But really, even though I worry about her so much, I wouldn't trade knowing her and being friends with her for anything in the world. When she speaks, no matter how drunk she is, no matter how bad her English is when she's drinking, I understand her, more than just the words, but the feeling behind them.
I told her a few days ago about the time we met when she died. I wanted her to understand how dangerous drinking too much can be. She got teary eyed and didn't remember before and after she stopped breathing and had no heart beat.
We talked at the club that night when her dancing was over. She gave me the I see you looking at me gesture and came to me at the bar. We ended up chatting and having a few drinks. A lot of drinks. I had a hotel limo pick us up and in my room she asked if she could take a shower. I gave her a fresh bathrobe and slippers and sat in a chair having a vape of Prime 15 while I waited.
She came out of the shower, in robe and slippers, looking better than when she went in. She sat on the bed and fell straight back. I heard the air escape her lungs and her eyes were rolled back in her head. I gave her a stereo pain rub to see if she was just playing, but no reaction. I tilted her head back, opened her mouth to see if she was choking on something, while I had a hand on her wrist looking for a pulse, which wasn't there. I started CPR. After what seemed like forever, she gasped for air and opened her eyes. She sat upright, smiled and said , 'hello. Do you have any vodka?' 'Hi. You were dead! Let me check the minibar...'
Hearing she had died seemed to have a profound effect on her. She said ,'thank you for saving me. You are my second father. First give me life and you give me second life.' I looked into her eyes and finally saw I had gotten through to her. Maybe I can save her...