After the Arrest

After posting bail, she calls an old friend to take her home and he is angry having been chosen for the task. He's always angry and he didn't help with the bail money.

She sat quietly in the front seat watching the street go by wondering what other people were doing on a Saturday morning like this. The sun was shining brightly on the pavement and you'd think nothing had happened the day before. The rain had lifted and nothing felt soggy anymore. Despite having been freed at 9:20 am, she felt stressed out sitting next to him now $1500 poorer and regretting she'd called him to help.

"What in the hell did you think you were going to accomplish with that stunt?" he finally exploded.

She remained silent and continued to stare out the dirty car window. She wondered when he had cleaned his car last. My God, had he ever cleaned it? It smelled like dirty clothes and wrinkled paper. She pushed an empty soda bottle around the floor with her toe.

"I thought you'd understand," she replied softly. "I mean, it wasn't a huge deal and I thought you'd want to know – would want to help me with it."

"And post your freaking bail? I don't think so!" he returned exasperated.

"I thought it was poetic," she said distantly, now noting the disaster that was calling him to take her home. He always does this. A real friend would get it and would have helped with the bail. Hell, a real friend would have helped her dump everything out onto the street.

"And why me?" he asked, more softly, "Why did you call me, of all people? We haven't even talked in years!"

She wanted to respond with a tirade of how she thought he'd get it, thought he'd run in and save her from the big bad police. Damnit, she thought he had still cared. She thought he would welcome the chance to see her again. Sometimes, she was really foolish and thought well beyond reality. She should have known better. Time really does make a difference.

Instead she said, "Drop me off here."

"What?" he asked, startled.

"Here, at the coffee house. I'm thirsty and need a moment to myself. Let me out of this car."

"Just when I think I know you, you do something like this. Damnit woman, you are still important sometimes. You just infuriate me with your shifts in personality. I can't freaking read you!"

That's why you like me, she thought. I'm unreadable. Even in your aggravation and disappointment, I see it, even now when you're trying to be mean.

"Drop me," she said emphatically for the first time in her life.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the Firefly. He didn't pull up front nor did he park. She leaned over to open the door and he grabbed her hand.

"Listen, I don't know what you're doing here, but we need to talk about this sometime. I mean, it's all messed up for you, I get it, but seriously, don't let this whole mood I'm in upset you," he said. "You know I just get like this sometimes when I'm pressed for time and have stuff to do."

"I'm not upset," she replied. "I'm getting out. And I'm getting coffee. I'll get another ride home. I'm not mad at you either. Just want to sit, not think, and lament my lost cash. Okay?"
"Whatever," was the crude response.

She got out of the car and looked in at him, sitting there in his fumes. Sometimes, she wanted to embrace him for his frustration. It swirled around him like steam and when he wasn't aware, it even fogged the window next to him. She wished it didn't hurt him so much. But he only knew so much and she couldn't tell him the rest. Better to just leave it here in the parking lot. If he ever wanted to figure it out, he'd have to do it for himself.

It was then she began to laugh. Slowly at first and then enormous ripples of pulsing giggles flooded the atmosphere around her. He stared at her and opened the window. She threw her head back into the sun and laughed out loud.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She smiled down at him and steadied herself.

"It's just, so amusing you know, when you finally realize, you have nothing to be crazy mad about anymore."

And with that, she turned and entered the coffee shop. After about five minutes, she heard the squeal of his tires. She sat down with her mocha and saw her cell phone light up. This time, she didn't answer.

Wait, who was it?