Downtown traffic has always been an especially horrific part of my day. So when my best friend Jacey asked me to pick up her daughter from school, in the heart of downtown, I showed up 2 hours early to avoid traffic.
"I don't need to know when to leave because I've already left!" I lean back in my seat, lighting a cigarette, and listen to her scream on the other end of the phone.
I guess you could say I'm the cool aunt. I'm not an aunt but I definitely think I qualify as cool.
"I think all that should matter is that I'm on time." I check my watch and see that she'll now be out in about an hour. "Of course I'm not smoking Jacey." I flick my cigarette out and see a cop pull up behind me. "Shit. I gotta go."
She's still yelling when I hang the phone up, and start cleaning out my front seat, looking around for my license while I do. I glance back when I find it, and see the cop crossing the street. I sigh in relief, and roll my window up to play some music.
Blink 182 blares, and I am dancing my heart out, when someone knocks on my window. I see the cop standing there. He's wearing a black hat with PD on it, and the standard issue black police uniform, but I wouldn't guess he was a cop without the uniform.
I roll the window down, and try to smile but I think it comes out crooked.
"Can't play music that loud."
I appreciate that he gets straight to the point.
"Sorry." I try to sound genuine, but I'm sure my sarcasm shines through it.
"Waiting on a kid?" He glances around the car. Maybe he's looking for drugs. I figure you never really know what their intentions are. "I haven't seen you here before."
"My friend's kid." I point to the front of the school. "I don't have kids." I laugh nervously. "Not that I couldn't if I wanted to, but I dont really see the point besides continuing the human race. Is that really the best idea with the state of the world, though?"
The officer starts laughing and holds his hand up to shut me up. "Its fine." He tips his hat like those southern gentleman do in movies, and walks back over to the pole he was standing by.
Eventually Amy comes running over to my car and hops in the front seat. "Moms gonna kill you if she finds out you were smoking."
"Pshh" I wave her off and glance over at the cop who's talking to a group of kids. "Who's the cop?"
"Officer Sanders."
She buckles her seatbelt, and I watch him laughing with the kids. He seems like one of those cool cops that people always share videos about. The type that stops to play basketball with teens, and buys toddlers ice cream.
I realize Amy is waving her hand in front of my face. "Hello! Sarah! Let's go!"
"Shit, yeah, lets get you home."
I drop her off and Jacey come running outside. She's the pretty blonde type. Picture high school cheerleader, 15yrs later.
"What the hell, Sarah? You can't show up that early! People will think you're a creep!"
She leans in my window, and I hold a bag of stale donuts out for her. She sighs deeply and drops her head.
"Have you heard from Kevin?"
I pull the donuts back and toss them in the back seat.
"No. Him and Brittney are dating now."
Kevin walked out last week. The stereotype is supposed to be dads leave to get milk and never come home. I didn't expect my long-time boyfriend to go to the store and just not come back. He didn't even have the balls to come get his stuff. His mom picked it up over the weekend.
"He's a jerk, Sarah. You deserve so much better."
"I saw a hot cop today."
"I was thinking more like the guy who sells you coffee rather than the guy who wants to put you in jail."
She laughs, and I roll my eyes at her. Sure, a cop is a little out of my league, but a girls gotta have standards.
"He had no intention of putting me jail, but I wouldn't have said no to hand cuffs."
I wiggle my eyebrows, and she acts shocked, as if she didn't see plenty of bedroom handcuffs back in her college days.
"Lord, Sarah." She continues to shake her head, but I can see the smile creeping through. "Tomorrow?"
"Can't. I gotta work."
"Fuck." She steps back, and I can see the sudden stress in her face. Her hand rises to her forehead, and she looks around as if an answer will appear in thin air.
"I'll try to leave early."
"Could you?"
"I can try. I'll call you. No promises chicka."
Her hands clasp together with the little bit of hope I gave her. Her husband died 2 months ago, and I've done everything I can to make life easy for her.
I drive home, blaring music, and thinking of a great excuse to give my boss tomorrow.
