Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story

by E. McNew

  Besides the typical issues that I had with Derrick and my thoughts of him never changing, everything was going as good as it could for the situation. His boss called me one day after my outpatient classes and asked me if I was interested in picking up some part-time work. She needed an assistant for all of the administrative tasks that she was too busy to handle. I gladly accepted. We needed the extra money, and it was nice to begin living a life outside of Court orders. She first had me pick up some cleaning jobs to fix up post-construction projects. It was fun and it kept me busy. Eventually I was working in her office and running errands for her. I hated getting up early, but I knew that it was good for me and it would help to rebuild my self-esteem.

  On June 24th, 2007, Derrick and I took a trip down the mountain to do some shopping. Our Court date was coming up next month, and we were hoping we’d get unsupervised visits so we could at least see our daughter at our home. Her room was all set up but because I knew that I was going to nurse her when we brought her home from the hospital, we weren’t in a hurry to get a crib. I had planned for her to sleep in the bassinette next to me. We definitely needed to get a crib so we’d be ready for the Social Workers to come over and do their home inspection. We got our baby the nicest crib that the store had. It was a cherry-oak color, and we really didn’t care about the price tag. We were both happy and excited as we packed up the Jeep and headed back home to set up the crib. As we were making the drive back home, we noticed a huge cloud of smoke. The cloud was definitely not there when we left just a few hours earlier. “What the heck is that?” I panicked. “Is that smoke?” I asked, totally confused. “Whaaaa…what the hell?” Derrick was just as confused as I was. “Is Tahoe on fire?” I wondered out loud. As we drove closer and closer to home, it became more evident that it was indeed our town that was on fire. By the time we drove through the state-line, it was so smoky that it was difficult to see very far ahead. As we drove around the bend of the lake, we were actually seeing flames on the top of one of the mountains. This was definitely not good. We didn’t know the exact neighborhood, but we knew that the foster home that our daughter was in was in that area. Luckily, she was with a temporary foster mom while the foster parents were on a week long vacation. We closely watched the news as we set up her crib, and we were eager to see her the next day.

  We walked into the office and she was sleeping in her car seat. We talked with the foster care workers about the fire and heard stories of them having to assist an elderly couple who had been evacuated from their home that later burned to the ground. “Your baby is with the temporary foster mom we told you about, and her house actually caught fire and burned to the ground. She told me that she literally had just enough time to grab the baby and the diaper bag and that was it. I asked her if we needed to find a new place for her to go, but she offered to keep our baby with her while she stayed with her close friends. We had to inspect their house for safety and everything was just fine. We were so surprised that she was so insistent on continuing to watch her considering the circumstances. “I am so glad I didn’t know this information yesterday!” I laughed, thinking about how freaked out I would have been. “That was awesome of her, and please make sure you thank her for me,” I said, thinking about how selfless this woman must be. I felt very grateful that our little girl seemed to be in good hands as hard as it all was.

  Our next Court Hearing arrived before we knew it. Of course, I was nervous because the Court System and Social Workers were unpredictable. But I knew that I was doing the very best that I could, and I had a feeling that they would see that. The Judge quickly looked over the report and granted us unsupervised visits three times a week. They would take place at our home, and we would get to have her for four hours at a time. I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. Finally I could be a mommy in my own environment without having to sit in an uncomfortable chair the entire time. I was looking forward to the little things, like cuddling with her on the couch, showing her the flowers in the front yard, and feeding her lunch. Derrick had to work the day the foster care worker dropped her off. A part of me was kind of happy that I didn’t have to share the first visit at home with him. She did extremely well and hardly cried. She had never been to our home so she wasn’t used to the environment, but she at least knew who I was. Everything felt the way it was supposed to, and I was bummed that it had to end. I knew, however, that she would come home sooner than later. The fact that we were making progress was a very good sign.

  After about four weeks of unsupervised visits, we were granted overnight visits. My Attorney was able to get this accomplished at my Drug Court Hearing. We would get to keep our daughter for the weekends and resume the same daytime visitation during the weekdays. She was practically home for good - except some back-and-forth inconveniences. To make things easier for everyone involved, Derrick decided to buy a truck from his brother. That way, I could pick up the baby at the Foster Care office once in a while to make things easier on them.

  When we went to pay Donnie for the truck, Derrick left the Jeep idling, and I got in the driver’s seat. He had just received his tax return so he had extra money. He was taking longer than usual, and I was getting suspicious. He came up to the driver’s window and I rolled it down. “Hey…” “What?” I demanded while getting inpatient. I was having another bad day. It was Zoe’s third birthday, and I was exhausted and wanted to go to sleep. At times, I noticed it was becoming more and more difficult to focus on the present moment. I was stuck in the past and refused to accept that my girls were gone. I didn’t speak of it nearly as much as I felt it. I frequently would get vivid flashbacks of some of the precious moments that I shared with them. I would tuck them into bed as they dozed off to Charlotte’s Web, and I would see them run to me when I picked them up from a long day at daycare. It couldn’t be over. There was no way it could end like this. I’ll get them back too. This isn’t real.

  Derrick had that look on his face. He was high. He had money, and he was in there forever. He had gotten high with his brother. “Do you wanna smoke some shit tonight?”

  “What the hell, Derrick? Are you stupid? We could lose everything we’ve worked for, and they’ll drug test us!” I said in a panic. I knew that it was over for me. I immediately began feeling physical symptoms of wanting the drug. For the short amount of time that I used it, this drug was still hiding inside of me. It was waiting to be reactivated. I became jittery and anxious. I could almost smell the smoke. I was taught that the best way to stay clean was to simply avoid tempting situations. I actually doubted I could even if I tried. As long as I was with Derrick, I would be introduced to the temptation of the life-sucking drug, methamphetamine. I didn’t think I would have control. It had all the control. It had me rationalizing and making excuses as to why one time would be ok. I was being blinded by desire. I was mad as hell, because I knew that I probably could not say no. After losing everything I loved to this drug, I was becoming powerless to the situation.

  “Whatever. Just hurry up so we can go home,” I said. “Look if you don’t want to, I’m fine with that. I’ll go in and tell him never mind. You should see how much shit he has though! It’s gotta be over a pound!” he said excitedly. He knew that this mental vision would only secure his urge. He knew that I might give in. “I don’t care!” I yelled. “Just hurry up!” He returned to the house and came out a few minutes later. He started the truck, and I followed him home. I didn’t even use the meth yet, but I was already feeling like I had. I felt like an idiot for even considering it. Once again, my physical and mental desire for this drug was becoming strong.

  The next day I felt completely horrible and stupid. I wanted to confide in someone, but I knew that if I did, it would surely ruin my chances of getting my baby back. I had to keep this under lock and key, and never do it again. Everyone has a relapse; it’s normal - I would repeat to myself. The damage was done, and the only thing I could do was to try to move forward and do the best that I could. After this big screw up, I
realized how quickly and easily I would lose my chance of getting my baby back if I didn’t stay 100% on top of everything, including my sobriety.

  Chapter 51

  I was always excited to tell my mom about any recent news that was good. I desperately wanted her forgiveness, and maybe even one day her approval. When I spoke with her over the last year, the conversations were mostly good ones, but she always had a tone of doubt and fear in her voice. I would definitely never get her approval for as long as I was with Derrick. No matter how hard I tried, or how great of progress had been made, her granddaughters were gone, and she blamed him. As with everyone else who knew about the situation, there had to be someone to blame. If no one took the blame, there would be no closure, and nothing would make sense. It was her way of making sense of it all. I however, was left hanging. I couldn’t face reality - whatever it may have been. It was too mean, ugly and cruel. It wasn’t something I could allow to exist in my world. I became quiet and irritable every time she would bring it all up. There was nothing I could say. Nothing would make it okay, and nothing would bring them back to our family. The damage was done. I so badly just wanted my life to have a sense of normalcy. I wanted to be happy like other families. I wanted to have a man to show off to my family. I wanted a guy who loved and adored me and doted on my every move. After all, my twin sister had recently become engaged while stationed in Germany. I only spoke with her maybe once a month because the calls were so expensive, but she loved and accepted me and never brought anything up that she knew I didn’t want to think about. She just wanted to talk to me and joke around like we always had, remembering funny things we did as kids, or stupid things in high school. She is my twin and she always made sure that nothing ever changed that. After my mother asked me if I wanted steak or salmon as the main course for my sister’s upcoming wedding, I immediately knew that Derrick would not be invited. Derrick would never be that guy that I wanted him to be. Whether or not he had a say in it, it would never happen.

  “Salmon,” I replied in a dry tone. I was on the verge of tears, forcing myself to hide the fact that no matter how badly it upset me, he would never be invited to any family affairs. Getting upset would only reinforce to myself that a huge part of me hated myself for being with him. And the other small and barely-there part loved Derrick and had an emotional need to always stay by his side. He stuck by mine. He frequently reminded me of this. He came back to me under investigation and risking his image as the innocent one. The least I could do was just stay with him. He ignored the warnings of his friends and family to be with me, so I would do the same. It was only fair.

  My twin sister wanted me to be her maid of honor. I almost thought, for a split second, about just not going to the wedding at all. But then I remembered that Merri never said anything bad to me about Derrick or Donnie. She didn’t do anything wrong. She never hurt me. The family drama wasn’t her fault. She was simply getting married, and of course, expected me to be there. I spoke with Derrick and his mother about my mixed feelings of going to the wedding without him. They both understood and urged me to go and support my twin sister. With their approval, I felt better about going and finally gave my mother the green light. The wedding was on a weekend in August. I was excited to see my sister. I hadn’t seen her in a year and a half. She was so far away from me this entire time. I went to bed early on a Wednesday night. Merri and her friend from the Air Force were going to pick me up the next morning. I was scared and nervous, but so excited to hug my twin.

  The last time my entire family had gotten together was at my own wedding when I was only sixteen. With a brand new baby whom I cherished beyond words, working hard to finish school, and doing what I thought was the right thing to do, I had a beautiful and promising life ahead of me. With a beautiful little baby girl of only two months who looked just like me, Josh and I were washed from our mistakes and teenage sins as our ceremony closed with a family baptism. The guests at my wedding may have not have fully understood; they were witnessing one of the most symbolic, innocent and treasured moments of my life, memory and being. If there were ever to be such a heavenly and perfect transition into womanhood from childhood, this is what it would be. As the drops of pure and holy water ran down the soft, fuzzy head of my little girl, she offered the church and the guests her first real smile. God and his angels were standing with us on that bright, beautiful day, and it was even known to an infant.

  That was just a memory. I no longer had my baby and my adoring husband in this life. Those I lost were never going to come back. The three of us, which quickly became four, were one unit. We struggled in the end, but we always loved each other, and we were supposed to always have each other. The young woman, wife and mother that I had become, which had formed my identity who I loved and accepted, began to slowly and deceptively die that summer night, when I chose to run to Derrick.

  I’d fallen from a celestial, euphoric existence into a deep-rooted, deceptively suicidal burning pit. I didn’t have my new little family to come to the wedding with me. I was suffering, sad, ashamed and confused. I was horrified to be in the same room as just one family member from the day of my first wedding. I would soon be sitting in the same room alongside all of them - all of them and more. I’d have to be strong and remember that Merri’s wedding was a happy day for her to remember. I didn’t know how on earth I was going to hold myself together. As I drifted off to sleep just a few hours before dawn, the only thing I knew to do was pray.

  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

  Beep! Beep! Beep!

  What felt like only five minutes later, my alarm clock was screaming at me to get up and get in gear. Merri would be at my house in an hour, and I had to get dressed and pack my bag. We were going to be driving for about five hours to the Pacific Coast where the wedding would be. My stepdad rented the clubhouse at an upscale golf course and it was sounding like it was going to be a fancy affair. When I was all dressed and ready to go, I said goodbye to Derrick while he was halfway asleep in bed and grabbed my bag as I walked out the front door. I didn’t think it was necessary for Merri and her friend to actually come inside of my house. I wanted to avoid any conflict at all costs. Right as I nervously lit my cigarette, a small black car pulled into my driveway. The second I saw my twin step out of the passenger side door, I instantly forgot about the drama and excitedly ran to hug her. I forgot how short she was. It had been so long, but it was as if we had never been apart which I knew would be the case. We did share the same uterus together. I couldn’t ever expect anything less!

  My twin sister’s friend, Valerie, was really nice and friendly right away. That was a relief - so far so good. Merri handed me a small gift bag with shiny tissue paper sticking out from the top. “What’s this for?” I asked slightly confused. “Oh, it’s a gift! The bride is supposed to give all of the bridesmaids a gift,” she announced. I could instantly tell that my mom and Merri had gone completely all-out for this wedding. They must have done a number on my step-dad’s wallet! I smiled to myself.

  After opening my gift, which was a notepad with the sweetest letter a twin could ever write, I safely put my gift away inside the house before closing the door behind me. Before we officially got on the road, we had one quick last-minute detail to tend to. None of the bridesmaids had their shoes yet. As we were heading towards the “Y” shopping outlets to find matching shoes, Merri pulled her cell phone out of her purse and started talking to someone. It sounded like she was getting annoyed with whomever she was talking to. When she hung up the phone I put the pieces together and realized that she had been on the phone with Lilah. I guessed that Lilah didn’t want to be around me. I hadn’t heard from her since the last time I saw her in Court when she took the stand to testify all that she knew about the case and me as a mother. “Merri, I can just wait in the car if it makes it easier. It’s totally fine with me, I understand,” I offered, secr
etly hoping that I could get out of an awkward situation. “Liz, She’s being really immature right now and I’m not going to let her make you feel unwelcome. Plus, she’s with Jessica right now anyway, so it’s probably just making it worse.” Jessica was one of the girls that we had grown up with. We met her when we were only eight years old, and she almost became like a sister to us. Lilah always favored Jessica, and I started to believe that Jessica was the little sister Lilah always wanted to have but couldn’t because Jessica my friend. Their relationship never bothered me, up until this very day. I had accepted the fact that Lilah would probably never talk to me again. I was dealing with it, and I wasn’t going to let it get to me. However, when I found out that she was openly talking about not wanting to be around her disgusting little sister (me) in front of Jessica, I broke down. I felt like I was being ganged up on, and in that moment, I truly felt like scum. As a teenager I always looked up to Lilah and tried to impress her in any way that I could think of. She was the type of person who held herself above most everyone else and any person was lucky to be her friend.

  Lilah and Jessica met us in the shoe store after Merri told our mom how rotten she was being. I assumed that my mom called Lilah and chewed her out. Just as I expected, she walked into the store with her fake smile and gave me the fakest hug I’ve ever felt. I would have rather she just ignored me. It was insulting that she thought I was so stupid that I couldn’t see what was behind her two-faced behavior. I walked around the store pretending to be occupied with dresses and jewelry to avoid being stuck in a tiny aisle as they shuffled through boxes of shoes trying to find five matching pairs. When we were finally on the road for good, I couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of my family felt the same way about me. Was I that bad to be around? Was I really the scum of the earth that I felt like?