Careful as could be, I hit my blinker and shifted over to the side of the road. The area was a bit creepy and located in the industrial part of town where not a lot of people spent time when it wasn’t daylight hours.
Doing my best to keep calm, I employed the yoga breathing technique Mama Kerri taught me. Through the years our foster mom taught us weekly yoga, all eight of us “sisters” in a circle of unity as she called it, breathing and holding hands.
The tears still fell as I rolled down my window and checked my side mirror.
A tall, dark, male form was silhouetted by the single red and blue flashing light. The kind you see on an unmarked cop car. The man approached slowly. He had his gun out and down at his side. He was wearing dark slacks and a sportscoat but that was about all I could see. My entire focus was on the gun hanging at his side.
Were they supposed to have their guns out for a routine traffic stop? And why wasn’t he in a cruiser? Why was he in a suit and not a uniform?
Oh my god! Did he think I was a criminal? I mean the car used to be in Sonia’s name, but she gave it to me when she traded up. For a few seconds I filtered through tons of memories trying to figure out if her name was still on the car or my own. No, it was me. I paid the registration fee this year. Yeah. I nodded to myself as the officer got closer.
“Ma’am, hands to the steering wheel,” a low and very deep voice demanded.
Shoot. I knew that. Everyone did nowadays.
I placed my shaking hands on the wheel and turned my head to the side and out the window a bit.
“I’m sorry, Officer. I mean…”
“Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle.” His voice was direct and brooked no argument.
“Um, why? I didn’t even know I was speeding. I swear. I have a lot on my mind and I just got fired from my job…well technically, I quit because my boss was harassing me and grabbed my butt and…”
“Ma’am. Now. Out of the vehicle,” his request came again.
“But? Why? I-I…is this normal?” My voice cracked.
“I have reason to believe you stole this car and are carrying illegal paraphernalia in it. Please, do as I ask and get out of the vehicle. Keep your hands visible at all times. Do not reach for anything inside the car.”
My heart pounded so hard I thought I might have a heart attack.
Drugs. Stolen car.
What the heck was happening?
“Officer…” I glanced down at the shiny gold badge clipped to his belt, but it didn’t look like the normal badge a regular cop wore. The letters F-B-I glinted off the headlights from his car. “Really, this is a mistake. I am the rightful owner of this car and I don’t have drugs, nor have I ever done them.” I moved my right arm out toward the glove compartment. “I can show you my registration and…”
“Out. Of. The. Vehicle.” He ground the command out.
“Okay, okay. Um, I have to unlatch my seat belt.”
“Do it. Then hands up.”
I did as he said, trying the latch twice before I could get it to release. As he required, I put my hands up into the air, reached for the latch, and pushed the door open. It squeaked so loud I shivered at the sound; all of the doors made that sound. It had been doing that for a full year and I didn’t know how to make it stop. Trey, my useless no-longer boyfriend, didn’t even try to fix it. No-good loser. Another in the con column that was Trey Barker.
My hands continued to shake, and tears fell down my cheeks as I stood with my hands up.
“Close the door,” he demanded.
I did as he asked and squinted against the light.
“Now follow me. One foot in front of the other,” he instructed as though he were speaking to a child.
“Are you arresting me?” A deluge of tears fell down my cheeks as my chest constricted and my stomach plummeted.
“Ma’am just follow me. Closer.” He waved his non-gun-toting hand as he walked backward.
“I don’t understand. This is so crazy. I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear! It’s my car and I don’t have drugs. You can check it.”
“And I will, when you’re safely sitting in my car.”