Sara Jean
When I wake up, I feel disoriented and when I roll over, Jackson isn’t there next to me. It takes me a moment to realize he’s not there because I’m in jail. Oh, God! I’ve been afraid of this moment for four years and it’s finally caught up to me. I bury my face in the tiny pillow in the cell and then pull the horribly scratchy wool blanket over my head. That makes me remember that for the first time in a long time that I’m sleeping in clothing instead of naked or, at most, in panties.
Because I am in jail.
I start crying and think about how everything is over. I’m not growing. I’m not achieving my dreams. I’m just a loser and a failure, a stupid idiot who got in trouble and ran away. I cry and realize how terrible it feels to cry when I don’t have Jackson close to me.
“Sara Jean?” a soft voice says. I recognize her voice but can’t place her.
I squeeze my eyes and lift the blanket up and then turn around. “Tabitha?” I ask. She’s wearing a police uniform, standing at the door to the cell, which is open now. I had no idea she was a police officer. I don’t know how we went almost a year and a half and I only see that now.
“This… this is your day job?”
She nods with a gentle smile and the humiliation is too much for me. I burst out crying again and she rushes to my side and sits next to me. My head gets buried in her shoulder and I weep like a baby. She strokes my hair and says, “Honey, it’s okay. Calm down, Sara Jean. It’s not a big deal.”
I pull my head back. “Not a big deal? I…” I just start crying again.
She holds me for a while and then finally pushes me back and says, “Dry up those tears honey. I’m telling you it isn’t a big deal. I called the DA office in Georgia and they don’t want to put a hold on you. We’re releasing you on your own recognizance. Nobody wanted to arrest you. If you’d been back home, they wouldn’t have arrested you. They would have just given you a date to appear in court.”
“But what…”
“We didn’t file the paperwork, either. You know how many cops eat at the diner. Everyone loves you. Nobody is going to put an arrest on your record, not for something like this.”
“Something like this?”
“Joyriding on your eighteenth birthday? All your friends were seventeen. You only got the ticket in the first place because you were eighteen. It was just a failure to appear honey. It’s a bench warrant, not a criminal warrant, not really.”
It’s so easy for her to say it’s not big deal, and I appreciate her trying to console me, but it’s silly to pretend that. “I’ve been running from this for almost six years,” I say.
“Tell me about it,” she says.
“I still can’t believe you’re a police officer,” I say. “I… I’m glad I didn’t know because I probably would have been afraid to be friends with you.”
She smiles and brushes hair out of my face.
I sigh and say, “I turned eighteen. I was still in high school, about a month from graduation. A group of friends wanted to take me out. One of them borrowed her brother’s car except she didn’t borrow it, she just took it. We were driving around everywhere and then like four cop cars stopped us.”
I’m about to cry again, but I force myself to calm down.
“Anyway, we all got handcuffed and then her brother showed up and when he found out it was her, he told the police he didn’t want any of us to get in trouble. They gave me a paper with a court date and I was too afraid to show up. I’m just lucky I graduated from high school before the court date because I would have run away before then.”
“But Honey,” she says, “it’s just an infraction.”
“No!” I say, “I looked it up. It’s a misdemeanor.”
“Sweetie,” she says, “that’s only because in Georgia driving offenses aren’t called misdemeanors. The failure to appear is only a fine. They’re going to send you some paperwork. You can plead guilty or no contest, pay the fines and it’s over.”
“Over?” the very idea that this thing will ever be over is impossible for me to comprehend.
“Sweetie,” she says, “If Officer Townsend hadn’t thought you were someone else, someone who’d committed a real crime, he wouldn’t have bothered. He probably would have told you about your warrant and let you know you could handle it all by mail.”
“I’ve been so afraid,” I say.
She stands up and grabs my hand to pull me up, too. “I know this seemed like a big deal to you, Sara Jean, but it really isn’t. It’s like a speeding ticket. When you take care of it, it’ll be on your driving record but not on any criminal record. You won’t even have an arrest on your record. Come on now. Let’s get you out of this cell.”
I nod and let her lead me out. I end up at a little counter where she has me sign some paperwork and gives me back my purse. “I can’t believe this was all no big deal,” I say.
She smiles. “Yeah, totally. Now come on. You’re released and your Daddy is here to pick you up.”
My Daddy. I feel weak suddenly. “Oh, God. He’s… he’s going to…” I can’t form the words because I don’t’ want to form the thoughts about what he might do.
“He’s going to take his little girl home,” she says. “That’s what he’s going to do.”
All of my fear and terror are back. I was ready to tell him I love him! It’s true that I love him, but how am I supposed to tell him that now, when he has to pick me up from jail? Hell, how am I supposed to believe he’ll ever want to love me again? I’m supposed to be his little girl, not his little criminal.
He throws his arms around me when we leave the back of the station. “Come on, princess, let’s get you home.”
“You… I’m still your princess?”
“Oh course, you are, baby,” he says.
“But… even after this?”
“After anything,” he says. He looks at me and says, “We’re going to get through this, honey. Now snap out it. Everything is okay and we’re watching the movie today.”
“Okay,” I say. My voice is guarded.
Things can’t ever be the same now can they?