brighter. How about we get you home little sis.”
Emma just looked up with sad puppy eyes that were glazed, partly from crying and partly from drinking I was guessing. I grabbed her arm leading her out and said another thank you over my shoulder as I opened the door and walked out to where the taxi was waiting for us.
“Don’t take me home,” she begged me, tears filling up in her big eyes.
“No of course not, I’m not evil you know, we’re going home to my place but I have to call mum and dad to tell them you’re OK.”
She looked like she was going to object but then thought better of it.
“OK, but can you like tell them…that…um…well don’t tell them I’m drunk or anything…they’ll kill me,” she said dramatically.
“Well they wouldn’t kill you…but I know what you mean. I won’t tell them. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
We got in the taxi and drove home.
Walking up the stairs took a little longer than it normally did due to Emma’s lack of coordination and balance.
When we got in I helped her take off her coat and shoes, and then I walked her to the couch.
“I’m just going to get a blanket for you, you can sleep on the couch OK? I’ll get you some water or something as well.”
I went to the kitchen and poured her a glass of water and a glass of milk to line the stomach and gave it to her to drink. I had to sit there and basically force it down her throat but I finally got her to drink it all up. Then I got a blanket out of the cupboard by the window in the living room and a bucket to put next to her, just in case she