The Ones That Got Away

by Lou Mindar

  When the paramedics arrived, Scott showed them into the living room, and they began taking her vital signs and trying to rouse her. After a few minutes, Melanie grunted. She stirred, but she wasn’t exactly awake. The paramedics loaded her onto a stretcher.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can get someone to watch my son,” Scott said.

  Scott called the neighbors. He explained the situation and asked if their daughter, Brianna, who had babysat Robbie before, could come watch him while Scott went to the hospital.

  When Scott got to the emergency room, the nurse instructed him to have a seat in the waiting room. He sat and waited. And waited. And waited. Eventually, a nurse called his name.

  Scott raised his hand like he was in middle school and the teacher was taking attendance.

  “Mr. Thompson, will you come with me?” The nurse led him back into the emergency room to an empty examining room. “The doctor will be right in to talk to you.”

  “What about my wife? I want to see her.”

  “The doctor will explain everything,” the nurse said, then left the room and closed the door behind her.

  The doctor will explain everything, Scott thought. What the hell is going on?

  Scott waited once again. When the doctor finally came in, he introduced himself as Peter Shapiro. He was prematurely gray and looked somber.

  “What’s wrong with my wife,” Scott asked.

  “She’s going to be fine,” the doctor said. “She’s resting comfortably at the moment.”

  “What about the baby?”

  “The baby is fine,” Doctor Shapiro said. “But I want to ask you a couple of questions. Were you with your wife today?”

  “No, I was working and came home to find her unconscious. What’s wrong with her?”

  The doctor sat in the chair next to Scott’s. He put his hand on his chin and nodded. “I see.” He rubbed his chin again. “Mr. Thompson, it appears that your wife has been drinking alcohol all day. She has a very high blood-alcohol level and it caused her to pass out.”

  “That can’t be,” Scott said.

  “Does your wife have a drinking problem?”

  “No, she quit drinking several months ago.”

  The doctor nodded and cleared his throat. “We checked the baby and everything appears to be fine. We want to run a couple more tests. You can see your wife if you’d like, but she probably won’t be waking up for a few hours.” He stood. “She should be fine to leave tomorrow.”

  Scott wanted to ask how this had happened or what he should do now, but those weren’t questions the doctor could answer.

  Melanie was still sleeping when visiting hours ended, so Scott left. He knew Brianna had to get home, and he wanted to see Robbie. There was also a part of him that didn’t want to be there when Melanie woke up. What was he supposed to say? How could she possibly justify what she had done?

  When he returned the next day, Melanie was sitting up in bed staring straight ahead. She looked at him when he walked in the door and then quickly looked away. She started crying. “I’m sorry.”

  Scott didn’t know how to react. He wanted to lash out, get angry and tell her how horrible she was. He wanted to threaten her and tell her nothing like this better ever happen again. He also wanted to hold her, to understand what she was going through, to tell her everything would be all right. Instead, he sat down in the chair next to her bed and didn’t say a word.

  The next week, a case worker from the state visited Scott and Melanie. The doctor must have reported Melanie’s behavior. Scott lied. He concocted a story about how Melanie accidently got drunk. He wasn’t sure if the case worker bought their story. Before the woman left, Scott hesitated at the door, wanting to scream the truth. But he stayed quiet, and they never heard from the case worker again.

  Melanie seemed truly sorry for what she had done. She admitted that she had started drinking again but promised nothing like what she had done would happen in the future. Scott wanted to believe that her drinking while pregnant was a one-time thing, but in the back of his mind, he feared that was a mistake.

  Chapter 22

  October 1987

  Just as Scott predicted, the Minnesota Twins won the 1987 World Series. Randy was thrilled by his big payday and insisted that they fly to Las Vegas the day after the series ended to collect their money. Scott was torn about making the trip. He knew he’d have to do it sooner or later, but he was reluctant to leave Melanie on her own. Although it appeared that she had behaved herself, Scott still didn’t trust her.

  On the other hand, Scott was tired of looking after his wife. Every few days, he’d check through cabinets in the kitchen, the bathrooms, and garage for hidden booze. The night of her hospital stay, he poured out all the alcohol in the house. He felt more like a father to her than a husband. A single father of two, soon to be three.

  In the end, Scott went to Vegas with Randy, who spent the flight dreaming out loud about what they could do with their newfound wealth, $5 million each.

  When they presented themselves at the sports book, rather than being paid their winnings, Scott and Randy were asked to wait to talk to a Mr. Fry. They had no idea who Mr. Fry was, but they waited. After a few minutes, they were directed to a meeting room just down the hall.

  Ralph Fry introduced himself as the manager of the sports book. He was a fire plug of a man, short and stout, with a pencil-thin mustache and a permanent scowl. He looked like a tough guy from a 1940’s mob movie. Fry was accompanied by a large, burly man in a suit and tie. Fry never introduced the burly man, but it was obvious he was there to provide muscle. Scott wasn’t sure why Fry felt he needed muscle.

  Fry asked Scott and Randy to fill out some paperwork, including listing their bank information. “This will allow us to deposit your winnings directly into your account.”

  Randy snickered. “I was hoping to get one of those big checks like they do on TV game shows.”

  Fry smiled and nodded. He then turned toward Scott. “Mr. Thompson, you’re on quite a hot streak,” Fry said. “First you win money from us picking the Royals in the 1985 World Series, then it was the Bears in the Super Bowl, and now you’ve hit your biggest pay day yet betting on the Twins. Congratulations. That’s quite impressive.” It was obvious from Fry’s tone that he wasn’t particularly happy for Scott.

  “Thank you,” Scott said. “I’ve been very lucky.”

  “Very lucky, indeed.” Fry smiled a humorless smile. “In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone so lucky.” He stretched out the word “lucky.”

  Scott sat quietly. He wasn’t particularly worried. Fry may have suspected that the bets Scott won were not the result of luck, but there was no way he had any idea what was really going on.

  Randy squirmed in his chair. “What exactly are you implying?”

  “Ah yes, Mr. Fowler, you seem to have had quite a bit of luck of your own. First you took us for $50,000 on the 1986 Super Bowl, and now this. It makes one wonder exactly how two novice gamblers like yourselves got so lucky.”

  Scott saw the anger and fear growing in Randy. He was afraid his friend would do something stupid.

  “Mr. Fry,” Scott said calmly. “I’m having trouble understanding the point you’re try to make?”

  Fry smiled his humorless smile again. “I’m just saying how odd it is for two people with so little experience gambling on sporting events to walk away with so much money. I was just wondering how you did it.”

  Randy looked over at Scott, as interested in his answer as Fry was. “The Super Bowl was easy,” Scott said. “The Bears were clearly the better team. They were only a 10-point favorite, so that bet was a no brainer.”

  Fry nodded as if agreeing with Scott. “Go on.”

  “The World Series bets were tougher. I’m a big baseball fan and I’ve followed the game for years. Picking the Royals to win the 1985 World Series wasn’t that hard. They were an up and coming team in 1984 and it was obvious they would be good in 1985.”


  “What about the Twins?” Fry was now leaning forward, his hands on the table.

  “The Twins were a different story,” Scott said. “They weren’t very good last year, but I thought they had the pieces in place at the start of this season to make a run. Truth is, I thought they would do better during the regular season. In that respect, I was disappointed. But they did well enough to make the playoffs, and, as I’m sure you know, luck plays a huge role in the playoffs.”

  Fry looked over at his burly associate and then back at Scott. He slowly clapped his hands. “That’s a good story.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat, took out two envelopes, and slid them across the table to Scott and Randy. “Gentlemen, these are copies of receipts for your winnings. The money will be deposited into your bank accounts within the next twenty-four hours. I would appreciate it if you would take the paperwork and leave our casino. We won’t be accepting any more bets from you.”

  “Hey, you can’t…” Randy started to speak, but stopped when Scott put his hand on Randy’s arm.

  “That’ll be fine.” Scott got up to leave.

  “I’ve seen to it that the bags you checked at the front desk will be waiting for you at the entrance to the Casino. You won’t be staying here tonight,” Fry said.

  The big man opened the door and gave Scott and Randy a threatening look. Scott knew there was really nothing Fry or his henchman could do, but he was still anxious to get out of the casino.

  They made a beeline for the front door. Just as Fry had said, their bags were waiting for them.

  “Where should we go?” Randy asked.

  “You know, I really don’t want to wait until tomorrow to head home. Let’s go to the airport and head back today.”

  Chapter 23

  November 1987

  Allison Nicole Thompson was born the day after Thanksgiving. She was small, but seemingly healthy, with ten fingers and ten toes. Still, Scott resented Melanie for what she could have done to the baby. He took Allie’s petite size as proof Melanie drank throughout the pregnancy, not just the one night.

  Despite his resentment, Scott was thrilled to have another child. The love he felt toward both of his children made him better understand why it had been so important to Kathy to have a child, even an adopted one.

  Over the next several months, Allie missed developmental milestones and didn’t seem to be as alert as Robbie had been. Scott made an appointment to see the pediatrician, Doctor Jordan, without Melanie.

  The doctor was very upbeat in describing Allie’s development. He said that all children develop differently and that her slow development wasn’t anything to worry about. His mood darkened a bit when Scott asked him if her slow development and small size could be a result of her mother drinking alcohol during the pregnancy.

  “What you’re talking about is called Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, or FAS,” he said. “There are some key symptoms associated with FAS that I don’t see in Allison. For instance, FAS is usually suspected in infants who fall between the third and tenth percentile on standardized growth charts. Allison is small and developing more slowly than some infants, but she’s still at or near the twentieth percentile.”

  Scott nodded. It bothered him that Allie was so low on the developmental chart, but he was heartened that she wasn’t as low as infants with FAS.

  “Also, there are certain facial characteristics associated with FAS that Allison doesn’t display,” Doctor Jordan said. “For instance, infants with FAS often have a flat philtrum, this area right here just above the lip.” He pointed to the groove just under his nose and above his top lip. “They often have a thin upper lip and decreased eye width. I don’t see any of those symptoms with Allison.”

  “That’s good. I’m relieved,” Scott said.

  “However, that’s only part of the answer to your question. I don’t believe your daughter has FAS, but that doesn’t mean that her slow development isn’t related to alcohol use by the mother during pregnancy. Using alcohol during pregnancy can impact the development of an infant after birth. I don’t have a way to tell you for certain that Allison’s slow development is or isn’t the result of the mother’s alcohol use during pregnancy, but it certainly is a possibility.”

  “What about her continued use of alcohol while she’s breastfeeding?” Scott asked.

  “Do you think she’s drinking?” Doctor Jordan asked.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I wouldn’t bet against it.”

  “If that’s the case, you need to get her to stop drinking immediately, or you need to start feeding Allison formula. Infants can’t tolerate alcohol consumption without suffering developmental problems, or even neurological damage.”

  Scott had avoided talking to Melanie about her drinking. He didn’t want to do it now, but he couldn’t risk anything bad happening to Allie.

  When Scott got home, the kids were both asleep and Melanie was lying down upstairs in the bedroom. He searched for alcohol in all the places he had searched previously, but he couldn’t find anything. He stopped in front of the laundry room and realized he had never searched it before. But why? Maybe he didn’t want to uncover the truth. In the cupboard above the washer sat eight or ten detergent bottles, all of them the same type. Why do we need so much detergent? He pulled out two bottles and there it was, in the back of the cupboard. An open bottle of vodka.

  When Melanie came downstairs, Scott asked her to come into the living room, saying he wanted to talk to her about something.

  “I’ll be right there,” she called out. “I have to throw some laundry in the washer.”

  Scott waited several minutes before Melanie came. She was agitated. “I have to run to the store. Can you stay and watch the kids while I’m gone?”

  “Why do you have to go to the store?” he asked.

  “I need to get some laundry detergent.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t looking for this?” Scott picked up the bottle of vodka from where he’d hid it next to the couch.

  Melanie’s eyes widened, and her face turned red. “No, that’s not…Where did…” She began hyperventilating.

  “Melanie, sit down. We need to talk.”

  Scott confronted Melanie, telling her about his discussion with Doctor Jordan and how her drinking might have hurt their daughter. He told her about how she could pass alcohol to Allie through her breast milk.

  “Mel, you have a problem—a disease—and you need some help.”

  “Do you think I would ever do anything to hurt my own child? It sounds to me like you have a problem, sneaking around behind my back, talking to doctors and searching the house for vodka. You can think whatever you want. If anyone has a problem, it’s you.”

  Shocked into silence, Scott sat and watched Melanie walk out the front door. In the days that followed, Melanie began feeding Allie baby formula rather than breastfeeding. And over the next several months, Allie started to grow and develop more normally. Her motor skills improved, and by her second birthday, she was at the sixtieth percentile on the standardized growth chart. Maybe he was reliving his life, not for Melanie, but for Robbie and Allie. Maybe his second chance was about them. He kept his daughter safe. For now, that would have to be enough.

  Chapter 24

  April 1990

  Randy and Carla had adjusted well to their financial windfall. They bought a bigger home, purchased a nice ski boat they kept at their cabin in Lake of the Ozarks, and took vacations to Portugal, Ireland, Brazil, and Hawaii. They also participated in several local charity events which often landed them on the society pages of the newspaper.

  Randy had become accustomed to Scott teasing him about he and Carla being the king and queen of high society in St. Louis, so, it caught Scott by surprise when Randy got quiet after Scott called him “King Randy.”

  “Can I talk to you about something?” Randy’s voice was serious and stern.

  “What’s up?” Scott asked.

  “Carla and I have been trying to have a baby for al
most three years now and it just hasn’t worked out.”

  Scott wanted to make a joke or give him a hard time. That was their way. But he could tell that Randy wasn’t in the mood to joke around.

  “We went to the doctor and found out that Carla can’t have kids. The doctor used some long word. I don’t remember what he called it, but the bottom line is that she can’t have children.”

  It was strange for Scott to see Randy so serious and solemn. He was used to seeing his friend upbeat and fun-loving.

  “Carla’s devastated,” he said. “She’s always dreamed about having kids. The news really hit her hard. She started crying when the doctor told us, and I couldn’t do anything to comfort her.” Randy sat back in his chair, tears welling up.

  “What about you?” Scott asked. “How do you feel about it?”

  “I’m disappointed,” Randy said, his voice slightly cracking. “I wanted to have kids too, but I’m not as upset as Carla.”

  “Is there anything the doctors can do?”

  “I asked the doctor about in vitro fertilization, but that wouldn’t work because of Carla’s problem. The doctor said we might want to consider adoption.”

  Scott hadn’t thought about adoption for a long time, since his life with Kathy. The subject brought back some old, painful memories. But now that he had his own kids, he understood why someone would want to adopt. “What do you think about adopting?”

  “We’re talking about it. It’s a possibility.”

  He was surprised about how his attitude toward adoption had changed. His gut reaction was to talk down about adoption, but he really didn’t feel that way anymore. “Whatever the two of you decide, good luck.”

  Randy nodded. “Thanks. We have a lot of decisions to make.”

  Scott wanted to change the subject and lighten the mood. “Hey, Carla’s coming to happy hour on Thursday, isn’t she?”