Monday, September 19, 2011


Page 41

Why didn’t I say something to him?

I wasn’t thinking clearly. I finally found my keys and deliberately, gradually turned the truck engine so as not to create a spark. I could see he was finished with his cigarette, putting the ember out against his poor abused car. And then he tossed it into the trashcan next to the gas nozzle. My truck engine started and I sped out of there. A service attendant had pulled over a hose and started spraying everything down. It wasn’t too late. The potential unintentional arson never occurred.

I was going about 90 mph, I had the radar detector on. But once you are reaching that breakneck speed with no traffic, it is hard to slow down in time to escape a visit from our famous Smokey Pokey sheriff's department. And as expected, my mirror filled up with a flurry of red and blue lights strobeing to the sound of my heartbeat.

I was crying ... sobbing.

Hiccup, hiccup,

I saw the officer approaching and for one minute I thought of getting out of the car holding a writing pen like a gun. Maybe he can end this right now and put quite a few people out of their misery.
I stayed put.
“License and registration”

I reached into the glove compartment finding Debra’s registration neatly filed against an owner's manual and a box of tissue. Then searched my purse, with hands trembling, took out my Texas ID. I have $20 left. That should do it, I'll try to bribe him. he'll haul my ass in and I would have a place to stay for the night. And my guests will not require intellectual rhetoric. I handed the documents shaking and crying to the kind gentleman. I put the $20 in my purse. I might need it for bail.

“Mam, you were going over 60.” He continued while using his flashlight to find the 10 pounds of pot and a brick of cocaine, which he was certain I must have. “Can you tell me why?”

Now there’s something interesting. Why would he care WHY? He had a job

... and I was certain he was going to do it.

I placated his curiosity. With my chest heaving and makeup running, I told him in a very quick and almost incomprehensible voice about Anna and Debra and my kids, and my husband, and my company…ending with
... and when I was two…

He became flustered, riffling through his bag of tricks, pulling out a piece of Kleenex. It looked a bit used, and the mist added to the appearance. I wanted him to arrest me, throw me in jail. Tie me up to a car battery and use a screwdriver to tap on my fillings.

“Mam, please, drive carefully” and he left. I have tried that since, it doesn’t work when it’s not genuine.

I no longer recognized myself. Just 3 months ago, I was an innocent. My proclivities were strictly heterosexual. None of this was my idea. And to this day, I do not know if I would have headed down this road. Had she not initiated this, would I be gay? If she would not have, I may never have experienced love, for me, love.

I peeled out of there and reached that 90 mph in record pace. Almost 2 hours had gone by. The Sheriff Department vehicle didn't move.

To be continued

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