Chapter 27

27

PORTER

I was in Greenwood at a meeting. The folks there were regular addicts and alcoholics, diverse in their income and occupations but similar in temperament. We were all selfish, all running from something and struggling to acquire simple adult coping mechanisms. I didn't have to speak. It wasn't like group therapy with a leader and people who made helpful suggestions. It was more like a group of friends at a picnic, where everyone brought their own casserole dish of dysfunction.

I listened to one woman talk about losing her kids. The state came to take them away because she was an unfit mother. It was just the kind of kick in the pants I needed right then. Drugs and drink weren't going to do anything good for me; they weren't going to bring Gina back, and they weren't going to make me feel any better. The only thing they would do would be to destroy what little happiness I had managed to achieve.

I was feeling marginally better when my phone rang. I took it outside, checking the caller ID and saw that it was Jason. "Hello?" I said, eager for information.

"They found her," he opened with the breaking news. "She's fine. She's at the treatment center."

"Oh." I didn't understand. She gone back to Nashville? Maybe this was all a misunderstanding. If she had a work shift she didn't tell me about, maybe her phone had just been turned off.

His next words cut me to the core. "There was a hostage situation, but that's been resolved."

"Hostage situation?" I gasped, running for my truck.

"I don't have all the details," Jason explained. "What I've been told is that a gunman broke in and did some damage on the second floor. No one was hurt, though. They were real clear about that. No one was hurt, but I'm not sure how her state is. The police have the suspect in custody."

"I'm on my way." I reached my vehicle, pulling the door open and throwing the phone inside.

I floored it through neighborhoods until I reached the highway. It was just two exits before the turnoff for the hospital. I held a picture of Gina in my mind, as I had seen her last, in my bed, in my T-shirt, with sleep-clouded eyes. She was alright. We were going to be reunited, and we had our entire lives to live together. This was not the end of anything.

An hour later, I pulled up to the treatment center to see cop cars parked diagonally through the traffic lanes and a crowd of people milling around. I inched my way into the parking lot, skirting the action, parking toward the back. Climbing out, I saw that the crowd was an odd mix of professionals and patients.

Doctors and hospital administrators were barking orders, covering their own asses as reporters shone camera lights in their faces. I swam through the chaos, searching each knot of people for any sign of Gina.

There was a picnic area near the front door. I hadn't noticed it before because the first time I had passed it, I had been high, and the second time, I had been anxious to leave. Sitting alone at the closest table was Gina: my love, the woman I couldn't live without. I rushed to her side, not caring who saw us.

She came up from her seat the moment she laid eyes on me, leaning into my embrace with all her strength. I found her mouth and kissed it, never before tasting anything so sweet. She returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around me, holding me to her. Joy bubbled up in my heart. I had weathered the storm; I had fought my internal demons and won. Gina was alive and safe, and I was still clean and sober.

She seemed to have the same thought at the exact same moment, because she pulled away, putting her hands on my cheeks. She checked my eyes, hunting for any sign of intoxication. I smiled, daring her to continue. I could prove to her again and again that I had the strength to say no to drugs. It would never get old.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too," she replied, pulling me in for an even deeper kiss.