This Close to Okay(22)

“Tell me when to stop,” she said. She flicked through the stations one by one, and he didn’t make a peep until she landed on Sam Cooke singing “Bring It On Home to Me.”

“This one. I like this one,” he said.

“I like this one, too.”

“Why did you say you would’ve given anything for a wife like me?” she asked before she could talk herself out of it. They were at a stop sign. The wipers, a sleepy heartbeat. In the side mirror, red and blue lights spun through the rain. The siren chirped.

“It’s okay. It’s all right,” Emmett said calmly, both hands on the wheel.

“Shit, are you drunk? Look at me.” He obeyed. His eyes weren’t bloodshot or glassy.

“I’m fine.”

Tallie turned around to see the officer approaching the car. She knew he’d ask for license and registration and proof of insurance next. That’s what happened, that’s what always happened. Emmett had taken his new fuzzy snow hat off, quieted Sam Cooke, killed the engine, rolled the window down. When had he done those things? There were gaps in her memory. She should start doing more crossword puzzles or download one of those apps on her phone to help—some kind of brain booster. Maybe vitamins? She needed to re-up her vitamin stash. Organic, food-based. She’d place an order later. She’d donate money to protect young girls from the sex slave trade and put in a vitamin order. She’d do it as soon as she got home and have everything delivered and taken care of by Sunday evening in order to start off the new week right.

“I’ve pulled you over because you failed to come to a complete stop at the sign back there. License and registration and proof of insurance,” the officer said once he was at the driver’s-side window.

“Sorry, Officer. Here’s the registration and proof of insurance,” Emmett said after reaching into the glove compartment and getting the paperwork. Tallie hadn’t told him where it was; he’d opened the glove compartment and found it himself.

Tallie sat with her hands quiet in her lap, looking at them like they didn’t belong to her. Like she’d gotten new hands zipped onto her wrists and it was her job to inspect them, to make sure they were the hands she wanted. She looked at her bare left ring finger, her short nails she’d recently painted burnt orange.

“Your license?” the officer said.

“I don’t have it on me. All apologies.”

“Is there a reason you don’t have your license on you?”

“No, Officer. I just forgot it.”

“You should always have it on you when you’re operating a motor vehicle,” the officer said to Emmett in a voice Tallie was sure should be used only for disobedient children.

“Right. Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?” the officer asked after sighing and pulling out a small pad of paper.

“Okay…can I talk to you for a second, please?” Emmett asked. “I can step out?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you do that, huh? Go on and step out for me,” the officer said, opening the door from the outside.

The officer was clearly in an awful mood, and Emmett was going to get handcuffed and arrested because she’d gotten buzzed at lunch and let him drive. It was her fault. Shame on her for letting Emmett drink alcohol in her presence after last night. Maybe he was an alcoholic. Maybe he had a drug problem. She shouldn’t have been drinking with him, period. But! Emmett wasn’t one of her clients, and she deserved a break, too! Truly. Or she could end up on the bridge like him. Still—guilt, shame, foolishness—the intensity of her emotions warmed her face.

She could bail him out if he didn’t have any outstanding warrants. But…maybe he’d committed heinous crimes with a woman who looked a lot like her? The officer would handcuff her and take her in, too. The residents of Fox Commons would have an emergency meeting and tell the media they’d always suspected her. She wore so much yellow, and she recently went through a divorce. Pity. She clearly snapped. She’d have to shut TLC Counseling Services down. She’d get lectured by her brother about how careless she was, again. She didn’t bother wiping the tears away. She was crying about Lionel never mincing words, about Joel’s new baby girl, about Emmett feeling hopeless and lonely enough to stand on that bridge yesterday.

“It’s okay, Tallie. It’s all good,” Emmett said quietly when he saw she was crying. She nodded at him, and he got out of the car, was polite to the officer. Tallie turned away from them and watched the rain slide down the passenger window. She glanced in the mirror and saw Emmett with his hands on his head as the officer patted him down.

“Do you have any weapons on you? Anything that’s going to poke me?” she heard the officer ask Emmett.

“There’s a knife clipped to my pocket,” Emmett said.

He had a knife and Tallie hadn’t seen it—but of course he did. Pretty much every man she’d ever known had carried a knife with him, as if they all got assigned one at birth.

“Is that all you have?” the officer asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“No guns, drugs?”

“No, sir.”

After Tallie turned to see the police officer slip the knife from Emmett’s pocket and heard it thunk on the top of her car, she was careful to remain perfectly still. Emmett and the officer walked toward the patrol car. On Emmett’s face: serenity. Tallie saw it before he got in. She kept crying and watching the rain, which was letting up. What else was there to do? The red and blue lights were still spinning. On the sidewalk across from them, there was an old man in a raincoat walking a dog wearing a matching raincoat—the kind of thing that would usually make Tallie squeal with joy and snap a pic to send to Aisha or Zora. But no, Tallie was still, still, still as a statue.