“fwiw i didnt think it go like this”

I sat on the edge of the curb outside of the police station. The clouds rolled into view as I waited. Officers walking in and out of the station. I was hit on. By a particularly portly officer who was still wearing his ring. His crew cut poorly complementing his pudgy face. My eyes gazed at the ring for a long while as he was trying to “spit game.” When I looked back up, he had already turned away, but not before muttering the word “bitch.” An inevitability.

“The rain is coming.” My dad thought out loud as we were driving away.

“Yeah.” I uttered back out of instinct.

I stared as the stores turned from Targets to Family Dollars. The road was bumpy. Dotted with potholes and uneven paved roads intended to be a band-aid. We ended up at home. The air as thick and muggy as the outside. My sisters were sleeping. Dinner was on the counter. Egg rolls and rice noodles with fish sauce. I plopped on the dinner table to eat. My dad stayed with me. We didn’t speak. I think he knew that if he did, I’d have started crying.

My boyfriend was arrested. He called me, so I took the bus to the station. Like so many partners in visitation, the officers looked at me with disdain. As if I had chosen this life. Maybe I did. The conversation between us didn’t go well. Like at all.

“Please don’t tell my mom or dad. They can’t know.” He begged.

“How can we afford bail? What are we gonna do?” I asked.

“I’ve got some money back at my place. My brothers will get it.” He said.

“Who’s going to tell them? You had only one phone call.” I snipped.

“You are. Please. Can you please help me out?” He looked at me with conviction.

“What are you even charged with?” I tried to avoid his gaze.

“Fake IDs. Nothing crazy.” He looked away as he said that.

I was staring at the ground. It was 11:31 at night. I looked back up at my dad.

“I need your keys.” I demanded.

“Why?” My dad asked back half worried, half confirming.

“I am going to bail him out.” I put on a brave face.

“With what money?” He asked.

“His brother’s” I sounded half desperate.

“Okay.”

It was raining now. A hard rain. The kind of rain you see in The Bible. The roads slick. The stores went from Family Dollars to Walmarts. It always took a long time to get to his house. The streets were particularly bad as no one here knows how to fucking drive in the rain. I called his youngest brother.

“What do you need?” He asked clearly still awake.

“Let me in without letting your parents know.” I said.

In an immigrant household, sneaking out and in is second nature. It’s almost as if they knew but didn’t care that their kids were leaving. As long as they make it home, that’s all that matters.

(I will try and finish this some day…)