“She seems to care more about the bottle than she does about her family,” Craig said.
“She does,” Olivia said. “I mean look at it from her point of view. Her family disapproves of her drinking. The bottle, on the other hand, is her friend. Alcohol makes her feel good, relieves her stress and doesn’t criticize her. Sounds like a good friend to me.”
“Well, her friend is starting to make her look old.”
Olivia agreed. “She has been looking a little haggard lately. It’s a warning sign. Alcoholism ages everyone, but it’s especially hard on women.”
Robbie came into the kitchen looking for his dad. He was carrying two baseball gloves. Craig went outside to play catch with him.
Olivia was thankful she had a son-in-law like Craig. He cared so much about her daughter and was such a good dad. She wished she could convince Chrissie to go to A.A. but knew it wouldn’t work. She has to ask for help, Olivia thought. If I were to say anything, she would deny it. Craig’s our ace in the hole—he’ll do whatever it takes to get her sober. Olivia had already enlisted Joe’s help to encourage Craig to go to Alanon.
At dinnertime, they all stuffed themselves with Olivia’s famous roast beef dinner complete with Yorkshire pudding. Everyone vowed they would never eat this much again. They all pitched in to clear and stack dishes until Olivia shooed them away.
The kids went outside to play, and Chrissie went along to keep an eye on them. The men, excused from further duty, went back to football. Craig sensed Joe had something on his mind. It wasn’t long before he knew what it was.
“Tell me what’s going on, Craig? I hear you two are having problems.” Joe was a man of few words. Craig admired that about him.
“Not any more than most married couples these days. We’re busy raising kids and working long hours at Towercrest. We don’t seem to have a lot of time for each other.” Craig hoped that would satisfy Joe, and they could go back to watching football. Apparently, football could wait. Joe asked him, point-blank, about Chrissie’s drinking.
“I guess Olivia told you she and I’ve been talking,” Craig said.
“Absolutely. You know Liv and I share everything.”
“Actually, our nanny told me she has seen Chrissie pouring vodka into an orange juice bottle before she drives Robbie to playschool. And she often has both kids in the car with her.”
“Well,” Joe said, “has she?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to catch her. I’ve searched our house from top to bottom. If she’s hidden any booze, I can’t find it.”
Joe smiled. “Alkies are crafty devils. You’d be amazed at their ingenuity. The lengths they’ll go to in order to hide booze would boggle your mind.”
He told Craig that Olivia had been sober for a few years when she had a strange dream. She dreamt she hung a bottle of whiskey from a string attached beneath the base of their old milk delivery compartment beside the back door. Years before, when home milk delivery became a thing of the past, Joe replaced the outside door with plywood and plastered over it. He secured the inside compartment door, planning to remove it one day.
“Would you believe it, Craig? After Olivia told me about her dream, I pried open that inside door and lifted the plywood base. Underneath, I found a cup hook with a string attached and a long-forgotten, dusty, full bottle of whiskey hanging from it. I could have dry walled over that milk door, and no one, including me, would have ever known the bottle was there.”
Craig had totally underestimated the twisted imagination of an alcoholic. “That’s unbelievable. I wonder if Chrissie would ever do something like that?”
“Sure she sure would. Her mother did.”
“I never considered that. You’re absolutely right, Joe. Chrissie has probably hidden liquor somewhere in that house and I just can’t find it. At least now I know why. The most frustrating part of this whole thing is I can’t do anything about her drinking. I can’t talk to her about it. I have trouble trying to talk to Chrissie about anything she doesn’t want to hear. And God help me if I disagree with her. She flies off the handle and we end up in a shouting match. It’s like I’m not allowed to have my own opinion on anything.”
Joe agreed. “That’s Chrissie, all right. She’s a bear if anyone disagrees with her. It’s not worth the hassle.”
“Don’t I know it! She always blames everybody else for her problems. It’s never her fault.”
“Typical alcoholic personality trait, kid,” Joe said. “And by the way, you can do something about it.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s about time you went to Alanon. Those folks will help you.”
“Olivia said the same thing. But how do I deal with Chrissie in the meantime?”
“Go to Alanon,” Joe said. “It’s the best thing for both of you.” Craig wished Joe could help him deal with Chrissie’s attitude. He knew in his heart no one could.
Craig and Joe heard Heather screaming. They scrambled out of their chairs and ran outside. Olivia was standing with Robbie. Chrissie was carrying Heather to the car.
Craig could see blood on Heather’s head. “Is she okay, Chrissie?”
“She cut her head!” Chrissie put Heather into the back seat then quickly climbed behind the wheel. “She’s bleeding and needs stitches!” Chrissie slammed the door, and her tires threw gravel as she sped out of the yard.
“Be careful, Chrissie,” Craig said. She was already out the front gate onto the main road.
Craig went over to Robbie to make sure he was okay. Olivia gave Craig a reassuring wink. Craig asked what happened. Robbie said he climbed his favorite big tree, and Heather followed him up. He told Heather to climb down, but she was too scared and couldn’t go back. Robbie was climbing down to help her, but she fell. She bounced off a big branch near the bottom before hitting the ground.
“I thought your mother was with you,” Craig said.
“She wasn’t around when it happened, Dad. She went to the car to get a drink of orange juice.”
Craig looked at Joe and Olivia. The look on their faces told the story. Their family was in crisis. But the most serious crisis had yet to be revealed.
Even to Olivia.
CHAPTER TEN
Prognosis
Heather whispered from the hallway. “Robbie? You awake?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m scared. Can I come and sleep with you?”
“Sure, Headie. C’mon.”
This was happening more and more often. Their parents were arguing. Robbie and Heather used to sneak to the top of the stairs to watch, until the night they got caught. Now, they hide in their rooms waiting for the fighting to stop. It usually did after the front door slammed. But tonight was different. Tonight, their father was yelling as loudly as their mother.
Chrissie and Craig were in a full-scale war. What initiated the disagreement was forgotten and lost in the screaming. They were both saying horrible things they didn’t mean; each trying to out hurt the other. Afterward, they would regret using such nasty language. Right now, in the heat of battle, all that mattered was winning. Craig’s parting shot was followed by a definitive door slam. Chrissie stormed into the living room and collapsed into a fetal sobbing mass on the couch.
Heather fell asleep beside Robbie, her arm thrown across his chest. Robbie stared at the ceiling. He knew something was very wrong. He was worried about what might happen to him and his little sister.
Craig drove around, trying to cool off. He drove out of Botsford Downs to a scenic lookout with a panoramic view of the city. Craig enjoyed this spot and did some of his best thinking here. Tonight, he looked out over the houses and wondered how many couples were going through the same troublesome times as he and Chrissie. How many would make it—and how many would end in divorce?
* * *
The months since Heather’s accident at Joe
and Olivia’s had been tough. I had to confront Chrissie about her drinking, Craig thought. I mean she was endangering her own children.
Throughout that winter, Craig and Chrissie drifted further apart. They argued more than they laughed—more war than peace. Craig had finally stood up to her. He had to make a stand, or Chrissie would crush him. He regretted tolerating her browbeating for so many years. I should have stood up to her a long time ago, but I didn’t have the guts. It wasn’t worth the hassle. Now, I can’t take it anymore. I have to either fight back or shrink into oblivion.
Spring turned to summer and now, in the fall, their relationship was in tatters. Chrissie refused to accept any blame, insisting she was right. She accused Craig of ruining their relationship and even accused him of having an affair. Nothing remained even remotely resembling a marriage.
* * *
The headlights of a passing car jolted Craig from his thoughts. He headed for home. Chrissie would be in bed, asleep. He would, once again, sleep in the den. I’ll apologize in the morning, he thought. And I’ll never lose control again, no matter what she says to provoke me.
Chrissie was sitting at the kitchen table when Craig opened the door from the garage. Oh great. Here we go again.
“Sorry I got so mad,” he said. “It’s just … you know the right buttons to push and—”
“Craig, our problems have suddenly become very small.”
Craig heard the worried tone in her voice. “What is it?”
“It’s mom. She’s going in for a biopsy tomorrow.” Chrissie explained Olivia had been to see Dr. Stuart for her annual checkup. He found an irregularity on her chest x-ray. A radiologist confirmed a biopsy was in order. “Mom’s doing okay. She’s hoping for the best.” With that, she ran to Craig and hugged him for dear life. “Oh, Craigie. I don’t want my mom to die.”
Craig couldn’t believe Olivia might die. He held Chrissie tight. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said. “Your mom is a strong lady.”
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Chrissie said.
Craig tried to comfort her. “We’ll get through it. I promise.”
The next day, Craig and Chrissie met Joe at the hospital. Chrissie ran to her father and melted into his arms. “Oh, Daddy. How’s mom? Have you talked to Dr. Stuart? How are you?”
“I’m okay, baby, settle down. All we can do now, is wait. Hey, Craig.” Joe reached out and shook his hand. Joe gave Craig a wink and a strained smile.
After the bronchoscope, Olivia was moved to a recovery room near the I.C.U. The local anesthesia used to suppress her cough and swallowing reflex had made her nauseous. Eventually, the sedative effect wore off, and she was quite alert when Dr. Stuart came in.
Dr. Scott Stuart had been Olivia’s G.P. for over twenty years. They had long ago passed the impersonal doctor-patient relationship. They had become friends. Olivia always reminded him she wanted the truth, no matter what. She was an educated, articulate woman, and Dr. Stuart respected her. He knew Olivia had a great deal of medical knowledge and was capable of handling the truth. He prayed she could handle this truth.
“Hi, Liv,” Dr. Stuart said. “Still feeling nauseous?”
“No, Scott, and quit beating around the bush. What is it?”
“Would you like Joe in here, or is it gonna be just you and me?”
“You and me, Doc. We can tell him later. Get to the point.”
“Okay. The news is not good. The biopsy showed malignant tumors in both lungs. It looks like oat cell carcinoma, but we’re going to double-check. We’ll run more tests later today.”
“Then what?” Olivia asked. “Surgery?”
“Not an option with this type of tumor, I’m afraid. This is small cell lung cancer. You have extensive tumors in the central areas of your lungs. We can’t get at them.”
A sudden rush of fear and panic was making Olivia’s voice quiver. “What do we do?”
“We’ll start radiation and combination chemotherapy right away.”
“How long do I have?”
“Listen, let’s not go there yet. We’re getting some amazing results from—”
“Be straight with me, Scotty!”
“This is a very aggressive form of carcinoma, Liv. It metastasizes quickly. We think it’s advanced but—”
“How long, Doc? Years—months?”
“Months. But we’ll help you fight this.”
Tears were running down Olivia’s cheeks. “Gonna be one hell of a fight, Scotty. I don’t give up easily.”
“I know, Liv. I’ll be right in your corner the whole time.” They were both in tears as they hugged, two old friends comforting one another.
Joe spotted Dr. Stuart walking down the corridor towards him and knew the news was bad. I can tell by the look on his face. I’m going to lose my Olivia.
The doctor explained what he had told Olivia. Joe took the news as best he could. He told Scott he knew Olivia was a lot sicker than she let on. She had lost weight and had a raspy cough that wouldn’t go away. He finally talked her into going for her annual physical a month early.
“She’s smoked for a lot of years, Doc. I begged her to quit—but she couldn’t.”
“She just did,” Dr. Stuart said. “Too late, but it shows she wants to fight this.”
“I know my wife, and she’ll never give up. She loves life too much.”
“She loves you too, Joe. She always said you were a good man, and I agree.”
“Thanks, Doc. And you’re a dear friend.”
Joe walked to the dayroom before going in to see Olivia. He couldn’t stop the tears. He had to be strong for his wife, be her rock and keep it together. He stopped in a visitor’s restroom to splash his face with cold water. Joe looked in the mirror and told himself he was strong enough to get through this. “Now, I have to see my Livvie. She needs me.”
Joe and Olivia cried in each other’s arms. Words were useless. They kissed and looked into each other’s eyes to the depths of their souls. A strange calmness enveloped them. They were two very lucky people. They had shared many wonderful years together—in love and happy.
Chrissie took the news hard. She needed Craig’s support. She wasn’t strong enough to face this alone. Craig told her he would do whatever he could to help her. At the same time, Craig worried Chrissie would use her mother’s death as an excuse to drink even more.
Another thought was bothering Craig. I don’t understand why good people like Olivia have to die, and scum like pedophiles and rapists get to live. It doesn’t make any sense!
Dr. Stuart was explaining the treatment regimen to Chrissie when Craig interrupted him. Craig was angry and wanted to know how a doctor could possibly know how much time someone had to live. The doctor tried to explain but Craig continued to question him. “What’s your proof, Doc?”
“Statistics on this type of cancer. We’ve seen this many times and—”
Craig interrupted him. “But you don’t know for sure—do you?”
Dr. Stuart understood Craig was upset and having trouble accepting the facts. He continued his discussion with Chrissie. Craig didn’t acknowledge him when he left.
Craig and Chrissie put on a brave face when they saw Olivia. Olivia told them she knew it would be an uphill battle, but she was ready. Joe said he would stay with her until she fell asleep tonight. Chrissie hugged her mom and didn’t want to let go. Olivia told her to be brave. Chrissie hurried out of the room. Craig couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat. He kissed Olivia on the cheek and quickly turned away.
“Take care of my little girl, Craig,” Olivia said. “She needs you now, more than ever.”
Craig and Chrissie didn’t speak on the way home. They were each deep in their own thoughts as they drove along. A light rain was falling. It seemed appropriate.
Craig was thinking about how difficult the days
ahead would be for Olivia. Radiation and chemotherapy do horrible things to a person. She would never be the same. Neither would their family. He worried about Robbie and Heather. How would they understand and cope with the loss of their grandma?
Chrissie was thinking about how much she needed a very large cocktail.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Downhill Battle
Joe pushed the talk button on the control yoke. “Gander, Worldwide one ninety-four heavy is leaving flight level three-three-oh for three-seven-oh.”
“Roger, Worldwide one ninety-four heavy. We check you leaving three-three-oh for three-seven-oh,” the Gander controller said. “Call level at three-seven-oh.”
“And we’ll call level at three-seven-oh—Worldwide one ninety-four,” Joe said.
Joe welcomed the tedium of a trans-Atlantic flight. He needed the diversion. The last few months had been extremely stressful. He had watched his Olivia endure radiation and chemotherapy. Joe was with her for most of the visits to the cancer clinic. When he was away on a flight, Craig took over. The radiation and chemotherapy treatments had taken a heavy toll on Olivia. She slept most of the time. She had lost her appetite and most of her hair. She never complains, Joe thought. She’s one amazing lady.
Joe advised they were coming up to thirty-seven thousand feet. The first officer Wayne Foster pulled back on the thrust leavers and engaged the altitude hold. The Boeing 747-200 would now be flown on autopilot. Joe, Wayne and the flight engineer Randy Peters were reduced to “clock-watchers”, monitoring the flight control and system instruments over the next many hours. The tedium would only be broken by mandatory radio calls. This was the longest stretch of the flight and was much more enjoyable with pilots you liked, agonizing if not.
Joe spoke into his headset. “Gander, Worldwide one ninety-four heavy is level at three-seven-oh.” He rolled his eyes and feigning extreme boredom, yawned at Wayne. This was Wayne’s leg, one of his first on type. Joe was the aircraft captain, but on this portion of the flight he was performing the duties of a first officer. After a two-day layover, Joe would bring her home.