Let me tell you about the Summer of 2017. I was shoplifting. Actually, my friend and I were shoplifting. She wasn’t typically a shoplifter, and it’d been years since I last had, but this wasn’t new to me. I knew this particular store we were in didn’t catch people. I remember leaving the store and feeling the familiar rush of relief because I’d gotten away with it (again). No sooner had the smile started on my face that a woman came up behind us and asked us to go with her.

“I’m with loss prevention. I need you to come with me.”

Crap.

Crap.

Crap.

We went up the escalator and followed her into the office. She took our photos and made us give back what we were trying to steal.

“Are we going to get arrested?”

“Yes.” Her smirk said she was enjoying this.

No. No.

NO!

I said nothing.

God, I won’t shoplift anymore if You’ll just not let me get arrested today.

We have to sign something. She says we’re banned for five years. There’s a police officer. He doesn’t look like he wants to arrest us - maybe he won’t.

I remember imagining every person I’d ever met at the bottom of the escalator, there to greet me during my walk of shame.

“Ma’am, put your arms behind your back.” I put my arms behind my back, but I’d forgotten how to raise them. He asked me if the handcuffs were hurting me. I don’t remember if I answered or not, but I hated the handcuffs. There was a second officer. I remember them both being kind of cute…

So when I get out of jail, you maybe wanna go on a date later?

We had to walk out of the office, down the escalator, out the door, and into the marked Tahoe. I remember imagining every person I’d ever met at the bottom of the escalator, there to greet me during my walk of shame. My Pastor was there, my judgmental friend, my bosses - you know, all the important people you want witnessing your rock bottom.

We’re guided the back of the Tahoe. My friend didn’t notice the clear divider in the middle (she was getting in from the other side) and crashed into that divider so hard I almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all.

We rode to the jail and I silently cried the entire 15-minute trip there and kept thinking about how I wasn’t cut out for jail. My partner in crime was as cool as cucumber.

She’s born for this - she’s way more cut out for jail than I am.

...Wait, what?

We got to the jail and they booked her first. I sat waiting in the Tahoe with the Police Officer and felt the handcuffs digging into my wrists.

Get them off. Get them off. Get them off.

I need to pee.

Do I actually have to pee? Or do I only think I have to pee because I’m in a situation where I can’t immediately go pee if I need-

“You Brown?” the officer asked.

“What?”

“You Brown?” Sir, I’m like, really pale…

“...I’m white?”

“She must be Brown.” ...He was asking me if I was the one with the last name BROWN, which is MY last name, the last name I’ve had my entire life.

I’m an idiot.

He proceeded to ask me some other questions I don’t remember, and then an officer came to get me out.

FINALLY. The handcuffs are OFF.

Read Arrested: Development for the aftermath.