My Heart Broke on A Wednesday Night
Tags: Family, BlackLivesMatter, Friendship, This Happened To Me, Life

I felt “off” all day Wednesday.

Something just didn’t feel right to me. I kept waiting for the “other shoe to drop” as my grandmother says. I didn’t feel good to the point where I was convinced I was coming down with a cold or infection.

I shut all the lights off and climbed back in bed. How do you explain that you just don’t feel good? I didn’t have many symptoms. I had a pretty solid headache but by itself, I could still carry on with the day. My body was sore, but it was really my mind that was messed up.

I wasn’t too anxious, but I was alert. I felt like I was walking home in the dark and someone was following me, but I was trying to convince myself that it was my own shadow. I was in this constant state of “waiting” for something terrible to happen.

I prepared all day, but nothing could prepare me for what happened Wednesday night.

I was expecting an infection and a short hospital stay. I would have gladly taken that over the events that took place.

By the time 7 p.m. rolled around, I had convinced myself that I’d survived the day without a catastrophe. I sent a message in my friends’ group chat about something stupid. I don’t even remember what it was. My brother and best friend sent two voice messages at the same time.

Usually, he’s talking about something goofy or some dumb drama we’ll all get over in the next few days. Sometimes I don’t even listen to them right away, depending on where I am. This time I went ahead and pressed play.

“Hey, guys. I just wanted to let you know I’m going to jail right now. I’m not even kidding — I’m dead serious, but yea. I’m headed to jail….”

The shoe didn’t just drop. It somersaulted off the top rope. It climbed up a large ladder as if it was in Wrestlemania and plummetted to the floor. He went on to explain why he was going to jail, but I couldn’t make out the words he was saying. I kept waiting for him to laugh and say sike.

He kept explaining, and I was praying for him to say sike. Silently, I was begging and pleading to hear that four-letter word. He was laughing, but it was nervous laughter. He was laughing in order not to cry, and that made it 100x worse. I prayed harder, but it never came.

Reality threw a haymaker to my jaw. My world spun. Oxygen escaped my lungs. A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to scream, cry, and throw up all the same time.

I took whatever ounce of energy I had left to force myself to hear what he was saying. He was going to jail tonight, and there was nothing any of us could do about it.

Anybody that knows me knows that I like to be the “fixer.” All of my friends know they can come to me when they have a problem. Whether they need to vent, cry, scream, feel hopeless, or whatever else — they know I’ll always be there.

At that moment, I felt helpless. I wanted nothing more than to get him out of this situation, to shield him and protect him from what was going to happen next. This is the moment in the cop shows where I’m supposed to say something like “Don't worry. We’ll have your lawyer right there. Don’t say anything. You’ll be back out in no time.”

The four of us probably couldn’t pay for more than three hours of a lawyer’s time. I’m all the way in Michigan. I don’t even know anyone in Alabama to call.

He had the privilege of driving himself up there and turning himself in, instead of being forced away in handcuffs. He got to go home, grab some white clothes, write a couple letters, and contact his friends and family. I couldn’t even be grateful for that at that moment.

My two other friends and I became defense lawyers at a moment’s notice. We talked for an hour and a half, trying to figure out a way to get him free. We talked until he told us he loved us and left.

My heart broke into a million pieces.