Telemachus Rising by Pierce Youatt

mother?  Maybe I could keep it quiet.  Maybe nobody would have to find out.  Shit, I was about to go to jail.  What if I went to jail for real?  I was going to have to have a trial.  There was at least going to be a court date.  What was this going to cost?  What if I wasn't allowed to drive anymore?  There was no way I was going to be able to keep this quiet.  I couldn't hide the consequences.  She was going to go ape shit.  This was all we needed.  Perfect fucking timing.  Like our family hadn't had enough to deal with.  At least my dad would never find out.
    “Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”
    Wow.  Just like a cop show.
    “Yes I do.”
    The second officer was pawing around the front of my jacket.
    “Is there a hidden pocket in here or something?  I can feel your keys, but I can't get to them.  If you can tell me where they are I'll roll up your window for you.”
    Snow was beginning to fall.  It was a nice gesture.  He didn't have to do that.  It didn't even sound like they were going to tow my car...I had assumed that was standard procedure.
    “I think I put them in the inside pocket.  The lining in the other one is just torn”
    He reached into the inside pocket and fished out my keys.  He held onto them as the other officer walked me to the back of the patrol car.
    “Watch your head.  Careful sitting down, the bench is hard.”
    “Thank you.”
    I sat down harder than I'd intended.  The bench in the back seat of the car was molded plastic.  Even though he'd warned me, I hadn't been expecting it.  For what it's worth, it's tough to sit down gently when your arms are handcuffed behind your back.  I leaned against the seat and was surprised to find the back rest hollowed out to accommodate arms.  It was more comfortable than I would've guessed.  I felt relieved in a weird way.  At least this was decided.  The car was nice and warm after standing outside.  The radio was on a classic rock station.  I considered that we might get along under different circumstances.  The officers were just doing their job.
    It was dark in the back of the police car.  I felt cool air enter the cabin and heard the front door slam.  The officer fastened his seat belt and pulled away from the curb.  I watched as we passed my car, still parked on the side of the street.  The snow was really coming down.  The officer radioed in to the station to let them know we were on our way.  We were only a couple miles from the county jail.  The ride seemed short.
    I'd never been handcuffed before.  The officer held me by the upper arm as we walked through the parking lot into the station.
    “You're not going to run on me, are you?”
    “No, I wasn't planning on it.  That happen often?”
    “It's more common than you might think.”
    “What do you think they plan to do?”
    “I have no idea.”
    We went through several doors when we got inside.  I'd been to City Hall before, but I couldn't remember ever entering that part of the building.  We stopped in a tiny room where the officer uncuffed me and waited until enough time had passed from my previous breath test.
    “So how much did you really have to drink?”
    “I don't know.”
    “Alright, well just like before.  Blow into the tube until you run out of air.”
    I did what he said, but apparently it didn't work.
    “Yeah, this one's tough.  We're gonna have to try it again.  Take a deep breath and then just keep going until there's nothing left in your lungs.”
    I was starting to feel really light headed.  Only part of it was from the breath test.  My second attempt seemed to work out.  This time the machine, which was much bigger than the portable model, printed out a kind of receipt that he took with him.  He held the door open and waited for me to pass through.
    “Just head right down to the end of the hall and wait behind the yellow line.”
    I did as he said.  He followed behind me.  A camera mounted