Part I ~ Part II ~ Part III ~ Part IV ~ Part V ~ Part VI ~ Part VII ~ Part VIII ~ Part IX ~ Part X ~ Part XI

The Kris Story, Part XII
or...Enter Steve
5.14.8

A few weeks later our relationship started down it's path of self destruction. It all began with her ever more uncontrolled alcohol consumption.

Kris had always been a drinker, of course, but following her 21st birthday in February of 2004 she had begun taking it to extremes. At first this was only apparent in her sporadic overindulgences. Our usually enjoyable nights of drinking were suddenly being marred by her occasional inability to recognize her limits. In my mind, I saw her actions as perfectly excusable accidents. After all, who among us hasn't had too much to drink at some point? Each time she found herself throwing up in the bathroom, though, I was forced to leave whatever party we were having to take care of her. I was happy to do it, but it certainly ruined some otherwise great nights for me...

As the months passed, these moments of excess became the routine. It became a rare occurrence for her to make it through a party without making a complete ass of herself. I almost always ended up taking care of her, at times just watching her labored breathing as she slept, wondering if a hospital visit would be required. I started drinking less, almost in anticipation of these obligatory babysitting duties. My sympathy began to fade and I became increasingly annoyed at the situation. It got so bad that I even had a few one-on-one attempts at interventions where I asked her to please show some restraint. This generally worked for one or two proud vomit-free nights, but she always regressed back to her old habits sooner or later. She no longer cared to drink socially or to develop a healthy buzz. Absolutely obliterated was the only result she would accept when it came to partying.

Our friends, too, grew more and more irritated with her. More than one had asked me why I was still with her...quite the change from the celebrated beginning of our relationship.

These nights didn't do much to help our already failing sex life, either. In the past, alcohol had been the only aphrodisiac strong enough to make her want me. Now each time she was drunk enough for sex, I knew she was also just a few shots away from passing out on the bathroom floor.

Thanks to her newly attained legal drinking age, he alcoholism began leading to fights about money, too. She was enthralled by the bar scene for some reason and loved going out, despite our fully stocked liquor shelves and my bartending skills. I tried to accommodate her wishes whenever possible, but we simply couldn't afford it on a regular basis. Her throwing up on the sidewalk outside G-Ducks didn't help her case much either.

Eventually my hesitance to bring her out drinking gave her the idea to start doing so with co-workers after her shifts were complete. To her credit, she had at least begun calling me to tell me she'd be home late. This was only a small consolation, but I accepted that she was finally trying to be a better fiancée. As with all good things Kris-related, though, this common courtesy was short lived.

It ended one night in early August as Newguy, O'Malley and I were waiting for her to come home from work so we could all party together. As her scheduled shift ended, I told them she would soon be home. As the restaurant's closing time arrived, I reasoned that she must've accepted some overtime. After another hour...the closing was surely just taking longer than usual. Another half hour later and there was no denying it...something was going on.

Kris and I didn't have cell phones, so each day we brought walkie talkies to work instead. They had fairly excellent range, so on a clear day they sometimes reached miles across town. For the most part, though, they were just useful for the drive to and from work. Grabbing mine, the boys and I set out in Newguy's car to investigate. Zio's had long since closed for the night, but we wanted to at least see if my car was still there. After all...perhaps something really was wrong.

About halfway to the restaurant I began calling for her over the radio. Not expecting an answer, I immediately received one anyway. "Hi!" she said in a chipper tone.

"Where are you?" I asked, a bit angered by her nonchalant attitude.

"I'm at America's Bar and Grill with some co-workers."

We looked to our left to see that we were passing by that very same bar. As Newguy prepared to make a u-turn, I instructed her to go outside. We pulled into the lot, but it was was still several minutes before she actually appeared. When she did, she was followed by a man in his late 20s who looked a bit like a white trash version of Moby. His left ear, I noticed, had a small triangular chunk missing, much like any junkyard dog or cat.

Enter Steve.

He extended his arm out as she introduced him. "This is Steve. He's the one that's going to come to the dunes with us!" I looked at him in disdain as he waited for me to shake his hand. I didn't, obviously, instead focusing my attention back on her.

"We've been waiting for you for hours, Kris. We were all supposed to hang out tonight, remember?" She gave us a weak apology, claiming that she had assumed we would have started without her. She then had the nerve to tell us that she was going inside for another 10 minutes to say goodbye to everyone and to finish her drink.

Since Newguy and O'Malley were both under 21 at the time, her plan left us waiting for her again (I could have gone inside I suppose, but I refused to leave my friends hanging). After twenty minutes or so, I went in to get her. I found her not at a booth with a large group of people as I had expected, but sitting at a small round table for two with Steve. "We have to leave," I explained.

When I finally got her outside, she tried to convince us to just go home. She would leave soon too, she claimed. "You're drunk, Kris! I don't want you driving like this!"

"Well, then Steve can drive me home."

"He's drunk too! I don't want him driving you, either!" I protested. Eventually I convinced her to come home with me. The boys, however, were no longer even interested in partying and went their separate way.

About a week later Kris and I headed to the annual birthday/anniversary Dunes celebration (which I had conveniently named ".final" months earlier). Steve was not invited, which I had explained to her on the ride home from their apparent "date" the previous week.

The night was mostly uneventful except for the way that she secretly joined each circle of pot smokers whenever I wasn't around. When I randomly caught her doing one of my least favorite activities on our anniversary, it certainly didn't make me too happy. In retrospect, though, that was probably the least of our problems.

See, another week later she spent an entire night out. She didn't come home after work...she didn't call...nothing. I stayed up until sunrise waiting for her. This time, however, Brett wasn't there to zip-line Ps and Qs with me. I was all alone with my thoughts, my anger, my depression, my worried fears, my mistrust, my love and my hate. One thing I despise more than anything in this world is to wait for a tardy person. It gets under my skin and eventually triggers a severe OCD-infused panic attack. This was how I spent more than 8 hours that night.

When she finally showed up, she claimed to have gotten too drunk at a little party at Steve's house and fallen asleep on his couch. According to her nothing had happened, of course. "I told them to wake me up after a little while, but they never did." She acted as though I should have simply been happy that she hadn't driven home drunk. While that was nice to know, it certainly didn't make up for the seriousness of her error in judgement.

I called in sick to work that day so I could get some much needed sleep.

Yet another week later, she again decided not to come home. This time, however, one of life's incredible twists of fate led me directly to her...