Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (37 page)

I had finished Drug Court. I was no longer ordered to attend a specific number of meetings every week. I had completed my outpatient treatment, and besides Probation, I was almost finished with everything. I was still subject to random drug testing, but they didn’t call me in one time during those last few weeks. I was in the final stretch.

Up until the big Court date that would determine if the case with the CPS was going to close, I still attended meetings and made sure to walk a straight line. I knew that they could pull any sort of random stunt at the last minute so they could be sure that we were really clean. Derrick had claimed to be clean, but ever since the drug test incident, I knew that his word was as good as gone. I always called him out whenever he appeared to have that look on his face, but it never did any good. If anything it would cause an argument. I continued to work up until a few days before the Court date. I had been late one too many times, and the boss lady was fed up. So was I. Danielle attended daycare in the mornings and Derrick refused to drop her off. In addition, it took me longer to get ready to leave for work because I’m a female. It was the same place that Chloe and Zoe once went to. Of course, the staff had a general idea of the situation. They were, after all, subpoenaed to the custody hearing, where I had to go back and recall every vivid, painstaking moment. When I was already fifteen minutes late and had not even left the house yet, I sat on the couch in defeat after changing a last minute dirty diaper. My boss had warned me yesterday, that if I were late again she would have to let me go. I couldn’t argue with her, because I was indeed ten minutes late minimum, every day. Plus I was kind of ready for a break anyway. I called my boss ready to face the situation. “I’m sorry, the baby…” “Honey I love you, you have done great working for me, but I need someone who can promise to be on time every day. It’s just not going to work out,” she interrupted. I could hear the frustration in her voice, but she was still as nice as she could be about it. “Okay, I understand, and thank you for everything,” I sincerely responded. “You’re welcome baby, I’ll let you know if I have any smaller jobs you can help with.” We hung up and that was that. I was bummed and kind of embarrassed, but also kind of happy that I could kick off my shoes and do nothing for a while.

Doing nothing was a bad idea. When I had nothing to do, my thoughts raced through my mind constantly. These were mostly my thoughts of my girls, whom I missed and just wanted to hold so desperately. Then I would think about what happened - and who caused it. Then I wondered if I were safe and if Danielle was safe. After the cycle of flashbacks and anxiety, I’d shut it down. I’m fine. Obviously he didn’t do that. He’d be in jail. It was just some freak accident.

My days were slow and boring. I took care of Danielle during the days, watched her watch Sesame Street, fed her peaches or carrots, and so on. I was eager to get to the meetings by the time night rolled around and Derrick came home. He came with me a few times, to show his support. During the last meeting I recalled him attending, he actually said he was an
addict before he began to speak. I was floored. I glanced over to my sponsor with a sly smirk on my face. She knew exactly what I was thinking. Accomplishment! It may be a baby step, but it’s progress! This gave me a bit of hope and comfort. Derrick displayed some sort of character showing humanistic qualities versus his normal overly superior, egotistical one. I was still running the Thursday night meetings and met the group of women at the beach for my last lead. The summer had come, and it was staying light out longer. We bumped the time back an hour so we could meet at the beach. It was a perfect place to take an inventory of our thoughts and actions and just allow ourselves to be human and in recovery. The sunshine brought a natural high, and we had some pretty deep discussions. We were sitting in our circle that day and talking about the beauty of enjoying life sober. I had just begun to speak my turn. “Elizabeth, addi…” when BOOM!

“What the hell was that?” I said in a panic. It sounded like a car crashed in the parking lot. All of the women quickly turned their heads toward the loud noise of impact. “Whaaaaaa-aaaaaah!” Oh no. Oh my God! My mind raced as adrenaline pumped through my veins. One of the little kids was screaming. The group of kids were all playing together close to the mothers in the vacant parking lot about twenty feet from where we were sitting. It was Emily’s daughter, Aleah. Aleah was barely three at the time. Everyone raced over to the scene in a panic, screaming. I didn’t think I’d be able to handle it if she was seriously hurt. Ever since I woke up that morning and witnessed what I witnessed with Zoe, I was extremely sensitive to any sort of pain or fear that a child may be facing. Derrick and I had some battles over this because I was constantly so worried that something bad could happen to Danielle. I was over-protective to the point of it causing anxiety for the entire family. I tried to contain it, but I even feared leaving Danielle alone with him for just an hour.

As I approached the scene, I saw the little girl kicking and screaming as she was lying on the pavement of the dented car next to her. There was a heavy woman about thirty feet away from the damaged vehicles, belligerent and flailing around drunk. Her shirt was too small, and her rolls were freely flailing along with her arms. The mother of the little girl was in a panic trying to keep her still in case she had a spinal injury. The paramedics along with the police arrived in about five minutes. The beautiful and serene afternoon had quickly transformed into uncertain chaos. The paramedics quickly strapped the little girl to a backboard and reassured her mom that it was a good sign that she was aware enough to be so upset and screaming and crying like she was. After mom and daughter left in the ambulance, the police determined that the little girl didn’t take a direct hit, thankfully. She was playing on the other side of the vehicle (which belonged to my sponsor) that was hit. The impact from that vehicle was what caused her to fall to the cement. It took the police officers a full hour to get the woman into the back of the patrol car. They had to call for extra backup because the woman was dead weight at that point. A few hundred pounds of dead body-weight apparently takes some strong manpower to transport. When all was said and done, those of us who were still at the scene ended the day by closing out with saying a prayer for the little girl who was hurt, and also for the woman responsible. It was ironic what happened that day. It was proof that while one person’s reality can be full of hope and content, there could be another person just a few feet away on the brink of death, or even worse, causing a death. It’s the only certain guarantee in life. Everything in life has a polar opposite. I was thankful that I had been able to attach to the positive side. I was also feeling stupid for the many mistakes I had allowed myself to make over the years. Most importantly, I realized that life was constantly going to be full of pain and uncertainty. I was hurting and aching over the absence of Chloe and Zoe, but I was so incredibly happy that they were alive and well. One day, I just might have a chance to hold them again. I told myself I would never, ever go back to living like that again.

Besides the occasional emotional distress I was in, everything at home seemed to be going in a good direction. Our custody hearing had arrived before I knew it. I was nervous in the lobby as usual, but I wasn’t nearly as nervous as I had been on prior occasions. We were called in by the Bailiff and walked to the Defendant’s table to sit next to our Public Defenders. It was pretty pathetic that this had become routine for us, but I was hopeful that it was all about to come to a close.

“Your Honor,” the Social Services Attorney began, “I can’t begin to express how thoroughly impressed the department is with the mother and father of Danielle. I’m sure I speak with most of us when I say that we all saw little to zero hope for this family back when the case first began. They’ve gone above and beyond what we’ve asked of them not giving us any reason to doubt their ability as parents in the process. We’re proud to recommend that the department should close this case.” I was stunned to tears. I had extreme feelings of guilt for screwing up, and I felt like I had been deceiving. On the other hand, I was still proud of myself for trying as hard as I could. My efforts were not going unnoticed, and that was showing to be true in this very moment.

Every official in the Court had something nice to say about us that day. I expected that the hearing would be the typical, emotionless ruling. Even the Judge said very sincere words of praise and kindness. He ruled in favor of all involved and closed the case. We were free from this nightmare - the nightmare that ripped my newborn baby away from me just a year before. I proved to myself that despite the circumstances, I could achieve anything that I put my mind to. When all odds were entirely against me, and the likelihood of getting Danielle back home was slim to none, I still did it. Leaving the Court felt as if a thousand pounds had been lifted off of my shoulders. It was exciting and I was looking forward to really beginning my life.

My Probation Officer had agreed to help me get off of Probation early, or at least try, by scheduling a Court Hearing and offering his recommendation. The whole reason for this was so we could pack up and move to Texas. With everything going so well in the past few months, I was no longer 100% sure that I wanted to leave my hometown. We began to socialize more and had friends over for barbeques and weekend camping trips. It was easing into summer and the weather was perfect. I wasn’t ashamed to go out in public as I had once been. I felt normal again, and I felt as if I were better understood and maybe even forgiven for my mistakes. Being with Derrick and having our baby together wasn’t something that felt like a shameful thing at this point.  I had confessed and owned up to my mistakes to myself and to the Court, and they all knew this. Derrick was another story and was great at putting up a front. He was so great at this that even a Judge, who had probably seen it all, couldn’t see beyond his lies and false claims. He hadn’t been 100% honest to me or to the Court about his sobriety, and I wondered how often he had been using drugs on the side. All of these thoughts were brewing in my subconscious, but it was easier to brush them to the side. Things were looking promising and I had to accept that.

My Court Hearing was two months away, and I knew that passing months were probably my last in my hometown. We were already looking into the cost of moving, and Derrick’s mother already had offered to pay for the expenses that we couldn’t take on. Derrick continued working, and I stayed at home with Danielle. I had some friends who also had young babies come over once in a while during the day just to have something to do. One of these friends was someone I had met years ago who had a short fling with Donnie back when Derrick and I first started dating. She then met someone new and ended up having a baby. She claimed to be clean, but I wondered if she really was. Any person that was associated with Donnie and Derrick was a drug user. Most of them were still using drugs. We would occasionally look back and remember the days of getting high and fixing things that weren’t broken. She saw it as more of a humorous thing, because she hadn’t suffered the dire consequences that I had. It was hard for me to ever smile in response to her memoires.

One afternoon after Derrick had gotten off of work, I knew something fishy was going on when he called me into the kitchen. He never called me into his proximity for something unimportant. He was smoking a cigarette under the kitchen fan, and Danielle was in her high chair finishing her dinner. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that it couldn’t be bad because he was in a good mood. He looked over at Danielle. “All right Danielle, are you ready for this?”  She smiled and clapped. Oh God. This is awkward - really awkward. I think I know what he’s about to do. As I was sitting on the kitchen counter near the stove, nervously puffing on my cigarette, he turned in my direction and pulled something out of his pocket. He opened a box that had a shiny gold ring with hearts cut from diamonds. “Will you marry me?” he asked.

Once I saw the ring, I became more excited than nervous. I definitely was shocked at this proposal. It was completely unexpected. I had periodically been nagging him about our future and how I thought he needed to make up his mind. I thought that if I was going to be living a life that my family did not approve of, among many others, I might as well do it the best way that I could. Or at least live in a way that I thought was morally the best way possible. For Danielle’s sake as well, I wanted us, as her parents, to be a good example. She needed to grow up with us being married as a committed family unit.

“Of course I’ll marry you!” I shyly said as I put the ring on my finger. I felt my face turning red and Derrick was kind enough to point it out. I told him to shut up as I buried my face in my hands. He kissed me and I told him that I loved him. “Yay. I’m excited. Look at mommy’s ring Danielle!” I said as I walked over to her and kissed her head. Without considering the fact that my family disliked Derrick with a passion, I went to my computer to send them an email along with a picture of my ring. I figured it would be best to break the news through an email than over the phone. I didn’t want to call and let the excitement I was feeling become destroyed and ruined with guilt. Derrick called his parents to tell them the news, and of course, they were excited.  I felt a sense of relief, and thought that just maybe all of the troubles we had encountered over the last few years had made us closer and taught Derrick a lesson on the value of life. He was still coming home every day appearing to be clean, and good events were continuing to unfold. Perhaps this has caused us to become somewhat complacent.

After the case for the CPS was closed, I eventually stopped attending meetings altogether. I went to a few meetings for the first couple of weeks, but after that Derrick convinced me that I didn’t need the meetings, and that they were only four lowlife people who couldn’t manage their problems on their own. Whenever I mentioned that I wanted to go to a meeting, Derrick would always have a good reason for me to not go. We would go out to dinner, invite friends over, or pretty much anything that didn’t include a meeting. It became more difficult for me to try to go than not, so I just gave up on it. I couldn’t see going to meetings on a regular basis anyway. It wasn’t something that I wanted to do long-term. I definitely believed in the program, and I knew that it worked, but a part of me wasn’t convinced that it was the only way to live a healthy life, as they had claimed it to be.

I only had to check into Probation once a month at this point, and before I knew it our way of life had become very similar to what it was when I still had Chloe and Zoe. We began hanging around with people that we both knew were not good influences. This included Donnie and his new girlfriend. Donnie always had a way of making you feel like it was perfectly okay and normal to be around him. Ultimately, that's all we were seeking. We just wanted to feel like we were normal people, living a normal life. I could not ever go over to Donnie’s house without feeling the physical effects of addiction. The simple fact that I knew there were drugs in the house caused my body to feel placebo related rushes. It was like a feeling of being high without actually using anything. Derrick was always extremely influenced by his brother. It was like a chain reaction. Derrick influenced me and Donnie influenced Derrick. It only took a few times of us socializing with Donnie to begin entertaining the idea of using drugs again. We had it all planned out to move to Texas as soon as I got off of Probation, which was only going to be in less than a month. We knew that once we got to Texas, we would not be using any sort of illegal substances. We didn't want to live that lifestyle, and his parents would never permit it any way. We somehow were living with a mentality that we might as well get our partying out of the way while still could. This gave us plenty of excuses and reasons for it to be okay to use it one last time. This is where the insanity of addiction comes in. For a person to actually make the conscious decision to ingest a harmful substance into their body while still being sober is pure insanity. Insanity is repeating the same behavior and expecting different results. I was insane. After all I had been through, and all of the heartache and pain, I still had an excuse to make it okay to use drugs. Even though I had accomplished more than I ever thought possible, and even though I had impressed higher authority who I never thought could take me seriously, I was still punishing myself. I was never really happy, and the deep clean that lived in my spirit would never go away. The fact is, I didn't know it at the time, but I hated myself. I hated myself because I chose to be with Derrick over choosing to fight to get my girls back. I was unwilling to face the truth. I was unwilling to accept the fact that I had chosen to be with someone who was dangerous and brought danger into my home. I would never accept the fact that I was one of those women who was too stupid to see what was really going on. As much as I loved Danielle, I never felt like I deserved to have her.

At one point, one of my friends asked me if I had Danielle to try to replace Chloe and Zoe. I became defensive and almost angry that she even asked me that question. I explained to her that I knew that Danielle would never replace Chloe and Zoe or any child for that matter. Was I feeding myself my own lies? Why in the world had I not acknowledged the fact that I was not taking birth control around the time I became pregnant with Danielle? Maybe I subconsciously needed a reason to live. Maybe another baby was the only reason I would have to keep myself alive. Maybe I had to prove to myself and everyone else around me that Derrick was a good person, and by becoming pregnant and choosing to be with him, my good judgment would only show this. I never acknowledged my pain, and I never wanted to. I just wanted to live and be happy one day. Maybe if we started having fun again, and periodically using drugs just for recreational purposes, Derrick wouldn’t want to leave Tahoe because we’d be having so much fun! I would wonder. I didn’t want to leave Tahoe, but after the big fuss I made over moving to Texas, I felt like an idiot for changing my mind, and I didn’t know how to express this. The only way I could express this was through self-sabotage. It gave me an outlet to express my pain, guilt, grief, confusion and uncertainty. We used drugs one time. There is never just one time.

The only difference from my life with Chloe and Zoe to my life with Derrick was that when Derrick and I used substance, we used it at our house and wouldn’t let others into it as long as we had Danielle. I had become paranoid about this, and Derrick went along with it. A few times he made remarks about how he’d never, ever allow his brother to be around Danielle unsupervised. I wondered if he was saying this because he truly meant it, or if he was saying it to cover up for his own guilt. I would never know. I paid close attention to every move of his, by instinct, and never became suspicious of his interactions with Danielle. I also did this when Donnie would interact with her. I never had any suspicions with his behavior either. It still didn’t make me feel any better. I knew that it had to be one of them. I was hoping that one day I could find some little bit of proof to resolve this in my own mind. I never got what I was looking for. I never expressed to any other person what I was looking for either. It would make me look like a careless person socializing with people like them while knowing that one of them was a sick, horrible person. And to top it off, I was allowing them to be near my baby. When the CPS case closed, my anxiety went through the roof. At least when it was open, Derrick knew that we were being closely watched, and he knew that socializing with his brother would badly influence his choices. The pressure had been lifted, and my fear of another tragedy had increased beyond measure. It started when we started to use substance again.

Danielle was put to bed on a Friday night, and Derrick was at his brother’s house picking up $400 worth of crystal meth. I was anxious and restless and nervous, aimlessly pacing my living room as the placebo high was rushing through my body. We decided that since I had Court on Monday, we would go all out on this last weekend we had in Tahoe. As soon as I was off Probation, we were packing up and getting on the road. Probation hadn’t given me a drug test in probably about six months, because they knew that I was testing through the Social Services, and they always got a copy of my clean results. I didn’t even have another meeting scheduled with Probation anyway, so I was already practically off. Derrick came home with four bags of crystal-clear meth. His brother had been selling mass quantities and was happy to give some of it to Derrick. Before he would let me take a hit off of the pipe, which had been purchased at a local gas station and disguised as an incense holder, he weighed and divided the drug into smaller quantities. I wasn’t sure why he did this, because he didn’t have anyone to sell it to. He took the bags and hid them in our attic. He only kept a small quantity on him for our own use. The last time we relapsed, about five months earlier, we snorted the drug. This time we were going to smoke it, which caused almost an instant euphoric high. When I took the first hit, I immediately felt the drug rushing through my bloodstream. It was relaxing but I had that alert and aware feeling that I always wanted to permanently have. I could accomplish anything. If only I was allowed to use just a small amount for the rest of my life, I could always feel happy and motivated to conquer life.

The first night we used it, I did my usual routine and probably spent twelve hours straight sitting on the couch doing crossword puzzles. I thought it was harmless, and the only thing coming out of it was that I was learning! I would not move on to the next puzzle until I finished the one I was working on. I wanted to prove that I was smart enough to finish them myself without cheating. I eventually had to switch from using a pen to a pencil, because I had to go back and make corrections several times. I had these puzzles down to a science. When Danielle woke up, I would get her dressed, feed her breakfast, and let her run around and play. When I went to stand up after sitting in the same position for such a long time, I became incredibly dizzy, almost to the point of blacking out. I sipped water to stay hydrated, but I definitely didn’t eat anything. My mouth was too dry, and if I even tried to eat I would instantly gag. Chain smoking, crossword puzzles and drinking water was what I did. Derrick played video games with the same diligence as I worked on crossword puzzles.

On the night of day two of our binge, the paranoia crept in. We hadn’t slept at all for forty-eight hours, and we didn’t plan to sleep. Sleep was not something that happened when we were on a binge. Trying to fall asleep was horrible, and the darkness only increased the paranoia. Around three in the morning, Derrick became convinced that there were Secret Service Agents surrounding our house. I knew it wasn’t true, but any slight sound of the house settling would cause me to wonder. I was more concerned that our house was about to be raided. With us being in the last stretch, it wouldn’t surprise me if they wanted to set us up to fail once again. What everyone did not know was that I was already doing this.

After quietly lying in bed watching Derrick point a pellet gun at the entrance of our bedroom door for what felt like hours, he finally fell asleep. When he fell asleep I got up to check on Danielle, and I decided to bring her in bed with me. I didn’t trust Derrick at this moment, and I wouldn’t want him to mistake her for a secret service agent or something. I put her next to me and next to the wall, and nodded on and off until the next morning.

Sunday morning came along. I felt disoriented and sick from the drug leaving my body. We had gone through all four bags of the meth in only two days. There was only a small amount left. I knew that the only way to feel better was to use what we had left. Derrick broke it up into lines, and I continued using it every hour or so because I felt like it wasn’t working. My tolerance had become strong, and no amount was going to give me what I wanted at this point. Around three in the afternoon that day, the phone rang. It was a 573 number, which was usually either the Social Services office or Probation. It was Probation. My Probation Officer left a message on our machine saying that he wanted to see if I was available to stop in the next day for just a few minutes. He had some questions to ask me about my Court date, which was on Wednesday. “Wheew. I thought he was going to suddenly drug test me!” I said in response to his message. “You better start pounding water. He probably is going to drug test you,” Derrick replied casually. “No way. He trusts me and a drug test takes a few days to come back with the results. There isn’t enough time to do that with my hearing being on Wednesday,” I confidently replied. I had the entire system mastered. I needed to give them what they wanted and I would be fine. He probably just needed to verify where I would be living when they set me free. I was sure it was something simple. But to be safe, I drank as much water as I could, ate cloves of raw garlic, and took handfuls of vitamin C. I obsessively researched online ways to get the drug out of my system, and that is what I came up with. Plus it gave me something to do to stay distracted.

My mom called that same afternoon asking me when my Court Hearing was. She wanted to come and visit me before we left for Texas. She hadn’t seen Danielle since she was born, and wanted to get some pictures as well. I told her about my meeting that afternoon, and she said she would come pick me up for lunch beforehand.

Monday was bright and sunny. I had gotten about ten hours of sleep the night before, and I thought I would be feeling rested enough to get through the day. My body was still trying to recover from the weekend binge. I was short of breath and I felt like my chest was going to cave in. I put Danielle in the cutest outfit I could find for her, and I showered and got dressed. I was glad that Derrick had to work that day, and knew it would help avoid conflict. My mom had become a little more supportive of my situation, probably only because she saw that I made enough progress to get away from the CPS and the entire system. We still didn’t talk about Derrick and knew that it wouldn’t give either one of us any closure to do so. She picked me up and I strapped Danielle into her car seat in the back of her car. We went over to a local clinic area that was connected to a dental office that Lilah was working in. My mom surprised me and said that Lilah was going to come to lunch with us. I hadn’t seen Lilah since that terrible day in Court. I hadn’t even spoken to her since that day. We had about thirty minutes to wait for Lilah to clock out for her lunch break. As we were sitting in the car waiting, my guilt and panic began to hit me all at once. When I spoke to my mom over the phone, it always showed its ugly face. Actually being in the same area as her intensified it beyond measure. My subconscious became confused when I was around my family. My family forced me to recall my life before Derrick, which was happy and content. I had made my choices and lifestyle that I was living become my new ‘happy and content,’ which was everything but happy and content. This confusion put me into panic. Coming down from the drug did the same. Since I was familiar with the clinic that was attached to the dentist office, I told my mom that I had to run in and see one of the nurse practitioners. I needed something to take this anxiety off of my shoulders. If I presented myself in this anxious manner when I went to see my Probation Officer, he would surely drug test me.