by K. S. Adkins
When all I heard was breathing, I was certain the lid was going to come flying off and I’d have a small window to fight. But when the voice said, “I would rather see you suffer,” and disconnected, no bullshit, I lost my bladder again.
We had just finished dinner when I turned on the Bluetooth speaker and played our wedding song, C-R-E-A-M by Wu-Tang Clan. I watched my woman’s face light up. Being married in Vegas had been wild. We had gone to a random club on the strip, and this was the first song we heard so we made it ours. Pharis knew every goddamn word.
“Dance with me, baby,” I said, taking her hand and leading her to the middle of the dining room.
Falling into my arms, Pharis locked her fingers around my neck whispering, “Always.”
Finding our rhythm, I had her tight against my chest when she crooned, “So I got with a sick ass clique and went all out catchin’ keys from across the seas.”
While I doubt she even knew what it meant, for me it was the most beautiful track I had ever heard.
I had my head in my hands when my FaceTime alert went off.
Swiping quickly, I saw her face and forced myself to calm the fuck down.
“I’m back,” she said so sweetly.
“Did you make him cry?”
“I said what I had to say,” she smiled. “But enough about me. How are you?”
“Superstar,” I gritted out, clutching the phone. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Eddie, shh,” she whispered. “I don’t know how long I have, but you need to know something.”
“What’s that?”
“I would do it all over again to have had this second chance with you.”
Gutted, I wiped my tears and was about to speak when her phone started shaking.
She was running out of oxygen.
Watching Pharis shut her eyes and her mouth involuntarily open wider for oxygen that wasn’t available, was torture. With practically the entire city of Detroit’s finest here working on finding her, Aaron and Butch made it clear I stayed on the phone with Pharis.
They were right.
I owed her this.
To be the last voice she hears.
Because unless we found her within the next thirty minutes, she would close her eyes and never open them again. And if there was ever a time to say what needs to be said, it was now.
I had waited too long as it was.
Focusing on my wife’s beautiful face, I finally managed to say, “I love you.”
Her gasp cost her as did the fresh tears, but I had to keep going. “I could never say the words because love can’t describe how I feel about you. I love you isn’t enough. Far as I know, another word hasn’t been invented yet. To me those words slighted you. You shouldn’t have to settle, so I tried to show you instead. Should have said the words, Pharis. Should have made my own fucking words.”
She was quiet for a moment before saying, “Was that so hard?”
And I couldn’t help the heartbroken laugh that escaped me. Staring at the woman who owned me heart and soul, even as she was struggling to breathe, to stay calm. With panic riding her, and death nearby, she still smiled for me.
She still loved me.
“Eddie,” she said with a short breath. “Don’t forget about me.”
Holding back my rage, I vowed, “I will never forget you. You’re my wife, my life, my superstar.”
“Find her,” she sniffled. “Make her pay.”
“Who, baby?” I begged clutching the phone. “Who!”
“Emily,” she said fading right before my eyes.
Oh God, I was losing her. “Talk to me!”
“She said Butch would know where to find me. I told you earlier.”
She hadn’t told me earlier because she was doped up. Finally answers! Roaring his name, I looked up at Butch to see he was as lost as me. But when it clicks, we both sprang into action.
“I’m coming, Pharis! You hold the fuck on! I’m coming!”
We were loading up into Aaron’s truck on the way to Emily’s with all units when Pharis started gasping and panicking in earnest. Covering the mic, Butch met my eyes. “This is it, Eddie. She's out of time.”
“No!”
“Comfort her, calm her, let her know you’re here.”
With my friend’s arm around me to lend strength, I said, “Relax for me, superstar. Stop fighting. It’s okay. I’m here, it’s okay.”
Her gasps were becoming fewer and far between. I clutched the phone and told her, “I love you, Pharis Ellis. Until the day I fucking die and when that day arrives, I’m coming for you, superstar. This isn’t over.”
Through tears, I watched from my end of the phone as my wife took her final breaths.
And when the phone fell from her hand, it landed sideways perched on her breast giving me a final look at her face.
Mouth no longer gaping open, eyes were closed, her face was relaxed.
She was still.
So still.
My wife wasn’t just gone.
My wife had suffered.
For loving me, she paid the ultimate price.
Fight, goddammit, fight!
Pressure.
You’ve never quit anything in your life, now you fucking fight and come back to me!
Pressure.
Sting.
Pressure.
Someone was slapping me.
Eddie.
How'd he like it if I hit him back?
Waking up, I didn’t struggle to figure out where I was or how I got there.
I knew I was alive based on how sore I was and also that Eddie had saved me.
He’d brought me back.
After slapping the shit out of me, of course.
He was, once again and forever would be, my hero.
The rest could wait.
Of course, there were monitors, IVs in my arms, and an itchy gown, but I didn’t care because I was here.
I was alive.
Scanning the room, I had Eddie next to my bed holding my hand and it felt like heaven.
Connie was in Aaron’s lap, Bridget was staring out of the window, and Butch staring at his feet.
“Eddie,” I whispered so only he would hear me.
Eyes snapping to mine, he grated out fiercely, “I love you.”
“I love you too and thank you.”
“I love you, Pharis.”
“I know, Eddie.” I smiled weakly. “I love you too.”
“Without you,” he whispered just so I can hear. “I don’t know what the fuck I was put on this earth for.”
“This is the part,” I whispered back, clutching his arm.
“Which part, baby?”
“The part where I finally figure out who I am.”
“Who are you then, baby?” he asked semi-crawling into the hospital bed to hug me.
“Eddie,” I cried into his neck. “I’m who I’ve always been, who I’m supposed to be. Your wife.”
We both had tears in our eyes and were lost in our own world when Griff flew into the room like the devil was on his ass. Or in my case, his pseudo-daughter had been kidnapped and thought to have died.
Only I wasn’t dead.
I was asleep.
I also hadn’t been suffocating.
I was having multiple panic attacks.
Which exhausted me to the point of passing out.
Props to the dumb ass not sealing me in too tight because it saved my life.
So when Griff cried out, “You’re alive!”
This alerted the group to my consciousness and it was chaos for hours following.
Through it all, nurses came in and out, we all hugged and kissed, someone cleaned out the cafeteria, flowers arrived from athletes, franchises and fans, and not once did I let go of my husband.
Piece of paper or not, he was mine.
Would always be mine.
Just as I was his.
But the longer I watched Butch hang back, the more I worried about him. Getting Edd
ie’s ear, I ask a favor and in a flash the room was empty, save Butch and I.
“Hey there,” I said, patting my bed for him to join me.
Dropping his head, Butch made his way over slowly, sitting down but staying silent and tense.
“She was sick, Butch. This is not your fault.”
Looking away, he whispered, “Should have seen it.”
“Please look at me.” When he refused, I said, “I don’t blame you.”
Shoving off the bed, he yelled, “I blame me!”
Stepping back inside, Eddie warned, “Don’t upset her, brother.”
“Stop,” I said firmly. “Eddie, don’t, and Butch come back here.”
Shuffling over, I opened my arms and ordered, “Hug me.”
Finally, within my reach, I latched onto him, and I swear to God we stayed that way for hours.
At least until Eddie complained, “Always touching my woman.”
“She touched me first,” Butch smirked.
“Now,” I said mid-yawn. “Tell me what happened when the cavalry showed up.”
You could hear a pin drop.
I’ll never forget what it felt like to lose her.
In true time, it was merely a matter of minutes.
For as long as I live, the memory of that night will haunt me.
Just as I’ll remember the color of her eyes when she opened them.
Scrubbing my face at the same time Butch looked ready to smash something, I sat next to her and pleaded, “Later, superstar.”
“No, now.”
“We’re still raw, Pharis.”
When her face grew red, I knew working her up was a bad idea. But it was Butch who blurted, “Hooked up with her on and off for a while. When she refused to meet everyone, I cut her loose. Then she came back swearing she'd changed. I really thought she was into me this last year, but she only pretended to be so she could get close to Eddie. Which was fucking stupid on her part, obviously. According to the statement she gave when they brought her in, she believes Eddie is in love with her, but to have him, she had to kill you. Just uh...like she killed the victims that looked like you. She said they were love notes to Eddie, the crazy bitch.”
Watching Pharis to see how she was taking it, I was shocked when she merely went, “Huh.”
“I just thought she wanted to be part of our group, superstar,” Butch said softly.
“Was I imagining her in a wedding gown or were the drugs that strong?”
Coughing uncomfortably, I explained, “When we got there she was uh...”
“Ready to get fucking married,” Butch added. “To Eddie.”
How did she react to that? By laughing her ass off. I’d like to point out me nor Butch laughed with her. When she finally sobered, she asked, “So explain to me why, if I was buried, that I had cell reception.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” I countered, unable to keep up.
“Well, yes,” she said flatly. “Considering I normally have shit service at best.”
“Because you weren’t buried,” Butch said, reliving what we walked into. “Your...coffin never left the crates it sat on.”
Whistling loud she said, “Goddamn, and you tapped that, huh?”
“Is it true you sacked her?” Butch asked smirking, refusing to answer her question. Though, I already knew the answer and would share it with her later. Butch never tapped Emily. Well, I mean, he did. If you count knocking her out. But the man’s heart and dick belonged to Bridget. Always had too.
I’d hold Butch being a virgin over his head for the rest of my life.
“With my fucking arms tied.” She smirked back. “Hurt like a bitch too.”
Fuck me, but my woman was amazing. But never to let an opportunity pass me by I asked her, “You’ve got nothing to say about the psycho trying to marry me in her house, baby?”
Grinning she simply said, “You're already taken.”
Which is true, I am.
The first nightmare wasn’t pleasant or unexpected.
But with Eddie’s help and the ocean air coming in through the door wall, it was manageable.
While I didn’t have them every night, I did have them frequently, and he was always there to help me find my way back. Eddie reminded me daily I am home to him. And I made sure he knew he was home to me too.
Tonight was my second show and to say I fit here was an understatement.
I took to this role as if I were born for it.
Eddie was standing off to the far left next to Griff watching as I was de-miked and wishing my co-hosts a good night. Making my way into Eddie’s arms, I absorbed his comfort while offering Griff a wink.
These men, they still worried about me, and I loved them for it.
On Griff’s orders, the four of us, (Brenda, Griff’s wife joined us) dined and had cocktails at one of our new favorite spots, Zuma.
Later that night, I laid in bed with a smile on my face as he checked and double checked that our condo was secure. Even with Emily firmly behind bars, neither he nor Griff were leaving my safety to chance.
Exhausted, I fell asleep quickly but when the bed dipped, I found home and snuggled into it.
Into him.
“I love you, superstar,” he said in my ear.
“I love you too, Eddie,” I mumbled back.
“Proud of you.”
“Proud of us,” were my final words before I crashed hard.
That morning, while Eddie slept peacefully, I snuck out of bed, dressed, grabbed my bag, and started walking. I didn’t have far to go and actually had planned to take a cab because my Detroit skin hadn’t acclimated yet. Honestly? I wasn’t sure it ever would. But I at least had to try.
Adjusting my bag, I strode up the walk to my therapist’s office to find the man I love standing there holding a cup of coffee and open arms. Props to Eddie for being the smart one who clearly took a cab.
“I came to walk you in and wait for you,” he said softly and as for me, I was undone. Because Eddie, he knew, he always did. Even when I hadn’t voiced it.
“You didn’t have to,” I whispered, emotion clogging my throat.
“But I wanted to,” he said, repeating the same words of encouragement I had spoken to him. “I’m superstar’s man, Pharis.”
“But—”
“I’m your man. I just wanted you to know that I’m here. That you’re not alone. Now there’s someone inside who can offer you the help that I can’t. So I’ll be meeting your sweet ass back here in exactly one hour, and then we’re taking the boat out.”
And that day went a little easier because of Eddie.
For the last month, Pharis has been seeing her counselor twice a week, and I was so fucking proud of her. She was open about her therapy, never shut me out, and was progressing so well, I wanted to throw her a goddamn party. But as much fun as that sounded, I had something even better planned. Pharis loved my surprises.
Though I loved nothing more than Pharis, this 38-Express yacht was a close second. Hell, I’d trade Aaron, Butch, and my flat screen in a heartbeat for this baby.
By Miami standards, our vessel was a small fish in a big pond, but we didn’t care.
It was ours, and it was more than enough.
Yes, we loved our condo, but floating on the water had become like breathing for us.
If this is what babies felt like in the womb I totally got it.
With her having the next two weeks off, I had everything in place and Pharis right where I needed her.
Mixing her another drink inside the clutch cockpit, I paused to watch her dance out on the bow. While there were a million reasons I loved her, Pharis swaying under the bright stars to “Good for Me” by Above & Beyond, seeing her at peace, ranked high on the list. Listen, the bikini she was rocking was high on that list too. But, this was...angelic.
Sensing me, she turned slightly, raised her arms over her head, and arched her back.
God, everything about her drew me in.
It was funny. When I asked her to date me again, I was reeling from her divorce diet weight loss. And it wasn’t until she weighed herself a couple days ago, and her telling me she’s gained some weight back for me to notice the change. I loved her so goddamned much that I didn’t care what that number showed on the scale, just as long as I had her.
Because no matter her weight, Pharis was perfect.
And I just wanted her to be happy.
Setting the drinks down, I moved toward her, snagged her waist, placing a soft kiss on her skin.
“I love this song,” she said, grinding into my cock. “Dance with me, baby.”
Doing as she asked, with not so much as an inch between us, I move with Pharis, marveling that we were so happy now, what would we be like in fifty years? Fuck, I couldn’t wait to find out.
Spinning her to face me, I cupped her face in my hands and said, “The first time I didn’t give you a choice. This time, I am.”
“Eddie,” she said with tears in her eyes.
Dropping to one knee and taking her hands in mine, I looked up at the woman I was born to love and confessed, “Before you say yes, you should know that we aren’t legally divorced.”
With wide eyes, she tried to speak but can’t, which worked for me because I had to get this out.
“Judges work with law enforcement. Ours knew what was at stake and played along for your safety and the integrity of the case. I had to make it believable, superstar.”
“We’re not divorced?” she asked, blinking rapidly, trying to process.
“No, baby. We’re not. But my knees are starting to hurt so I’ll take that yes now.”
“All this time, we’ve been married?”
“Yes, in fact tonight is—”
“Our anniversary,” she said softly, almost sadly. “Tonight is our eleven-year anniversary.”
Cocking back and without warning, Pharis punched me dead in the face, and I saw a different set of stars. Falling to my ass, I was about to beg for forgiveness when she straddled me and simply said, “Yes.”
