chuckles. “No such luck.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, patting his arm.
“After that, my self-esteem was pretty low. So I married a woman I thought was too good for me, just because she showed some interest. I thought I was pretty lucky that any woman of that caliber would even look in my direction, let alone date me.” He sighs a little. It’s obvious to me he’s still in a lot of pain over it. “Anyway, the entire relationship was tumultuous. She never got’ me, you know? She didn’t understand anything about me. She didn’t even think I was funny, andthat was the real dagger. I was never the best-looking guy around, but everyone had always told me I was funny Then here was this woman saying I wasn’t.”
I lean in to him. “God thinks you’re hilarious. He says you have a great sense of humor.”
Garrety eyes me. “Huh. So…that’s why you’re here? Because you hear God talking to you?”
I lean back against the step and cross my arms over the tire iron. “Let’s just say He likes to get into my business.”
“What I would’ve given for Him to have gotten into mine.”
“You believe in God?”
“After two divorces and a midlife crisis, you start thinking that maybe the way you’re doing it isn’t working.” He lowers his voice. “And, ma’am, I’m not trying to be offensive here, but you’re displaying some behaviors that might benefit from seeing a doctor.”
I roll my eyes. If he only knew.
“All right, let’s get you on your feet.” He stands, pulls me up by the arm, and gestures for the tire iron, which I pull out and hand to him. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can—”
“You’re arresting me?”
Garrety raises up his hands the way I raise up my hands when Brooklyn says something unbelievable. “You did just break into a church. And the evidence was just sticking out of your shirt there. So my hands are tied. Sorry.” Except as he cuffs me, it’s my hands that are tied.
Lakeland returns. “Nothing appears to be missing. We’re trying to get ahold of the pastor.”
“I didn’t take anything!”
“All right, ma’am, just remain calm,” Lakeland says. I take one last look at the pen I’m leaving behind before they walk me out the front door of the church and put me in the squad car.
“I hope he’s worth it!” I yell at God, but the only one who hears me is Garrety who shoots me a look indicating I should seriously consider getting a doctor.
eight
I’ve actually never been to jail. At least for something I’ve done. I’ve bailed Brooklyn out four times. Once I let her spend the night in there, just to give her a reality check. But now—as I lie on the cold metal bench, staring at a molded, rotting ceiling—I suddenly feel very bad about doing that.
The place reeks of urine, pot, and other unmentionables. I breathe shallowly through my mouth, and stare hard at the ceiling like it’s the face of God. How could He let this happen? I was there obeying
Him.
Doing what
He
asked. I contemplate this for hours while hoping Blake checks his voice mail. I contemplated calling Brooklyn but decided I’d rather get harassed by Blake. My thoughts return to God, me, and the purple pen.
“And I get thrown in jail for it?”
Oops. Said that out loud, which causes the only other person inthe holding cell with me to look over. Ugh. She’s wasted, with greasy hair and an expression that indicates she’d like to converse.
“That’s what I said.” The woman shrugs. “I mean, where does it say I can’t pass out on a sidewalk, you knoowww?” A sloppy grin emerges.
I sit up and turn my back to her, bringing my knees close to my chest. All this over a stupid purple pen, which is now
not
in my possession. Perhaps I’m the only person to get thrown in jail for possession of nothing.
Well, I did break into the church—but seriously, should a church
really
have locks? I mean, isn’t that counterproductive?
I hear keys rattle and turn to
“I’m sorry,” I say, patting his arm.
“After that, my self-esteem was pretty low. So I married a woman I thought was too good for me, just because she showed some interest. I thought I was pretty lucky that any woman of that caliber would even look in my direction, let alone date me.” He sighs a little. It’s obvious to me he’s still in a lot of pain over it. “Anyway, the entire relationship was tumultuous. She never got’ me, you know? She didn’t understand anything about me. She didn’t even think I was funny, andthat was the real dagger. I was never the best-looking guy around, but everyone had always told me I was funny Then here was this woman saying I wasn’t.”
I lean in to him. “God thinks you’re hilarious. He says you have a great sense of humor.”
Garrety eyes me. “Huh. So…that’s why you’re here? Because you hear God talking to you?”
I lean back against the step and cross my arms over the tire iron. “Let’s just say He likes to get into my business.”
“What I would’ve given for Him to have gotten into mine.”
“You believe in God?”
“After two divorces and a midlife crisis, you start thinking that maybe the way you’re doing it isn’t working.” He lowers his voice. “And, ma’am, I’m not trying to be offensive here, but you’re displaying some behaviors that might benefit from seeing a doctor.”
I roll my eyes. If he only knew.
“All right, let’s get you on your feet.” He stands, pulls me up by the arm, and gestures for the tire iron, which I pull out and hand to him. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can—”
“You’re arresting me?”
Garrety raises up his hands the way I raise up my hands when Brooklyn says something unbelievable. “You did just break into a church. And the evidence was just sticking out of your shirt there. So my hands are tied. Sorry.” Except as he cuffs me, it’s my hands that are tied.
Lakeland returns. “Nothing appears to be missing. We’re trying to get ahold of the pastor.”
“I didn’t take anything!”
“All right, ma’am, just remain calm,” Lakeland says. I take one last look at the pen I’m leaving behind before they walk me out the front door of the church and put me in the squad car.
“I hope he’s worth it!” I yell at God, but the only one who hears me is Garrety who shoots me a look indicating I should seriously consider getting a doctor.
eight
I’ve actually never been to jail. At least for something I’ve done. I’ve bailed Brooklyn out four times. Once I let her spend the night in there, just to give her a reality check. But now—as I lie on the cold metal bench, staring at a molded, rotting ceiling—I suddenly feel very bad about doing that.
The place reeks of urine, pot, and other unmentionables. I breathe shallowly through my mouth, and stare hard at the ceiling like it’s the face of God. How could He let this happen? I was there obeying
Him.
Doing what
He
asked. I contemplate this for hours while hoping Blake checks his voice mail. I contemplated calling Brooklyn but decided I’d rather get harassed by Blake. My thoughts return to God, me, and the purple pen.
“And I get thrown in jail for it?”
Oops. Said that out loud, which causes the only other person inthe holding cell with me to look over. Ugh. She’s wasted, with greasy hair and an expression that indicates she’d like to converse.
“That’s what I said.” The woman shrugs. “I mean, where does it say I can’t pass out on a sidewalk, you knoowww?” A sloppy grin emerges.
I sit up and turn my back to her, bringing my knees close to my chest. All this over a stupid purple pen, which is now
not
in my possession. Perhaps I’m the only person to get thrown in jail for possession of nothing.
Well, I did break into the church—but seriously, should a church
really
have locks? I mean, isn’t that counterproductive?
I hear keys rattle and turn to
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