Keema & Lamar:A Ghetto Love Story 3By: Aisha Hall
A Ghetto Love Story Part 3
The way I drove, I’d be arriving at the hospital faster than the ambulance. I must’ve been doing over 100 miles per hour in my Lamborghini. I already made up my mind that if Lamar didn’t make it, I had nothing else to live for. He was my everything. At times I tried to front like I could be without him, but that was a lie. I was only lying to myself. I needed him, and I was pretty sure he needed me too. If he didn’t survive this, I would proudly spend the rest of my life in prison if necessary. I swear, if that muthafucka took my baby from me, I will kill him slowly, taking the ultimate pleasure in his death.
I was here in this moment. Left hand on the steering wheel. Foot on the gas. Right hand on the gear shift. But none of this felt like reality. This was surreal. My body and mind were still in shock. Yes, shock, about a lot of things. For one, I was trippin’ that D-Lite’s brother was the shooter. When they say the past can come back to haunt you, I never realized how literal that statement is. I was living it. I gave the gas a little more pressure, and the engine revved. My body was glued to the seat. Blood stained my hands, my clothes. Still, this was too much to process at one time. And on top of everything that happened, Timothy is Lamar’s son! Timothy! Phantom! Everything hit me at one time, leaving my head spinning. What were the odds of that? It just seems so impossible.
So far I ran six red lights. I pressed the gas a little harder trying to make it through a yellow light, but just as I approached the intersection, the shit turned red. An oncoming car drove forward, and as soon as the driver saw me, he slammed on his brakes. The car behind him didn’t slow down fast enough. Oh shit! My eyes widened, certain a crash was inevitable. To avoid involving myself in the accident, I swerved slightly, but peered through my rearview just in time to see the two cars collide. Damn! Briefly, I shut my eyes as if that would somehow eliminate my blame in the accident. I couldn’t stop. I had to get to my man. Speeding on, I erased it out of my mind.
Finally, I arrived at the hospital, and I ran inside the emergency room. “My husband Lamar Wright, he was shot. Where is he?” I asked, crying hysterically. Without seeing my reflection, I knew my eyes were bloodshot. Scared and frantic, it took double the energy to even breathe.
“Ma’am. Slow down. What did you say his name is again?”
“Lamar! Lamar Wright. They should either be here or pulling in. Where is he?” She typed something on her keyboard, and then looked up at me.
“Okay, ma’am. They were re-routed to a different hospital.” She printed something, and then passed it to me.
“Emory? That’s over forty-five minutes from here. Are you kidding me?” I balled up the paper and hit the automatic start. Then I ran out of there and jumped back in the car. If I speed, I can get there in twenty minutes. I floored it out of the parking lot.
Traffic was impossible. The same accident I caused on my way there held me up. Talk about karma. That bitch wasn’t on my side tonight. Well actually, it was the wee hours of the morning now. It took me over an hour to get to Emory. Again, I found myself bolting inside the emergency room. There were less people here than at Atlantic Memorial.
“Nurse! Nurse, please help me!” I said to the first person I saw in scrubs. “I’m looking for my husband. His name is Lamar Wright. He came in an ambulance. He was shot. Please, where is he?”
“Just have a seat, ma’am. I believe Mr. Wright’s in surgery. They’re working hard on him,” she said, standing up from her swivel chair.
“No, no! You don’t understand. I need to see him right now. He’s expecting me to be by his side. Please take me to him. Please!” I begged. Usually, I don’t beg for shit, but I was begging this woman to take me to my husband. I cried. Pleaded. Begged some more, but to no avail.
“Please just calm down. I’ll have the nurse page the doctor in trauma to come and talk to you. Someone will take you back there. But please just try to calm down. They won’t let you in if you’re too distraught.” She just doesn’t get it. This is serious, and she’s acting way too calm. Fuck it! I have to get to Lamar. I didn’t know where I was going, but the sign on the door said ‘restricted area.’ As soon as someone came out, I took off running in that direction.