedding was finally over, way too much drama for my comfort.

She had moved in with me three weeks before the wedding. We lived in sin as much as possible. After the wedding we honeymooned in a remote cabin in the Tennessee Mountains. Shannon lasted a total of three and a half days before saying she thought she was hearing banjos—it was time to leave. My girl needed city lights.

Shannon got the position she wanted with the marketing firm, and with both of our incomes we were able to buy out my sister's share of my parents' house.

Five months later a crazy happy Shannon let me know that she had a bun in the oven and I was going to be a daddy—and yes, it was planned. We thought we'd have our kids early and get them out of the way instead of changing diapers into our forties. She didn't have an easy pregnancy and had to go easy after her sixth month. I thought I'd have to commit her after the eighth month—she was bored, bloated, and tired of being pregnant. 

Carla Sue was born October eighteenth at three thirty in the morning after eighteen hours of intense labor. I was tired—she was near total exhaustion—she made me promise that we'd adopt the next ones. Something about never wanting to go through that again kept coming up when after two months we started doing it again on a regular bases. 

Four months later Shannon caught the flu and was sick most mornings for almost two weeks. 

"Babes, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were pregnant again," I jokingly said to her after she'd lost another night's dinner down the toilet.

"That's not something to even make a joke about. I want at least two-years between the kids, and my body needs time to get back in shape again. However, only a week later we got the good, or bad, news depending on if you were the father or the one carrying the baby. Shannon was not a happy camper.

"How in the hell did this happen? We were so damn careful. This is the last thing in the world I need right now. Shit, we're going to have two kids in diapers and forget about breastfeeding, my boobs are going to be dragging on the damn floor." She wasn't overjoyed.

Her mom was a lifesaver. She took care of Carla almost every day. This time the pregnancy went smooth as silk. Shannon was still carrying around a lot of her first baby weight, though she gained almost nothing this time around. Then it happened.

I was feeling a little frisky and had consumed one too many beers. I was chasing her around the bedroom and down the hall. Shannon stopped at the top of the stairs, I didn't. I ran into her and Shannon, even though she had a hold of my shirt, fell backwards down the stairs with me half a step behind her.

She was out cold before she hit the bottom step. A frantic call to 911 and four minutes later we were on our way to the hospital. Thank goodness the baby was not injured, Shannon, however, was not so lucky. She had dislocated her right shoulder and pulled two muscles in her lower back. She would be confined to bed for at least a month.

After that, I had a hard time even looking at her knowing it had been my fault. She was nice enough to say it was nothing more than a stupid accident, but the look in her eye sometimes said otherwise. After that, life was hard. Her mother came in the mornings, and I took care of the evening shift when I got home from work. 

With a young toddler and a hurt wife I had my hands full. Shannon felt bad she couldn't help me, but I knew this was my penance and just sucked it up. I prayed everything would eventually turn out okay—it did.

Robert Thomas was born at ten after eight in the evening of November second. After three hours of labor she popped this one out, announcing that this was going to be her last. Shannon had her tubes tied before she even left the hospital. I guess she wasn't going to take any chances this time around.

For the first couple of weeks life was a little crazy, to say the least. We split up the feedings and other duties so one of us would always be rested. Shannon's mother was a constant source of support—and for that I was grateful. 

Shannon's boss at Hamilton and Craig went beyond what I thought they would for a new employee. They paid her for all her sick time, vacation, and then gave her medical leave making sure her job was secure. After being home for ninety days Shannon went back to work full time.

The first nanny we hired was a total disaster. She didn't do much besides eat our food and watch television, including ordering pay per view movies. After two weeks she was gone. The next one was a young girl just out of college. She was going for her master's degree during the evening and her hours fit perfectly into our schedule. Everything was going great until my mother came over to see the kids. Since she has her own key she let herself in. When she didn't see anyone downstairs she proceeded up the stairs. Can you imagine her surprise when she found the babies in their cribs and the nanny humping her boyfriend on our bed? It got a little ugly when she terminated her on the spot and immediately stripped our bedding.

Shannon's mother stayed with the kids while we interviewed three more candidates. Marie was fifty-two and a widower. She had lost her husband four years prior. She was living on disability, something about a work related injury, and her husband's social security. She lived less than two miles from our house and with her own children out of the house she was looking for something to do. It was a win win situation for all of us. We ended up paying her a bit more than the others—she was well worth it. She made sure to have dinner started by the time we got home, the house was always clean and tidy, and so were the kids. We had a permanent nanny.

As I said, life at night was a little crazy, but after we got into a routine things got a little better. Shannon's back was still bothering her so running was out. I switched my workouts from right after work to early morning. That way by the time I got back I could get ready for work and help Shannon with the babies. After six months we became quite proficient at managing our expanded household. Things went back to where they were before all this madness started, and our life got back to being normal, or should I say our new normal. Even our store was doing better than ever. Life was pretty good.

When Sue got pregnant with her first, Shannon just rolled her eyes after hearing my sister said nothing would change.

"Sue," Shannon instructed her, "have as much sex as you can before the baby is born, because after that the honeymoon is over." Sue laughed. I didn't, I knew Shannon was right. 

Up until having the kids we had it made. We could sleep in, have sex whenever we felt the urge, and take off on my motorcycle to this rally or that event. We were free. Now everything had to be planned for in advance. We couldn't just didn't pick up and go to a restaurant or any other place. If we didn't take the kids a baby sitter had to be called in, which meant our money for their time. If we did take them there was a baby bag to pack, along with strollers, time restraints, and finding places young children would be welcome. No more late night romantic dinners. The kids had to be in bed early and everything laid out for the next day. And as far as sex, we had been doing it non-stop, now even that had to be planned.

By the end of the day we were both whipped, though we snuck in a session whenever we had the time and energy. "If you want me, you had better hurry before I fall asleep," Shannon would announce as we tore off our clothes running for the bed. Quickies became the norm, so we made sure to take time for ourselves on either Saturday or Sunday. It was a little nuts, but I wouldn't give up our two babies for anything.

I'd like to say life went on without any conflicts, sadly real life isn't like that. With our children just about thirteen months apart the first two years were strained, to say the least. I was putting in about forty-five hours at my main job and another ten at the store. Shannon, on the other hand, was putting in about thirty-five at work followed by another ten more at home on her laptop. It was the best we could manage for the time being. One good thing was that after almost a year between physical therapy and the chiropractor her back no longer hurt. However, both her chiropractor and physical therapist warned her that if she felt any pain doing anything, to stop.

"Forget what people have told you about no pain no gain. If you feel any pain whatsoever, stop what you are doing right then and there. The back is one thing that can cause you problems for the rest of your life if you injure it, so be careful." I made damn sure she followed their advice, no running for her yet.

How long Shannon held in her resentments I'm not sure. I only realized it when I was lacing up my running shoes one Sunday about six thirty in the morning.

"You going running?" she asked, looking at me.

"Just going out for a couple miles. I should be back in less than an hour." I gave her a kiss and told her to go back to sleep.

Five and a half miles, that's all I did. For me it was a great way to not only clear my mind but to also work on any problems I had. I love running and it had been forever since Shannon and I had done it together—I really missed that. We ran while she was pregnant with Carla, stopping at her seventh month. After that, she would ride her bike while I ran. However, after her eighth month she no longer even biked.

"Have a nice run?" she inquired, watching as I stripped off my sweaty clothes.

"Yeah, it was really nice out this morning, a little too crowded on the trail, though."

"See anyone interesting?" I knew immediately what she meant. "No one as hot as my wife, if that's what you're asking?" She smiled—it looked forced.

"I'd love to run again, maybe I'd lose some of this damn weight," she said slapping her thighs. "I haven't even lost the baby weight from Carla much less Robert," she moaned in disgust. "How can you love a fat pig like me?" There lay the problem.

"Don't worry, you'll drop the baby weight and be back to running in no time. We'll get a couple of jogging strollers, and be off." I looked optimistic, she didn't.

Over the next five months Shannon became a lot busier. She had a real talent and became more and more in demand. There were now seminars, design classes, and more than a few evening meetings with clients. During all this time she gained more weight instead of losing any. When I suggested a nutritionist, Shannon told me not to worry because after she got a handle on her new accounts she was going on a strict diet. I was happy about that. She wasn't obese, but she had to be at least forty pounds overweight. When I told our nanny to make diet dinners, I got chastised for doing it without checking with her first.

"Steve, don't worry about my weight, I've already lost five pounds. Please, just let me do it my way, okay?" She was put in charge of meals again, however, it didn't help.

"Sue, she can't seem to lose any weight. I don't know what she's eating at work, since I make sure there is no junk in the house for her to munch on. I am concerned if this continues her health will suffer, and who knows, that extra weight could maybe strain her back out again."

"For some people it's hard to lose weight. Give her time and don't bug her about it. She probably feels bad enough without you riding her." 




Third Try's a Charm



"Honestly, I haven't said a thing about her weight. It's hard at times when I see her piling the food on her plate. I learned the hard way last time to keep my mouth shut and let her do her own thing. I even told her I was going to go on a diet with her to make it easier planning meals." 

Over the next two months I lost five pounds and Shannon found them on her ass. I know that's a cruel thing to say, but those forty pounds soon became fifty-five pounds. Still it was hard, but I kept my mouth shut.

Things got worse when we took the kids, in their strollers, to the trail one Sunday morning. It was a beautiful day and the trail was packed. People were biking, in-line skating, and running around us as we pushed the kids. We were not running, rather walking at a fairly slow pace. The short trail was a two-mile loop and I thought Shannon was going to die. By the time we finished the loop her clothes were soaked with sweat, her face beet red. This was the same girl who used to run circles around me.  

She practically fainted when she got to the car. "Turn on the damn air, I'm dying," she said, sloshing down the first bottle of water in the car on the way home.

"I figure if we do that three times a week we can be up to the five mile loop in a month." She gave me an ugly look.

"Steve, it's going to take me a week to recover just from today," she said, wiping her face and head with a towel.

"Don't worry hon, your body will get used to it and pretty soon we'll be running with the kids." Tuesday after work we went again, but after that she found one excuse after another not to go. I was starting to get concerned and more than a little frustrated. Still, I kept my mouth shut.

Thursday after work, I walked into my kitchen and got the next jolt to my system. I stopped, looked, and couldn't believe my eyes. Her beautiful long blonde hair was gone. All that was left was this cropped hairdo that looked like something a teenage boy might wear. 

"Don't you just love it?" she said, shaking her head. "It will be so easy to take care of unlike what I've worn forever." She may have seen the shocked look on my face, but I was going to support her no matter what.

"Honey, I am happy with it if you are. I just didn't expect it, that's all. I'm sure I'll get use to it soon."

"Steve, it's just hair, and you weren't the one that had to take care of it." She was right—it was her hair—so I didn't say another thing and kept my mouth shut yet again. It just seemed to me that piece-by-piece I was losing the girl I married.

The final insult came one Sunday at a dinner with her parents. Her dad and I were sitting on their back deck sharing a brew and a few off color jokes I'd heard at work. When we heard us being summoned for dinner we knew better than to make them wait. I walked into the kitchen in front of her dad, and what I saw took my breath away. Shannon and her mom were both leaning over the sink and for the life of me I couldn't tell who was who. I just about bit my tongue off, but still I kept my mouth shut. However, it was at that moment I knew I had to do something before I buried my wife like I did my mom and dad. 

It probably started that Sunday. Now whenever I looked at Shannon I saw her mother. If you think that's funny, our very first argument way back when, was that I was afraid Shannon would get as fat as her mother and now she was—I was married to her mother's doppelganger.

Do you have any idea what that did for my sex drive? Who in their right mind wants to make it with their wife's mother? When she would get amorous I would have to turn off the light and think back to what she used to look like in order to get it up and keep it up. In order to perform it took a lot of imagination, fantasy, and self-determination—my sex mantra became repeating over and over in my head: I love my wife, I love my wife, I love my wife.

When I couldn't get it up one night she came right out and asked me if I still found her sexually attractive. I lied like any good husband and kissed her gently on the lips, trying my best to block out any mental picture of her new look or her mother.

I called myself a hundred ugly names and told myself I didn't deserve her, and right now I was probably right. I loved her, I really did, but I didn't see her as a hot babe anymore. More like someone else's mother, and I was sad. To Shannon I never said a word.

The only one in the world I could talk to about my feelings was my sister. For two hours I poured out my guts over three beers. Sue knew my past and my original fears going into this relationship. I was lost. I wanted her to tell me what to do.

"Steve, you're on your own on this one. I know you love Shannon and your two kids, but remember we all change as we get older."

"Sue, when I married Shannon she weighed one twenty-five soaking wet. At her last doctor's visit, she's tipping the scales at two hundred pounds. Hell, she almost died walking two miles with the kids and me. I'm just afraid if she doesn't lose that weight now, she may end up dead like Mom."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"No. I keep my mouth shut and it's about killing me. It must be some type of female taboo to talk about weight. And remember what happened the last time I tried to have that discussion with Shannon. That went well, huh?"

"Just talk to her, she's your wife, for Christ's sakes."

"Yeah. Let me again remind you of the last time I tried, and she thought I was calling her mother a fat pig. Now all I have to say is, honey you look just like your mother, isn't that wonderful, you fat ass? That would go over real big if I want my face rearranged."

"Well, as I see it, you have two choices. You can say nothing and hope she realizes that she needs to lose weight, or two, you can ride her and make both of you miserable."

"Thanks, you're making me feel so much better," I said sarcastically. But I knew I had to do something.

I went home that night to a big dinner and a double layer chocolate cake for dessert. I wasn't drunk when I got home, but proceeded to have two more beers for a little liquid courage in case I decided to bring up the subject.

I gave both kids a bath, soaking the bathroom floor in the process, before getting them into their pajamas. After a Winnie The Pooh story they were both ready for bed. I kissed them goodnight and told them their mother would be in shortly to kiss them goodnight.

I found Shannon in the kitchen having her second piece of cake.

"The kids are waiting for you to kiss them goodnight." Our eyes met over her slice of cake. Shannon knew what I wasn't going to say as she wiped off her mouth and climbed the stairs. I dumped the cake down the garbage disposal and anything else I could find in the kitchen that wasn't supposed to be there. I guess I had made my decision.

After Shannon took her shower she wanted to fool around. I was in no mood and my body backed me up—even as she did her best to get me aroused—I failed miserably.

"Are you okay? You seem to be having a problem getting it up lately. Maybe you need to get a prescription for those little blue pills so we can get back to where we used to be." I chickened out, telling her I had a lot on my mind.

"Well, I hope you get your problems solved soon, because momma needs a lot more loving than she's been getting lately." I about threw up hearing her use the word 'mamma.' That was a big part of my problem. I did not want to make love to 'mamma.' I wanted to make it with Shannon, my wife.

I spent the next week trying to figure out a way to bring up the subject of her weight without starting World War III. Her work was having their fall party Saturday evening. With the kids spending that night at her mom's Saturday, maybe I could get up enough courage to talk to her about it.

Her company sure knew how to throw a party. A fully stocked bar, and enough food to feed a poor third world country for a week is what the employees feasted on. There was a band and computer games in the house's entertainment room—who knew a house could have a special entertainment room. After the first twenty minutes, like always, I was on my own.

Drink in hand I walked the party floor keeping an eye on my wife while I mingled, a smile plastered on my face. I checked out the computer geeks, noticing they were consumed by some war game on the seventy-two inch projection television. I had never gotten into computer gaming, and right now I was thankful for that.

Outside I went looking for my wife. I found her on the dance floor with one of the biggest black men I'd ever seen. Shannon looked like a little kid in his arms—arms that were all over her. I waited patiently for the song to end. I waved at her and both of them headed my way.

"There you are." Shannon said, giving me a peck on the lips. After the introductions, she informed me that she and Jerome often worked together. That sure made my night. Shannon seemed to not notice my discomfort. "Did you get something to eat yet?" she asked.

"Not that hungry. I'll grab something before we leave."

"Have either of you tried the ribs? You've got to try them, they're fucking out of this world," her friend said, smiling.

"I'd love to, but I'm kind of watching my weight," Shannon replied, looking at me.

"Hell, girl, you look great. You don't want to look like one of those skinny runway models, do you? Shit, most guys like a woman with a little extra meat on her bones. You know what they say, the softer the cushion the better the pushing." 

I thought I was going to puke up my guts. I about choked as my drink came out my nose instead of going down my throat. I couldn't believe he had just said that to my wife.

Shannon's face turned a nice shade of red. "Oh Jerome, you are such a kidder."

"Baby, from where I'm standing you look mighty fine to me."

I was hot and not letting him get away with it any longer. "Look asshole, take that jive talk and shove it up your ass. This is my wife you're talking to

"Steve, Jerome didn't mean anything derogatory, it's just the way he is."

"Hey man, I'm sorry if I offended you, I didn't mean anything by it." He smiled at me again. If he wasn't so fucking big, I would have put my fist in those pearly whites, but momma didn't raise no fool.

"Shannon, get your things, we're leaving," I said, grinning back at her friend.

"Steve, I don't want to go just yet, I'm having fun and since we don't have the kids tonight we don't have to worry about being home early for a change."

"Fine. Stay with your friend if you want, but I'm leaving." I put my drink down on the table and turned towards the front door. All right, I was bluffing. I waited 15 seconds for Shannon to run up behind me and stop me, only that didn't happen. Finally, I left. I was almost to my car when my cell phone started to ring.

"What?" was my sharp reply.

"You're really going to leave me here?"

"Hey, I told you I wanted to leave, but I guess you like your FRIEND'S company more than you do your own husband's. Have fun!" With that I hit the End Call button on my phone, got in my car, and headed back home.

I must have smacked that damn steering wheel a dozen times, kicking myself for not going back and dragging my wife out by her short blonde hair if necessary. If that asshole Jerome was saying that to her while I was standing there, I can only imagine what he was saying to her when I wasn't around. I was getting more pissed off by the minute.

I was home, in the house, by eight thirty. I looked at my phone, no messages. "Bitch," I said under my breath.

Was I surprised when Shannon didn't get home until almost one thirty? Yes! And when she came storming through the door guns blazing yelling at me that I'd embarrassed her in front of everyone she worked with, I just looked at her dumbfounded.

"By the way, how did you get home tonight?"

"Jerome gave me a ride," was her acetic reply.

"Figures. He must have taken the scenic route because the party ended—what—two hours ago?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, maybe because he was all over you tonight, not to mention the way he talked to you, it's like what you'd say to some tramp."

"That's just the way he is! He thinks he's some kind of macho stud."

"Well, I don't fucking like him or the way he talks to you," I shot back at her.

"Well yourself, you don't have to like him or work with him, but I do. And since you screwed up our night out, I'm going to bed—alone!" 

"Be still my heart. I wouldn't want to sleep next to you anyway, with Jerome's slobber all over you."

"Bastard," was all she said, running up the stairs slamming the bedroom door behind her."

"Don't forget to take a shower before you go to bed, or I'll have to change the sheets tomorrow," I screamed up the stairs to her. Thankfully I never heard the reply.

The couch in the den was short and uncomfortable, but it was a lot better than braving the lioness in our bedroom. I didn't like the way Jerome looked at, talked to, or danced with my wife. It didn't matter if he was her boss or the CEO of the company she worked for. I wanted him to stay the fuck away from her. I trusted him as far as I could throw him, and that was all of probably three inches.

Shannon was still sleeping when I crept into our bedroom to get my running shoes and something to wear the following morning. She was either sleeping or doing a good job of faking it. Whatever, I really didn't care at that point.

I arrived at the trail later than normal and it was crowded with all sorts of people. I hooked up with a mixed group on my second loop, and had a pleasant time running with them. We did a total of fifteen miles before I wished them well. We all took off in different directions. I thought about stopping for coffee and maybe bring home one for Shannon, but I started getting angry all over again and thought, fuck it.

"It's about time you got home," was the lovely greeting I received when I walked through the kitchen door. "You know we have to pick up the kids at Mom's before noon."

"So? It's only eleven o'clock. Give me twenty minutes and we will be out of here."

"Whatever," was her flip reply.

"Fine, go get the kids yourself, just don't forget to tell your mother what an asshole I am for ruining your weekend. And, know what? I don't fucking care." I walked up the stairs towards our bedroom leaving a steaming Shannon to stew. When I reached the top of the stairs, I turned and shouted down to her. "Oh, by the way, please tell Jerome if I catch him touching you again, I'm going to take a bat to his pearly whites!" That declaration was culminated by me slamming the bedroom door.

I was in the shower when the curtain was yanked back suddenly.

"What are you trying to say? Are you accusing me of doing something last night?"

"Think about it from my perspective, Shannon. The asshole's hands are all over you on the dance floor, he makes sexual innuendos, and he's drooling over your hot curvy body most of the night. Then when you finally decide to come home you arrive in his car a couple of hours after the party ended. What am I supposed to think?"

"We didn't do anything! We just drove around and talked."

"About what an asshole I am, or just about the two of you?"

"You think I slept with him last night?"

"Did you?"

"You're right, you really are an asshole, you know that?" With that she turned around and left the bathroom.

Did I think Shannon had sex with him? Not really, but I think there was more to it than just talking. This became the first crack of many in our relationship.

Over the next week I almost turned on the heat in the house, it got so frosty. But there was no way I was being kicked out of my damn bedroom. If she was pissed, she could sleep on the fucking couch. So we slept in the same bed together—but alone. She made damn sure there was no talking, much less any unnecessary touching.

We were in our second full week of not talking when Shannon sent me a text letting me know she had a business dinner to go to that night. I was getting really tired of it and sent her an ugly one back.

"You plan on coming home tonight, or should I lock up when I go to bed?" I didn't get a reply back.

The kids were down for the count, I had my clothes all laid out for the following morning, and had just slipped into bed when I heard her pull into the garage. I wasn't sure which Shannon would be walking through the bedroom door. I braced myself when I heard her walk up the stairs.

She opened up the door, turned on the overhead light and started taking off her clothes right there in the doorway. One by one she stripped them off, throwing them on a pile on the bedroom floor. When she was totally naked she walked over to the bed, stepped up on it, and walked over to my side. With a leg on each side of me she spoke for the first time.

"Check it out if you want," she said, spreading her legs even more. "You want to see if it's been used or a deposit made?"

I could see it looked as it always had, no redness, the lips weren't swollen, there was no there semen dripping down her legs.

"So, if you're satisfied, I'll take a shower and go to bed. But I'm not sorry I woke you, maybe now you'll believe I'm not whoring around on you." She walked off the bed and into the bathroom.

She was crying in the shower when I walked in clothes and all. She fought me for a moment before she let me pull her into my arms. We kissed until the hot water had gone cold.

Dripping wet we went to bed and for the first time in weeks we made love. It was slow, methodical, and felt wonderful. She didn't scream out my name, my lips never leaving hers unless it was to taste one of her treats. We fell asleep cuddling and woke up that way. Did it solve all our problems? Not a chance, but at least it got us talking again.

"I don't like him and I sure as hell don't trust that son of a bitch," were the first words out of my mouth the next morning over coffee. "I trust you, not him. The way he looks at you makes my blood curl, I want to slap that stupid smirk off his face." 

"Steve, for one he could wipe the floor with you, and secondly, I'd probably lose my job, so please cool it. I can handle Jerome and anyone like him at work. You know I need this job. Right now I'm making a good name for myself and I don't need you messing with that. You best bite your tongue and let me worry about Jerome." I wasn't happy about it, but what choice did I have?

When she asked if there was anything else bothering me I probably should have kept my mouth shut—but since she was asking.

"Now that you mention it, there is something else, only I'm not sure just how to bring it up again."

"It's my weight, isn't it?" Was I that obvious? "Look, I know I've gained a few pounds, but you have two kids back to back and see how much weight you put on. It also didn't help with me being laid up for six weeks after my fall. Just don't bug me about it. It'll be gone soon. Do you think I like the way I look right now?" I smiled at her. I was going to be supportive if nothing else.

"Hon, if you want to join a gym and go after work, I'll be more than happy to watch the kids."

She was having none of my good intentions. "I'll take care of it, just don't bug me. In a couple of months it'll all be gone and then we'll never have to have this conversation again. Now if we have that settled, Marie should be here shortly, and I've got an early meeting to attend." With that she was gone.

Marie showed up at her seven o'clock time as always. I told her only low calorie meals for suppers and under no circumstances was she to buy any chips, cookies, or the like. "Mrs. Moore is on a diet and I don't want anything in the house to tempt her." I figured if she didn't have a plan, I would make one.

But my plan didn't work. Although Shannon ate good healthy meals at home she must have had a whole stash of goodies at work. Add to that, I found out much later, Jerome was taking her out to lunch three times a week. After two months she'd lost a total of five whole pounds.




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."