Two years after we parted I was back to pretty much my old self. I still thought about her daily, still heard the siren song but it took less time for my head to clear. I got by by telling myself she never really cared about me. In 2001 I was struck down by a complication involving medicine I had been on for years, I was hospitalized for over a week and off work for over a year. One of my legs was permanently damaged but I could still walk (look for the whitest left leg on the beach – that will be me). Mrs. Peel told me later she’d heard rumors ranging from my death to my leg being cut off.

During this time Mrs. Peel promoted from central office to a Mgt. position at a new prison. I held a union position that on occasion required me to represent her staff. That would put us in opposition. Other than that we had no contact.

This is what I didn’t know; she’d moved away to get a fresh start. Her husband, a child welfare professional, had lost his job due to a drinking problem. He’d managed to land a job at her new prison. This prison was far upstate and her hope was they could put the embarrassment of his faux pas behind them. They had two daughters to think of.

Her husband’s problems persisted, she got by putting on a brave face to the world, “nothing wrong here” was her mantra. She told me later that she often cried because of what she was going through and the fact that she didn’t have her best friend to talk to anymore.