I’m Colorblind. I Can’t Drive. Chapter 2

Kevin stared down at the official colorblindness certificate in his hand, stunned into silence for a long three seconds.

The angry shouts from the hallway died out instantly.

Someone whispered, "Colorblind? Doesn't that mean she can't get a license?"

"Hey, Kevin, you don't think... you actually got the wrong person, do you?"

I pointed at the document he was holding. "See it clearly? It has an official seal. You can read, can't you?"

Kevin's face flushed, then paled.

A second later, he threw the certificate on the floor. "You think a piece of paper is going to fool me?"

"You can afford a Panamera, but you don't have a license?" He took a menacing step closer. "Besides, if you really are colorblind, that means you were driving without a license! That's even worse!"

A wave of understanding washed over the crowd.

"He's right! We almost fell for her little trick!"

"No wonder she ran a red light. She can't even tell the difference!"

I was done arguing with them.

"Alright," I said, pulling out my phone. "Like I said, let's get the police involved. We'll see if I'm lying, or if you're trying to shake me down."

"Go ahead! Call them! Let's see who they arrest when they get here!" Kevin snarled.

I dialed 911 and gave them the address and a brief summary of the situation.

After hanging up, I leaned against the doorframe, silent.

Kevin was still ranting. "Calling the cops now is just a stall tactic to let my dad die!"

"Don't think you can get away with this. No matter what, I'll see you behind bars."

"Just shut up," I said, my voice cold. "Your father isn't dead yet. Why are you in such a hurry to mourn him? Worried you'll get less money if he pulls through?"

Kevin's face twisted in fury.

"What the hell did you just say?"

He lunged at me, but his wife grabbed him and held him back with all her strength.

I was about to say more when the sound of sirens cut through the night.

Kevin scrambled toward the officers as if they were his saviors.

"Officers, it was her! She ran a red light, hit my dad, and won't admit it!"

The officer looked me over. "Are you the owner of the vehicle with license plate A123?"

"Yes."

"Did you hit someone?"

"No."

Kevin became frantic. "It was her, I saw it with my own eyes!"

The officer held up a hand to silence him, then turned back to me. "Ma'am, you claim you didn't hit anyone. Do you have any proof?"

I picked up my certificate from the floor and handed it to him.

The officer opened it and paused. "Colorblind?"

"Yes," I confirmed.

He frowned. "Then how did you acquire the car?"

"It was an inheritance from my father," I said, my voice quiet. "I can't drive it, so it's always parked in the garage. The only time it moves is when the dealership sends someone to pick it up for routine maintenance. They have records of everything."

Kevin scoffed. "Nice story. Keep spinning it! You think the police are going to believe you?"

The officer ignored him and turned to the building's security guard. "Get property management on the line. I need to see the security footage."

The guard scratched his head. "Oh, man. You know that big snowstorm we had a couple of days ago?"

"It shorted out some of the wiring. The cameras in the parking garage are down. We haven't had a chance to fix them yet..."

My stomach dropped.

What a coincidence.

Kevin's face lit up. "The cameras are broken? I guess your proof just disappeared! Happy now?"

The officer's brow furrowed. "Sir, please remain calm."

"We have procedures for this. Until there is clear evidence, I'll ask you to show this woman some respect." He turned back to me. "Ma'am, does your car have a dashcam?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind if we take a look?"

I nodded, grabbing the car keys from the console table by the door and handing them to him.

We all went down to the underground garage.

The officer had just reached the front of the car, his hand on the door handle, when Kevin suddenly bolted forward. He threw himself across the hood, his voice cracking with excitement.

"Officers! You have to see this!"

He pointed at the front bumper. "What is this?"

I moved closer, using my phone's flashlight to see what he was pointing at.

On the right side of the bumper, there was a fresh scrape. And smeared across it was a dark stain of what looked like blood.