Gods Lessons

"Are you there, God? It's me..." The words came from lips again, but the words were inaudible. I was scared to even speak them, let alone anything, out loud. Not here. Not now. God, if you can hear me, I beg you to help me. Please get me out of here. Please help me. If you know me, please save me. I closed my eyes and put my cold, shaky hands together, but the only thing that came to my mind was the past hour playing over and over in my head, like a movie reel on repeat:

I saw the lights, red and blue, coming at me straight ahead. Then I heard the siren, as if it was two different moments of time, but it wasn't. It was all one moment, one ruthfully traumatizing moment of my present life that I already felt haunting my waking memories. It was too late, I couldn't turn around. I couldn't do anything but take the keys out of my hands and wait.

The cop came to my window, taking his time though it being 11:30 at night and I was tired. I could feel every strength and confidence leaving my body, now feeling only totally and utterly vulnerable as I rolled the window down.

"License and registration please." The cop said, matter of factly. No emotion. I fidgeted in my wallet to grab both and carefully handed it to him, not wanting him to see my distinctively obvious shaking hands. He returned to his car and I put my hands together and closed my eyes, though my breath was fast paced and aggressively out of control. Through stumbling words, I prayed.

"Are you there, God? Please, please let me get through this. I am so sorry, I made a mistake. Please forgive me Lord..." The words were flowing through my mouth, but only I only felt silence in return. He wasn't there. Or if he was, he wanted me to do this on my own. He wanted me to own up for what I did. The cop soon returned.

"Ma'am, do you know you that you turned right on a one way going the opposite way?" I nodded. I did notice, but too late. I was about to turn when I saw the red and blue lights. I really was. I had gone down this road many times, or rather down the road with the same name of the street at least.

"Yess... I have turned right on Franklin street many times. I didn't know..."

"There are two Franklin streets. One that only goes to the right, one street back and this one that only goes left." No, I did not know that. I felt the tears flood my eyes.

"Have you been drinking tonight?"

"Yes, a little."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"I don't know, a few beers."

"What type of beers? How much is a few?"

"Coors. I think three."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, but I barely ate today."

"Ma'am, can you please step out of the car." My heart, that was already pounding, was now skipping beats in a way I didn't know it was capable of doing. Was it possible for a 25 year old to have a heart attack? Honestly, that would probably be better than this. I opened the door and of course, out of nervousness, dropped the keys on the ground. I quickly bent down and grabbed them and stood back up to look at the cops face. It said: Gotcha.

"I am going to have you take a few tests to make sure you are okay to drive." He said, asked me to hand over my wallet, keys and phone, then moved me to the sidewalk. I couldn't help but notice the side walk was slanted downwards and uneven, but was I allowed to argue to a cop?

The tests took forever, but I passed them. I knew I did, I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to catch me, but I was just too good. Unconvinced he walked to his car and came back with something in his hand.

"I am going to now give you a breathalyzer." He said and pulled out a plastic wrapped small tube. What did all my friends say about a breathalyzers? Do I refuse? Do I do it? I didn't know what to do, but before I had the choice, I was blowing hard into the tube. I felt lightheaded. And still, I heard silence in my head. God was silencing himself from me. He wasn't there, when I needed him most. What could He do per-say? I didn't know, but I needed something. Someone. And yet, I had no one. No one know what was happening to me right now but me and the cop.

"Ma'am, I am calling in a female cop to help escort you to the hospital for a blood test."

"A blood test?"

"Yes, to confirm your alcohol level."

"I am a teacher. What is this going to do for me..." I started, not being able to control myself. What was this going to do for my profession? My reputation? I had friends who had DWIs, but not me. I was good. I was clean. I looked at him with panic in my eyes. Then something happened. It was weird. It wasn't like he was ever rude prior, but suddenly I saw him look at me in a different light. His eyes looked almost... regretful. Empathetic.

"Ma'am, I am sorry, but I am going to have to put these handcuffs on you." He said, his voice softer, more endearing. Not that a cop arresting you is endearing in the least bit. I looked down and put my hands behind my back. I hadn't cried...yet.

He pulled out the handcuffs and proceeded to put them on me. He was gentle about it, thankfully, but I still felt the hard, cold, metal press against the bone on my wrists. It hurt. He led me to the back of his cop car and I got in the back. He then got in the front seat and sat down. I saw the camera, saw the computer.

"What is going..." I started, but suddenly saw him put a hand up as if to stop me from talking and I swore I heard a very quick "sshh" come from his mouth. It was so quick that I would not have caught it if he had not had his hand up, out of the cameras view. Was he protecting me? I knew the whole thing about 'what you say will and can be held against you'... was that what he was doing? Not that I had a reason to trust him, I did as he said, and closed my mouth. And though my mouth was closed, words not coming out, my mind was whirling and the tears took my words place. I cried.

"Can you pay your own bail?" A cop said, coming up to me. I looked at him, feeling as if I might as well be naked. I had a flowing, short dress on and tennis shoes, freezing my butt off as the cold plastic touched my back thighs and the back of the hard seat pressing into my back. I had a plastic wrapped bologna sandwich next to me that I had to use as a pillow because it was warmer than the seat. I had been there for hours, and I was. Just. So. Tired. The bologna sandwich was literally two pieces of cheap white bread and two slices of bologna. Of course I didn't eat it, though I had now gone over 24 hours without eating anything, and 12 hours without drinking anything.

"Yes." I said, my mouth dry and my voice cracking.

"$500. There is an ATM right there. You can use it." The cop said and I stood up, following him.

The others were looking at me as I passed, envious. I tried not to make eye contact, but I had already nonchalantly studied them earlier. I mean I had nothing else to do for 12 hours. I looked at the clock, it was not 1pm. There was an older lady who tried to comfort me, but how could she comfort me when she had been here numerous times. She did tell me though that if I could pay my own bail, I should let them know and get out faster, so I did. That must be why the cop only came up to me. I would forever be grateful for her for that advice. Then there was a teenager, who looked so young, whom had been in possession for drugs that wasn't even her own, but her boyfriends. She apparently had been driving his car though and got pulled over and she didn't have her license. She was trying to get him to bail her out. What a bad boyfriend. Then there was a girl who came hours after me, who was in a cute going out dress, who was the only one who equally matched my persona in the jail; as in the only other girl who clearly did not fit in this joint. We both had just made mistakes, it wasn't our normal weekend routines. I overheard her telling someone she was only a few blocks from her house. I don't know why she told anyone. I didn't talk to anyone unless they talked to me. I didn't share my 'story', nor did I say anything more than asking when I would be released. I didn't care about them, and frankly, I didn't care about who I was. Not in that moment. I just cared about making this misery go away. The worst though was one who came in not more than an hour ago, in an actual orange jump suit. The rest of us were in our clothes and she sat by herself, away from us and in a row by herself. She still had handcuffs, where we all got ours taken off after we were 'booked'. I was more than ready to leave when I found out that she had just murdered her husband and had to change into the jumpsuit because her clothes were covered in blood. I couldn't believe it; she looked so normal.

"Come to that window over there with the money when you get it out." The cop said and pointed over to a window with another cop. I nodded and he walked away. Subtly making sure no one was looking at me, I pulled my debit card out of my bra and pulled it out. The cop who arrested, after seemingly finding out that I was a teacher, suddenly became super nice to me. Not only did he shush me in the police car knowing there were voice recorders and camera, but then allowed me to use my phone to transfer funds from my savings to checking so I could bail myself out. He then even allowed me to take my debit out of my wallet and told me to put it somewhere that was not easily detected. Again, not knowing why I was trusting him, I did as I was told.

I took the $500 cash to the desk I was directed to and watched the lady as she took my money more enthusiastically than I think she should have. As I watched her process my paper work, all I could say in my head, now for the third time was: Are you there, God? It's me. Please forgive me, for I have sinned. I don't know what is going to happen next, but please help me get out today. Then I watched, my heart suddenly feeling briefly lighter than it had in the last 12 hours, the lady cop give me a receipt, and put a stamp on some papers with my name on it: BAIL PAID. PENDING PROCESS FOR RELEASE.