A House on Eden

11. Harassment

It began when I walked to my car after work. I was late, fumbling for my keys as I stepped on the sidewalk. I saw him clamping the ticket down under the wiper blades.

"What's this?" I asked. He was an older cop with a broad face and a potbelly.

He straightened up and smiled at me. "I'm giving you a parking ticket, mam," he said.

"But I always park there!" I objected.

"It's a no parking zone, mam," he smiled.

"It never has been before," I said.

"It is now," he said.

I freed the ticket from the wipers and looked at the amount. "$100!" I exclaimed. "I'm not going to pay that!"

"Suit yourself," he said. "Pay the ticket or show up in court."

He opened the door to his cruiser, slid behind the wheel, signaled and merged into oncoming traffic.

I stopped at the mall to look at gardening supplies. The store had an outdoor section with brightly colored plants hanging from the glass ceiling. I chose two plants with red blooms and put them in the cart. I stood before the sculpture garden, watching the water cascade from the various fountains. There was a small ceramic woman holding a basket with both hands, her skirt flowing down to her bare feet. From her basket water flowed gently, making small circles in the pond beneath her. I grabbed a box and put it with the plants.

There was a musty smell of mushrooms, of moss, of dusty church hymn books and pews. It filled my nose and made it tingle. It reminded me of being in the woods.

In the tool section I picked out a pair of pruning shears, a spade, a pair of work gloves, a rake, a bag of fertilizer and a plastic container of weed killer. I pushed the cart to the check out, paid, put the things in my trunk, and drove away.

I waited in the left turn lane for Starkey Road, anxiously watching the long line of cars in front of me. When they finally moved on green, I made it through the yellow light and made my way home to the house.

On Eden Avenue I heard the siren and saw the swirling blue lights in my mirror. A man got out of the cruiser and made his way toward me. He walked with a swagger, his hips carrying his heavy body.

I rolled down my window. It was the same cop.

"Any idea why I'm stopping you, mam?" He smiled.

"No," I said. "The light was still yellow. I did not run a red light."

"You're supposed to stop at a yellow light, mam," he said.

"I thought yellow means the light is turning red," I said.

"No mam," he smiled, "it means slow down and stop. I'm gonna write you a citation."

"That's two in one day!" I exclaimed. "Are you following me, officer?"

"No mam," he said. "It's a coincidence is all. Wait in the car please; I'll be back with the ticket."

"Did Bruce put you up to this?" I said.

"No mam," he said. "Just doing my job."

"Well, I'm not paying this," I said, feeling angry.

"That's your right, mam," he said. "Just come to the court date indicated on your ticket. Your choice." He walked back to his cruiser and got in. He was in there a long time. Finally I looked at my watch and saw that I'd been waiting thirty minutes.

He came back to my window with a folded up yellow paper. I took it from his hand and started the car.

"You have a nice day, mam," he smiled.