Marie and I walked in through the big set of double automatic sliding doors. The hot air from the vents throws our hair all over the fucking place, and now we almost fit in with the welfare denizens littering the aisles.
“You want a cart?” I ask.
“No, I think a basket will be fine.”
“Okay.” I grab a basket.
“Good afternoon,” a door greeter who must be pushing ninety says.
“Good afternoon,” I say.
“I’m going to grab some peanuts or something. I’m feeling a little hungry," Marie says.
“Okay. I’m going to start the loop.”
“All right.”
I walk into the store and take a left toward the Health & Beauty section. None of the people here look like they use either. It’s a fucking leper colony, except for a girl that looks like she might be a six or a seven. From a distance, anyway.
I walk slowly, and Marie catches up to me, with a small bag of peanuts.
“Mmmm, peanuts,” she says. “You want one?”
“No thanks. I’m not really hungry at all.”
“Okay,” she says, and begins to pick at them.
We walk along, stopping here and there, walking up and down the occasional aisle, not really looking at anything.
The Six or Seven turned out to be more like a Two or Three once we got up close.
“I thought that girl was better looking when we were back there,” I say to Marie.
“Me too, but she’s fucking gross.”
“Word.”
We continue on, and I remember I need shipping labels for work. I’d pay for them now, and then take the money out of petty cash later. It would save me a trip back here later on.
“We need to go to the office supplies.”
“For what?”
“I need to get shipping labels for work.”
“Oh, okay.”
We walk toward the center of the store, and to the stationary section. I browse the different labels for a while, settle on a type, and then we head up to the cash registers.
“You want to look at anything else while we’re here?”
“No, I’m good now.”
“All right.” I head to the self-checkouts, and begin to ring myself out. Scan, beep. Scan, beep.
“You want to get arrested for a bag of fucking peanuts?” comes a voice from behind me.
I turn around.
“Not you, your woman. Excuse me miss, you want to get arrested for a bag of fucking peanuts?” The guy is almost red faced and holding the now empty peanut bag.
I look at Marie. She is astounded. “What?”
I turn back to the guy. “Listen man, who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the guy that gets people arrested here. Now is someone going to fucking pay for these peanuts?!”
“You’re going about this all wrong,” says another man from behind the lunatic.
“Seriously,” I say. “If you want to talk about this, let me finish my business, and we can go outside and talk it out like adults. There’s no need to be raising a scene in the middle of the store, man.”
“Don’t call me ‘man’, motherfucker!” he says, and then grabs my wrist, and shoves me backward.
Marie starts shouting something, but I don’t really hear it. I have crossed over into rage mode. I lunge at the cocksucker and shove him into the candy shelf. The third guy grabs the lunatic and spins him around and screams “You keep this shit up motherfucker, I’ll fucking lay you out! You hear me?!”
“You’re all getting arrested!” screams the lunatic. “You’re all getting arrested!”
In a brief moment of clarity, I turn to Marie. “Go to the car.” Without hesitation, she begins to walk out, hurriedly, but calm.
The lunatic steps toward her and grabs her arm. “Where’re you going?! I’m calling the fucking cops!”
Seeing him grab her, everything in the world fades away, and I shove him again, this time across the lane and into the opposing cash register. “Don’t you fucking touch my wife asshole!”
“That’s it motherfucker! I’m calling the cops!” He gets up and takes his phone out of his pocket.
I decide it’s in my best interest to just get out of the store. With all the blood boiling away in my brain, I begin to follow Marie out of the store.
“Hey! You forgot your change!”
I turn around and the third guy is walking toward me with the eleven dollars I left at the register. I turn back and go get it. “Thanks man. I appreciate it.”
“Any time,” he says.
I take the money, and notice the lunatic is on his phone, walking up to me. I meet him and close his phone. “Fuck you scumbag.”
“That’s fine,” he says, opening his phone back up. He starts dialing. “I’m the guy that gets people arrested here, and you’re all going to fucking jail.” He starts talking into the phone. “Yes, my name is…” I don’t hear the rest. I begin to walk quickly out of the store. Marie is almost at the door. I catch up to her, and the lunatic is following close behind us. I can hear him talking. “Yes, it’s a woman with dark hair, in a black coat. She stole peanuts. I am at the uptown location. They are leaving the store right now. I am following them. Yes, peanuts. Then when I tried to stop them, her boyfriend attacked me…”
I am furious. Marie keeps flashing me worried glances. I knew this was going to happen someday. She has a habit of picking little shit up and then either eating or drinking it and leaving the wrappers or cans on some shelf, or just tossing shit in her purse. I knew something like this would happen. I fucking told her this would happen.
We leave the store.
“They’re in the parking lot now. I tried to stop them before they left. People can’t just steal peanuts. It’s bullshit. Sorry. I’m upset. He attacked me…” The lunatic goes on.
A few rows down, I see our car. Marie and I pick up the pace and get to the car. I unlock it and notice the lunatic is just standing directly behind it.
“Okay asshole, you made your fucking point. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you might want to get out of the way. Cars tend to be heavy.”
He is still on the phone. “Yes, he just threatened to run me over. They are trying to leave, but I am blocking them in…”
After debating quickly on whether or not I should get this fucking moron out of the way myself, I just get in the car. It’s better not to have an actual assault charge if he really is on the phone with the cops.
I turn the car on, and Marie says “I’m so sorry honey.”
I have nothing to say except, “just buckle up.”
She does. “What do we do?” She asks.
“I don’t know.” I look in the rear view, and he is still there. Then, by the grace of whichever god looks out for people like me, the car in the space directly in front of me backs out and leaves. A wave of relief pours over me.
“Thank fuck,” I say and drive cautiously forward through the spot, and into the open parking lot.
“Hey you get the fuck back here you fucking dirt bags!” The lunatic yells after us before going back to his hopefully imaginary phone conversation.
I pull out of the parking lot, and onto the open, wonderful road.
31.
“I’m sorry honey. Are you mad at me?”
I don’t know what to say. I am furious. I fucking told her, I told her, I told her. My heart is pounding, and I have gone into “hardcore silence” mode. My jaw clenched, my chest heaving. I could kill a man.
“Honey, please say something.”
“You want to know if I’m mad at you?” I ask.
“I know…”
“You’re goddamned right you know. How many fucking times have I told you not to fucking steal shit?! How hard is it? Jesus fucking christ.”
“You know what? Fuck you then. How the fuck would I have known some fucking crazy guy would be following us around?!”
“It doesn’t matter if you knew or not! Just don’t fucking do it!”
“Oh sure,” she says. “You’re so great, and I’m just this huge fucking asshole. Just some piece of shit, right?”
“Oh shut the fuck up. I didn’t fucking say that. I hate it when you say shit like that. It doesn’t even make any sense in context,” I say.
“In context. Fuck you.” After that Marie goes silent and stares out the window.
My silent rage continues. So does hers.
I glance in the rear view, and see that I am being pulled over.
“Fuck.”
32.
The State Trooper walks up to the car, looking it over as he comes. He inspects the rear, walks up along the drivers side, writing notes, and then he sees my out-of-date inspection, gives a grimace at me through the windshield, and looks at my headlights.
“What do we say?” Marie asks. “Do you think it’s because of the thing just now?”
“I don’t know. Let’s not say anything. Maybe I was speeding.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I keep my hands high on the wheel, and try not to look too aggravated or threatening. I have now seen one too many videos of cops freaking out and killing people because they thought the person twitched wrong, or had bad information. Police fucking terrify now. What happened to the world?
The Trooper comes up to my door, and gives me the “roll down the window” gesture. Slowly, I lift my hands off of the wheel and say loudly through the rolled up window; “The window is broken, I have to open the door.”
He squints, and then steps back a few steps. I get a little nervous as he put’s his hand on his hip.
Fuck, I’m dead. Fuck fuck fuck, goddamned peanuts…
He motions for me to open the door.
Still slowly, I crack the door open and repeat; “Window is broken.”
“Okay,” he says. “Just open the door up nice and wide.”
I do.
“License and registration.”
“Sure.” I SLOWLY sit up and take my wallet out of my back pocket, trying not to make any sudden gestures. I take out my license and hand it to him.
He looks it over. “Registration.”
Marie is digging through the glove box, coming up empty handed. “Excuse me officer?”
He looks into the car.
“Uh,” she says, “it is at my house. I can produce it if you need it, but it just isn’t with me.”
“That’s fine. Do you have your license?”
“Mine?” Marie asks.
“Yes.”
“Yes, hold on.” Marie begins to dig through her purse, finds her wallet, digs through that, and then pulls out her license. She hands it to him.
He looks over the two licenses. “You two are married?”
“Yes sir,” I say.
He inspects them more. “Which address is correct? The 23 Lowell Street, or the 6 Perth Avenue?”
“Perth,” we both say.
“Okay. Get that taken care of on your license Mr. Martin.”
“Yes sir.”
“Stay put, and I am just going to run these.”
He walks back toward his car and I close the door.
I watch the traffic go by.
“I know this is because of me. I am so sorry honey. I really am. I am a terrible person,” Marie says.
“Just stop. You aren’t a terrible person. I hate that.”
“I am though, and you deserve someone better.”
“Stop.”
“Okay. I love you honey.”
“I love you too.” Everyone is staring at us. I wonder if I know any of them.
A few minutes pass and Marie is getting restless. “What the fuck is taking so long? I bet they do this purposely to get you anxious.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, how long does it take to run a license?”
“This long, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
We sit in the car for a little while longer before the Trooper returns. Slowly, I open my door again. He hands us our licenses. “You know your inspection is up?”
“Yes sir.”
“Get that taken care of. I’m not going to write you a ticket for it.”
“Thank you officer. Is that all?” I ask.
“Well, no.”
“Officer, is this about the guy in the parking lot?” Marie asks.
The Trooper is silent for a moment, then; “What guy?”
“A guy at Wal-Mart. Some crazy guy just like, attacked us. Screaming at us in line and grabbing and shoving us.”
“What happened now?” The Trooper asks Marie.
“We were there just now. We got some stuff,” Marie motions toward the bag of mailing labels, “and when we were in line at the registers, paying for our stuff, this crazy guy comes up to us and starts screaming at us about peanuts, and we’re all going to be arrested and swearing, and then he grabbed my husband, and it was scary. The man was a lunatic. I mean, I was really scared.”
“Was he security, or loss prevention?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think so. If he was he didn’t say anything, and he certainly wasn’t acting like it. I mean, he was really flipping out and screaming. Even the guy behind us in line was yelling at him to calm down. It was terrifying.”
“He grabbed you sir?” he asks me.
“Yes sir.” I held up my arm where he grabbed me, and was pleasantly surprised to see my arm was already bruising and there was a small cut in the middle, probably from a ring.
He looked at it. “Hmm. Then what happened?”
“After he grabbed me, I shoved him back, and the guy behind us in line grabbed him and spun him around and those two started yelling at him, and then I told her to leave, and she started to, and then the fucking guy, sorry, the guy grabbed her arm, and I shoved him again and tried to leave. The whole time he was swearing at us and telling us we were getting arrested and all kinds of things.”
“And then you left?”
“Well, we tried to, but he followed us out, and when we tried to leave, he stood behind our car, so we couldn’t get out.”
“But you did?”
“Yeah, the car in front of us left. So we drove through.”
“And he never said who he was?”
“No, the only somewhat identifying information he gave was that he was ‘the guy who get’s people arrested'. I mean, it doesn’t sound like an official title to me, but if it is, I mean, that’s cool, I guess.”
“Well,” the trooper says, “this is about that.”
“Goddamn it,” Marie says.
“Yeah,” agrees the Trooper. “Will you step out of the car sir?”
“What?” I ask.
“They want me to take you back up there. Apparently he was Loss Prevention, and they want to get to the bottom of it all. The Sheriff is up there now, and they just want you to ask some questions.”
“Me? Not Marie though?”
“No sir. They just said you.”
I look at Marie. Again, she is wearing her ultra-apologetic look. Fucking peanuts. I unbuckle, and get out of the car. “Can I follow you up there?” Marie asks.
“If you’d like to ma’am, but I can’t say what is going to happen. They seem to think there might be an assault charge.”
“Oh this is fucking bullshit,” I say.
“Could be,” the Trooper says.
“Okay, I will meet you up there baby,” Marie says.
“Okay.”
“Come over to my car, and just put your hands on the hood,” the Trooper says.
“Wait, am I under arrest?” I ask.
“No sir. I just have to make sure you don’t have any weapons on you before you get in the car.”
“Okay.” In full afternoon traffic, on a main road, just recovering from a fucking flu and fighting an LP guy in a goddamned Wal-Mart, I find myself bent over the hood of a cop car, getting searched. Classy.
The Trooper does a quick search, finds my phone, asks me about it, and then tells me I can stand up straight.
“So,” he says, “Are you going to get in the back, or do you want me to cuff you?”
“That’s kind of a fucked up question,” I say. “Does anyone actually choose to be cuffed?”
The trooper looks at me funny, and says “You never know.”
He opens the door for me, and I get in. I can see Marie in her rear view mirror, watching. I wave. She doesn’t.
The trooper shuts the door, and walks around to his side. He gets in, sits down and calls the trip in. He’s got the suspect. We’re going up.
“So, this guy never said he was LP?” he asks.
“No, he was a lunatic. He just kept screaming, and he grabbed me and my wife. It was fucking strange. But, I mean, a man comes up to your wife screaming and grabs her, what do you do?”
“I hear you. Well, it should all be on video. If it shows him touching you first, you might have a case against him. I mean, I can’t give you legal advice really, but I mean, you might have a case against a corporate giant, so, you know, go for it.”
I laugh. “I plan on it.”
“So, just so you know, regardless of what happens, you probably won’t be allowed back there again.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured. That’s cool. I hear they’re building a new one downtown anyway.”
“That’s what I hear,” the Trooper says. “So, maybe you can go there.”
“And fight L.P. guys.”
The Trooper laughs. “Well, maybe not that.”
We shoot the shit for a little while. We talk about local retail, and the decline of Mom and Pop shops. We talk about our failing economy, and the evil republicans. We talk about my lost generation, and the way we’re blamed for it. The Trooper is a cool guy. It’s a shame that we had to meet under these circumstances. He seems like he’d make a good drinking buddy. Unlike John.
We pull into the parking lot, and drive up to the front of the store, where the Sheriff is waiting. The Trooper parks and talks to the Sheriff for a while, before letting me out.
“All right, well good luck James,” the Trooper says.
We shake hands and he gets back in his car and drives away.
I turn toward the Sheriff. She’s a short woman. Mid forties. Looks like she likes the power the job offers, but complains about men being less than chivalrous as of late. She takes out a pen and a pad of paper.
“Okay,” she says, “before we go in there, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
For the second time in ten minutes, I recount the events. The screaming, the shoving, the bullshit. I show her my arm, she nods and writes. Nods and writes. I give her my name and address, Marie's name. Same address. Married? Yes ma’am.
I see Marie is parked in the parking lot, hiding a ways down.
“Okay,” she says after it all. “We are going to go in, but you will have to wait outside the door. You aren’t going to go anywhere, are you?"
"No ma’am. I did nothing but defend myself and my wife. I feel I am in the right here. It will all be on video.”
She warns me again of a possible assault charge. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.
We go into the store. The Loss Prevention office is a small door at the front of the store that I don’t think I have ever noticed.
“Wait here,” the Sheriff says.
“Okay.” I lean up against the wall and the Sheriff goes in the office.
People are walking in and out of the store all looking at me. Do they notice this tiny door? Do they know what it is behind there? Do they associate me with the parked cop car out there?
I wait. And wait. And wait.
Finally, twenty-three minutes later, according to my phone, the door opens again, and the Sheriff comes out.
“Follow me,” she says.
Oh, fuck, I’m going to jail.
We walk out to her car.
“Okay, so, they aren’t pressing any charges, but you aren’t allowed here anymore.”
“Well, that’s fine. I wouldn’t come back here if I had to.”
“Right, well, do you need a ride?”
“No, my wife is here waiting for me.” I wave to Marie, and gesture for her to come.
“Okay. Well, I just have to follow you out of the parking lot when you leave, and then I believe we are all set here.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” she says.
“I thought they were leaning pretty heavily on pressing charges. What changed their minds?”
She gives me an inquisitive look and a pause, and says; “I don’t know. They must have just changed their minds.”
“Right. Well, did the tape show him grabbing me or my wife?”
Again, the look. “No.”
“Well, I mean, what did it show? There are like eight cameras there. It must have shown something.”
Marie pulls up next to us.
“It only showed you shoving him.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
She was lying to me. The tape did show it, and Wal-Mart was trying to avoid my lawsuit. What difference did it make to her?
“Can I watch the tape?” I ask. “I mean, I feel like I have a right to.”
“Unfortunately, no, not without a subpoena. It’s private property.”
“Right. Okay. Well, this is my ride. Thanks officer.”
“Okay, I will just follow you out.”
“All right,” I say. “Have a good day.”
She doesn’t respond. Fuck her.
I get in the car.
“Well?” Marie asks.
“I’ll tell you in a little bit. Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
“Okay.”
Marie pulls out of the parking lot, and onto the main road, with the Sheriff behind us.
“I’m sorry honey,” Marie says. “I won’t do it again.”
“I know.”
“You want a cart?” I ask.
“No, I think a basket will be fine.”
“Okay.” I grab a basket.
“Good afternoon,” a door greeter who must be pushing ninety says.
“Good afternoon,” I say.
“I’m going to grab some peanuts or something. I’m feeling a little hungry," Marie says.
“Okay. I’m going to start the loop.”
“All right.”
I walk into the store and take a left toward the Health & Beauty section. None of the people here look like they use either. It’s a fucking leper colony, except for a girl that looks like she might be a six or a seven. From a distance, anyway.
I walk slowly, and Marie catches up to me, with a small bag of peanuts.
“Mmmm, peanuts,” she says. “You want one?”
“No thanks. I’m not really hungry at all.”
“Okay,” she says, and begins to pick at them.
We walk along, stopping here and there, walking up and down the occasional aisle, not really looking at anything.
The Six or Seven turned out to be more like a Two or Three once we got up close.
“I thought that girl was better looking when we were back there,” I say to Marie.
“Me too, but she’s fucking gross.”
“Word.”
We continue on, and I remember I need shipping labels for work. I’d pay for them now, and then take the money out of petty cash later. It would save me a trip back here later on.
“We need to go to the office supplies.”
“For what?”
“I need to get shipping labels for work.”
“Oh, okay.”
We walk toward the center of the store, and to the stationary section. I browse the different labels for a while, settle on a type, and then we head up to the cash registers.
“You want to look at anything else while we’re here?”
“No, I’m good now.”
“All right.” I head to the self-checkouts, and begin to ring myself out. Scan, beep. Scan, beep.
“You want to get arrested for a bag of fucking peanuts?” comes a voice from behind me.
I turn around.
“Not you, your woman. Excuse me miss, you want to get arrested for a bag of fucking peanuts?” The guy is almost red faced and holding the now empty peanut bag.
I look at Marie. She is astounded. “What?”
I turn back to the guy. “Listen man, who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the guy that gets people arrested here. Now is someone going to fucking pay for these peanuts?!”
“You’re going about this all wrong,” says another man from behind the lunatic.
“Seriously,” I say. “If you want to talk about this, let me finish my business, and we can go outside and talk it out like adults. There’s no need to be raising a scene in the middle of the store, man.”
“Don’t call me ‘man’, motherfucker!” he says, and then grabs my wrist, and shoves me backward.
Marie starts shouting something, but I don’t really hear it. I have crossed over into rage mode. I lunge at the cocksucker and shove him into the candy shelf. The third guy grabs the lunatic and spins him around and screams “You keep this shit up motherfucker, I’ll fucking lay you out! You hear me?!”
“You’re all getting arrested!” screams the lunatic. “You’re all getting arrested!”
In a brief moment of clarity, I turn to Marie. “Go to the car.” Without hesitation, she begins to walk out, hurriedly, but calm.
The lunatic steps toward her and grabs her arm. “Where’re you going?! I’m calling the fucking cops!”
Seeing him grab her, everything in the world fades away, and I shove him again, this time across the lane and into the opposing cash register. “Don’t you fucking touch my wife asshole!”
“That’s it motherfucker! I’m calling the cops!” He gets up and takes his phone out of his pocket.
I decide it’s in my best interest to just get out of the store. With all the blood boiling away in my brain, I begin to follow Marie out of the store.
“Hey! You forgot your change!”
I turn around and the third guy is walking toward me with the eleven dollars I left at the register. I turn back and go get it. “Thanks man. I appreciate it.”
“Any time,” he says.
I take the money, and notice the lunatic is on his phone, walking up to me. I meet him and close his phone. “Fuck you scumbag.”
“That’s fine,” he says, opening his phone back up. He starts dialing. “I’m the guy that gets people arrested here, and you’re all going to fucking jail.” He starts talking into the phone. “Yes, my name is…” I don’t hear the rest. I begin to walk quickly out of the store. Marie is almost at the door. I catch up to her, and the lunatic is following close behind us. I can hear him talking. “Yes, it’s a woman with dark hair, in a black coat. She stole peanuts. I am at the uptown location. They are leaving the store right now. I am following them. Yes, peanuts. Then when I tried to stop them, her boyfriend attacked me…”
I am furious. Marie keeps flashing me worried glances. I knew this was going to happen someday. She has a habit of picking little shit up and then either eating or drinking it and leaving the wrappers or cans on some shelf, or just tossing shit in her purse. I knew something like this would happen. I fucking told her this would happen.
We leave the store.
“They’re in the parking lot now. I tried to stop them before they left. People can’t just steal peanuts. It’s bullshit. Sorry. I’m upset. He attacked me…” The lunatic goes on.
A few rows down, I see our car. Marie and I pick up the pace and get to the car. I unlock it and notice the lunatic is just standing directly behind it.
“Okay asshole, you made your fucking point. I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you might want to get out of the way. Cars tend to be heavy.”
He is still on the phone. “Yes, he just threatened to run me over. They are trying to leave, but I am blocking them in…”
After debating quickly on whether or not I should get this fucking moron out of the way myself, I just get in the car. It’s better not to have an actual assault charge if he really is on the phone with the cops.
I turn the car on, and Marie says “I’m so sorry honey.”
I have nothing to say except, “just buckle up.”
She does. “What do we do?” She asks.
“I don’t know.” I look in the rear view, and he is still there. Then, by the grace of whichever god looks out for people like me, the car in the space directly in front of me backs out and leaves. A wave of relief pours over me.
“Thank fuck,” I say and drive cautiously forward through the spot, and into the open parking lot.
“Hey you get the fuck back here you fucking dirt bags!” The lunatic yells after us before going back to his hopefully imaginary phone conversation.
I pull out of the parking lot, and onto the open, wonderful road.
31.
“I’m sorry honey. Are you mad at me?”
I don’t know what to say. I am furious. I fucking told her, I told her, I told her. My heart is pounding, and I have gone into “hardcore silence” mode. My jaw clenched, my chest heaving. I could kill a man.
“Honey, please say something.”
“You want to know if I’m mad at you?” I ask.
“I know…”
“You’re goddamned right you know. How many fucking times have I told you not to fucking steal shit?! How hard is it? Jesus fucking christ.”
“You know what? Fuck you then. How the fuck would I have known some fucking crazy guy would be following us around?!”
“It doesn’t matter if you knew or not! Just don’t fucking do it!”
“Oh sure,” she says. “You’re so great, and I’m just this huge fucking asshole. Just some piece of shit, right?”
“Oh shut the fuck up. I didn’t fucking say that. I hate it when you say shit like that. It doesn’t even make any sense in context,” I say.
“In context. Fuck you.” After that Marie goes silent and stares out the window.
My silent rage continues. So does hers.
I glance in the rear view, and see that I am being pulled over.
“Fuck.”
32.
The State Trooper walks up to the car, looking it over as he comes. He inspects the rear, walks up along the drivers side, writing notes, and then he sees my out-of-date inspection, gives a grimace at me through the windshield, and looks at my headlights.
“What do we say?” Marie asks. “Do you think it’s because of the thing just now?”
“I don’t know. Let’s not say anything. Maybe I was speeding.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
I keep my hands high on the wheel, and try not to look too aggravated or threatening. I have now seen one too many videos of cops freaking out and killing people because they thought the person twitched wrong, or had bad information. Police fucking terrify now. What happened to the world?
The Trooper comes up to my door, and gives me the “roll down the window” gesture. Slowly, I lift my hands off of the wheel and say loudly through the rolled up window; “The window is broken, I have to open the door.”
He squints, and then steps back a few steps. I get a little nervous as he put’s his hand on his hip.
Fuck, I’m dead. Fuck fuck fuck, goddamned peanuts…
He motions for me to open the door.
Still slowly, I crack the door open and repeat; “Window is broken.”
“Okay,” he says. “Just open the door up nice and wide.”
I do.
“License and registration.”
“Sure.” I SLOWLY sit up and take my wallet out of my back pocket, trying not to make any sudden gestures. I take out my license and hand it to him.
He looks it over. “Registration.”
Marie is digging through the glove box, coming up empty handed. “Excuse me officer?”
He looks into the car.
“Uh,” she says, “it is at my house. I can produce it if you need it, but it just isn’t with me.”
“That’s fine. Do you have your license?”
“Mine?” Marie asks.
“Yes.”
“Yes, hold on.” Marie begins to dig through her purse, finds her wallet, digs through that, and then pulls out her license. She hands it to him.
He looks over the two licenses. “You two are married?”
“Yes sir,” I say.
He inspects them more. “Which address is correct? The 23 Lowell Street, or the 6 Perth Avenue?”
“Perth,” we both say.
“Okay. Get that taken care of on your license Mr. Martin.”
“Yes sir.”
“Stay put, and I am just going to run these.”
He walks back toward his car and I close the door.
I watch the traffic go by.
“I know this is because of me. I am so sorry honey. I really am. I am a terrible person,” Marie says.
“Just stop. You aren’t a terrible person. I hate that.”
“I am though, and you deserve someone better.”
“Stop.”
“Okay. I love you honey.”
“I love you too.” Everyone is staring at us. I wonder if I know any of them.
A few minutes pass and Marie is getting restless. “What the fuck is taking so long? I bet they do this purposely to get you anxious.”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, how long does it take to run a license?”
“This long, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
We sit in the car for a little while longer before the Trooper returns. Slowly, I open my door again. He hands us our licenses. “You know your inspection is up?”
“Yes sir.”
“Get that taken care of. I’m not going to write you a ticket for it.”
“Thank you officer. Is that all?” I ask.
“Well, no.”
“Officer, is this about the guy in the parking lot?” Marie asks.
The Trooper is silent for a moment, then; “What guy?”
“A guy at Wal-Mart. Some crazy guy just like, attacked us. Screaming at us in line and grabbing and shoving us.”
“What happened now?” The Trooper asks Marie.
“We were there just now. We got some stuff,” Marie motions toward the bag of mailing labels, “and when we were in line at the registers, paying for our stuff, this crazy guy comes up to us and starts screaming at us about peanuts, and we’re all going to be arrested and swearing, and then he grabbed my husband, and it was scary. The man was a lunatic. I mean, I was really scared.”
“Was he security, or loss prevention?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think so. If he was he didn’t say anything, and he certainly wasn’t acting like it. I mean, he was really flipping out and screaming. Even the guy behind us in line was yelling at him to calm down. It was terrifying.”
“He grabbed you sir?” he asks me.
“Yes sir.” I held up my arm where he grabbed me, and was pleasantly surprised to see my arm was already bruising and there was a small cut in the middle, probably from a ring.
He looked at it. “Hmm. Then what happened?”
“After he grabbed me, I shoved him back, and the guy behind us in line grabbed him and spun him around and those two started yelling at him, and then I told her to leave, and she started to, and then the fucking guy, sorry, the guy grabbed her arm, and I shoved him again and tried to leave. The whole time he was swearing at us and telling us we were getting arrested and all kinds of things.”
“And then you left?”
“Well, we tried to, but he followed us out, and when we tried to leave, he stood behind our car, so we couldn’t get out.”
“But you did?”
“Yeah, the car in front of us left. So we drove through.”
“And he never said who he was?”
“No, the only somewhat identifying information he gave was that he was ‘the guy who get’s people arrested'. I mean, it doesn’t sound like an official title to me, but if it is, I mean, that’s cool, I guess.”
“Well,” the trooper says, “this is about that.”
“Goddamn it,” Marie says.
“Yeah,” agrees the Trooper. “Will you step out of the car sir?”
“What?” I ask.
“They want me to take you back up there. Apparently he was Loss Prevention, and they want to get to the bottom of it all. The Sheriff is up there now, and they just want you to ask some questions.”
“Me? Not Marie though?”
“No sir. They just said you.”
I look at Marie. Again, she is wearing her ultra-apologetic look. Fucking peanuts. I unbuckle, and get out of the car. “Can I follow you up there?” Marie asks.
“If you’d like to ma’am, but I can’t say what is going to happen. They seem to think there might be an assault charge.”
“Oh this is fucking bullshit,” I say.
“Could be,” the Trooper says.
“Okay, I will meet you up there baby,” Marie says.
“Okay.”
“Come over to my car, and just put your hands on the hood,” the Trooper says.
“Wait, am I under arrest?” I ask.
“No sir. I just have to make sure you don’t have any weapons on you before you get in the car.”
“Okay.” In full afternoon traffic, on a main road, just recovering from a fucking flu and fighting an LP guy in a goddamned Wal-Mart, I find myself bent over the hood of a cop car, getting searched. Classy.
The Trooper does a quick search, finds my phone, asks me about it, and then tells me I can stand up straight.
“So,” he says, “Are you going to get in the back, or do you want me to cuff you?”
“That’s kind of a fucked up question,” I say. “Does anyone actually choose to be cuffed?”
The trooper looks at me funny, and says “You never know.”
He opens the door for me, and I get in. I can see Marie in her rear view mirror, watching. I wave. She doesn’t.
The trooper shuts the door, and walks around to his side. He gets in, sits down and calls the trip in. He’s got the suspect. We’re going up.
“So, this guy never said he was LP?” he asks.
“No, he was a lunatic. He just kept screaming, and he grabbed me and my wife. It was fucking strange. But, I mean, a man comes up to your wife screaming and grabs her, what do you do?”
“I hear you. Well, it should all be on video. If it shows him touching you first, you might have a case against him. I mean, I can’t give you legal advice really, but I mean, you might have a case against a corporate giant, so, you know, go for it.”
I laugh. “I plan on it.”
“So, just so you know, regardless of what happens, you probably won’t be allowed back there again.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured. That’s cool. I hear they’re building a new one downtown anyway.”
“That’s what I hear,” the Trooper says. “So, maybe you can go there.”
“And fight L.P. guys.”
The Trooper laughs. “Well, maybe not that.”
We shoot the shit for a little while. We talk about local retail, and the decline of Mom and Pop shops. We talk about our failing economy, and the evil republicans. We talk about my lost generation, and the way we’re blamed for it. The Trooper is a cool guy. It’s a shame that we had to meet under these circumstances. He seems like he’d make a good drinking buddy. Unlike John.
We pull into the parking lot, and drive up to the front of the store, where the Sheriff is waiting. The Trooper parks and talks to the Sheriff for a while, before letting me out.
“All right, well good luck James,” the Trooper says.
We shake hands and he gets back in his car and drives away.
I turn toward the Sheriff. She’s a short woman. Mid forties. Looks like she likes the power the job offers, but complains about men being less than chivalrous as of late. She takes out a pen and a pad of paper.
“Okay,” she says, “before we go in there, why don’t you tell me what happened?”
For the second time in ten minutes, I recount the events. The screaming, the shoving, the bullshit. I show her my arm, she nods and writes. Nods and writes. I give her my name and address, Marie's name. Same address. Married? Yes ma’am.
I see Marie is parked in the parking lot, hiding a ways down.
“Okay,” she says after it all. “We are going to go in, but you will have to wait outside the door. You aren’t going to go anywhere, are you?"
"No ma’am. I did nothing but defend myself and my wife. I feel I am in the right here. It will all be on video.”
She warns me again of a possible assault charge. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.
We go into the store. The Loss Prevention office is a small door at the front of the store that I don’t think I have ever noticed.
“Wait here,” the Sheriff says.
“Okay.” I lean up against the wall and the Sheriff goes in the office.
People are walking in and out of the store all looking at me. Do they notice this tiny door? Do they know what it is behind there? Do they associate me with the parked cop car out there?
I wait. And wait. And wait.
Finally, twenty-three minutes later, according to my phone, the door opens again, and the Sheriff comes out.
“Follow me,” she says.
Oh, fuck, I’m going to jail.
We walk out to her car.
“Okay, so, they aren’t pressing any charges, but you aren’t allowed here anymore.”
“Well, that’s fine. I wouldn’t come back here if I had to.”
“Right, well, do you need a ride?”
“No, my wife is here waiting for me.” I wave to Marie, and gesture for her to come.
“Okay. Well, I just have to follow you out of the parking lot when you leave, and then I believe we are all set here.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” she says.
“I thought they were leaning pretty heavily on pressing charges. What changed their minds?”
She gives me an inquisitive look and a pause, and says; “I don’t know. They must have just changed their minds.”
“Right. Well, did the tape show him grabbing me or my wife?”
Again, the look. “No.”
“Well, I mean, what did it show? There are like eight cameras there. It must have shown something.”
Marie pulls up next to us.
“It only showed you shoving him.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
She was lying to me. The tape did show it, and Wal-Mart was trying to avoid my lawsuit. What difference did it make to her?
“Can I watch the tape?” I ask. “I mean, I feel like I have a right to.”
“Unfortunately, no, not without a subpoena. It’s private property.”
“Right. Okay. Well, this is my ride. Thanks officer.”
“Okay, I will just follow you out.”
“All right,” I say. “Have a good day.”
She doesn’t respond. Fuck her.
I get in the car.
“Well?” Marie asks.
“I’ll tell you in a little bit. Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”
“Okay.”
Marie pulls out of the parking lot, and onto the main road, with the Sheriff behind us.
“I’m sorry honey,” Marie says. “I won’t do it again.”
“I know.”
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