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Friday, July 3, 2009

The chronicle continues....

The last post in the autobiographical narrative of this is dated 12/03/08, if one wants to catch up.

Fast forward three years. Interior of Mexico, attempting to gain medical documents in an insurance scam case with disregard for the usual channels.

Once again, I do not speak Spanish.

Through ridiculous pantomime, a bit of mordida and ape like gestures I got what I came for.

Having passed a bit of a bribe to a border guard to expedite the process on gaining entry without too many questions, as I had absolutely no legal authority to be doing what I was doing in a foreign country, I felt smug.

Tracking the nefarious through foreign countries was pretty cool. I enjoyed it. For a time. But as with everything, a price will be exacted.

Sober four years and my twins were three years old. I was gone most of the time. Case after case.

My girls had a nodding acquaintance with Daddy. Back for a couple of days; a couple of tuck-ins, and gone again.

I didn't know it, but it was the beginning of the end, precluding years and years of ugliness between their Mother and I, and brief bits of it with them.

Lest one think the life of a real live Private Investigator is glamorous, consider if you will the following:

Exhibit A-I video taped an Insurance claimant from a Port-a- Potty, for eight hours, with an out-of-service sign on the door, at a Canton, Texas, trade day show. He was running a barbecue concession, claiming total disability. I will never forget the cloying smell of shit and barbecued turkey legs.

Exhibit B-I video taped another insurance claimant through a hole in my gym bag, while she conducted an aerobics class at an all black community center. She too, was claiming total disability.

Exhibit C- I staked out a Nigerian money laundering operation from an empty apartment, across from a Nigerian owned convenience store for three days, sleeping on the floor, with various people pounding on the door, screaming for someone named LaToya.

Either she was very popular or she owed some bad actors some cash.

There are many more of these exhibits; following unfaithful spouses, digging in to child abuse cases, tracking a stolen Lexus to a storage facility- somewhere in Kansas, and on, and on.

This was my job. I felt providing for my family was most important, as my wife at the time was not working, and from the growing impression on the couch, had no intention of it.

I will never get that time back with my girls, and if I had been going to regular meetings and working with a sponsor, maybe someone would have called me on it.

I wish they had.

The girls were making a foray into the child beauty pageant, commercial, modeling arena. I wasn't home enough to complain, but attended one event. Behind the scenes it was like Mother Bear's gnawing on pure adrenal gland.

Terrible ugliness, but my girls were darling.

The home life was headed down a narrow, steep, slope. It could only end crashing at the bottom. With any luck there would be survivors.

As we lay in bed one night she asked me an innocent, conversational question.

"You know what I'd like to be?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, " A size six?" What an asshole.

The crash had started and I never once pumped the brakes.

1 comment:

An Irish Friend of Bill said...

hope the recovery is working out this time and you are doing all your sponsors suggestions :)

im no expert on creative writing so I have no idea what to say about this written peice, but if it makes you happy writing, keep doing it! :)

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...