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“Good, that’s good,” he praises as I start to get my breathing under control. I didn’t realize how close I was to hyperventilating and passing out until the light-headedness starts ebbing away.
I don’t know how much time passes with my hand on Jason’s chest while he coaches me through breathing, but eventually I’ve calmed down enough that my heart rate evens out and my hands stop shaking.
Jason must decide I’m okay, because he gently takes both of my hands in his and says, “No matter what happens, we’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”
I nod at him, unable to speak just yet.
I trust Jason. Sometimes I feel like I trust him more than I trust myself.
“We’re going to get out of the car,” Jason states calmly,
“and we’re going to be all right.”
I don’t want to get out of the car, don’t want to willingly let Officer Liu cuff and trap me in the back of his car, but Jason’s here with me, calm and in control like always. And besides, I don’t really have a choice.
With one last squeeze, Jason releases my hands and unbuckles his seat belt. He watches me do the same and gives me a reassuring nod when I tentatively open my car door. Jason presses the starter once to turn on the car without turning on the engine and rolls up the windows before shutting off the car again.
“What are you waiting for?” Officer Liu’s voice makes me break eye contact with Jason for the first time since I started panicking. “I told you both to get out of the vehicle.”
It’s then that I notice what’s going on. There’s a tow truck directly in front of us, the operator tinkering around Jason’s car, attaching chains and cables to it.
My jaw drops.That’swhat all that noise was? A tow truck hooking up Jason’s car?
Jason doesn’t seem surprised. He must’ve known what was happening the whole time, but he still made calming me down his priority over blowing up at Officer Liu or stopping the man I now realize is probably Bert from hooking up his car.
“What the hell are you doing?” I exclaim as I step out of the car, my worries taking a backseat to my indignant rage. “You can’t just tow the car!”
Bert, a middle-aged man with a deep tan, white beard, and white hair pulled back in a short ponytail, raises his hands. “Sorry, ma’am, just following orders.”
“What grounds do you have to tow my car?” Jason asks, directing his question to the smug but somehow also bored-looking Officer Liu.
Now that both of us are out of the car, Bert presses a button for the lever that begins lifting the front end of Jason’s car, fully suspending it from the tow truck.
“Hey, stop that!” I demand, but he doesn’t, and the car’s front end continues slowly rising. “You can’t do this! We weren’t doing anything!” That last part is for Officer Liu, who’s standing with Bert on the other side of Jason’s car.
“Yes, I can, and I am,” Officer Liu says, then turns to Jason, who’s standing in front of him. “You have several outstanding tickets, which means I have to tow your car until you get that sorted.” He says it with a neutral tone, like he’s trying to retain a semblance of professionalism, but it’s clear this is bringing him immense joy.
“This is bullshit, and you know it,” Jason accuses, but he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t lose control. “You’ve continuously been giving me tickets for made-up violations, and now you’re towing my car over them?”
“Handle the tickets and call this number, and they’ll see about you getting your car back,” Officer Liu says, handing Jason a paper along with his license and documents, probably only giving us any information at all to appear semisane in front of Bert.
It’s very clear what this is. He’s showing us who holds the power here and how hard he can make our lives with very minimal effort on his part. He followed us here with every intention of confiscating Jason’s car—it’s obvious by how fast the tow truck got here. Bert was prepped and primed for the job, probably waiting nearby for the signal. This is happening, and there’s nothing we can do.
The mechanical whirring of the tow truck stops. “All hooked up,” Bert announces, and Jason rounds on him.
“If there’s one scratch on my car, I will end you,”
Jason warns Bert, whose eyes widen despite being more than forty years older than him.
Bert swallows, backing up to the driver’s door of the tow truck. “What happens when it’s in the lot isn’t up to me.”
Before Jason can reply, Bert hastily gets into the truck.
Jason scowls, marching around the car and coming to my side. He yanks the passenger door of the Challenger open and ducks in, grabbing my purse, which I completely forgot about, my new phone from the cupholder, and his sweater from the backseat. He hands it all to me and scans me when he emerges, likely making sure I’ve got everything, including my shoes, before he closes the door, using his key fob to lock the car.
Jason, though still holding it together with a composure that deserves awards, is too angry to do anything other than accept what’s happening. It’s clear this is going to happen no matter what, but I still try a last-ditch effort.
To Officer Liu, I say, “You don’t have to do this; you’ve made your point. Just let us go.”
