Busted – Again: An Introduction
When the police arrived I didn’t wait for them to come into the house. I gave Dick a five- minute head start while I smoked a cigarette and finished my drink. Then I walked outside barefoot with my cell phone and introduced myself to the four police officers standing with Dick next to the gate at the end of our driveway. I wouldn’t see the inside of our house again for another month.
As far as I was concerned I was being rescued. I was being rescued from Dick and I was being rescued from the part of me that reaches for alcohol. I was a puppet to my compulsion to drink and by living with Dick I was permitting them both, inviting Dick and alcohol to destroy me. I was a tragedy for it. I was well aware of the irony in feeling that I was escaping something monumental as I sat handcuffed in the back of a police car on my way to jail for the second time in just over a month. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, my alcohol- induced anesthesia prevented me from fearing my destination. I had absolutely no idea what Iwas about to go through. I’d spent only nine hours in the tank the first time Dick had me arrested five weeks earlier.
Had I known what I was in for this time I most certainly wouldn’t have been so appreciative for the escort.
I sat comfortably in the back seat of the police car, Indian style, and cracked the knuckles in my toes. I remembered that some police cars have a little plastic wall that divides the front and back seats. This car had a metal fence divider that I decided was more personable and intimate.
I studied my handcuffs as we drove away. They were heavy and cumbersome, which made dialing and holding my cell phone awkward. Calling Dad was no easy feat, but I managed.
“Hello?” He answered on the first ring.
“Hey, Dad! I’m in a cop car! Dick just had me arrested. Again! We’re going to jail!” I said, enthusiastically.
“Who’s we?” He asked. I noticed he didn’t sound very surprised.
“Us. The cops and me. We’re all in the car. Together. We’re driving. Just a sec.”
“We’re going to jail, right?” I asked the cops.
“Yep. We’re going to jail. “One of them answered.
“Dad? Yeah. We’re going to jail.”
“Jenny, Dick just called me.”
“He did? But I just got in the car. We aren’t even out of our neighborhood, yet.”
“He called me as soon as you guys drove off.” Dad explained.
“But it’s almost 2 a.m. there. Weren’t you asleep?”
For a moment my alcoholic anesthesia lost its potency and I had to corral a small army of hostile emotions into my throat so I could swallow them.
Dick called my dad before me! That asshole! Why hadn’t he called someone in his own fucking family?
“You need to hang up your phone now.” One of the cops said.
“I’m talking to my dad.” I explained.
“I know you are. I can hear you. But I’m not supposed to let you use your phone. You can call your dad when we get downtown.”
“Oh yeah? Okay.” I didn’t want him to get in trouble.
“Dad? The cop says I have to hang up now, I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Hang in there. Call me when you can.”
(To be continued)
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