I know when it all began. I remember it, like a movie played out in another persons life. Through a trance, the fog that was my life, I heard her say, "I wonder what it'd be like."
"Hmmm." I murmured. I wasn't listening. I was wondering when my night would be over.
She nudged me and nodded in their direction. "To be them for a day."
I looked up. They were regulars. Two of our finest from the local precinct. A real pair they were. One was tall and lanky, the other stout and bald. They drank coffee black and never ordered doughnuts. Friendly though they were, it was hard enough getting though the night shit at Dunsters Doughnuts without wasting energy on social niceties. They were customers and we were service.
"Sure." I replied without inflection. There were just words. Innocent things, words. At least they start that way, but then they lead to thoughts. The words weren't even mine. She was the one that spoke them.
She went on but I wasn't listening. Emily was our resident night security and I was a lowly Assistant Manager. The title might sound great, but it didn't really hold any perks. It meant I got to work weekends and the late shift. A whole additional dollar an hour gave me those privileges. In return I made enough money to almost get by.
It was two weeks later before the subject came up again. I was cleaning out the coffee machine. Emily was sitting with the officers. Outdated music hummed from speakers on each side of the cafe. If my life was a movie then that music was the soundtrack. I couldn't hear their voices because of the music. I looked at the clock. Two more hours. I longed for a hot shower. Something about the cafe always made me feel grimy.
"They were telling me stories." I hadn't noticed the officers leave. Emily was standing next to the register. There was a far away look in her eyes and a private smile on her lips. "Stories about patrolling."
"Really." I said without interest. Rag in my hand, I wiped coffee grains from the counter.
"It sounded so great."
Impatience soured my reply, "I'm sure their job gets tiring, just like ours."
She smiled at me. It was a look I hadn't seen before but one I would become uncomfortably familiar with. Her flat face stretched with mischief. "Sure. But just for a day. That'd be cool."
I shook my head. This time she took note of my derision. "C'mon. Tell me you wouldn't like to be someone else for a day. Maybe even dole out some justice."
"No, I don't." I told her flatly.
She laughed at me. "You're so full of it." Her uniform bunched around her barrel shaped chest as she leaned on the counter. "Anyone can see you're unhappy."
"What does happiness have to do with it?" I put my hands on my hips and leaned forward like a mad hen. "Thinking about things that'll never happen doesn't do anything except make a person unhappy."
She was silent for a moment. I thought she'd given up. Then she looked at me. I swear I saw the spark, the moment when the thought first hit her. "Why can't it never happen?"
I think I laughed. I know she kept after me all evening. She kept talking about how we could do it. She said it would be easy. I wasn't even playing. At every chance I took her down. It was a crazy, and potentially life threatening, prospect. I'm not sure why I cared. My life was shit. It wasn't worth saving. The only reason I didn't end it was because of apathy.
That night, as hot water showered down on me, I thought about it. I let the idea swim around my exhausted brain. My high school sweetheart was long gone. He left when he realized my only ambition was family. I wanted to be a stay at home mother. I supported him for two years at a JC. Then he moved onto a University and left me behind. Collage life gave him options. Prettier and smarter women were just waiting for a guy like him.
After he left Dunsters Doughnuts was my life. I couldn't imagine another man wanting me, so I didn't try. Emily hit on me once, right after she changed to the night shift. I thought she just wanted to get a bite to eat. She thought I didn't date because the right women hadn't offered. I didn't even know until she tried to kiss me. It was in front of my place, as the sun crested the sky. She leaned in and I suddenly knew and I almost went with it, but then I pulled away. The hole in my heart couldn't be filled by her misguided affection.
She was cool with it. My discomfort the next day didn't faze her a bit. I think she laughed it off and said I was full of myself. I never understood Emily. To this day she is a mystery. She was so wild and full of life. I sometimes think her time at Dunsters was like waiting in a lobby. She was just waiting for them to call her name. And the idea. The plan. That was the call.
For weeks I didn't hear of anything else. At first I just poked holes in the plan. I told her all the ways it wouldn't work. I'm not sure when my attitude changed, but I noticed one day that I was talking about it too. When the place was empty, and sometimes that was hours at a time, we would talk about nothing else. Now talking and actually doing, those are two very different things. Until a week before, I never considered it real. I considered our chatter thoughts that would never be realized.
Then, one day, she brought a box with her to work. It was a busy night. I was distracted and my head was pounding. I think the root of my headache was in that box. Every time I walked past the box I bumped it. I was tense. My neck hurt, it was thick with taunt muscles. A part of me knew what was to come. We didn't get a chance to talk. She grabbed the box and pushed passed the morning crowd as she left. I didn't even say goodbye.
I slept badly. Every little sound outside woke me up. I was late for my shift the next night. There were only a few customers when I arrived. Emily was already in her spot. Two hours passed and then things were dead.
"They're not coming tonight."
I looked up. "Who?"
"Our victims."
My mouth quirked. "Okay."
She put her palms on the counter and bent her elbows. There was mischief on her face again. "Aren't you gonna ask me about the box?"
My head shook gently side to side.
"Why the hell not?!" She huffed and threw up her hands.
I took a deep breath and said what I'd been thinking since I first saw the box. "Because I think that you think that I really want to do something that I don't want to do."
She laughed. I didn't budge. There was a look exchanged. It was like we had a silent conversation but I'm not really sure what we said. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "Okay."
"Okay." I said back, doubtfully.
"Don't be so doubtful." She came around the counter and put an arm around my shoulder. "I can't do this without you. If you don't want to do it, then that is the end of it."
My eyes met hers. "You're not gonna guilt me into changing my mind."
Her eyes didn't waver. "We won't talk about it again. I'll take the box home." She squeezed me. "No bit deal."
It was a big deal. My heart was stubborn all night. I didn't feel remorse until I was alone in my apartment. Then I felt like my life was over. I missed my only chance to really change things. I knew it wasn't a better change. This wasn't like going back to college. This was a life of crime. Impersonating an officer isn't legal. At the same time, it would be fun. It would be different. My life wouldn't be the same afterward.
My mom thinks I went mad. She said I changed suddenly. In court she testified that I was no longer of my right mind. She said I'd always been a good girl. I told the psychiatrists, the lawyers, the jurors, and the judge that I wasn't crazy or a sociopath. I knew what I was doing. There was never a time I was unclear about the legality of what I did. My poor lawyer scrambled. The only reason we went to trial was because he didn't think I was sane. What sane person would tell you they committed crimes because it felt good?
When I arrived the next day the box was still there. When there was a moment, between customers, she told me she forgot to take it home. I believed. her. She wasn't lying. Like me, I think some part of her didn't want to give up the dream. Our regulars showed up at about two am. My heart raced when they walked in and didn't stop trying to escape my chest until well after they left. Emily was reading a book, as she sometimes did, when I pulled the box from under the shelf.
"So, what's in the box."
She looked up and her face creased with distrust. "Um, why?"
Honestly, I must have gone years without smiling, because when my lips finally stretched I got a cramp in my cheek. Then I started laughing. It hurt to laugh, but I couldn't help it.
"Are you okay?" She said from beside me. "You look like you're in pain."
"Have you ever gotten a cramp from smiling?"
"Yeah." She replied ruefully.
"I thought...well...shit." My cheek was really being a bitch. I couldn't even talk. "Maybe I was hasty."
"Don't think..."
Do you ever notice that some parts of memories can be so clear, but others just blend into a feeling? I know she said more, but I don't know what those words were. They were good. I remember I felt good. My heart, for the first time in years, didn't ache. Emily wasn't anything to look at, she was pale, pudgy, and without noticeable features, but there was something comforting about her. She could say just the right words.
The box was full of our plan. Ropes, sedatives, hair pins, and all the other things two mediocre women would need to steal the personality of two police officers. There are only two days out of the year that Dunsters Doughnuts doesn't run 24 hours. Christmas Eve and New Years Eve. The cafe officially closed at mid-night on Christmas Eve, but I had authority to keep it open until there were no more customers. Emily convinced the officers to drop by at the end of their shift on Christmas Eve. The bald one was separated and the other guy was single. We started to flirt with them. I said I liked a man in a uniform. She said she wanted a ride in a cop car for Christmas. We alluded to a surprise on Christmas Eve.
We planned to get away with it, but we didn't actually think we would. The last few days all we talked about was jail. We were preparing ourselves. We expected to go to jail for our night of fun. All my belongings were in storage paid a year in advance. My mother expected me to stay with her a while after Christmas. We both wrote letters of resignation.
I remember my hand wouldn't stop trembling. I remember watching them take the first sip. We made the coffee hot, so they'd just take a sip. The drug worked quick. I was so happy they wouldn't die. I remember how I was relieved one moment and then I was taking off his clothes. It was crazy. It shouldn't have gone smooth. Something should have gone wrong. But it didn't.
We pulled over a woman for speeding. Then we pulled over a guy for expired tags. Emily'd done her homework. She knew the law. She was way more gutsy than me. The siren was loud and I kept worrying that the radio would give us away. I was sure someone would call our unit. We saw this guy drive down the road with no lights on. She turned on the siren.
She turned to me. "This one is yours, Miss Officer."
I demurred. "No. I can't"
Emily touched me on the cheek. Her hand was intimate as her thumb brushed over my cheek bone. "This is it. You can't hide anymore. It's time to start living your life."
I bit my cheek. I tried to come up with a reason. I stared at her, a moment away from tears. She shook her head. "Forget it. Whatever is keeping you from this moment, right now, just throw it away. There is a guy in that car and he is sweating bullets, just waiting for you to put down the law."
Then she said something that swims in my head to this day, "You are the one in power now."
I opened the door. I got out of the car. I walked through the dark and cold night to the car door. I bent down and said, "License and registration."
The guy was sweating bullets. He looked nervous. There was an odd smell. Kind of earthy. It wafted off him. He handed over a crumpled piece of paper and a small plastic card. I couldn't see them, I was so nervous.
"I pulled you over because your headlights are out." My voice was so steady. I sounded calm and in control, but I was so not.
"I know. I need to get that fixed." He grasped the wheel and then begged, "Ma'am I'm right around corner from my house. Is there anyway..."
I took the bait when he trailed off. "You're wondering if I will let you off with a warning?"
His knuckles were turning white. His eyes were cast down. "Yeah."
I held out the pause. When I did finally talk, it was authoritative. "You need to get those headlights fixed. Understand me?"
He looked up at me with relief, "Yes. Yes, I do. I'll do it right away."
"Alright." I turned and walked back to the patrol car.
The moment was like sex. I liked it, the same way I liked sex. When I sat back down in the patrol car, I was fairly glowing. I wasn't thinking about the cops tied up up at the cafe, or the next day, or the rest of my life. All I could think about was the next time I would feel like that.
It was only two hours. That is all we planned for. Then we went back to the cafe. We each took one home. I put mine in bed. I left his uniform top on. Earlier we confirmed that they both drank. Alone, I drank a bottle of Stoli Vodka. A little was spared to doctor my victim. I don't remember falling asleep, but I do remember being sick in the toilet the next morning and him leaving with only a few terse questions.
I waited all day to hear the sirens. She called me at 6pm. My officer showed up at her place soon after to pick up his partner. The sick, drunk thing worked for both of us. The men didn't touch us or try to make nice. Everything went as planned. I left for my mothers house that night. Two days passed before I realized I couldn't live without it. The knowledge of that feeling was in me. I wanted more.
About two months ago she came to visit me. She's a cop now. She lost a lot of weight after that night. Things changed for both of us. She choose the road of righteousness and I choose the unbeaten path. I listened to her lament and beat herself up. She thought my incarceration was her fault. I waited until she was done. I let her get it all out.
Then I said, "Is it better to live a life that wrong because you're doing everything right or a life that's right because you're doing everything wrong?"
She wiped her wet face. "You wouldn't have thought-"
I interrupted her, "You're damn right! I wouldn't have thought, without you." I smiled. "I'm in prison, but I'm not unhappy. I mean, I'm not happy to be in prison, but it's damn better than living in a prison that I made for myself."
I lowered my voice. "What we did was wrong. I know that. It was so fucking great because it was wrong." Her face was twisted. I felt bad, because I knew we couldn't be on the same page. "Look, you're not supposed to understand this. You're the law now and if you really got why I am the way that I am, it would ruin your whole being a cop thing."
I wasn't getting through to her. I continued, but I could see I wasn't getting through. "But I want you to understand that I don't regret it. If you are going to regret what we did, then do it for yourself and not for me."
She was disbelieving, "So you're a career criminal now? Your just gonna live you life out in jail?"
"No." I said with a chuckle. "A few months in here has shown me that I need to figure out a different way to get my kicks, but at least I'm thinking about it. I have to figure out what I am going to do with my life now. I think it's about time I did."
She shook her head. "I'm just...I'm just sorry."
I watched her stand up. I didn't expect to ever see her again. I jumped up behind the glass. "Hey Emily." She looked back up. "It was fun though, right?"
Silently she nodded and I grinned, "Thanks for that."
They didn't catch me until I got sloppy. Two years and three months after that night. As I watched her walk out of my life, I knew that my life was better. Fuck right and wrong. Emily brought me back to life. I wouldn't give that up, even if it meant the rest of my life was spent in a jail. At least it was a jail built by someone other than me.
The End.
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