Please, Let Me Go Home

Please, Let Me Go Home

The bright beam of the Constable’s patrol car was blinding me. Lights flashing. I pulled over to the side of the road.

“Please turn down your music,” the officer says. I’ve rolled down the window and hand him my driver’s license. I turn down the AC/DC blaring.

“Sorry, officer.”

He takes my documents and walks back to his patrol car. I wish he’d turn off the damn spotlight burning a path from his car to my rearview mirror and straight into my brain like a dagger.

“Please get out of the car, sir,” he says.

I step out. “It’s not what you think,” I say.

“Have you been drinking, sir?”

“It’s something else, officer.”

“I need you to answer my question, sir.”

“A few beers,” I say. “But…

“Please put your hands on the top the car, sir.”

“Wait, wait, I’ve got to tell you something.”

“Sir, if you don’t cooperate we can do this all down at the station.”

“Hold up, Ponch.”

“Mr. Albon, I need you to listen to my instructions very carefully, now.”

“She asked for a divorce. I’m fucked. I’m not drunk, I’m just fucked.”

“I want you to walk ten steps…”

“I don’t care about the money or the house. My kids. My daughter. My kids are everything…”

“Sir, I’m losing my patience. You need to walk ten steps heel-to-toe along the side stripe of the road.”

“I’m not fighting. I’m going. I’ll do it. But, listen…

“Steps, sir!”

“My daughter, we’ve got the father-daughter thing, next week.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” he says. Unbuckling his handcuffs.

“Wait. Wait. Don’t you have kids? Don’t you understand? Can you even hear me?

“Mr. Albon, you have the right to remain silent…

“Do you have kids, officer? Here, wait. I’m doing the steps. Just, hold on a minute.”

I walk a few steps and lean too far to the left. I burst into tears. “It’s all gone. I’m going to miss everything, the dance, the tuck-ins, the school plays.”

The officer grabs my arm and helps me get stable. “I do have a daughter,” he says.

“What’s her name?”

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