Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story

by E. McNew

  I called my mom crying again. She had to be getting tired and stressed out from all of these horrific stories. She said what she could to comfort me, but I knew that as long as I was with Derrick, I would never really be safe. That night, Derrick came home acting as if nothing even happened in the first place. I still didn’t know how I should react to him, because he had been becoming more and more unpredictable. He sat in the office while I laid on the couch blankly staring at the TV. “Elizabeth, come here,” he demanded. I went into the office to see what he wanted. “You wanna smoke some shit?” he asked. I had head that phrase come out of his mouth more times than I could count. It was his way of saying I know you don’t really want to get high, and I know you don’t want to live the life of a drug addict, but I know that if I ask you, you can’t say no. It was almost as if it was his way of justifying his own use. As long as he had the green light from me, it was my fault that we were addicted to meth. And of course, I couldn’t say no. My body and my mind were trained to instantly accept this evil substance. It lied to me when it always told me that it would make me feel better.

  The next morning, I read the newspaper online with my coffee as I always had when I woke up. On the front page was a picture of a young man who went to the same school as I did. His name looked familiar, so I clicked on the article. This brave man was killed in Iraq. He was a native to Tahoe, and he was also the brother of a girl whom I had become acquainted with over the years. She was on the same cheerleading team as Merri and I, and she also worked at the daycare that Chloe, Zoe and Danielle attended. My heart was breaking for her and her family.

  Derrick and I took a drive into town to get breakfast and then continue our binge at Donnie and Casie’s house after. The radio was on one of our favorite country stations, and a song started to play that instantly reminded me of the soldier that was killed, and what his family must be going through. This is just a dream… the song went on. I got dizzy and started feeling sick. I reached into my purse to swallow what was left of my last anti-anxiety pill. Derrick knew that when I reached for those pills, I was in distress. He was surprisingly compassionate, but he didn’t ask me why I was having a panic attack. I didn’t tell him either. I was feeling incredibly guilty and selfish. Soldiers were fighting in a war overseas in a totally foreign and dangerous place while I was wallowing in self-pity and getting high every minute that I had the chance. Soldiers like the one in the paper were losing their young lives to keep a low life like myself safe and free. My morals, values and everything I once held a firm grip on were gone. They had faded away and I hadn’t even stopped to notice it. I thought about the grieving family and prayed for them every day for the next month. I wanted God to know that I still cared, and a part of my true self was still in me, begging to come out. I prayed and asked God for his help to just get me out of the situation, no matter what it would take. Although my prayers weren’t immediately answered, God gave me plenty of warnings and chances to run away. I had them all along.

  Chapter 60

  The days went by, the pain lingered, and nothing changed for the better. Moving out of our home to get away from Donnie was only a temporary fix. In a sense, it probably heightened our drug use simply because we were able to go home at the end of the day and leave when he started getting crazy. Excitement was building around Casie’s pregnancy though. I put together a baby shower for her, and I got to meet her family. They were all nice, and definitely seemed like they were clean. Casie had two younger sisters. I started to see them more regularly as everyone was stopping by their house to see how Casie was doing. Eventually, it felt like they were a second family. Casie’s mom always seemed to stay positive and have a good attitude about things. It was refreshing to be around her. She was unaware of the drug use that was going on, and we were all pretty good at hiding it. On a cold October night, a few hours after Derrick and I had returned home, the phone rang. It was Marney. “Hey, what’s up?” I asked. “Oh nothing much. Just watching preggers here stand over the toilet and wondering why she can’t stop peeing on herself.” I laughed, “Really? I’m so excited! Is she getting contractions yet?” I asked. “Yeah, she’s getting a few. But she wanted me to call you to tell you what was going on. We’re waiting for her mom to get here to take her to the hospital.” I told Marnie that I would be there first thing in the morning, but to call me if she started progressing super fast.

  Casie and I spent a lot of time together over the last months. It was her first pregnancy, and she always had questions to ask me knowing that I would probably had some helpful advice. My respect for her grew over this simple fact. She was paying attention to her pregnancy, and I thought that it was a good sign. Her maternal instincts were kicking in, and with the chaos that was always happening in that house, I thought that they should probably be in overdrive. Derrick and I had discussions about how Donnie would be as a father. There were rumors of him abusing Marnie’s children, and we knew that he had a violent temper when he was coming down from meth. His violent temper mixed with his delusions, which were happening more and more, was a very dangerous combination. I did some research on mood disorders to see if I could find out what was wrong with him. He was progressing into insanity more and more each day. I came to the conclusion that he was either bipolar, which became worse with the use of drugs, or he had meth-induced psychosis. Whatever it was, it was scary.

  The next morning I woke up hours before the usual eager to get to the hospital to see how Casie was doing and if she had the baby yet. Derrick had to work, so he had to drop me off early at the hospital. I tried to tame my excitement when I walked into the hospital room. Casie wasn’t happy, which was a good sign! It meant that she would hopefully have this baby sooner than later. Her entire family was there, and we all quietly kept each other occupied. I was surprised to see that Donnie seemed to be calm and collected. He stayed that way for most of the time. I thought that perhaps he might have been sober. The baby wasn’t born until later that night. When it was time for her to push, Casie’s cries from the pain gave me flashbacks, and I had some anxiety over it. I thought I could handle it just fine, but because I remembered exactly what she was feeling, it freaked me out. Her mom and Donnie were the only ones allowed in the delivery room. I was glad, because I was on the verge of fainting. Her sisters and I were curious to know what was happening. We came up with a sneaky idea to go outside and around the hospital to the window of the room she was in. “Holy crap!” I whispered. “I can’t believe the window is open and the curtains aren’t shut!” I exclaimed. We sat on the grass, leaning against the wall of the hospital building. We were too scared to look, plus it just made us feel like creepers. So we listened. In only about thirty minutes, we heard a few cries of pain and suddenly, a squeaky cry. The baby had made it safely into this world and it was a boy! Casie’s sister had a tear streaming down her cheek and of course it caused a chain reaction. There was nothing more beautiful than the birth of a new life. The sound of this baby crying was so sweet and innocent, and I prayed that he would be safe and taken care of. I vowed to myself that I was going to be there for Casie as much as she needed me, and maybe I could, in some way, give back support and help protect him.

  Derrick arrived at the hospital when the nurses were cleaning the baby up in the nursery. We were standing in the entrance doting and snapping hundreds of pictures. I stepped in a little further after the nurse told us it was okay to go in. I saw the same rocking chair that I sat in not too long ago, holding my own newborn baby, and grieving over her being torn from me. It all came back, abruptly and vividly. I was having a flashback. The nurse looked at me, and I think she could sense that something wasn’t right. My eyes were watery, but I held my tears in. “You can come in further to see him, if you want,” she softly offered. “Oh it’s okay, I don’t want to be in the way,” I smiled in response. “Are you sure?” she asked again, concerned. “Yes, I’ll get to see him plenty when he goes home, and I think my fiancé is here to take me home anyway,” I said, as I
backed out of the room. I was flooded with emotions.

  I was sad and missing Danielle, and I was angry and jealous that Donnie and Casie were getting to take their baby home. At least Derrick and I had both been sober and truly wanted to stay that way. Why is the system so backwards? I asked myself, trying to find some sort of answer. I went back to the hospital room to say goodbye to Casie, but she was still being taken care of by the doctor. Derrick approached me, after he took a quick glance at the new baby. “So why the hell have you been talking to other dudes?” he quietly growled under his breath. I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. I tried to blow it off, but he kept pushing me and pushing me. “Can I just have a ride home, please?” I asked, trying to avoid a repeat life-threatening situation. “You can fuckin’ walk!” he casually said. It was probably less than twenty degrees outside. I was wearing close-toed heels, which would probably cause me to slip and fall. I did not want to have to walk home. He wasn’t letting up with this accusation though, and he was beginning to get loud about it in the attempt to humiliate me. It was getting late, and I was tired and emotionally exhausted. I gave in and started walking home. I was freezing, but I walked as fast as I could to heat my body temperature up. I heard screeching tires behind me, and I quickly veered to the side of the road. It was sounding like I was about to be run over. Derrick pulled up next to me “Hey! Get in,” he yelled. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” I cried, wiping the tears from my face before they froze to it. I wanted him to actually act like he wanted to take care of me. I wanted him to at least pretend that he was sorry. He did none of that.

  "Have fun walking then," he said as he sped off. I couldn't figure out what was going on. I knew for a fact that I had not been talking to any other man at all. I couldn't figure out where this idea came from and I didn't even know what I did to deserve the torture. It wasn't until later that I realized that he was probably acting this way because he was also grieving over the loss of our own daughter, and wondering why his brother was able to keep his child. Either way, the baby was adorable and we loved him regardless. We may have had some jealousy issues, but they were no one else's fault but our own. When I finally got home, I was surprised that Derrick hadn't even arrived yet. He's probably out getting high with his brother as a way to celebrate the new baby, I thought. I took off my jacket and I turned up the heater. I put my pajamas on and began to get ready for bed. Derrick came home, and he still had his cocky attitude. I was sick of it and I didn't deserve it. "What the hell is your problem?" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "I haven't done anything wrong to you at all, and on a day when you know that I'm sad and emotional, you go out of your way to talk a bunch of shit that doesn't even make sense." I yelled even louder. He was already amped up for some reason, and raising my voice was the worst mistake that I could have made at the moment. I was standing in the kitchen with my arms in the air staring him in the eyes. I saw red, burning fury. My intuition told me to run.

  I bolted down the hallway as he was gripping the orange clay pot that held up an indoor tree; the tree had become all I had left to love and nurture. When I witnessed him angrily tear it out of the pot, the strong bamboo roots not standing a chance, I felt the fear of death pumping through my veins. Knowing my life depended on it, I leaped into the bathroom as I heard the whoosh of the heavy pot racing past my head. The loud shatter and storm of soil brought a gasp to my soul. Locking the door behind me, I knew that if he wanted me dead, this frail trailer door would not save me. I opened the blinds to the tiny window above the toilet, hoping that my older neighbor might be home to hear my screams. Silence overcame the weak trailer walls. The only sound I could recognize was the fast beat of my broken and empty heart. An overwhelming desire to surrender my life exhausted me, as I opened the door and fearlessly walked into the hallway. Pale, with clenched fists, he was eerily silent. The gaze of Satan on his face pierced my conscious awareness of where I was and who I had become.

  I avoided his eyes all together, hoping it wouldn’t encourage any more violence. I was shaking as my hands reached for my purse. It was only a few feet away from him. I needed my anti-anxiety pills. I felt panic raging through my body, and I wanted to nip it before it got out of control, and pissed Derrick off even more. As I pulled the medication bottle out of my purse, he suddenly and fiercely slapped the bottle straight out of my hand. It fell to the floor. I couldn’t bend down to get it, because it would put me in a vulnerable position and he could easily knock me out. He snatched the bottle up, opened the lid, and walked into the hallway where the pile of dirt and broken clay was resting. He dumped all of the contents of the bottle into the dirt. “Derrick! Stop! I need those and you know that!” I screamed, in tears and begging him to have some sort of compassion. “Fuck you, and your pills!” he roared, as he began smashing them into the dirt and grinding them with his shoe. I couldn’t believe that he had gone to this extent when I hadn’t done anything wrong in the first place. When he was finished crushing up the only thing that took away my anxiety, which was mostly caused by him, he left the house. I sat on the floor in the pile of dirt, with it splattered all over my pajamas and face from his attempt to kill me with the pot, sobbing and trying to recover any pieces of my relief that I could. I felt just as filthy on the inside as I was on the outside. He showed me first-hand that I was nothing but dirt.

  Chapter 61

  The very next day after this fight, we sat down and had a talk. It was calm, and it was civil. He was the one that initiated the conversation. He must have woke up and felt bad about the night before. I slept on the couch, and being my stubborn self, I was not going to be the one to do any ass kissing. He opened up to me and told me that last night was extremely hard for him as well. He said that he was pissed off because his brother is such a screw-up, and did nothing to deserve the baby, but still got to take him home. Although I was still sickened by him, I shook my head in agreement and I was glad that he was at least talking about it. I told him that I felt the same way, and the way he treated me last night hurt my feelings even more and caused me to lose trust for him. "I want to be able to trust you Derrick. You are all that I have right now, and if I can't trust you, then I can't trust anyone. You make it hard when you suddenly accuse me of things when I do nothing to deserve that. Of course I'm gonna get mad and start yelling, you would do the same thing." "Listen. I feel really bad about what I did, and I know that there is no excuse for it. All I can do is apologize and try to work on my temper." I thought that it was a half ass apology, but I didn't really have anywhere to go, so I sort of had to accept it.

  We got dressed and went to Donnie and Casey's house to visit the baby. Everything seemed like it was pretty stable over there for the first time ever. It just seemed like they were two happy parents, and the baby was content and sleeping. We passed him around, and left to go get dinner. On the way to one of our favorite restaurants at the casino on the very top floor, Derrick unexpectedly brought something up. "So, when are we getting married? Is that still even happening?" He laughed, only halfway serious. "I don't know. Do you still want to marry me?" "I don't know, you're pretty," he said, raising one eyebrow and giving me a grin." I sighed, "Okay, so that means yes." I gave him my snotty look that I knew he secretly loved. "Why don't we stop at that chapel that's on the highway that they just put in place of that old tax office?" I asked him. For future reference, I am curious to see how much it would cost to get married. I also thought it would be something fun to do before we went to eat. We pulled into the parking lot of the tiny chapel and rang the doorbell. A short, chubby woman opened the door and she was extremely bubbly and chipper. She invited us in and asked us if we were ready to get married. "Well, I don't know about right now, but we did want to find out what the fees are," Derrick said. I sarcastically made a comment in response to Derrick’s comment. "Now, we're just friends, but we thought it would be interesting to come to a chapel and find out all there is to know about getting married." The woman laughed, and I think I kind
of confused her. She showed us where the ceremony takes place, and she went over the fees with this, which weren't as high as we expected. Derrick had just gotten paid, so we were actually entertaining the idea. We thanked the woman for the tour and went to our dinner.

  While we were eating, we talked about it further. "So, do you just want to go get married tomorrow?" he asked me. He was getting more serious about it, and I had been bugging him about it pretty much since we got together. I wasn't jumping for joy, but I thought that maybe it would help our relationship, and it would be good for our daughter to know that we loved each other. "Let's just go for the marriage license tonight, and then we can think about it." We went back to the chapel that was open 24 hours, and the woman became really excited thinking that we had returned to get married. "Not just yet, but we did want to go ahead and get the marriage license. That way when we do decide to tie the knot, we will at least have some of the paperwork out-of-the-way." As we were filling out the paperwork and providing our driver’s licenses to the woman, we both became a little impulsive and just decided to pay for our wedding, which would be the next day. As we were sitting at her office desk, I shamelessly looked at Derrick. "We might as well just prepay for it now, because if we don't do that, we are never going to end up getting married." He shrugged his shoulders, with a look on his face that indicated he knew I was probably right. We paid almost $300 and knew that because it was such a good chunk of money, we were going to have to go back the next day and actually follow through. I had nothing to wear, so we figured that we would go to one of the department stores down the highway before we left for the chapel in the morning. I didn't want to get super fancy, but I at least wanted to look nice for pictures.