Memphis, Tennessee

Fall 1990

Glen stirred in his bed and wondered why his body was so hot. His temples throbbed and the inside of his mouth stuck to itself, bereft of any moisture. He could feel that the back of his mouth was inflamed, likely from whiskey-induced snoring over the course of his sleep.

As he rolled uncomfortably under the bed covers, he figured out why he was so hot; he had slept in his clothes again last night. After tossing the covers off himself, he tried to fragment together some memories from another.

He could clearly remember finishing the first bottle of whiskey and getting in his car to head back to the liquor store.

Stupid thought Glen.

Glen remembered getting home and pouring another glass of whiskey over some ice while Charlene worked on corralling their seven-year-old daughter, Goldie, to bed. Charlene had seemed stressed.

After that, things became hazy.

Charlene had been mad. Glen suddenly remembered.

She had confronted him while he was watching TV. She had said something about him drinking too much, and Glen recalled getting mad, too.

Oh shit…

He suddenly remembered himself shouting at Charlene and grabbing hold of her wrists. There was a struggle… and a big slap by Glen across the poor, tiny woman’s face.

The enormous professional wrestler sat up in his bed with a dire, worried feeling in his gut, realizing that he had struck his wife. The woman who had been with him through everything during his career.

Before Glen could put his feet on the floor of his bedroom, he heard car doors opening and shutting outside in the driveway. With beleaguered steps, he made his way to the window and pulled the curtain to the side and looked down at the driveway.

Charlene was outside placing a suitcase into the trunk of their car, and Glen could clearly see Goldie sitting in the backseat with a sad look. Charlene glanced up at the window and made eye contact with Glen as she shut the car’s trunk.

Glen could clearly see that half of Charlene’s face was red and swollen, Charlene quickly looked away and got into the driver’s seat.

Bumbling and fumbling his way through the house, Glen hurried to get outside, but once he made it to the driveway, they were already driving off.

Charlene and Goldie were gone… Glen had lost them.