Page 99 of What We Knew Then
The bottle is on the passenger side floor, half out of Cora’s bag where it must have rolled when she leaned toward the window. The cap is loose, and tequila has splashed across the mat.
The smell in the car is unmistakable.
The flashlight beam hits the back window, then the driver’s side mirror. I roll the window down slowly. As the officer steps to the door, he sweeps his light inside the car. His eyes land on Cora, the bottle, and then on me.
My pulse is pounding in my throat.
“Lane Maxwell. Cora Banks.” The officer calls us out by name.Fuck.
Cora gives a tiny wave as I say, “Evening, officer.”
“You been drinking?” he asks me.
I take a breath, trying to ease the shaking. “No, I’ve not had a single drink. She is a different story.” I tip my head in Cora’s direction. It’s not against the law for her to drink, so better to be honest.
He flashes the light in my eyes, determining if he thinks I’m telling the truth or not.
I’ve got nothing to hide so I continue, “I’ll take a breathalyzer. Field sobriety test. Whatever you want.” I lift my hands in surrender.
Flashing the light to the back of the car, he says, “Do you know you’ve got a busted taillight?”
I have theworst luck.
“No, sir.”
This time, the flashlight lingers on the tequila bottle by Cora’s feet. His eyebrows lift as he looks between me and her.
“Let me see that,” he barks to Cora, who reaches down, grabs the bottle, and offers it to him. The clear liquid sloshes around as her hand trembles.
He holds it, looking at the half that’s clearly missing.
“Open intox.”
I can’t believe this is happening.
“This is my car,” Cora protests. “Lane was just driving me home. This is all me. My fault. It was in my bag and I forgot. I know it should go…”
She can’t remember where you’re supposed to put open bottles of liquor. Probably because this isn’t a situation she’s found herself in often.
“In the trunk,” the office answers for her.
She nods. “Yes. The trunk.”
The cop looks around like he’s trying to make a decision. I can’t get a ticket. That would be the nail in my coffin—the one I just crawled out of.
It feels like time is crawling by. Each breath takes too long, every movement feels like I’m experiencing it in slow motion.
The officer sighs. “I believe you. I’m not going to give you a ticket. But I’m going to need you to call your dad. Have him come get you.”
“What? Why?” Cora asks. Even though I want to know the answer, I want her to stop talking. Leave it alone. Just do what this man says, even though it’s going to be part of my demise.
“Because I said so.” He stops any more of the questions she may want to ask. “Now, both of you, get out of the car.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and open the door. My legs feel like they can barely hold me up.
This is really happening.
Fuck.
