A couple of times she even forgot to pick them up after school, and I received a phone call from the office. I told myself it was because she was working and had lost track of time. She’d done that as long as I’d known her. And she had an annoying habit of taking her studio phone off the hook and ignoring her cell phone when she was working, so the school was forced to call me instead.
All of this happened over several years, and it started long before we moved into the new house. Christy didn’t start spending and drinking all of a sudden, just like my work and travel demands didn’t double overnight. The girls suffered from both, although I didn’t realize until it was almost too late.
* * *
September 1, 2000, marked the beginning of the end, although the events that led to it were still months in the future.
That Friday, we flew to Boston for Nana C.’s ninetieth birthday celebration. The whole family came, and we had activities planned for Saturday and Sunday before a big party in the evening. It was a swanky black-tie affair at the Ritz-Carlton for two hundred guests. Christy’s family had always been serious drinkers, but that night took things to a new level. Rich was the only sober one of the bunch, and probably only because he had to be for some reason.
I left the ballroom early, well before midnight, and went upstairs to check on the girls. They were asleep in bed, so I paid the babysitter and let her leave early. Christy returned sometime in the early hours of the morning, but she was so drunk that she didn’t even try to wake me. I found her on the couch in the morning, still in her party dress, cradling a Veuve Clicquot bottle—empty, of course.
By then I’d begun to worry about her drinking, but I didn’t know how to talk to her about it without starting a huge fight. So we returned to Atlanta and went right back to the way things had been. In hindsight, I used work as an excuse to avoid problems at home.
Trip landed four multimillion-dollar contracts in a row, and they all needed my attention. I had to turn the design proposals into detailed plans, which was something I could control. Things continued like that through December and into 2001—we signed two or three big contracts each month. I worked eighty hours a week and only took short breaks for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
Whitney worked even harder than I did, but we had so many new clients in January and February that she began to crack under the pressure. I reached out to Trip for help, and he put new work on hold. Then he took over project management for several big jobs that were nearing completion, while we worked on the new ones.
I finally started to see the light at the end of the tunnel in late March. I told Trip that I needed a break, and he agreed. I told Whitney to take one too. She was so exhausted that she didn’t even ask her usual questions. Instead, she simply packed up and left in the middle of the day. I finished out the week, just to make sure things were running smoothly. The team leaders had things under control, and Trip told me to go. He could deal with anything else without me.
I wanted to take at least a month off, so Christy and I planned a family vacation for the girls’ spring break in April. We spent eight blissful days on the beach in St. Martin, and I didn’t touch my cell phone or computer once. Unfortunately, things began to unravel soon after we returned home.
It started when I picked up the mail from the post office. I normally didn’t open anything addressed to Christy alone, but I did it accidentally that time. I discovered three credit cards in her name. I hadn’t known a thing about them. The statements had charges from the usual places, but also from one place that raised a huge red flag.
She usually shopped at the big liquor store near the house, but the charges on her private cards were a lot more frequent than they should’ve been, especially for what I knew we drank. So I started checking on her in the studio, and she always had a sports bottle nearby.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t be sure what she was drinking unless I tasted it myself. I couldn’t smell it on her breath, either, because she had a habit of chewing gum or mints while she worked. I thought about asking her apprentices, but I didn’t want it to get back to her.
In the end, I checked her studio trash cans, where I found exactly what I’d been afraid of, empty wine and liquor bottles. Worse, they were all hidden in other trash, like she knew I might see them when I took the cans to the end of the driveway.
The girls were the final straw, especially when I realized how bad things had become for them. Christy lost track of time when she was working (and probably drinking), so she wasn’t reliable as a parent. The girls were anxious and angry most of the time, and I hadn’t been around to pick up the slack.
I noticed the first changes when I started picking them up from school. They visibly relaxed when they saw my SUV in the line at the normal time. They were happy and excited to tell me about their day. Laurie gave me a hug and a kiss when we dropped her off at the pool. Emily and Susie made sure I came inside and watched them in dance class. Then all three begged me to take them for ice cream after. They did the same at home and acted like I might disappear if they let me out of their sight.
At first I told myself it was just because they didn’t get to see me as much, but deep down I knew the truth. They craved the one thing we hadn’t given them, the one thing we couldn’t buy. They needed stability. They needed parents.
* * *
I decided to talk to Christy, and we both needed to make some changes. I rehearsed a speech in my head and started gathering props: the secret credit card bills, empty liquor bottles, and a drawing that Susie had made of our family. It only included seven of us: three girls, three dogs, and Daddy. Mommy was conspicuously missing. Susie’s teacher had sent it home with a concerned note. I felt like a complete jerk for using it, but I couldn’t think of a better way to show Christy what was happening to us.
Some idealistic part of me hoped that our lives would change completely once we talked. I’d start helping around the house and with the girls. Christy would cut back on her drinking and spending. Then we’d all live happily ever after, the end.
Unfortunately, real life didn’t work that way.
Things went to hell from the start. Christy was defensive, while I was angry and demanding. I don’t have many clear memories of the argument, and none of them are worth repeating, here or anywhere.
Christy finally lost it when I showed her Susie’s drawing. She snatched it from the table and stormed out. I heard the garage door opener and then her van as she gunned the engine and drove away.
She didn’t return that afternoon, and I told the girls she was out running errands.
I expected her home by dinner, but she didn’t show.
I really began to worry when she didn’t come home that night.
She’d left her cell phone on the charger in the kitchen, so I couldn’t call her. I called everyone else, but no one had seen her. I went to bed with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The house phone rang at four o’clock in the morning. I wasn’t really asleep, so I snatched it from the cradle before the second ring. I didn’t even look at the caller ID.
“Hello! Christy?”
“No, it’s Anne. Birdy’s here, though. She’s safe.”
“Oh, thank God! Wait. She’s there? With you? In San Diego?”
“Yes. A taxi just dropped her off. She must’ve flown out. We’re still trying to get the story out of her. We wanted you to know, though. She’s okay. And… I think she needs to stay with us.”
“Okay. Thanks. I—” I sighed heavily. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I know, dear.”
“We had a fight. Obviously. But I want to talk to her.”
“Maybe later. She’s not in any condition to talk. Have you told the girls? That she’s gone, I mean?”
“I didn’t have much choice, did I?” I snapped.