One Last Thing ✅

nineteen things

When I was little, I wondered what it would be like in the back of a police car. Riley and I nagged her father to let us sit in one, just for a minute, but he never would. He said we wouldn't want to touch the seats if we saw the people who routinely sat on them. There wasn't enough disinfectant in the world to make him feel good about letting us crawl around in the back of his cruiser, he said.

This conversation runs through my head as I ride to the station after being discharged from the hospital, my one good wrist handcuffed to a handle near the ceiling of the car. My arm starts to ache, but I don't complain.

Grams wanted to come with us, but Chief Elliot said it would be better for her to go meet with the lawyer that's been assigned to us. She reluctantly agreed but assured me that she would immediately come to the jail after she was finished.

The jail.

How did this happen?

Chief Elliot doesn't talk to me.

We just listen to the police scanner. Some kid was caught shoplifting at the mall. The storeowner wanted someone to come by and talk to him, not to take him into custody, but just to scare him a little.

I look out the window.

The houses crawl by, familiar, but they look different from this perspective. The sun is going down, and there's this little girl riding her bike on the sidewalk. She watches us drive by. The back windows of the cruiser are tinted kind of dark, so I don't know if she can see me. I find myself hoping she can't.

We pass a park at the end of the street, one Grams would always take me to when I was in elementary school. It hits me then, how strange it is that I was once this little kid who giggled like a maniac on the swings while watching her legs fly up toward the sky and now...

Well, now I'm me.

Chief Elliot puts on his turning signal and steers away from the park, and my thoughts of the girl I used to be slip away as we get closer to the station. I run through all the TV shows I've seen of people going to jail to try to prepare myself for what's coming, but my hands still shake when Riley's father turns into the parking lot of the police station.

When he cuts the engine, he just sits there for a minute. Then I see him looking at me in the rear view mirror. "Don't worry," he says. "I'll be with you every step of the way. Okay?"

I swallow hard and nod.

Then he unclicks his seatbelt and gets out of the car.

I wait silently as he opens my door and uncuffs my hand from the door. "I don't think we need this," he says, removing it from my wrist. "Ready?" he asks. After I nod, he gently helps me out of the car.

He slams the door behind me, and then I follow him into the station. I can feel the receptionist's eyes on me as we push past a little door and walk to a back room where a guy with a mustache is sitting on a stool.

"I'll give your lawyer a call while you get your prints done," Chief Elliot says. "It's Michael Mason, right?" I nod silently, and Chief Elliot disappears into the hallway.

The guy with the mustache presses the fingers of my good hand, one by one, on a piece of yellow cardboard. "I guess the one will have to do," he says. He hands a moist towel to me so I can wipe off my fingers, but it's awkward to do with one hand. I end up just crumpling the tissue in my hand and squeezing it a few times before throwing it away.

By that time, Chief Elliot has returned with a large baggie. "He's on his way," he announces. "In the meantime, I need you to empty your pockets." He holds out the baggie so I can put my personal items inside. I plunge my right hand into my pockets, but all I bring out is a half-empty pack of Winterfresh gum. Still, he seals the baggie and writes my name in large block letters. "You'll get this when you leave."

After that, he leads me to the place I've been picturing ever since I found out I was getting arrested: a long row of cells. In each one, there's a cot and a toilet. There are only a couple of guys in the whole place, and both are sleeping.

Chief Elliot pulls out a big key ring and fits one into the lock of an empty cell. "Until Grams and your lawyer get here," he says apologetically. He points to a man standing at the end of the hall. "You see that guy? That's Pete. If you need something, anything at all, tell him to get me."

"Okay," I mutter, and then I walk past Chief Elliot, into the cell. The mattress on the cot looks like it's definitely seen better days. There are weird stains that I don't even want to consider, but suddenly I am feeling so tired that I can't bring myself to care. I drop onto the cot and lie down.

Chief Elliot stands there, watching me, for a minute. His eyes are sad. He's never been my biggest fan, but I don't think even he thought I'd end up here. Slowly, he pulls the cell door closed and locks it back up.

I close my eyes and try to forget.

Everything.