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There wasn't much I could do, trapped like an animal in a cage. Ava sat in one corner of the room, looking tired but oddly cheerful for someone who was in a jail cell. She looked up and smiled at me. I sat down next to her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn't seem to mind. Slowly, almost groggily, Ava placed a comforting hand on my back, and I realized I was the person she needed most in this world right now, not Rajesh, not our lawyer, but me.
"I love you, Ava," I said, growing more miserable and confused as I heard the basement door slam shut with a bang.
She was silent for what seemed like minutes. Then, in a timid, apologetic voice, Ava said, "I love you too."
Across from us sat another man, a red-faced giant wearing Bermuda shorts, a graphic t-shirt, a baseball cap turned on backwards, and a lumberjack beard that made him look like the Cali version of Paul Bunyan. He reeked of alcohol. That was when I realized we were in the drunk tank.
The man stared at us with the solid blue eyes of someone who is beginning to feel the onset of a terrific hangover with something approaching curiosity. Married couples didn't end up in jail together often. His mouth cracked open into a grin.
"What are you in for?" he said.
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