Head in the Clouds

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How far would you go to provide for your family?
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Slirpuff
Slirpuff
4,277 Followers

I've loved my wife from the first time I looked into her beautiful emerald green eyes fifteen years ago. But, it doesn't stop me from looking at a good-looking girl that happens to walk by while we're in the mall. In reality, every guy does no matter what he tells his wife. However, it's what a guy does after that, is what makes him a loving husband or a cheating louse. I may ogle a bit, wonder what she looks like under that short skirt, but then I squeeze my wife's hand, grab a kiss, and count my blessings that I have her next to me. We're in it for the long haul and we both know it, because after having two kids what else could life throw at us that would change how we feel about each other?

Don't get me wrong; I'm no saint, far from it. And I've been reminded, on more than one occasion, that I still have a bit of a temper at times, but all in all my life is pretty normal. We live in your standard three/two house in one of the suburbs just out of the downtown area. We're your typical middle-aged family with two pre-teen kids, a cat and a dog I swear is friggen brain dead.

I'm a manager in a manufacturing plant twenty minutes from home and my wife works four days a week in a nearby dental office. She does the billing and keeps his records up to date on his computer. Life was pretty good until two months ago when we started to get a little slow at work.

When our backlog started to shrink, no one thought too much about it. Hell, it was only the first week of February and business was always slow at that time of the year. But, when it hadn't picked up by the end of March the powers to be started to get worried. Concern continued to grow because by summer we should have been slammed but weren't. We had enough work to keep busy but that was about it. Everyone was told to use their vacation on the books, to ease the manpower situation a bit, but it wasn't enough.

When September rolled around the general manager said that instead of laying off people, he were going to cut everyone's hours by ten percent. A few bitched, but most were happy no one was losing their jobs. My wife Monica and I cut back on a few extras and hardly noticed the loss of income; but it didn't get better, it only got worse.

Just after Thanksgiving, upper management laid off almost fifteen percent of our workforce, and cut everyone else's hours back by another ten percent. I hated to see those guys let go, because everyone knew one another, and we were all pretty tight. Everyone was still upbeat and said this was just a bump in the road, but it wasn't.

By the Holidays we were all sweating it. Business was dismal and when the plant decided to shut down for the two weeks between the holidays; I used the rest of my vacation and the sick time I'd accrued.

My wife and I scaled way back on Christmas, we had no choice. Our two kids, Jerome twelve and Terry ten, were give two gifts each, but Monica and I didn't exchange gifts for the first time ever. I spent many a night wondering what would happen if I got laid off but figured being a manager and with my seniority it would never happen.

After the first of the year we got a rush of orders and everyone figured the worst was over but it wasn't. Like us, our customers had let their inventories get too low and had to replace what had been sold, but that was all. They were now using us as their own personal warehouse and we only got orders to replace what they actually sold. It seems they all now wanted it at half the price and delivered yesterday.

Just before Valentine's Day half of the remaining crew was let go and the rest? Well we were put on half time four days a week. We'd been dipping into our savings every month to cover the short fall, but now we'd have to make some hard financial decisions.

I didn't have many toys, but what we had hit the auction block. With the economy in the toilet I got little more than half their purchased value. I was angry about having to sell them, and got even angrier at what I had to let them go for. I got hosed and the buyers got a great deal.

The credit cards were put away. I wanted to cut them up but Monica said we needed to keep them in case of emergencies. Stopping for a beer after work became a thing of the past and my Wednesday bowling night would never materialized this year.

Jerome's baseball and soccer teams would have to do without him this year and Terry's dance classes also were over until the economy improved.

When Monica was cut back to three days a week things got tighter if that was even possible. The two of us sat down one night and figured we had enough for the house payment and food that was it; there had to be more cut backs.

Both kids screamed when we had to cancel our cable and high-speed internet service. I gave up my cell phone but Monica kept hers because of the kids. Now, it became a real a treat to have dinner at McDonalds because that was about all we could afford now.

Since I was a kid, I'd hated hot dishes or casseroles, as some people called them. Real meat around our house was getting to be a rarity and tuna noodle and Hamburger Helper of all types is what I now saw in our pantry. A garden was planted and it became our children's job to tend it. I got tired of beans and rice and would have killed to have a juicy steak, but that wasn't in our budget any longer.

When the transmission went out on my truck it took most of our savings to fix it. For a couple of weeks I took Monica's car and she rode her bicycle to her job, but when she got caught in the rain half way to work, that ended that. We now had only a couple hundred dollars in the checking account and nothing in savings.

I didn't think it could get any worse but I was wrong. I was cut back again at work. I guess I was more than a little angry and as nicely as I could, I expressed my displeasure.

"Steve, be happy you've still got a damn job," I was told. That shut me up.

We weren't making it any longer and I was pissed most of the time now. Our sex life was the only thing they couldn't take away from me, or so I thought.

"Hon, we're going to be short about a hundred and fifty a month. Our property taxes are going up and All State just informed me that our house insurance is going up after the first of the year," my wife explained to me one night after the kids had gone to bed. We were screwed.

Monica got an evening job in retail for the Holidays. We had to inform our kids that there would be only one present each this year at Christmas and that it had to be under fifty dollars. They took it a lot better than I did.

With the extra money Monica earned we were again just making it, but she was so tired when she got home there was little if any lovemaking. A treat for her was when I'd rub her sore feet with lotion before she'd fall asleep on me.

When everyone who was left was given a two-week layoff I almost bit through my tongue, instead of losing it and saying something stupid again. The damn owner was still going out to lunch every day and when he drove in after the first of the year in a brand new car I about lost it.

I ranted and raved at home for two days, using language I probably shouldn't have in front of my kids, but I was at my wits end. "It wasn't fair, damn it, it just wasn't fair," but what was anymore.

In this economy, downsizing our house wasn't an option. We were flipped on it and even if we found someone to buy it, we couldn't come up with the down payment on another one, even if it was smaller.

Monica and I had never argued in the past, but now it seemed that no matter what I said, or did, it was wrong. Arguments became the norm rather than the exception. When our lovemaking went from three times a week to maybe once every three weeks; I began to give her a hard time about it. On night, after an unpleasant exchange, Monica informed me that if I was that horny, to go into the bathroom and use my hand; it erupted into the worst fight of our fifteen-year marriage. I wasn't a total asshole, but dug my heels in and said more than a few things I shouldn't have. In our three bedroom house there was no spare bedroom to go to, so at night when we went to bed, we were together yet apart.

After two more weeks of almost no talking, and no relief in sight, I sold the remaining items of any value; the gold watch Monica had given to me as a wedding present and my wedding ring itself. There was nothing left. The white ring around my finger stood out like a sore thumb and at dinner Monica noticed, but said nothing, at least then in front of our children.

"Where's your wedding ring Steve?" she asked, after Jerome and Terry were down for the night.

"Gone, along with my watch."

"You sold your damn wedding ring?"

"It wasn't being used much and besides, I didn't think you'd notice."

She didn't respond. She just walked away shaking her head. I thought I'd at least get a little rise out of her; guess we'd grown further apart than I'd thought. It was quieter than normal in our bedroom that night. I could tell Monica was awake but said nothing, no use getting into it besides what would be the point.

Two days later, I noticed that Monica wasn't wearing her engagement or wedding ring. While she was doing the dishes I snuck upstairs and looked in her jewelry box. They, along with everything I had ever given her was missing.

"Please tell me you didn't pawn your rings," I said to her back, as she washed the dishes at the sink. She said nothing.

I know Monica heard me yell "SHIT!" Hell, the whole fucking neighborhood probably heard it before I raced up the stairs and slammed our bedroom door.

It was hours later that I heard a loud thud outside in the hall. It sounded like something had fallen against the wall. Opening the door I found Monica sitting on the floor, her back up against the wall, her knees up, and she was crying into her hands. She never looked up.

There isn't a power on earth more powerful than a wife's tears. I was mad, hell I was furious at her for selling her jewelry, but at that moment it no longer mattered. Some things are more important than material objects; like her and my two kids. I slid down next to her and pulled her into my arms.

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive a stupid husband." She wept on my shoulder for the better part of twenty minutes. I turned to her and held her face in my two hands. "Whether you believe it or not, we're going to make it. As God as my witness, I won't fail you." I wasn't sure how, but for my family I'd find a way.

Both of our parents were retired and on fixed incomes, so hitting them up for a loan was out of the question. There was nothing left of any value to sell, so I did the only thing I could. I used to see the winos line up at the blood bank and looked at them with disgust; not any more. At least once a week I was one of them now. They would take two pints of blood, keep the white blood cells and pump the red ones back into me. I never told Monica. With that extra one hundred and seventy-five a month, we were now once again breaking even.

With Monica's two part time jobs, my half time job and the blood money, we were paying our monthly bills but were falling behind on our mortgage payments. When the damn house insurance and taxes went up, so did our mortgage payment. I could see us losing our home down the road if I couldn't find a way to get us over the hump. I hid that from Monica and even made it a point to smile and take everyone to McDonalds after church on Sundays; like that was going to break the bank. That's where I first heard about it.

One of the wealthy parishioners was very sick and needed a kidney transplant. He'd been on dialysis and on the transplant list for the last two years. He was in his middle sixties and had been passed over twice because of his age and the severity of his condition. He wasn't a good candidate but he wasn't giving up. I was the one to approach him, not the other way around.

"Mr. Connors, I maybe out of line and I know that it maybe illegal to even discuss this, but I think there is a way we can both help one another. I know you need a kidney, and I'm about to lose my house. If I'm a match, I'd like to donate you one of mine; for a price that is. He just starred at me.

"Six others have offered the same thing, but none of them was a match and you know it's illegal to sell organs."

"I'm not going to sell you my kidney. Like I said, I'm going to donate it to you and you're going to donate a sum of money to the Monica Moore relief fund." I smiled, he didn't.

Son, you can't be that broke that you'd sell one of your own damn kidneys?"

"Sir, we've sold everything of value excluding our household furniture. I've done everything I legally can, and this fucking economy is still bleeding me dry. I will do anything to keep a roof over my family's head. Anything. So, am I willing to do this to make my families life better? In a heartbeat."

"Well, first things first. We don't even know if you'll be a match. Why don't you get tested and we can talk after that. How does that sound?"

Tuesday I went to the hospital. I told the nurse I was there to be tested for being a possible kidney donor for David Connors. Thankfully it didn't cost anything for the test, because I had only seventy-five cents in my pocket.

"Mr. Moore, it will take a couple of days for the test results. You should hear from us by Friday," the lab technician told me. I never told Monica.

I thought the next seventy-two hours were going to be the death of me. I was nervous, scared, but most of all anxious. Am I fucking nuts? That question kept bouncing off the insides of my brain and I really didn't have a good answer.

The hospital called me at work at about ten-fifteen on Friday. "Mr. Moore, the tests results confirm, you are a match for Mr. Connor. When can you come in so we can discuss this further?" I was numb.

"Give me a day or two and I'll get back to you," I was some how able to reply.

"Fine, we'll be expecting your call."

I did nothing for about an hour and then went to the break room for a cup of coffee. As I passed my bosses office I stuck my head in.

"Hey boss, Monica is looking at buying some new furniture, but not until I'm back at full time. What do you see happening in the next ninety days or so?"

He didn't say anything at first. "Steve, I'd like to say we're going to be back up to snuff but I just don't know. I wish I could tell you the orders are flowing in but their not. That cheap fucking shit from China is grabbing up most of the business that's out there. Steve your job is secure, but if it was me, I'd hold off on any major purchases at least for now." He answered my question.

I've got a little time coming, you mind if I take it say in the next week or so?"

Knock yourself out. I only wish I could sneak out of here for a while. It gets pretty damn boring waiting for the phone to ring. Say hi to Monica for me will you?"

"Will do," I said, walking back to my desk. Now came the phone call I hoped I wouldn't regret.

We met in a park two blocks from my house. My two children were throwing a red Frisbee around; for them life was good. I didn't even hear him walk up.

"To be young again. I'd do things a lot different if I could go back, but in life we usually don't get do overs," he said, sitting next to me. "You make a decision yet?"

"Yes I have, I don't have a choice."

"Son, we always have a choice. That's the nice thing about being an adult; we can make our own choices. However, we're stuck living with the results of those choices."

"Mr. Connors, let's do this."

"Steve, call me David. For what we're about to do we need to be on a first name bases. What did your wife say?"

"Haven't told her and I'm not going to until the day of the surgery."

"You have to have someone there in case, you know, in case something goes wrong."

"She'll be there but only after the surgeries begun. If I tell her ahead of time, she'll try to talk me out of it and I can't let that happen. So, I guess the only thing left to discuss is the amount of the donation to the Monica Moore relief Fund." He handed me an envelope.

"This is a legal contract spelling out everything including my proposal. Take it home, look at it, and get back to me tomorrow. If you're in agreement we need to schedule it as soon as possible. Think long and hard at what you're about to do son," he said looking at me, before walking away.

It was a generous offer; it covered all the bases. The hospital stay, short tem medical care, and even a term life insurance policy for me if something went wrong. He'd thought of everything. I signed.

Three days is all I had before the surgury. I told my boss I was taking the following week off from work and sat down one night and wrote Monica a letter, a just in case something happened letter.

For the next seventy-two hours I lived every second for my wife and kids. Monica finally said something after I'd given her a full body massage with lotion and we'd had a fantastic heart stopping love making session.

"Your not working full time does have a few upsides. You never would have had the energy at night to do what we just did," she said kissing me for the hundredth time. "You seem to have a lot more energy and stamina, not that I'm complaining," reaching under the covers maybe trying to get me up again, which wasn't going to happen.

"You know I love you don't you?" I said looking into her eyes. "You know I would never intentionally hurt you don't you?" I should have kept my mouth shut.

"Okay, what's going on? What did you do?"

"Nothing. It's just that I love you so much and I'm sorry I'm not able to give you the life you deserve."

"Steve, I've got you and the kids, that's all I need. The rest? Well don't get me wrong it's nice, but I'd be content living in a cardboard box as long as you and my kids were with me." I shut up.

I did the pre-surgical blood work and was on pins and needles waiting for Monday morning. Sunday I took everyone to McDonalds after church, like I always did. I hoped we'd be here the following Sunday. I was now getting scared.

David and I talked a dozen or so times and although he was getting worse, his spirits were never higher.

"Tomorrows the day! You ready Steve? I know I am. Sure I can't talk you into telling Monica? I think your short changing her, I think she'd understand the lengths you're going to for her and your family."

"Just make sure she's notified when the operation starts. By then it'll be too late for her to stop it."

"You do know she'd going to be pissed don't you? And no matter how much money you're getting, it isn't going to mean squat to her."

"I know, and by early Monday afternoon it's all going to be over."

"Well Steve, you don't have a clue what your doing means to me. Money or no money, you're a caring son-of-a- bitch. I wouldn't do what you're doing, I know that much."

Early Monday morning I kissed my wife and kids goodbye and drove to the hospital. They were waiting for me. I was prepped, shaved, and told I had about twenty minutes if I needed to do anything else.

"When my wife, Monica, gets here, please make sure she get's this will you?" The nurse took my letter and put it in her pocket.

"Don't worry, Mr. Moore, Doctor Jansen is the best transplant surgeon on staff. You'll be fine." That was the last thing I remember.

When I woke up, Monica was by my side. "Stephen Moore, when you're finally coherent, you and are going to have words, and I know for a fact you're not going to like any of them." She was holding my hand.

I know I was just coming out of it, but I felt absolutely no pain. The nurse was right, that doctor was good. When the nurse came in and told Monica that she could take me home in about an hour I was confused? I knew surgical procedures had come along way, but one day it and out? That's when I moved my hand down to my side to feel the bandages. There were none. I sat up.

Slirpuff
Slirpuff
4,277 Followers
12