af·ter·math [áftər màth]
(plural af·ter·maths) noun
| 1. | period following bad event: the consequences of an event, especially a disastrous one, or the period of time during which these consequences are felt. |
We continued the trip for a few more weeks driving to Orlando and spent a day at Disney World, but I wanted to go home. It wasn’t guilt I was feeling, but I realized the enormity of our crimes. If we continued killing, as was the plan, there could be a nationwide search for us. I didn’t want that to happen. Sarah did not want to return home. When I told her I couldn’t kill anymore she said she would. I told her that if we continued the way we were, we would be caught. We, by no means, were adept criminals. The first shooting had nearly failed, and I had noticed when looking at a map that both crimes had happened on Highway 55. We were leaving a trail. It was time to go home.
We pointed the car west and headed towards Oklahoma.
We had just passed through New Orleans, near Gonzales, Louisiana, when I saw a patrol car parked on the side of the highway. I had the cruise control set at ninety-nine when I slammed on the breaks. The flashing blue lights came on and I slowly pulled over. I was getting really nervous. Not only did I not have a driver’s license, but we had just committed two murders, one of which was not far from where we were at. The cop came onto his external speaker telling me to walk back to the patrol car with my hands raised. When I got back to the car I explained that I had no ID except for a Social Security card. The officer seemed pretty nice, and he told me that he had planned to only give me a warning but since he couldn't know for sure who I was he'd have to take me back to the station. I was politely being arrested. They told Sarah to follow them back to the station, but I got to ride in the back seat of the patrol car with a pair of hand cuffs on.
Inside the station, they got all my information, Sarah's too, and ran it through the computer. We were about to find out if we had been connected to any of the crimes. Nothing came back. It was then that I knew for sure we had gotten away with our crimes. They gave me two tickets for speeding and not having a license totaling three-hundred dollars. They told me that if I couldn't pay the money right then or make a thirty dollar bond, I would have to stay in jail until I could go before a judge. I got on the phone and called all the people I could think of who might help me. Either nobody was home or they couldn't send any money. Sarah tried a few people but no one would help her either. It looked like I'd be spending the night in jail.
The cops led me down a little hallway where a few cells were. They put me in one with two guys who were asleep. I stood at the bars and after awhile, just barely, I could hear Sarah singing to me. I could feel the tears come into my eyes--not because I was upset about being in jail but because I knew Sarah cared about me. I tried to sleep after awhile and managed to get a few hours sleep.
In the morning a cop called my name and said I was going home. I had no idea how Sarah had done it, but she had gotten me out. When I came to the front, Sarah was there and I noticed everyone was being really friendly to her. She was getting directions back to the highway, and one of the cops told her to not let me drive anymore. Walking outside to the car, she told me that the Chief of Police had allowed her to put up her drivers license as bond. If I didn't pay the fines, her license would be suspended. This wasn’t a usual thing, but Sarah had explained her dad was a judge, and I'm sure that helped.
Sarah still didn’t want to return to Tahlequah or Muskogee, so we stayed with friends in Ada, a small town in southeastern Oklahoma where I had grown up as a kid. We attempted to get jobs and to pay the fine. Like the rest of our plans, this ended in disaster as well. Sarah managed to get hired at the Wrangler plant but quit after the first day when she learned there was random drug testing. I had no identification which made it impossible for me to get hired. Eventually we decided to return to Tahlequah.
My mom was surprised when I rang the door bell. She was glad that I was safe and sound back at home. We sat in the living room, and I told her about the trip and showed her the things we had picked up along the way.
After getting some of my stuff out of Sarah's car, we headed over to the Commune to surprise our friends. Nobody knew we were back in town yet. The gang was just the same as when we had left. Some of the couples had switched up, and there were a couple of new faces, but it was still the same hangout. One thing had not changed—they were all still stoned. We were not there five minutes before Fred offered Sarah some acid. She turned it down so Fred asked me if I wanted it. I really wanted to trip. It had been a long time since I had taken any and I thought it would be a nice welcome home.
I looked at Sarah and asked her what she thought about it. She told me she didn't care. We were planning to go out to the cabin that night, and if I took the acid our plans would have to change. If I had realized how much it meant to Sarah for me to tell Fred no, I would of. I never stopped to think about it. When I told Fred yes, I could see it in her eyes. I had ended our relationship. As soon as I put the drug in my mouth, Sarah walked out of the house telling me not to come out to the cabin while I was tripping. Before I could say anything, she was gone.
I knew I had messed up when I saw her leave so quickly. There was no way to stop the trip so I tried to put her out of my thoughts and enjoy the time with my friends. I never could quite get her off of my mind. It was kind of strange not having her by my side. It had been just the two of us for so long that I had gotten used to her always being with me, doing everything together.
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