Chapter 14: Humiliated

I am bruised, sick, and utterly humiliated. I’ll never be able to rent a car again. And my cover may be blown. How could it get so bad?

What am I doing up at this hour, sitting in a dead woman’s home, crying my eyes out, and throwing up every ten minutes? God, I wish I knew. I can’t think straight; I can’t even see straight. And I think someone is in the house. I’ve locked myself in the kitchen office and am throwing up in a wastebasket. Here’s what I remember. I need to write this down. My head is so fuzzy.

Drugged

I went to that bar at about nine o’clock Saturday night. Susan and Rick introduced me all around to several people and everyone wanted to talk about Georgia and what they remembered. Mostly, it was pretty sweet and sort of a wake. All I had to drink was tonic. I know I didn’t drink anything else. I’d know, wouldn’t I?

This one guy—Dean?—kept getting closer and closer to me and he was all, “Oh, too bad about your cousin. We all loved her. We went out some.” Dude, back off. I’m not interested.

Then about eleven??? Maybe earlier. I started to feel a little sick. I went to the bathroom and didn’t recognize myself. I thought, My God! My mother is here. That’s when I threw up the first time and I thought, great, I’m sick. How could I get sick so fast? I had to grab my coat from the table and I left the bar. This guy—Deon??—wanted to drive me home. No way. Not interested. I got in my car and pulled out of the parking lot, wanting to get away from there as fast as I could. Apparently, that was too fast. I forgot to turn the headlights on. I wasn’t half a block away when a cop car pulled me over. I had trouble finding my ID, I finally gave it to him with my rental agreement.

He made me get out of the car. Walk this line. I could barely see the line he pointed at. It’s fucking January and there’s three inches of snow on the ground that the stupid city hasn’t figured out how to remove from the streets. And it’s freezing-your-ass-off weather. He’s making me stand there freezing and shaking while he shines a light in my eyes and asks how much I had to drink. I didn’t have anything to drink, stupid. I’m feeling a little sick. Can I please sit down? He says stay where I am. He gets a kit out of his car and says, blow into this. You have the right not to, but we’ll have to do blood tests then. I’m shaking so much and shivering that I can’t get a big enough lungful of air to satisfy the cop. I just want to go home and be sick. Where am I staying. Almost gave him my address. Said no, with my cousin. She’s dead.

He pulled me around against the car and cuffed me! He pushed me into the back seat of his patrol car and took me to the police station. I threw up in the back of his car. And on myself. My hands were behind my back. He dragged me into a cell and said to sober up.

Then another cop, plainclothes, comes to see me. You Peg Chester? I almost said no. Yes. I am Peg Chester. He says I’ve been cited for DUI but since I couldn’t do a breath test, they wanted a blood test. Consent? Yeah, sure. Just let me go home.

They take the blood and Cop A, B, or C—oh, shit! I didn’t even get the names of the cops who arrested me. He says I’m lucky to have friends and he’s come to take me home. He who? What friends? He points me at this guy—Devon?—who takes my arm and gets me out of the police station. I’m trying to say no. Something’s wrong. I’m so disoriented. He drives me here to Georgia’s house and comes in with me to put me to bed. No way! He can’t see me like this. I pushed him away and ran to the office, slammed the door, and locked it. I moved all the furniture in the little room against the door and he can’t get in. He’s out there. I can hear him going through kitchen drawers.