“But this still doesn’t feel right,” Justin said, “to run off like this.”

Asher took his right hand from the steering wheel and laid it atop Justin’s forearm.

Who knew what would happen next. Asher would most likely never see Tennessee again. The police could pull them over at any second and throw Asher onto the blacktop and arrest him. If that happened where would Justin stay until someone came for him? In the jail, too? And would he ever see Justin again once he was carried off to prison?

Once they came off the Seven Mile Bridge there were cops all alongside the highway. He had never seen so many police officers on one stretch of road and his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter each time one of the cruisers schwoomed past them.

A bunch of kids were laughing and running toward a man at the end of a pier that jutted out of the side of the highway. He was holding up a silver fish whose gills were gasping for water.

“Oh no,” Justin said, his hands rushing to the door as if he might pull on the handle and open it. “Dad, go back.”

“What is it?” But Asher knew what he was going to say.

“Go back, and get that man to throw that fish back in the ocean.”

“I can’t do that, buddy,” Asher laughed a little. “Come on, now, turn around.”

But Justin couldn’t stop looking back. He turned in his seat and watched for as long as he could. Asher watched by way of the rearview mirror for long enough to see that the kids were jumping around the stupid man, like letting this fish die right there in front of them was the most fun they’d had in ages.

“God, I hate people,” Justin said. “People suck.”

Asher thought perhaps he should tell his son to not say that, but he didn’t. He let him be. If there was a parent who always had the correct comeback he’d like to meet them. But Justin was so wracked with guilt at not having helped the fish. He had twisted his head around, still looking back although the man and the kids and the fish were long out of their sight now.

“Justin,” Asher said, and tapped his knee. “Come on, now, buddy. We can’t control everything in the world. Wish we could.”

“I hope I hope I hope,” Justin was saying out loud without realizing it and so Asher put his hand gently on the nape of his son’s neck.

“It’s alright, little man.” Asher patted the back of Justin’s head.

Three cop cars in a row, all with their lights on and their sirens screaming (whyo! whyo! whyo! whyo!), schwoom schwoom schwoom they went by.