Overdose

The blog has lost a second periphery character. The Boston Brother's wife, the woman who got drunk and high on the cruise ship and was found naked in the crew section of the boat, died.

The reason is not shocking. As evidenced from my only experience with her, she had destructive alcohol and prescription medication habits. It's not known for sure whether it was suicide or an accidental overdose, but those closer to the situation think it was suicide.

The Boston Brother had separated from her and moved to the city. She followed, hoping for a reconciliation. He reiterated over beers one night that he wouldn't have married her had he had friends like us sooner. But it was for naught, she showed up to their counseling appointment one night and said she was leaving him because she met her soul mate. The Boston Brother was stunned and a little hurt, but he also moved on. Both began relationships with other people.

They were still connected in an unhealthy way. One night while I was sitting in the backseat of his car, she phoned and asked for suggestions for places to take her new boyfriend's child for his birthday.

"BB, hang up the phone," I said. "This isn't your problem."

The Boston Brother's new girlfriend grabbed the phone from him. "She's not from around here. She doesn't know of any places," she consoled and then spoke to the wife.

My mouth dropped. "There is a book called Boundaries and everyone in this car needs to read it."

That was the last I heard of her before she died.

The memorial was held in the city because that's where she was living when she died. Her first husband and new fiancée were in attendance along with her son (from her first marriage) and the Boston Brother and his new girlfriend. The new boyfriend was in jail. When he called to report her missing, they arrested him for outstanding charges.

Harvey's big party was the night after the memorial. For some reason, the Boston Brother brought his ex-step son, who was still in high school. He curled up in a chair in the corner of the room, probably not too excited to be at a party with his ex-step family the same day as his mother's memorial service. She had given up custody of him when she left Boston.

Out on the dance floor the Boston Brother tongued his new girlfriend. I couldn't get over the weirdness of the whole saga: the dead wife, her son in the other room, him sticking his tongue in this other woman's mouth like the day hadn't happened.

People grieve in different ways.

I'm not big on telling stories that aren't mine, but I don't think anyone would believe me on this anyway.