“Adore, talk to me. What’s up?”
“I’m good. The alcohol always fixes it,” I told him.
“Don’t do that shit.”
“I said I’m good.”
He snatched the bottle and threw it across the kitchen.
“Muthafucka, you’re not good. That bullshit makes you feel like you good. That’s all you do is mask behind this shit and try to move the fuck on. You said you want a marriage and some kids. How the hell do you plan on doin’ that drinkin’ like this? Do you think I want my kids comin’ in some dysfunctional, unhealed shit?”
“I feel like you judging me.”
“I’m not judgin’ you, baby. We both got scars that need healin’. You try to make it seem like shit is all good, when it ain’t.”
“The lawyer said I’m looking at ten years. Whoever the witness is is going to put the nail in the coffin for me. Right now, they don’t have much. They are banking on the witness to finish me.”
Silence fell between us. Like we were both thinking about our next move.
“And the lawyer don’t kno’ who the witness is?”
“He said he would try to find out. I mean, technically, I’m not supposed to know.”
“True! What if I told you that I may have an idea?” Whodie said.
I was drunk and trying to stay awake. So I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly.
“Come on, let me get you in the bed so you can sleep this shit off. When you sober up, I have something to show you.”
Whodie picked me up and carried me to the bed. He later came back with some water for me to drink right before I drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 21: WHODIE
Adore had been asleep for a few hours when I went back upstairs to check on her. As soon as I walked in, I knew something was off. I stood there for a moment just watching her breath. Her breaths were slow and heavy. She had never slept like that. It was like her small frame was working harder than it should to keep her going. I sat on the edge of the bed, hoping she would shift, cuss me out for flopping on the bed, or roll over. Any sign to let me know the liquor had worn off.
“Adore,” I called, leaning closer to her face.
She didn’t respond, so I reached and shook her shoulder lightly.
“Adore, wake up.”
Nothing, so this time I shook her ass harder.
“Adore!” I slapped her cheek and still didn’t get a response. “Fuck!”
Panic was starting to set in as I yanked the cover off her and scooped her up. There was no time to call 911; I could drive faster in my Challenger to get her to the hospital. The drive felt like hours, even though I ran through all the red lights and damn near killed us trying to get there.
“Stay wit’ me, baby. Don’t you do this shit to me, girl,” I kept saying, glancing over at her in the passenger seat. Her head was leaned against the window, and she was completely out of it.
I pulled up to the emergency room entrance. I barely put the car in park before running to the passenger side and carrying Adore through the doors. Once they noticed me and Adore in my arms, slumped, they jumped right into action.
“What happened?” one of the nurses asked as they laid her out on a stretcher.
“She…she won’t wake up. She was drinkin’ but…”
My words kept getting stuck. As much death as I had seen, this was one that I knew would end me. They tried to wheel her away from me, and I gripped the bed, damn near snatching one of the nurse’s arms off.
“I’m goin’ wit’ her.”
