I was handcuffed and arrested in my driveway. I was led to the back seat of a police car, and I had to slide in, alone... Sit there, alone. I was worried about my sister. I was scared she was scared. She was scared for me. She was scared that I was scared.
I was wearing a freaking sports bra and yoga pants, darn it. Who doesn't let you put some clothes on before they give you sobriety tests? I just don't know. I just don't know. At least my sister was allowed to run over and give me her jacket, once she realized I was going to be ARRESTED. (Her jacket was waterproof, darn it).
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| We're kind of the smartest ladies I know... Here we are waiting for Harry Potter #5... In a book store. Because we're smart! |
I was in shock and trying to put on a happy face for my little sis. I was okay, it would be okay. "This is just craziness. Craziness."
You see, it was raining... pouring... my little sis was sad. She's been sad for a long time. I've been so sad for a while, too, now... and we needed to talk, and it's not easy to be sad, and talk, and be crying, with 9 year old twins around: Especially Stella, who would want to know the who, the what, the how, the why, the where...
I said let's go somewhere. We'd park somewhere quiet and safe and talk and talk, talk, talk. I'd drive her truck. She was crying. I'd never driven her truck. It has a sensitive steering wheel apparently. It was "swervy," and I remember that.
It's not like I don't remember it all, because it is all crystal clear. I remember swerving, later, heading back towards my house. "Whoa, sorry about that, this is a crazy steering wheel." A two-hander for sure. I'm a swervy driver. I'm a swervy girl, I guess.
And, I was silly. I get very talkative and ridiculous when I'm nervous and scared. I might have mentioned Snoop Dog, and Gin and Juice. I know I told him I was uncomfortable being half naked. But, truly, I didn't understand what was happening, it was moving so fast. And I was worried about Mikhaila being worried about me.
I was not really paying darn attention to what the police were telling me... in my driveway... It's hard to, when you're on a main road, with headlights in your face, and you're wearing a bra.
"Um, you want me to walk like that right here?"
He demonstrated, with one step, on a packed down tire track.
I was standing in a completely different place. I held out my arms and took a crazy step, not trying to be sarcastic, but I guess I was a little. "Yeah, except no one can do that right here. I'm on a slope, look at the rocks, and it's washed out from the rain. Can I walk on a flat, safe area?
He told me to put my arms down and walk.
"No, that wasn't the point, I'm saying no one could walk like that right here. Can I walk somewhere else."
He didn't respond.
"Forget it. We have that."
That being a breathalyzer.
Guess what's not a good idea to do? Diet or pretty much fast/cleanse to look better in a bikini, 5 days before you leave for a beach vacation. It's just silly business. I hadn't eaten, really, very much at all in 5 days. I drank a lot of grapefruit juice. I ate only chicken and turkey and carrots. That releases Ketones into your system. Ketones can mess with your BAC. Or maybe it just wasn't working. He made me do it a few times, saying it wasn't working... or I wasn't doing it right. I don't know. I just thought it was one of those experiences I could write about (oh, I am!) someday. Like, "Remember the time the police thought I needed a breathalyzer test?" Then I thought, later, in the car... "Okay. I can write about the time I was cuffed and wrongfully arrested."
Experience.
Life.
Gotta experience life to be a good writer. But what the fuck? I didn't want it to actually be real. I'd like it to just be realistic. Like, "Thanks guys, got it, that was way different than how I would have written the getting arrested part of my story. Won't see ya later... 'cause I never have encounters with police, but... Thanks..."
I shouldn't have thought it was kind of funny at first. I had no idea why any flashing lights would be behind us. I thought maybe my sis's car wasn't inspected or something. Maybe a taillight was out. I joked to her, "We're just two hot girls in a truck, and I don't have a shirt on."
Nope.
Yes, I had taken off my jacket and tank top because there were sopping wet after walking around the cemetery in the rain. We had walked and talked and cleaned lichen off stones, and read the names. I told her, "The next stone I see will be the name of your first baby."
It was Mary. Mary was the first name...
That all sounds morbid. But it wasn't. We wanted the names to be uncovered, not hidden... We wanted them to be cared for. And we just needed to spend some time alone together. Somewhere quiet. Safe.
We talked and cried. We cried and talked. We had a very small amount of some drinks, just as we sat there... we were just... being sisters... talking... about things we couldn't talk to anyone else about... not anyone else in the world... For a few hours... 3 or four hours actually.
It's super crazy to be locked into a cell. I mean. I sat there for a moment, then realized I had no idea how long I would be there, and that we were leaving for Maine later that morning... because by then it was early morning hours, and although the bench is concrete, I felt bad that my shoes were so muddy from the cemetery and our totally rain damaged driveway, so I took them off and used the jacket as a pillow to lay down. I didn't want to get the "bench" dirty. And I thought, "Rest. Just calm down and think."
I took off my socks too, because they didn't match, and that's just a big faux pas for me... I mean, I threw them on because my sis needed me. I didn't think anyone would see them! Yeah, I thought about that... because I was sober... and just my normal, ridiculous self.
While we were filling out paperwork, "Hey, I know my rights, I get one phone call," then I set it down, of course and told him I was kidding. He was laughing a lot, but maybe because he thought I was just totally drunk or something... I mean, who's that funny, while getting arrested for a DUI, when they are sober? (No one. The answer is no one... Just me.).
And I felt like getting mug shots was kind of funny. I asked the cop what kind of expression I should make? Like, I shouldn't smile, since this isn't a happy event, but... He said, "Just don't laugh, probably. No one will see them anyway. They aren't public." I wasn't laughing, I was just kind of making crazy faces at him implying I felt like him taking my picture in the form of a mugshot was a whole lot of craziness... He laughed, then I guess I did.
And, I wasn't laughing, like, "Oh, I'm silly buzzed girl." I was laughing because I was scared and nervous, (and for the record whenever I have to pose for a formal type of photo... like my driver's license, I start laughing. I hate it. I hate getting my picture taken!).
It will be okay. I know it will. I'm really, really scared that I'm going to be facing the reality of this being real, and other things when PMDD, luteal phase hits me again... I won't be so level-headed, or able to think about it in a rational manner. Ohhhhhhh, great! That will be when I have to appear in court? PMDD is scarier than the police, or anything they could throw at me. It's already scary on its own. It's scary. And I'm already sad. But...
Anyway, it was pretty damn crazy, and I'm pretty sure I'm not a big fan of getting arrested, or just having cops giving me all kinds of business when I'm just wearing a bra, on top... Ya know?
