Dear Rosie - Page 203
My throat is dry, but I don’t dare lift my cup of water off the counter.
I can’t let him know I’m here. Watching.
I need this to work.
I don’t know if I’ll survive this life after he’s gone, but I need to outlive him.
Even if it’s just by hours.
Dad tips his head back, and I lean over the counter, trying to get a better view of him gulping down the last of the soup.
Excitement and nervousness swirl inside me.
Thishas towork.
Nothing happens.
Dad sets his bowl down.
Long minutes go by.
What if this doesn’t work?
The amount I gave him is supposed to act quickly.
He picks up his beer.
I grip the counter, thinking back over everything I researched.
Where did I go wrong?
He tips his head back, chugging down the bottle.
Until he’s not.
His body lurches.
Liquid sprays from his mouth.
Then he’s convulsing.
He’s making sounds.
Maybe trying to call for help.
But I don’t move.
I grip the counter harder and stay where I am.
He thrashes.
Tries to get up.
Gurgles.
And then… stillness.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears.
