let me vent...

The timid sounds of J. Howell’s RedRoom entered into my thoughts are the memorized lyrics of “Faithful” surfaced into my mind. I slowly felt my lips moving, no words came out, but the lyrics of that song came so easily in my intoxicated state.

Please dont let it, don't let it go too far

Cause I don't wanna give up

Please don't make it, so hard……

Please don't let it, don't let it go too far.

My numb body is now gaining feeling as the words register, tears building in the corners of my eyes as if my vision isn’t blurred enough. Voices continue to tell me to pull over, allow my body time to rest and sober itself, take it slow. It’s no ordinary warning either; I can feel the nervous and emotional wave washing over my body as if it’d the final warning of life itself.

My left hand left the steering wheel, my leg taking its replacement as I managed to press the repeat button. I put my phone on shuffle over an hour ago just so I didn’t have to worry about picking and choosing anything myself. This is the first time the pick was something meaningful; thus far I been in a uncomfortable mood of random Kodak Black singles, T.I.’s classics, even some mixes of Jeezy, Nipsey, and Dave East. Nothing had been this sentimental.

Regardless of my state; I did make it home. The gates opening as my fumbling finger found the correct button after three minutes and five attempts. I didn’t park the car nearly as straight as I could; but that’ll be something for me to worry about tomorrow. Right now, finding the correct key for the front doors and relaxing in this crisp cool air is my only priority.

“You managed well,” The whispered tone stopped me, causing my blurred vision to leave the tangled keys in my hand and settle on the now wide-open door with a five-four figure standing in front of me.

I hated her voice right now and usually I’ll kill with my bear hands for the sound; it brought peace in a world of drama. Love how clam it is regardless of what she’s going through. I guess those college years working for 911 Dispatch paid off. Never is it sarcastic, never shouts at anyone, never belittling to the other person. It is just perfect for a man after a stressful day.

“I was wondering how well you’ll get home.” Mentally I heard myself respond; telling Nicole to go home firmly and continuing to step into the two story home, however managing to close one of the double wood doors behind me. I could tell from her facial that I was confusing her, the simple dismal never confronting her.

I said that the beauty was never rude or argued, not that her face didn’t say what her mouth wouldn’t.

“LeParis…you’re drunk. Rick and Chad called looking for you two hours ago saying you left the office upset. I called you well over a hundred times for sure. Plus, Chad called and I know he did because he came by and sat here for over an hour hoping you’ll show up.”

“Go home Nicole.” I heard it come out that time.

We all have been around each other since sometime in grade school; growing up here in Dade-County. Nicole was a 911 Dispatcher for the city after we graduated high school, turned registered nurse, and graduating from University of Miami along with myself and Chad in 2013. Within the last year and only four years on the job, she has land the position of Head Nurse at Holtz Children’s Hospital. And just from the looks of it she hadn’t made it home since getting off because her black scrub coat lay idle on my kitchen counter; matching her slacks and white button down shirt.

Interesting.

Whereas Nicole has always been a people-person, helping and healing as I like to call it; Chad and Rick were like my identical non-related, brothers. If they had truly been here earlier, I knew not to expect them here now. Not that there wasn’t any or even much concern, but we know each other well enough to know it’s not necessary to wait and neither is it uncommon for a man to take a drive and drink after a stressful day.  I’ve known Richard since we were in diapers; our mothers were best friends, also making him my god-brother. Chad moved down from Tallahassee, Florida when he was only eight, moving with his grandmother and enrolled into the same school that Rick and I attended. As the bad-ass that only seemed to need some tender-loving to control his anger, it wasn’t long before he was “like-able”. My late mother and Ms. Patricia showed him the way. My mother being a high-school school teacher and Ms. Patricia being a licensed therapist they tweaked out his anger and got him on track. He’s been adopted into Dr. Melvin Patterson’s family since middle school once his grandmother lost custody, a family that my mother has known since she started teaching.

We were all close; however never so close that the emergency key given for emergencies only should be used outside of such.

“You’re drunk LeParis, I’m not going nowhere. What’s the matter with you? Why would I leave the offices, if you’re intoxicated and for God’s sake you drove around for over two hours? Can you at least tell me why?”

“I can tell you to go home one more time before I put you out.”

My slumped body fell to the couch, the plush blanket falling over my torso as I finally laid down; my eyes hurt from the lights she had turned on and the nausea feeling was finally settling in.

Nicole was killing my drunkenness.

“Well…goodnight then. I’ll lock the door behind me.”

See? No fight, no loudness; not an inch of stubbornness lives in this girl.

 “I’m sure Ryan is home waiting on you anyways. You come running and waiting as if this is my first time getting drunk. I’m not a child. I think I can handle some liquor and a drive.”

“Well, Ryan knows I came here to check on you,”

“Nicole you said it yourself, you’ve been here for a few hours. That’s not checking on me. That’s waiting and I don’t’,”

“Okay, Paris, ok.” The voice cut me off, followed by a sigh of defeat.