My pulse shot sky high. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
Calm down. Not everyone is out for you.
My eyes flitted between the road and my rearview. Gallatin Pike was slammed with vehicles of all types that morning. Maybe the cop was just stuck behind me, waiting for an opening in the traffic to pull around.
I slowed and an opening appeared. He didn’t pull around.
My clothes stuck to me as my anxiety raged. I pulled on my shirt, flapping it a bit to cool off my skin. My turn was coming up.
I flipped on my turning signal, and he flipped on his flashing lights. Whooped the sirens twice.
Panic crushed me. I couldn’t breathe. Memories flooded my brain. A few expletives rushed out of my mouth.
This can’t be happening to me again!
I fumbled with my turning signal as I pulled into the gas station off the intersection. He followed me in.
I swiped at the sweat on my forehead with the bottom of my t-shirt. Tried to calm down with a few deep breaths. They hurt my ribcage so much, I winced. Acting like an idiot was not going to help the situation. I needed to calm down.
It took him forever to get out of the car.
The side view mirror showed him sauntering towards my truck. I placed my hands in full sight. Gripped the wheel at ten and two.
I forced one more clenched breath before rolling down the window.
He wasted no time cutting to the chase. “Hey man, you realize you’re driving around with an expired temporary tag?”
Shoot.
Finding my voice was more difficult than it should’ve been. “Uhm, yes—yes, sir. I mean, no sir. I—forgot.”
“Can I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance?”
“Yes, sir. Can I reach for them?”
“Go ahead.”
I grabbed my wallet to retrieve my license and fished through the glove compartment for the registration. How could I forget to replace the temporary tag? It should’ve come in the mail.
I wiped my hands down my thighs, drying them on my work pants before handing the papers over. It was a routine traffic stop, so my panic was irrational. Couldn’t help it though. Past experience kicked my fight or flight response into high gear and squeezed out my ability to breathe. My hands were shaking like leaves in the breeze. It was pathetic, honestly.
My trembling did not escape the cop’s notice. The registration quaked in the air as I handed it out the window. I glanced up into his face. His eyes were round and deep royal blue. His dark cropped hair was freshly tapered into sideburns. Last name was Barkley.
His eyes tightened at the corners. “Are you nervous?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“You got a reason to be?”
“No, sir.”
“You’re sweating and shaking.”
My throat was thick. I cleared it twice. “I just got out of prison. I don’t want any trouble.” My heart thrashed.
Officer Barkley was a big dude. Tall and chiseled. Looked like he spent his time off working out. He placed his hand against the Tacoma’s frame. “What’d you do time for?”
Telling him was optional. I knew that. It still took every ounce of my courage to respond, “I’d rather not say.”
