Something very real and personal is troubling me, and I need to write about it to clear my mind and try to find direction. Thus it seems I have returned to my original motivations for writing this blog. It’s about time!

Unfortunately, some of what I write might be damaging or at least embarrassing for those involved. For that reason and that reason only, I am not going to reveal any real names. I may also change certain details and facts not essential to the story in order to further disguise the identities of the principals.

Many years ago, back in my hometown, I operated something called a Computer Bulletin Board System, or BBS. Similar to today’s internet forums, BBS users called in using a modem and participated in discussions, file sharing, or both. Over the few years that it was operating, my system attracted a fairly regular group of callers. Many of them became my good friends and remained so long after the BBS was no more.

One of those people was an intriguing southern lady I will call Belle. Intelligent, well-read, and a facile and expressive writer, Belle was possessed of a southern grace and charm that made conversations with her a joy. She and her husband Frank, a professional of considerable talent and reputation, had a teenage son whom I will call Neil. I knew Neil only in passing, having said hello to him now and then during a visit to their home or when seeing him out in public with his mom.

Years passed. I found myself in a new city, and then another new city. Life marched on at a very fast pace, and before I knew it, I was barely in touch with most of my friends from home. My career as an audio engineer grew not at the pace I had envisioned, but at a pace with which I could be satisfied. I was working, doing something I loved, and that was more than some people could boast at the time.

One day, an e-mail arrived from Belle, telling me that her son Neil was in Atlanta, married, and interested in a career in audio. I was asked if I could be of any help, and I felt that I could be, even though I had really never been much of a mentor to anyone. The first meeting with Neil was encouraging enough to buoy my confidence, and I began to work with him, bringing him into studios and introducing him to the people with whom I worked. Eventually, he was even able to take on some of the simpler work my clients needed, and worked independently with them.

After a time, we both decided he needed more formal training than I could provide, and his parents arranged for him to attend a school out of state. A few months later, he returned and had gained both knowledge and experience. We worked together a lot more after that, and over a period of time, Neil and his wife, a young lady I will call Sue, came to be counted among my most valued friends.

At one point, Neil took a job working as live sound engineer for a band at a local church. His confidence impressed me and apparently the band leader as well; I would later learn that Neil’s approach, confident but not cocky, got him the job. He worked hard, but after a few weeks he discovered that working with a live band was very different from studio recording, and he felt overwhelmed. It was at that point that he called me for help.

At this point I found myself in a difficult situation. If I stepped in and put things right, instructing him as he went, I would feel as though I were taking a gig away from him, and he didn’t get many of his own. I wanted him to look good. If I did nothing, though, he was going to falter and lose even more confidence, and that’s not conducive to success.

I made a deal with Neil. I would come help, but my help would be of the sotto voce, tactful sort. He would in turn introduce me as his assistant, nothing more. The arrangement worked, and I was gratified to see Neil’s mixes improve steadily, week by week.

One Saturday night, I received a call that Neil was being unexpectedly sent out of town, and that I would need to fill in for him on Sunday morning. I appeared at the scheduled time, a bit rattled by the short notice and lack of sleep, and made a classic mistake, the sort that all people living a lie eventually make. I had intended to regulate my performance, to throw in a few amateurish mistakes or throw the mix just a few degrees left of perfect, so as not to show up my “boss.” Instead, groggy and on autopilot, I just mixed as I ordinarily would have.

After the service, the band leader called me aside, clearly with something on his mind. After complimenting me on the mix, he questioned me in a conspiratorial whisper.

“You aren’t really Neil’s assistant, are you?

“No,” I replied, “but I’m here to help him.”

“What exactly do you do for a living?”

“I’m an audio engineer.”

I had no choice; I told him the truth. The lie, I explained, had been for an extremely good reason, and I told him an abbreviated version of the story you now know. To his credit, he accepted and understood it. I’ll tell you about this man sometime. He’s the real thing.

From that point, Neil and I worked together, and I don’t mind boasting that our combined efforts made that band sound better than they’d probably ever sounded. There were obstacles, tense moments, and discouraging failures, but there were also some spectacular wins. I had to kick Neil around a bit to keep him on track, and there were a few stern lectures after disappointing performances and lapses in professionalism, but there were also a lot of moments when I was unashamedly proud of him.

I had always worried about Neil and Sue because their relationship was, at times, rather volatile. They fought, and sometimes I would hear both sides, sometimes only one. Neil took a promising job once that required some out of town work, and Sue panicked and freaked out at the separation; my phone rang constantly and I did my best to help, even getting Sue out of the house several times to distract her. He eventually had to leave the job because she could not stand the time away.

When I heard that Sue was pregnant, I was at once overjoyed and gravely worried. Excessive maturity was not a worry for either of these two. Neither had enjoyed great luck with employment, and their housing situation was dire. Allison and I offered all the help we could; as a mother of three, Allison had no small supply of advice, and for my part I tried to prepare Neil for the responsibility that awaited him. By this time my career and life had precluded me from doing much work with Neil at the church; that task was all his now. I still stepped in from time to time to fill in or to help with the occasional problem he couldn’t handle.

I would occasionally hear disturbing things. People at the church would tell me of remarks Neil had made at my expense. Gossip is a dangerous thing, and my strategy is to ignore it. This I did, although Allison advised me several times that she smelled trouble brewing.

Allison and I spent the entire weekend at the hospital when we heard that Sue was in labor. It was a difficult labor which ended in a C-section, and we worried and prayed and tried to keep Neil from losing his mind, so acute was his stress. All involved survived and were none the worse for wear, at least after a bit of time to recover.

At first it seemed things would go well. Neil displayed a remarkable change in maturity and attitude, quit smoking and drinking, worked hard to support his family, and did his part for the band. He seemed to be stepping into the role of father quite well. We all had dinner together one evening on the occasion of a visit from Belle, and the family seemed well-adjusted and normal. After that I heard a story of a loud, shouting fight the two of them had, apparently in front of the baby, and I strongly cautioned Neil about such things. Babies hear, even if they don’t necessarily understand language, and they react and respond.

Fast-forward now to November of 2008. A member of the church contacted me and asked me to handle audio for a musical drama celebrating Christmas. The task seemed complex and critical in nature, and she felt my skills were needed to make it work the way she wanted it to. I agreed. She said she’d contacted Neil, too, and that he’d be involved, and I looked forward to this opportunity for us to work together again. I was also asked to narrate, which meant that I had lots of recording to do prior to the first rehearsal and precious little time to complete it. I did, but only just.

When I arrived for the first rehearsal, I was in for the shock of my life. First, as I set up the equipment I’d brought to play back narration and music, Neil took me to task, visibly upset that I had not called him and involved him in recording my narration parts. Explanations that I’d been short of time fell on uninterested ears. Incredulous, I let the tirade pass and continued to work.

The rehearsal moved slowly. Hours passed. Neil was surly and disinterested, responding to requests for help but making his displeasure known. To my dismay, snide remarks and negativity gradually gave way to open hostility. Constant barbs flew my way, as if my very presence was an affront to Neil and his position. Anyone can have a bad day, but this crossed a line with me. The rehearsal itself was difficult enough, and I became so distracted and absorbed in the work that I forgot to eat, a bonehead move which resulted in a hypoglycemic crisis that afternoon as I was leaving the church. By this point, Neil had gone home.

I did not confront Neil about his behavior at the rehearsal. Instead, I carefully drafted an e-mail explaining that this sort of behavior precluded any sort of working relationship. I expressed that I still needed his help with the production, since I had no hope of finding other help on such short notice, but that after that I was not interested in any future projects with him. I felt hurt, angry, and betrayed.

I was forced to fly to California on business just before the program. I returned the day of the show, just hours before the final dress rehearsal. Allison dragged my sleepy body out of the airport and directly to the church, where I began setting up. Neil had not yet arrived. He did finally show up, quite late, and immediately asked to talk with me privately.

The story he related was disturbing. He said that the previous night, he had gone to visit a friend, someone of whom Sue did not approve. When he returned home later than expected, Sue had gone crazy, screamed and yelled at him in front of the baby, and clawed at him with her nails. He showed me the marks on his arm, and the wounds did appear recent and consistent with an attack by someone with long nails. He intimated to me that Sue had resumed drinking, and that he had had a bit to drink the previous night as well.

Neil claimed that no physical contact had been made with the baby, but that the entire altercation had taken place in the same room where the child was sleeping. I advised him that he was treading dangerous ground and that he’d better get his act together before the situation escalated and someone got hurt, particularly the baby. At that point, he claimed he needed to go home right away and continue to deal with the situation, and I could do nothing but concede the point. Off he went, and Allison became my assistant for the day and evening. She performed admirably. The production went extremely well, and we were all very proud of the result.

As the weeks after that production wore on, I worried deeply about Neil and Sue’s situation. Sue had a history of emotional extremes, Neil was known for a quick temper at times, and an innocent child’s well-being seemed to hang in the balance. I called once to check on them and was brushed off, Neil being unwilling to talk about what happened because Sue was within earshot. The situation was too volatile to ignore, but I also could not violate Neil’s confidence by talking to anyone about it.

Allison, feeling my pain, decided to take matters into her own hands and did what I should have done much sooner. She called Belle and Frank and related to them what Neil had told me, expressing the concerns we shared for all of them. I felt like the worst kind of snitch, but I also knew that the best people for Neil to have on his side were his parents. He just did not seem equipped to handle this on his own.

When Neil got the call from his parents, he denied everything. The story he told me, he explained, was a lie intended only to get him out of working that day. None of it had actually happened, he claimed, and that claim was repeated in a voicemail left on my phone. Everything was under control, he said, and no one should worry.

A couple of weeks passed until one night, on my way home from work, Sue called me and asked if I had time to talk. I said that I had time, and she immediately told me that she was calling while Neil was out so that he would not overhear.

What followed was the most confusing stream of information I have ever heard. At first she wanted to tell me that the stories I’d heard about the baby being struck during the altercation were untrue. Since I had not heard any such accounts, I was immediately suspicious. She then went on to tell me that she had been the perfect mother, that nothing Neil had told me was true, and that in fact Neil was smoking crack and doing hard drugs on a regular basis and physically abusing her.

Then, incredibly, she launched into a tirade about how disappointed she was in me for betraying her to Neil’s parents, who (in her opinion) don’t like her anyway. Because I didn’t call her to confirm Neil’s story that day, because Allison tried to put information in the hands of people who were in a position to counsel and help, I was pushed to recant. She actually asked me to call Belle and Frank and tell them that the story Neil told me was a lie — how insane would that be?

At some point during the conversation, Neil walked in and was allowed a few moments to speak to me. He apologized for the lie, gave a satisfactory explanation of something else I’d mentioned in my e-mail, and apologized in a roundabout way for the abuse we were getting from Sue. Sue then regained control of the phone and continued to scold me. She contradicted herself several times. She was being abused by Neil at one point, but that soon changed and there was never any abuse. They were fighting constantly, but they were not fighting. They needed help but did not need help. Each time I advised that they seek counseling as a couple, I was told, “But there’s nothing wrong with ME, it’s HIM!” I am sure that if Neil had been allowed to speak I would have heard a mirror image of that statement. The running theme, in between descriptions of how horrible and out of control things were, was that everything was under control and no outside help was needed.

The conversation degenerated to the point where I was being called a lousy friend and a traitor if I agreed with what Allison had done, and at that point I snapped. I will let anyone call me names and will endure endless vituperation with a smile, if the conditions are favorable, but I don’t tolerate abasement of Allison under any circumstances.

At that point, I informed Sue that contrary to her beliefs, Allison had done her a favor by calling Neil’s parents and not a nosy government agency that would be all too eager to start a deep, probing investigation of their life’s every orifice. I brought her the news that their problems had an emotional effect on us as well, and that I’d spent a lot of my time worrying about them. I did not fail to mention that both Allison and I had gone out of our way on dozens of occasions to show them friendship, treating them like family, and that I did not appreciate her insults and vitriol by way of thanks, and I then terminated the conversation. Only Allison saw or heard what happened next, something that men don’t do.

After spending some time with me, helping me regain my composure and calm down, Allison let Frank and Belle know about the call. I got on the phone at one point as well, just to relate what I’d heard; Allison had heard only one side of the call, after all. They said they planned to call again and see what they could do to intervene in this difficult situation, and I sincerely hope they are able to help. Meanwhile, my cell phone just rang with Neil’s number on the display, and I could not bring myself to answer it.

My life has a lot of problems. My health isn’t great, my job is unstable and a constant source of stress, money is tight and the economy stinks, and I spend more time in my car every day than I spend with Allison. Those problems positively pale beside what these two kids are facing. Lack of steady employment, a baby to raise and feed, relationship issues, vehicle problems, housing problems, inexperience as parents, no geographically close family … this is a recipe for disaster if something doesn’t get better, fast.

I doubt myself. That conversation with Sue shook me. Am I, indeed, a jerk and a lousy friend? I think Allison did the right thing by bringing a family member into the situation so that these two will at least have the chance to get the help they need. Most of the time, I think I did the right thing in passing along the other things I heard when talking with Sue. There is a marriage, a child, and a family at stake. Still, I regret the intrusion into their lives and the dishonesty of having … snitched.

I have the feeling I’m going to struggle with this for a long time.

A word about comments: please feel free to comment, but if you happen to know me well enough to know who I’m talking about, please don’t use any real names or otherwise identify any of the characters in this story other than Allison and me. Thanks.