"Mom, come get me,” he slurs. “I had a wreck."
"Slow down," I tell myself, but my foot is heavy on the pedal.
His second DWI. I wonder how much bail will be and imagine driving to Huntsville. He doesn’t look good in orange.
I see him--blood on his shirt. Sitting next to him on the railing as they tow his car, I take his hand and we wait--for him to be arrested.
Suddenly, the police wave us on.
We can go? No breathalyzer? Not even a ticket?
His car is totaled, but I've NEVER felt more euphoric.