“Isn’t that the law?” she argued.
“Ma’am, step out of the car,” he said because she said she didn’t have her license.
“Okay, but I’m sorry, it’s the law isn’t it?” Because she really did have her license, it was just that, you know.
Trembling, she handed it to him, hoping he wouldn’t have some kind of machine that would get her in trouble. He raised his eyebrows and walked back to his car. Oh my god. The machine that would get her in trouble was surely in his car.
“Step out of the car please, ma’am.”
“But I gave you my license. I don’t have to get out of the car.”
Why do they always fight it, these silly little mothers with their shit-filled cars and that frantic look in their eyes that made you—whether you were the type or not—want to smack them?
“Ma’am, I’m not asking,” said the officer.
She exited the vehicle. The officer put his hand on his weapon, leaned back on his heel, and dared her, silently, to go ahead and try it, whatever it was.
“So, I don’t see what the problem is. I’m just on my way home from work and I have to pick up my child. I was just going to get a crate for my new puppy.” She said this like it was a threat. She looked at him like she hated him and needed him and that was the push he needed to detach. Floating free there, free from compassion, he smiled.
Why is he smiling? Her feelings, which were ricocheting, strengthened. They didn’t define themselves, but they strengthened.
They always try to make you feel like you’re getting in the way of them doing something more important, as if there’s anything more important to an officer of the law than enforcing the law.
“Seems like you have some outstanding fines. Are you aware you’re driving with a suspended license?”
“I told that woman that I was told I didn’t have to pay.”
“Turn around, ma’am.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ma’am,” he said, putting his hand on his piece again, oh god, he loved putting his hand on his piece. “Turn around and put your hands on the vehicle.”
Jillian’s stomach plummeted and things became slow. She saw people looking at her as they drove past. Her body relaxed and she did as she was told. The officer used his radio to say, “Bring a tow truck to Palatine and Quentin, we’ve got a car that needs to go to the impound.”
Jillian was too angry to cry, was that why she wasn’t crying?
“Oh, and bring some trash bags. Car’s full of shit.”
Ah, but then she started crying. The officer put his hand on her head and led her to the cop car and, still with his hand on her head (which covered over half of her skull), he made her duck into the backseat.
She was formally served and fined and her court date was mandatory and she had no car to get to work, so she didn’t know what to do when she finally got home that night at 11:30 p.m. Elena from church group was sitting with Adam teaching him to color in between the lines, even though it was 11:30 p.m. and he already knew how.
“Why don’t you go get ready for bed,” said Elena. Adam hopped up and did as he was told, mostly because he was exhausted and wanted to go to bed and was sick of being bossed around about how to color, but his obedience to another woman’s orders still hurt Jillian’s feelings.
“Where’s Crispy?” asked Jillian.
“In the bathroom, sleeping with the lights off,” said Elena.
• • •
“Do you know where Jillian is?”
“No, do you?”
“No, I thought you might know.”
“No, she didn’t say anything.”
“Was she here yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“But not today?”
“No.”
“Can you cover for her?”
“I have been. I mean, yeah, it’s fine. Of course. Do you need anything?”
Dr. Billings shrugged.
Yesterday, Megan was still feeling demolished from the weekend and she and Jillian hadn’t really talked, but Jillian had seemed normal. Her absence was intriguing.
Jillian was at home. She turned off her phone. When Elena showed up that morning to drop Adam off at day care, Jillian was dressed.
“Thank you so much for doing this for me.”
“It’s fine, what are friends for?”
“No, I mean, I really owe you one. Whenever you need something, if it’s something I can do, you know, I’ll do it.”
Elena put her hand on Jillian’s shoulder and said, “I know.”
Jillian walked them to the door, said, “Just going to take the dog out once more before getting on the train,” then went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She started punching herself in the cheek and making a face like she was screaming. She stopped hitting herself, grabbed the edges of the sink, leaned forward, and started making a face like she was screaming even louder. She panted for a second and then took off all of her clothes and put on a nightgown.
The next day, Dr. Billings said, “Did you hear what happened to Jillian?”
“No,” said Megan.
“She hit a deer with her car. Her car is totaled. She lives in the suburbs, you know. She called me this morning. She was at the doctor and trying to get her car fixed yesterday.”
“Huh,” said Megan.
“It’s terrible,” said Dr. Billings.
“Yeah, terrible,” said Megan.
“Can you make her reminder calls?”
“Sure.”
Later, Randy asked, “Why are you smirking like that?”
“I don’t know,” said Megan. She took off her jacket and bag and shoes, opened a beer, and said, “I don’t know.”
Randy sat at the table.
“I think the self-destruction that I predicted for Jillian is finally happening.”
“Congratulations,” said Randy.
• • •
Jillian wasn’t sitting at her desk the next morning when Megan arrived, but Megan could sense her in the office. Megan could hear the other doctor, Dr. Schraeder, talking behind a partially closed door, and she could also
