I left the Army exchanging my camos for a uniform consisting of a white vest, black slacks, and a clip-on black bow tie.

 

I got the job from my commanding officer whose family owned a home on the shore of Lake Tahoe. He made an introduction to the GM of a five-star resort situated along the magnificent lake who put me to work as a combination busboy, barback, and maintenance man charged with unplugging clogged toilets and mopping up the vomit from drunken patrons. I also performed room service including late-night cocktails, scrumptious meals, and when asked, delivering prophylactics under strict rules issued by the GM,

 

“See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing!”

 

Having my arms elbow deep in human excrement and vomit was a better gig than getting shot at and removing the flesh of my buddy pasted to my face like a freaky facial.

 

I needed a job for the summer because the GI Bill was putting me through city college which would begin in September.

 

The job included a bed inside a dormitory and two free meals per day thrown together by the chef with leftovers into a palatable, but often times unrecognizable, stew or food loaf covered with gravy.

 

Working at beautiful Lake Tahoe was a perk. It was summertime. The cool breeze and beautiful sunsets were magnificent. I’d stare out into the grand lake and imagine seeing the invisible line denoting the state boundary between Nevada and California.

 

I’d come to learn later in life it’s the invisible lines which pack the greatest punch as we traverse life.

 

I learned a lot that summer about the wealthy and those who prey upon them. Snooping society gossip columnists offered us gratuities for salacious information about our guests but my moral compass pointed towards confidentiality although my wallet pointed towards “broke”.

 

I met a beautiful college sorority sister who was kind to a down on his luck war vet. She was wearing a classy bathing suit, diamond tennis bracelet, and sunning poolside.

 

Like the diamond bracelet, her eyes sparkled with happiness and youthful optimism. I’m certain she was her father ‘s pride and joy.

 

“I’d like a word with you, waiter.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m your poolside attendant, Ma’am.”

“You’re not the typical college kid I find working here.

” You’re a man-boy.

“You’ve lived a life.”

“I did a tour of duty in Afghanistan, Ma’am.”

 “My name is Kay.

“I have a tip for you.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.

“You’re very generous.”

“Here’s another, tip.

“You know this old saying better than anybody,

‘When the going gets tough, the tough get going!’”

 

She was a society girl and out of my league. One evening, I delivered champagne on ice to her cabin.  I developed a keen sense about people in the Army and I didn’t trust the handsome guy with Kay.

 

I suspected he had a dubious past witnessing his adroitness with handling the syringe and heating the heroin into a liquid on a spoon meant for Kay’s delicate forearm.

 

“Don’t do it, Kay!

“I’ll get you out of here and away from him.”

“You’re in over your head, waiter.

 

“I’m aware of this resort’s confidentiality policy regarding employees.

“If you want to keep your job forget what you saw here and get out!

“You’ll find a one-hundred-dollar bill inside her purse.”

“You take it like all the rest, pusher!”

 

The needle pierced the vein with blood from her petit arm pushing back up into the syringe only to be flushed back into the vein along with the poison making her a slave to the next fix and a life of ruin.

 

“Thank you for your chivalry ‘man boy’ but I need an escape and asked for itttt….”

 

It was a string of words I’d never forget.

 

I hoped she would awake from a bad trip, learn a lesson from a wrong choice, and never see him again. I made many bad choices including driving down a narrow street hiding an IUD. I watched my buddies following behind me within the caravan disappear into “pink mist”.  I prayed Kay’s life wouldn’t be blown to pieces.

 

Time passed quickly. I met my wife in law school. She became a district attorney, and I scraped up a job as a public defender. Like the invisible line in the lake, there was an invisible line placing us on opposite sides of the justice system. 

 

We were married at the Tahoe resort where I previously worked. We stood on the dock and stared out into the magnificent lake underneath the bright moon, and I looked for the invisible line.

 

“I met a society girl when I worked here in the summer before college.

“She was kind to me.

“It disturbed me when I delivered champagne to her cabin and watched her boyfriend provide her first fix of heroin.”

“I wonder what happened to her, darling?”

“There’s a fine line between happiness and misery and I saw Kay cross the line into a life of despair.”

 

I saw old grey men who may have been my fellow employees still toiling away on the same jobs. They remained on one side of a line in the social hierarchy which I managed to stumble over. Our beautiful baby was conceived that evening.

 

My job required I defend anybody including drug dealers whom I detested. As I gained seniority within the public defender’s office, I attempted to be selective about those I defended.

 

I was visiting a client who was incarcerated at the county jail. We were separated by a glass pane and spoke through a speaker. As I was finishing our conversation, I heard a familiar voice but couldn’t place it. The woman was frightened.

 

“Please get me out of this jail.”

“I’ve made a plea deal with the DA.

“You’ll pay a fine and be placed on parole for one year.

 

“I’ve been your family’s attorney for many decades, and I watched you grow up from a beautiful young woman into an addict appearing older than her age.

 

“You’ve crossed the line into the criminal justice system too often and left your parents no choice but to disinherit you. 

 

“Your parents filed a restraining order against you preventing any future contact by you with family members.

 

“I wish you luck and hope you’ll get your life together.”

 

“Tell my family, I’ll always love them.”

 

My wife gave birth to a beautiful daughter who grew to become a scholar-athlete.  A friend gave our daughter a “sleeping pill” laced with fentanyl. Our baby overdosed and died.

 

Our daughter’s death destroyed our marriage. My wife’s work was prosecuting drug dealers, and I defended them creating an invisible line named “resentment” leading to divorce. My wife remarried and had another child, a beautiful daughter.  I don’t see or talk to my former love.  I hope she’s happy and no longer blames me for our daughter’s death.

 

I live alone and, perhaps, that’s my penance. I went through a period of self-hatred for defending drug dealers, but my therapist helped restore my sense of self-worth for defending poor people being prosecuted on bum wraps. I provided many vulnerable clients a second chance for a good life.

 

I retired from the public defender’s office but wanted to stay busy. I opened up a sole practitioner law office specializing in criminal law. 

 

I was approached by a big shot lawyer seeking a seasoned but affordable criminal defense attorney to defend a once “shining star” of society which crashed and burned like a meteor.

 

My one room office was eerily quiet until an anorexic woman walked into my life. She had the remnants of a sparkle in her eyes which I recognized in a kind young woman sunning herself in Lake Tahoe.

 

Kay was a ghost of her former self.  I recognized opiate addiction. Her wardrobe resembled thrift store bargains thrown together. 

 

She was on bail and facing a second-degree manslaughter rap accused of murdering her husband who abused her for decades.

 

Kay crossed the line from a life of privilege into my world of defending the frightened, incarcerated, and destitute.

 

“How did you make bail?”

“I pawned the last of my grandmother’s jewellery I kept secret from husband for a rainy day.

 

“The pearls resembled tears from my grandmother’s eyes as big as rain drops.”

 

A string of pearls reminded me of Kay’s words to me as I watched her receive the fix. She married the punk providing the first fix and he bleed her inheritance dry.

 

Kay’s bail was put up by a handful of friends who cared enough to write a check but not be seen in public with her. She sat shivering still struggling with sobriety after a life of heroin addiction.

 

Kay had fallen in with the wrong crowd as a young woman, and in particular, the wrong guy whose good looks and charm allowed him entry inside Kay’s heart. They married. Her husband paid for a ring with his proceeds of a small-time heroin pusher who began consuming his own product while taking Kay down the path of ruin as an addict. I’d seen co-dependency before, but this was one of the worst cases.

 

Kay was repeatedly beaten by her husband to tap her society friends for handouts and charity. The beatings became worse including a broken nose and strangulation in her second trimester. She broke free and struck him down with one bullet to the head inside a skid row flophouse. Kay suffered a miscarriage inside the tawdry bathroom as police knocked down the door.

 

I calmed her by laying out a self-defence strategy and channelled Kay’s miscarriage into my grief over losing my daughter.  I mounted a defence with my heart and mind working in tandem like a well-oiled machine. Kay would prevail or I’d work pro bono defending her right up through final appeals.

The jury returned a “not guilty” verdict. Kay met me outside the courtroom.

 

“I want to thank you for defending me.

“In decades past, I’d say ‘bill our family accountant’ but the few friends I have left set up a ‘Fund Kay’s Defence’ online coffer.

“Please accept it as payment in full.

“I’m broke.”

“Don’t you remember our conversation many decades ago at the pool in Lake Tahoe?

“I didn’t have two nickels to rub together, and you told me,

 

‘When the going gets tough, the tough get going.’

 

“I never forgot your kindness and advice.”

“I don’t remember.

 

“I’ve forgotten my youth but if we met, I’m happy I was kind to you, and grateful you became a defence attorney which led to our reunion.

 

“Judging from the press gathered outside, I suspect my misfortune will be your good fortune with a growing law practice.

 

“Good luck and thank you.”

 

I motioned for a familiar deputy to escort her discretely out of the courthouse and into an uncertain future.

I felt a cold chill at my back and turned to find my ex-wife.

 

“I’ve been following this tragic case of a life ruined by addiction.

 

“You mounted a brilliant defence and I know you had our darling daughter in your heart guiding you every step of the way.

 

“I still remember you speaking of Kay on the dock at Lake Tahoe.

“Did you ever find the invisible line?”

“It disappeared just now.”