by Sophia Henry
“Good. She’s on a fitness kick. Keeps asking me to do all these dance classes with her.” He glances at his belly and squeezes a roll. “I’m not in shape for dancing.”
“Oh, come on! I know you’ve got a little salsa in you. I’ve seen you work that weed wacker,” Erik teases.
“It’s not the same,” Hugo says with a laugh. “The weed wacker doesn’t yell at me.”
“Have you tried, at least?” I ask. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Erik lean forward in the middle of the backseat. He’s lifting his phone as if he’s trying to get a signal or something.
Before Hugo has a chance to answer, I’m distracted when the lights on the police car behind me start flashing. I check all of my mirrors and even throw a glance to my blind spots. I’m the only car on the road.
“What in the world? I wasn’t doing anything wrong, was I?” I ask out loud. I wasn’t expecting an answer, but Erik does.
“Not a thing,” he confirms, lowering his phone to his lap.
I keep my hands on the wheel as the officer approaches, waiting for him to tap on the window before pressing the button to roll it down.
Before speaking, he peers into the car. His dark eyes stay on Hugo for a second too long, as if he’s assessing him. That, and the slight downward turn of his pale, thin lips annoys me. Hugo and Erik are both still in their work clothes—dingy, white T-shirts and faded jeans tinged with grass and mud stains.
“Everything okay, Miss?” he asks.
What the does that mean? Why wouldn’t everything be okay?
Instead of ask, I answer with a strong, “Yes, sir.”
“Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“No.”
“You were speeding.”
“I don’t reckon I was, sir. I was going the speed limit. Maybe even a little under.”
“When you came down that hill on Idlewild.”
“Bullshit,” Erik mumbles under his breath.
The cop peers into the car, eyebrows furrowed in anger. “Excuse me, boy? Do you have something to say to me?”
My hands clench the steering wheel.
“License and registration,” the cop barks at me.
I lean down to grab my purse at Hugo’s feet, dig my license out of my wallet, and hand it to the officer. Then I lean over him and reach out toward my glove compartment to grab my registration.
“What are you doing?” the cop asks. I glance back, catching the slight movement of his hand to the holster at his hip.
My heart speeds up. “You asked for my registration. I’m getting my registration.”
After retrieving it, I hand it to the cop. He grabs it and stalks back to his patrol car.
“I swear I wasn’t speeding,” I say once he’s gone.
“You weren’t,” Erik assures me.
“Are you serious or just being sweet?”
“Dead serious. I started videotaping your dashboard as soon as I saw that cop start following you.”
“You did?” It seems odd to me, but at least it explains what he was doing on his phone.
He nods solemnly. Then he lifts his phone and shows me the screen. Together, we watch the video of me going the speed limit. At one point, I might have been going one mile per hour over, but never more.
“It doesn’t make any sense. If I wasn’t speeding, then why would he pull me over?”
“Because you were driving with brown,” Erik mutters.
Color me confused. “What does that mean?”
“A white girl driving with a Mexican,” Hugo explains.
“That’s not why!” I start to dismiss the explanation, then I pause. “Is it?”
“You really don’t know anything about our reality, Maddie.”
I’m not sure what he means by “our reality,” since his skin is as white as mine. Even with a summer tan, he wouldn’t be mistaken for a man of color.
“Tell me then. I want to know. I’m not just a ditzy blonde who only cares about herself.” Erik laughs, and my heart sinks. “Is that what you think of me?” I ask in a whisper.
“No. Maddie, I—”
It hurts like hell to know he still sees me as a callous girl who doesn’t care about anyone but herself and her own interests. A ditz with no comprehension of what goes on in our society.
Maybe I haven’t had much experience or many friends of color, but it doesn’t mean I have to live the rest of my life that way. I can try to make changes. If I got pulled over for driving with Hugo because of the color of his skin, then I need to do something about it—tell someone at the very least. Daddy knows the police chief. Maybe he can help put a stop to behavior like that. It’s not that I actively participate; I just don’t think about it. It’s a horrible thing to admit—that I don’t realize some of the issues other people struggle with until they’re brought to my attention.
And I’m ashamed of myself.
The officer’s heavy footsteps pounding the pavement shakes me out of my thoughts.
He reaches into the car and hands me my license and registration. “I only wrote you for five over,” he says, looking at Hugo as he hands me the ticket.
“What do you mean, you wrote me for five over? I wasn’t speeding!” I say, dropping my license and registration into the cup holder.
“Miss—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“You know you work for me, right? It’s not the other way around. I pay your salary.” Adrenaline pumps through me, fueled by rage at the hateful reason that made this officer stop and the lies he tells to justify it.
It’s apparent that the cop wasn’t expecting any resistance from me. Maybe he thought I’d be driven by fear. But he doesn’t know me. Once I know something is wrong, I won’t stop until it’s right. I won’t lie and say I do this all the time. Quite the contrary. I’ve never given a police officer anything but respect before, but this time is different. This is my chance to stand up for what’s right in the small way I’m able.
“Dios mío,” Hugo whispers and turns his head to look out the passenger-side window.
I’m not sure what it means, but I’m positive it’s not good. Which should probably be a clue for me to shut my mouth, but I’ve never been good at stopping once I’ve started something.
“If you have a problem with the ticket, you can take it to court,” he says, writing something on his pad before handing it to me.
“Take it to court? Waste more taxpayers’ money than we’re wasting right now to fight a bull-hockey ticket? That’s ridiculous! I have a—” Erik puts a hand on my shoulder, which derails my thoughts for a moment. When I glance back at him, he shakes his head slightly, but I’m not letting this go. “This isn’t going to make it to court. My father will have a field day with this. Harris Commons—you know him, right?”
The cop, who seemed frustrated, but still slightly amused, now stares at me with hard, unwavering eyes.
“Please stop, Maddie,” Erik urges quietly from behind me.
“I can see you do. Enjoy the rest of your shift, Officer. You might want to put the windows down, enjoy the wind in your”—I glance at his smooth bald head—“hair. Because you’ll be behind a desk by next week.”
Without waiting for a response, I crumple the ticket and let it drop into my lap, all while keeping eye contact with the officer. Then I roll up the window, dismissing him completely.
It may have seemed collected, but my heart has been pounding like a racehorse at the Derby the whole time. I finally let out a breath and my shoulders relax.
“What the fuck was that, Maddie?” Erik asks.
“What?” I glance at him in my rearview mirror as I pull back onto the road. He shakes his head as if disappointed. “Are you mad at me? For defending myself from an asshole who thinks he can use his power to intimidate people?”
“I’m not mad. But I will admit I was fucking freaked out.”
“Same,” Hugo agrees.
“Why?” I ask, looking at Hugo quickly.
He shift
s uncomfortably in his seat and sighs as if he doesn’t want to answer, but feels obligated to. “If I talked to a cop like that, I’d be face first on the concrete.” He rubs his forehead with his fingers. “I almost thought I would be anyway, with the way it was going.”
“Really?” I ask. I’m appalled at myself for making Hugo uncomfortable. I thought my standing up to the cop was a way to help.
Hugo turns to me. “It’s different for me, Ms. Commons, for reasons you’ll never have to worry about.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t mean to put you in that situation. I didn’t realize—” I stop because though I’m sincere, my apology means nothing. My ignorance could have made the situation horrible for him.
Neither man says anything else, so I keep driving in silence. The only time Hugo speaks is point out which house is his in the subdivision.
Shame seeps through me, filling every crack. Erik was correct. I don’t know Hugo’s reality. I was too wrapped up, thinking I could use my influence—privilege—to get some sort of justice, that I didn’t even think about the consequences for either of them. It never even crossed my mind that the cop could have taken the fuss I was making out on Hugo.
After I drop Hugo off, Erik moves into the front seat. He doesn’t speak and it kills me. I hate when people are mad at me. I especially hate when it’s because I did something that unintentionally hurt someone. I never intended to put Hugo or Erik in a bad situation.
Being afraid of the police is nothing I’ve ever had to think about. The only other time I’ve been stopped was when I was speeding while coming home from the beach a few years ago. I apologized profusely, said I’d never do it again, pretended to cry, and the officer let me go without a ticket.
Chapter Eighteen
Erik
“I’m really sorry, Erik,” Maddie whispers as tears fill her eyes.
I grab her hand. “Don’t ever apologize for standing up for what’s right.”
“I didn’t even think about the consequences for Hugo—or you. I just ran my mouth like a privileged white chick. That’s exactly why we’ll never work in the long run, isn’t it?”
“Hey! Hey! What are you talking about?” I’ve never heard her talk like that, and the drastic swing away from her normally cheerful disposition concerns me.
“I can’t even see simple things from a different perspective. I didn’t even stop to think about Hugo.”
“Pull over, Maddie.”
“What?” she asks, tugging her hand from mine to place both on the steering wheel. Her knuckles turn white while her arms shake.
“Pull over. We need to talk.”
Without another word, she checks her surroundings, searching for a place to pull over. She chooses the parking lot of a chain pharmacy that’s closed for the night, and whips the car between two white lines, then shifts into park.
Without hesitation, I lean closer and take her face in my hands. “You absolutely did think about Hugo and I. You knew what that officer was doing was wrong, and you stood up for yourself—for us. That’s fucking amazing. I haven’t met many people who would stand up for another person like that.”
“But it could have turned out horribly for you both, Erik. I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Who doesn’t?” I laugh softly. “Look, I’m not gonna lie, I was a bit shocked by how you handled the situation, but I know you can be”—I pause, looking for a word that won’t offend her or make her feel worse—“impulsive,” I finish. “But the point is that you chose to act on an injustice. And that means the world to me, Maddie.”
“I reckon I should keep my mouth shut from now on.” She shakes her head and casts her gaze to her lap, as if she’s dismissing herself.
“No! Please don’t.” I tilt her head so we’re eye to eye. “You’ve experienced something you never had before. Now you recognize it. I wish more people did. That’s how things change.”
“I can’t do anything right. When I try to help, I’m doing it wrong. If I don’t help, I’m not doing my part to make change. I’m the white devil.”
“Jesus, Maddie. I’m so sorry if I made you feel that way. Every time you stand up for someone that’s being marginalized, you’re helping. I’m sorry if I made it sound like you weren’t.”
“I want to do what I can to make things right. I can’t change an entire systemic problem this minute, but I can start somewhere. Isn’t that the point? People who have some kind of influence starting somewhere? It’s hard to help when I’m trying and getting slammed down.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m not looking for pity. I know this isn’t about me, believe me. I’m sure Hugo and his family face these kinds of reactions and hardships every day—I’m not diminishing that. I’m asking from my heart, what do you want me to do?”
“Keep being you, Maddie. Keep standing up for people. Look at what you did for me? You put your neck on the line, knowing that you could get in huge trouble by helping me stay in the country.”
“Once I get something in my head—”
“I know!” I interrupt her. “Remember that time when you made me take home that box of kittens you found at school?”
“Well, I knew Mama would just drop them off at a shelter and they’d be euthanized. I had to give them a chance.”
“Yeah, and you got Grandpa on your side. You guys teamed up on me.”
“Rusty had a such a beautiful heart,” she says softly. “I loved being around him.”
“Me too.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “He would have liked this, ya know? Us together.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He loved you. He loved your bubbly, vibrant personality. Liz was always really quiet and, shit, we barely ever saw Emily. But you, you’re a force, Maddie. It’s not possible for people to be uncomfortable around you. You make everyone feel wanted, included, loved.”
“That’s not always a good thing. Being a people-pleaser.”
“Is that what you think of yourself?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve always felt I had to be the hostess. Bring people together. Make everyone happy—my parents, my friends, boyfriends.”
“Sounds like an exhausting life. Living for what everyone else thinks.”
“It is, but at the same time—I enjoy it. I don’t even know how to explain.”
“You want it all because you can handle it all. But I want to be part of your life. I want to help you be the best human you can be.”
“You already do that, Erik.” She pauses. “What did you mean when you said I don’t understand your reality. You used the term as though you understand what it’s like to be Hugo.”
“Ever since I found out I was an illegal alien, I’ve done my best not to get into any trouble. I didn’t make waves, didn’t stand up for things I should have, because I needed to protect my own secret. I thought having any kind of black marks on my record—even a speeding ticket—would make me seem like a less than a model citizen.” I turn my head and gaze out the window, as memories rush through my head. Situations where I could have been a better friend, a better advocate for change. I’m ashamed that I let the fear of my own situation get in the way of standing up for my friends. “When I said that, I didn’t mean that I knew anything about the sort of racism that Hugo had been though. I just meant, I understand not being able to say and do everything I want to make things right.”
When Maddie takes my hand, I shift my gaze. “Now that everything is out in the open. You can be a catalyst for change.”
“We,” I say, squeezing her hand. “We can be catalysts for change together.”
I hope Maddie sees how many changes she’s made since gathering the courage to leave Trent. She sees the world with different eyes. I just hope she understands what I have to do is for us—and forgives me.
Chapter Nineteen
Maddie
“I got a call from a friend at the police department,” Daddy says, as soon as I walk in my parents’ front door to t
he annual holiday party we throw for people who work for our family. It’s one of my favorite traditions, probably because I’m the one who suggested it back when I was in high school.
No “hello.” No hug. Straight to business, as always.
News travels fast through the grapevine. I actually thought I’d hear from him the day after it happened, but it’s more his style to wait until he sees someone in person. He loves confrontation. He loves intimidation. He knew I’d never miss this gathering.
“Well, hello to you too, Daddy.” I lean over and kiss his cheek.
“You got a ticket?” he asks.
“I did, yes. The officer said it was for speeding, but I wasn’t speeding,” I say, as I hang my gorgeous new jacket in the hall closet. Before closing the door, I give it one last look. Stella Carney, one of the designers I chose to create a line for the Commons Stores next year, sent it to me for Christmas.
“What do you mean, you weren’t speeding? If you weren’t, why would he say that, Madeline?”
I shrug, then straighten the bow on my black, silk top. “I don’t know, but I wasn’t speeding. I have a video showing that I was going the limit. I’m going to use it in court.”
“You will do no such thing.”
Wait. Is he angry with me? “It’s totally bogus, Daddy! I only got stopped because I was driving Hugo home.”
“Excuse me?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Who’s Hugo?”
I pause. He knows damn well who Hugo is. Instead of take the conversation off track, I answer, “Our landscaper.”
“Why were you driving him home?”
“Erik’s truck broke down, so I picked them up and drove them home.” No need to tell Dad that I drove Erik to my home. Or that we hung out in bed the entire next day. I haven’t even told Mama and Daddy that Erik and I are actually dating now. Sure, they know about our agreement, but I haven’t come clean about our real feelings. But even if I did, they certainly wouldn’t understand him moving in. “That racist cop gave me a ticket for driving with Hugo.”