Race (5 page)

People tell me their life’s history hoping I’ll change my mind, and in certain situations I do.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said.
 

I placed the ticket on the windshield.
 

“Haven’t you ever had a bad day?”

“Every day,” I said and moved to my cruiser.

“Haven’t you ever been too busy to move your car?”

That stopped me.

He said, “Come on, can’t you give me a break?”

“I did,” I said.
 
“You’re lucky I didn’t have your car towed.”

I headed back to headquarters with forty-seven tickets and two tows.

***

After my shift I took the subway to
Joe’s Towing
.
  
Inside the impound shed, mighty Joe
Coultier
sat behind the counter.
  

Behind Joe was a huge sign that read: WE DID NOT DRIVE YOUR CAR, WE DID NOT PARK YOUR CAR, WE DID NOT TAG YOUR CAR, WE DID TOW YOUR CAR, SO WE DESERVE ONLY ¼ OF THE ABUSE.

“License plate?” Joe asked a gentleman in front of me.

The man gave him the plate number, paid, and left.

“Next,” Joe yelled.

There was no one else in the impound shed.

“Jonny,” he said in a deep voice.
 
Joe is massive; he has big hands, big chest, big feet, even a big head.

“Hello, Joe,” I said, embarrassed.

“License plate?” he asked

“Come on,” I snapped.
 
“You know my car. I’ve been here many times.”

“Too many times,” he said, clearly enjoying this.

“Yeah, all right,” I said and gave him my license plate number.

He looked through his records as if it were a technicality.
 
“The usual spot.”

Something was different.
 
“What happened to Marcie?” I asked.

“She got tired of the yelling and swearing—”

“—From you?”

“Funny guy,” said Joe.

“I always liked her,” I said. “She had a beautiful smile.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged.
  
“There’s a vacancy if you’re interested.”

“Funny guy,” I said imitating him.
 
“How much?”

“The usual.
 
Forty-nine dollars.”

“Come on,” I said.
 
“I’m your best customer.
 
You must have a super-customer rate.”

“Sorry, I don’t.”

“You know what you need?” I said, getting excited.
 
“Those coupons like in the grocery stores.
 
After five tows the next tow is free.”

“Not interested,” Joe said.

“How’re you supposed to attract customers?”

“I don’t need to.”

I leaned closer.
 
“You know they’ll go elsewhere.”

“No, they won’t.
 
I have the contract to this district for another three years.
  
They have no choice but to come to me.”

I stood up and waved my finger, “That’s monopolization and that’s illegal.”

“Go fight the system.”

“I intend to,” I said.
 
I pulled out my
cheque
book, ready to pay and get out of this place.

“No
cheques
from you,” Joe said, shaking his head.

“Since when?” I asked.

“Since the last time your
cheque
bounced.”

“I had to pay my cable bill.”

“I don’t care.” He pointed to a piece of paper, stuck on the wall, behind him.
 
It read: DO NOT ACCEPT CHEQUES FROM THIS PERSON.
 
Underneath was a smiling picture of me.

“Where’d you get that?” I exploded.

“From your driver’s license,” he said, laughing.

“All right, you giant clown, take it down.”
 
After paying, I said, “I’m going to be back in three years and Marcie and I are going to open our own little towing company.
 
And we’re going to offer discounts to our loyal customers.”

I went to the back end of the lot to where my car was, in the dark corner.

I patted my baby.
 
“Sorry you have to come to this awful place,” I whispered.
 
“Daddy will be more responsible from now on.”

For a brief moment I thought my car sighed.
 
It had been a very long day.

I got in my car and drove into the sunset.

***

I drove to my landlady’s son’s house.
  
He came out as he saw me ease my car into the driveway.

“Jon,” he said.
 
“Mom told me your car was towed.”

“How did she know?”
 
I was certain she was sleeping when the towing occurred.

“She saw you standing on the street, waiting for the streetcar.”

“Yeah, well,” I shrugged.

“You should’ve parked it here,” he said.

“Just too tired, I guess.”

My landlord’s family was from the Philippines and some of the nicest people I knew.
 

I walked the block to my house and with the key opened the main door.
 
As I was walking up the stairs my landlady appeared behind her door.
 

“Jonny,” she said in her native
Tagalog
accent.
 
“I was so worried.
 
You get your car back?”

“Yes, I did,” I said.
 
Whenever something happened to me she got worried.
 
“It’s okay; I parked it at David’s.”

“You should do that every day.
 
Okay?”

“Yes, every day,” I said in resignation.

I unlocked my front door and entered.

I was greeted by a life-size cut-out of Michael Jordan, wearing his No. 23 Bulls jersey, hands clasped to his sides and smiling radiantly.

“Hi, Mike,” I said, in customary greeting.

To this day Mike has never answered back, but his smile always reassures me that he is listening.

I had arrived in my one-bedroom castle.
 
The king had returned from giving parking tickets to those who chose to break the municipal parking by-laws.
 

I washed up, warmed my TV dinner and placed myself in front of the television.
 
Nothing beats coming home and watching a basketball game.

Like most nights, I was asleep before the start of the fourth quarter.

FOUR

I rolled to the other side of the bed trying desperately to block a sharp noise.
 
Every few seconds the noise emerged again and I placed a pillow over my head.
 
I opened my eyes and looked at the time: 7:34 a.m.

I removed the pillow and realized the noise was the ringing of the telephone.
 
Who could be calling me this early in the morning? I don’t get up until almost eight.
 
My voice mail should have picked it up by now.
 
I waited, but the ringing started again. Why did this person continue calling me?

Annoyed, I answered it. “Jon
Rupret
.”

“Jon, sorry to wake you up so early…”

“Roberta?” I said.
 
“It’s 7:30 in the morning.
 
I’ve just lost twenty minutes of my beauty sleep.”

“I know…”

“Is everything okay?”

“The sergeant left me a note to tell you to come to headquarters early today.”

“Early?
 
What for?
 
I didn’t do anything, Roberta.
 
I swear.
 
They always blame the black guy.”

“Don’t get paranoid.
 
It must be a shift change or someone called in sick.
 
I don’t know. Just come in early.”

“How early are we talking about?”

“Jon, now!” she nearly yelled.

I hung up and sat silently.

This wasn’t right.
 
Not that I haven’t been called at inappropriate times to fill in for a colleague before.
 
But I had a bad feeling.
 

I changed into my uniform, ate my
favourite
chocolate cereal, said my morning goodbyes to Michael Jordan, and left to pick up my car, all in less
then
my usual time.

I drove to the department, which took almost twenty-five minutes because of the morning rush.
  

“Thank goodness,” Roberta said, seeing me come through the doors.
 
“You’re late of course.”

“Good morning to you, too,” I smiled.

“The sergeant is waiting impatiently.”

What did he say?” I inquired.

He said, ‘Wake Jon up and tell him to come to the department right away and see me first.’”

“Did he say that while he was smiling?”

He seemed happy.”

“That can’t be good,” I said to myself.

“Jonny, go,” she said, pointing in the direction of the sergeant’s office.

“Do you think I should buy him some roses?”

“Go.”

“How about dandelions?”

“Jonny!”

“All right.”

***

The door to Sergeant Motley’s office was open and I found him reading a piece of paper.

I tapped at the door and said, “Sir.”

He instantly got up. “Jon, come in.” He walked over and slapped me on the back as if we were good friends.
 
“Have a seat.”

I sat.
 

Motley went around and sat behind his desk.
 
He smiled broadly.
 
He was beaming, in fact.
 
“How long have we known each other?”

“A year and a half, I think,” I said.
   

“That long, wow,” he said as if he was pondering over the date. “Jon, let me first say that I’ve always enjoyed having you work under me.
 
Always.”
 
He paused.
 
“In fact, it’s been a privilege. That is why it is with great sadness that I have to see you leave.”

“Leave?” I was shocked.
 
“I’m being fired?”
 
My mind suddenly jolted to our union, the Toronto Police Association.

“Not fired,” he said waving his hands.
 
“Transferred.”

“Where?”

Motley went silent.
 
His face turned grave.

He slid the lone piece of paper in front of me.
 
Without touching it, as if it might bite me, I scanned it.

“Drug squad!” I shrieked.
  
My voice was so loud I bet the whole department heard it.
  
“I’m being assigned to the Central Field Command Drug Squad?” I asked, still not sure if this was happening.