The drive was uncomfortably quiet. I wanted to blast Trey and had to bite my lip to stop my anger from pouring out. Instead, I aimed piercing looks in his direction. Officer Griffiths tactfully kept his eyes on the road and said nothing. Trey sat in the back, with his mouth pinched in what I hoped was remorse. The tension was palpable, and I think we were all greatly relieved when Griffiths pulled into our driveway.
Trey shot into the house before I even stepped out of the truck. Turning off the ignition, Office Griffiths opened his door. “Go easy on him,” he said as he walked me up the front path. “He seems like a good kid. And at least he had the sense to not drink and drive.”
I nodded, appreciating his voice of reason. “I’ll try. Thank you so much for everything, Officer Griffiths.”
“You’re welcome. And please, Lila.” He tilted his head. “I think we can dispense with the ‘Officer Griffiths,’ don’t you? Call me Sean.”
I nodded. “I’d better go in. Thanks again…Sean.” His name tasted good on my lips, like I’d just sipped a fine glass of wine.
We shook hands, even though what I really wanted to do was lean into him for support. The warmth of his fingers lingered on mine as I watched him back his truck out of the driveway. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the house.
Trey was lying on his bed, earbuds firmly inserted and eyes closed. Still dressed, one of his blue-jeaned legs rested on the other, a foot bobbing in time to the beat. Swallowing my irritation over seeing his shoes on the bed, I touched his shoulder. “Trey,” I said loudly.
His eyes popped open. He yanked out the earbuds and sat up. “Mom.” He stood, reached down, and hugged me. “I’m totally sorry. It was really stupid. I’ll never do anything like that again.”
This show of repentance derailed my planned reprimand, and for a moment I was at a loss for words. Perhaps sensing my retreat, he offered, “Do you need a drink or something? Wine, maybe?”
That did it. “No, I do not want a drink! Trey, you took the car without permission. What you did at the school was not only stupid and irresponsible, it caused a lot of damage. Someone could have been really hurt, even killed. What were you thinking?”
He shrugged. “Guess I wasn’t.”
“You could be charged with trespassing and the destruction of public property. We need to get a lawyer. You’ll have to go to court.” My heart was racing as these thoughts tumbled through my mind. I glared at him. “Not thinking isn’t a defense.”
“Aw, Mom, you know how it is. A couple of guys get together and there’s beer involved, then things can get crazy.” His eyes widened in an attempt at innocence. “Not me! I didn’t have beer. I was the designated driver.” Looking absurdly righteous, he continued, “We’re young. We do stupid things. It’s like a rite of passage or something. We can’t help it.”
He grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes taking the place of contriteness. In that moment, I saw his father in his features—the pointed chin, tousled chestnut hair, and dark eyebrows.
“You can’t absolve yourself because you’re a teenager, Trey. There are consequences to your actions. They impact other people.”
Shrugging, he picked at the apple-shaped hole in his jeans just above his right knee. “Nobody was hurt.”
“Well, I was! First of all, I was terrified that something had happened to you. Secondly, because of your recklessness, my car’s totaled. The school equipment and football field are seriously damaged. Who do you think is going to pay for all that?”
“Insurance?” he said, raising his eyebrows.
I glowered at him. “I have to pay, Trey. I have to find another vehicle to get me to work. I have to deal with the school’s damages. My insurance premiums are going to skyrocket because of this.” I sank down on the edge of the bed.
Trey sat beside me and put his arm around my shoulder. “You’ll manage, Mom. You’ve got that new agency job. You’re gonna make millions—”
“I’m just an intern.” I pushed his arm away. “And you aren’t getting off scot-free. You will get cracking and find a summer job, and you will hand over your paychecks to help cover the costs.”
“But that’s not fair!” he whined, his bravado faltering.
“Don’t tell me about fair,” I said, getting up and starting for the door. “You made this mess, and now you’re going to help me clean it up.”
Trey sighed. “At least I learned something from all of this.”
“What’s that?” I asked, thankful that this disaster would have at least one positive outcome.
He leaned back on his elbows, grinning at the ceiling. “Hondas aren’t so good at three sixties.”