Calls

Months later, my house got a call from the Southington police. They told my parents that Nancy had to be picked up outside a local bar, or she would be spending the night in jail. She had apparently walked in the bar 'dressed like a whore,' wearing a tight-fitting tube top with a short skirt and suspenders. He was acting out, flirting, and looking for attention. The newly renovated bar, Massimo's, didn't find her actions and advances welcome. Apparently the new owners were trying to change the image of the old place--Nancie, apparently, didn't get that. She was later shown her way out the front door where police held her until my father and I picked her up.

The phone calls started to become more and more common. The following spring, Nancy was caught for speeding by a state cop on Interstate 84 in Plantsville and charged with a DUI after failing a breathalyzer test. She was taken to Troop F State Police Jail in Hartford. A phone call from the police station informed my parents of the situation, and that she needed someone to come pick her up. They went, and took custody of her, preventing her from spending the night in jail. By the time they were leaving, my mom told me, she was still drunk and making advances at one of the young state police officers saying, "Wow, you're hot, you're so hot."

Nancie's husband, my Uncle Ken, called my mother one day and informed her of what was going on, that her parents were feeding Nancie money hand over fist, and had been for a long time, that the five grand was nothing. My mom wasn't surprised with this news, what surprised her was how much she had underestimated what was going on.