by Nancy Cupp
“I’ll need you to roll up the tarps, and stow the chains in the box.”
“But I have school Monday morning, coach said…”
“I don’t give a rip what your coach said. This ain’t no hobby, I’m trying to earn a living.”
“But Lawerence is less than an hour from home, you could drop me off first.”
“We’ll be lucky to make delivery on time as it is if this snow continues. I’m hoping we won’t be required to chain up before we get to Denver.”
Arnold hoped so too. Putting chains on the tires sounded like hard work, especially in the icy cold weather. He had a feeling his dad would expect him to learn that too.
“It must be almost time to quit for the night ain’t it Dad?”
“I’m gonna push on through the mountains. I want to keep ahead of this snow.”
“But don’t you have to stop after eleven hours?”
“Not if I don’t get caught. That’s what the second log book is for. I’ll teach you about the log books on the next trip.”
“Dad, I’m not planning to be a trucker when I graduate. I’m going to try for a football scholarship. It’ll give me a shot at the pros.”
“You think you’re better than your old man? You’re damn lucky I’m taking the time to teach you a profession.”
“I’ll make a hell of a lot more playing pro football than you ever made as a trucker.”
Edward’s arm shot out and caught Arnold across the mouth. Arnold was shocked that his dad’s reach was long enough to hit him with such force from the driver’s seat.
“You damn wimp! You can’t even hold on to a tarp. How the hell do you figure you’re tough enough for pro football?”
“I’m plenty tough, don’t worry about that.” Arnold rode in silence for the next two hours.
The snow was continuing to fall at a steady rate. It was nearly dark when traffic started to slow. Edward cussed when he saw the flashing lights alerting truckers that the chain law was in effect. He pulled over in a chain up area and turned on his flashers.
He tossed a pair of worn leather gloves to Arnold. “Get out, we gotta chain up.”
Edward was pulling tire chains off the rack when Arnold climbed out of the truck hunched against the cold biting wind. “Lay the chains out flat in front of each of the tires. One pair on the trailer and a set of four on the drives.”
Arnold reluctantly picked up a chain to drag it to the trailer tires.
“Come on boy, you’re going to need two back there. We ain’t got all night to get this done.”
When Arnold came back, Ed tossed a handful of rubber tie down straps in his direction. “Lay those out by each tire boy, we need six to a tire.”
Arnold glared at his dad, but he did as he was told.
“You got all those chains laid out boy?”
“I ain’t your damn boy.”
“The hell you ain’t. I’m gonna roll the truck forward onto the chains. You hook ‘em up.”
Arnold struggled in the cold to connect the chains around the tires. It was dark and his fingers were freezing, making the job even tougher. When he had the last of them hooked up he climbed back into the warm cab.
“Do you have the tie straps on?”
“No, you just said to connect the chains.”
“You gotta put the tie straps on or we’ll throw a chain.”
“Do it yourself. My fingers are frozen.”
“Don’t lip off to me boy! I thought you was so tough. Get out there.”
“What the hell are you doing? You’re just sitting in the warm cab. And I ain’t your boy!”
Edward reached across the truck and opened the passenger door. He gave Arnold a shove that landed him in the snow. “Get them straps on boy, and I’ll let you back in.”
6
CLARA
THE TIRES SQUEALED ON THE asphalt in front of the school. “Get in here dick-head, I’m supposed to give you a ride.” Arnold impatiently drummed on the steering wheel to a tune blasting on the radio.
Bruce climbed in the Malibu with his brother. “What’s up?” Bruce’s head involuntarily jerked back when the car lurched forward.
“I don’t know, she wants you to see Pop before he leaves; what a pain in the ass.” Arnold lit a cigarette.
“I thought they’d kick you off the team for smoking.”
“Only if they know about it. What’s it to you?”
Bruce shrugged and looked out the window. “How was your trip with Dad? You get back this morning?”
“It sucked. The bastard had me doing all his grunt work.”
“Did ya get to see anything new? Did ya get to drive the rig?”
“Yeah, he thinks he’s gonna make a trucker out of me. I ain’t doing it.”
“How much did you get to drive? Was it hard to shift?”
“Why do you ask so many questions? The only good thing on the whole trip happened in the parking lot.”
“Yeah? What was it, what happened?”
“Shut-up. Let’s just say I ain’t no kid anymore.” Arnold spotted Slick walking with two other players from his team. He gunned the engine, keeping his foot on the brake. The car roared and hopped as he worked the pedals.
“Hey Arnold, my man.” Slick waved him down, leaning in the window when the car stopped in the street. “What’s up with the little dude?”
“I got to drop him off. You guys want to ride or you gonna walk like a pussy?”
The three football players piled in, shoving Bruce to the center. Soon the car was filled with smoke and raucous laughter. Bruce rubbed his eyes, and he was breathing in short gasping breaths.
“Hey what’s wrong with the kid?” Slick poked a finger in Bruce’s direction. “He’s looking kind of blue.”
“Oh hell, he gets all wheezy once in a while. Roll down your window,” said Arnold.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Bruce wasn’t looking too good. Arnold half-dragged him into the house. Clara rushed to help put him on the couch, the effort started her coughing again. “What did you do to him?”
“Nothing, he just got all blue in the face.” Arnold was backing toward the door, car keys dangling from his fingers. “The guys and I are going to the pool hall.”
“Give me them keys, boy.” Ed held out his hand. “Clara, you’re gonna have to haul him in to the doctor. I’ve got a load to pick up. I ain’t got time for all this messing around.”
Arnold reluctantly handed over the keys, then went out to tell the guys who were still waiting in the car.
“The old man took the keys. They’re gonna haul the kid in to the doc.”
The guys from the team started walking, jabbing and teasing each other when they saw a group of girls from their class walking in the same direction.
“You boys got a lot to learn,” said Arnold. “Women like it when you show ‘em who’s in charge.”
…
Clara stubbed out her cigarette, and tried to quiet her coughing. Her hand trembled when she brought the cup of hot coffee to her lips. She refolded the newspaper she’d been trying to read for the last half-hour. She just couldn’t concentrate on anything that morning, she knew things were about to change.
Bruce was doing fine after his Doctor had given him an inhaler for the asthma attacks. But he told her she needed to make an appointment to see him. The Doctor was concerned about her smoker’s cough.
It wasn’t like Clara didn’t know what was causing it, but she didn’t want to get an official report from the Doctor. She’d been losing weight for months, and coughing up blood daily. Bruce had been bugging her to see a doctor, but so far she’d been able to put it off.
This time she had an appointment and the car so she could get there. This time she’d have to face what she knew the doc would tell her. She was sick, probably cancer. She was going to have to deal with being sick and raising her boys. Ed would be mad, how could she tell him he might have to raise the boys alone?
…
&nb
sp; “Hey Arnold, leave the car. Mom’s got another appointment today,” said Bruce.
“She was just there yesterday. I gotta have the car.”
“Yeah, chemo’s like that, it ain’t your car anyway.”
Clara lay in the living room listening to her boys argue. Nausea kept her on the couch. There was a time when she would have got up and knocked their heads together. “You can have the car this afternoon Arnold, the appointment’s at ten.”
Arnold went out the back door, Bruce followed him out.
“Can’t you even say goodby to her?”
“Why? Won’t matter anyway.”
“It matters to her, she’s going through a lot.”
“I can’t stand the smell—the look of her, all yellowish and scrawny, hair falling out.” Arnold shuddered and turned his back.
“It’s the chemo, she can’t help that.”
“You tell her—I can’t wait to get out of here for camp next week.” Arnold started walking toward the field where he would work out with the guys before it got too hot.
School was out for the summer, in a week Arnold would be starting football camp. With the extra training Arnold would be prime for a football scholarship after his senior year.
Bruce shook his head and went back inside. He heard Clara retching again. With a sigh, Bruce picked up another bag to replace the one his mother was filling. “Are you sure they want you to come in for more chemo today? You haven’t recovered from yesterday.”
Clara wiped her mouth and flopped back on the couch, exhausted. “I’d love to skip it.” She paused to catch her breath. “They said three days on—then a week off.” Another wave of nausea hit her. When it passed she whispered, “I can do it. It gets better.”
Bruce took the full bag out to the trash. He paused, looking in the direction his brother had gone. The sun was warm on his back, a perfect day to meet his friends at the pool. He replaced the lid on the garbage can and went back in the house, pausing to get a glass of water for his mom.
“We have to leave in a half-hour to get there in time. Are you going to be able to drive?”
Clara took a ragged breath, “Just let me sit up for a while. I need a smoke.”
“Jeez, Mom!”
Clara’s hands were shaking when she tried to light the cigarette. “Bruce, your dad let you drive the car when he was here, right?”
“Yeah, but it was just around the block.”
Clara put out her cigarette when she was done. She stood up slowly, “Okay, lets go. Help me get out there, I’m a little dizzy.”
Bruce helped get his mom out to the car. She stood by the open driver’s door for a moment.
“You need help getting in?”
“I’ll get in the other side. You drive.”
“Really? The clinic is way across town.” Bruce was excited to drive the car, but he thought about the route they usually took.
“We’ll take the back roads.” Clara eased into the passenger seat.
7
FOOTBALL CAMP
ARNOLD WAS ENJOYING HIS CELEBRITY status. He’d been at football camp for a week and had never worked so hard in his life, but the perks were worth it.
Damon, a second year football camp inductee, powerfully grabbled Arnold on the shoulder. “You doing all right, Lade. That was a good tackle on Smith.” The beer on his breath smelled strong. “Smith gonna be all over you tomorrow.” Damon grinned in a friendly way.
“Thanks man. I’m kinda sore, but I guess that means it’s working, huh?” Arnold grasped Damon’s extended hand.
Damon threw back his head, laughing in a way that exposed his strong white teeth. “You always gonna be sore. What you needs is a beer, that takes the edge off.”
Arnold accepted a tall frosty glass from his teammate. He took a long sip, then wiped the foam off his lip. “You guys play much pool?” He gestured toward the empty table in the corner.
“Sure, if things are slow.” Damon had a sly smile that let on there were better things than pool.
Arnold leaned back against the bar. He listened to the football banter while he sipped beer and joined in the joking and jeering of his teammates. Twenty minutes later Damon nudged his arm and jerked his head toward the door.
“Things are about to heat up around here now,” said Damon.
Arnold’s eyes followed Damon’s lead. A group of women from the local college had arrived, dressed to party. Their chatter seemed to change the atmosphere of the room.
“Now that’s much better than pool,” said Arnold.
“Women just love players that are headed to the pros. They like to get in on the ground floor I guess. They always come to check out the new recruits.” Damon slid off the barstool and gestured for Arnold to follow.
The party moved from the bar to a nearby hotel, where several of the guys pooled their money for a suite. There was at least twice as many women as men, and the alcohol flowed freely.
Unlike in high school, Arnold was one of the youngest in the room. He sat on the couch, his eyes following the action as one by one players disappeared behind closed doors with one or two women. This was a different game than he’d experienced at the truck stops, where twenty bucks assured you of an evening of pleasure.
The crowd was starting to thin out when a tall blonde sat on the couch next to Arnold. She crossed her long legs and turned to him. “This is the first time I’ve been to one of these parties.”
“Yeah, me too.” Arnold slid closer and laid his arm on the back of the couch behind her. “Would you like another drink? I’ll get you one.”
“No, I’ve already had too many. I drove.”
“I’m Arnold. Can I call you Jenny?”
The blonde laughed and with a tilt of her head said, “Why would you call me Jenny? My name is Susan Anderson.”
“I like the name Jenny.”
“Ah—okay Fred.” Susan made a move to get off the couch, but Arnold caught her wrist.
“Where you going off to so quick?”
“My friends are ready to go, it’s late and none of us are fit to drive. We have a few blocks to walk.”
“I’ll walk with you girls. You wouldn’t want to be out alone.” Arnold ran his fingers up and down her arm.
“No thanks. We’ll all be walking together, we’ll be fine.” Susan pulled away, brushing off her arm where he had touched her.
Susan slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. Her friends were still giggling and saying their goodbyes. When she came back out Arnold was gone. Susan took a breath of relief and pushed her friends toward the door.
The group of women chatted loudly, laughing and telling about the men they’d met. Susan walked quietly toward the back of the group. The night air was starting to clear her head.
When they reached the sorority house they all shared there was a general fumbling and giggling as the girls tried to find keys to unlock the door.
“Susan, you’re less drunk than the rest of us—Susan?”
“Where the heck did she go?”
“I don’t know, use my key. It’s this one I think.”
…
The day would be a blistering hot one. Arnold squared up and hit the sled again and again, pushing it further with each effort. He wiped his brow when the coach called him over.
“Good work Lade, but switch over to the agility drills now. As hard as you’re hitting those sleds, I don’t want you to get injured.”
“Sure thing coach.” Arnold trotted over to the line of tires that were laid out on the ground, taking his place in the line of players quickly stepping through the maze.
Two squad cars pulled up and parked along the edge of the field. The players all saw them, but nobody paid them much attention. It was fairly common for the officers to take a break near the field. They enjoyed trying to pick out the future stars.
Two officers stood near one of the cars. The back window was rolled down, and they were talking to someone in the back seat. When the window rolled b
ack up, the officers approached the coach.
“Do you have a player named Arnold?”
“Yeah, Arnold Lade, he’s first year. Why?”
“We need to talk to him.”
“Aw, come on, he’s one of our best recruits.”
“Sorry coach, this is serious. We’ve already had a positive ID on him.”
The players noticed the coach talking to the officers and the work slowed down as they speculated what the cops were there for. “Nobody had drugs at the party last night, right?”
“No, we kept it pretty quiet in the room too.”
“Yeah, we didn’t wreck nothin.”
“Maybe they’re just talking football.”
The coach walked over to the group. “Lade, I want to talk to you. The rest of you run some laps.”
“What’s up, coach?”
“Were you out partying last night?”
“Yeah, I was with the rest of the guys,” said Arnold.
“Do you know a girl named Susan?”
“No. I talked to Jenny last night.”
One of the squad cars left. The officers that had been talking to the coach came over to talk with Arnold.
“He says he was talking to a girl named Jenny last night. That right Lade?”
“Yeah coach.”
“You need to come with us down town,” said an officer.
“Don’t worry coach, I’m sure it’s just a mistake,” said Arnold.
“You better hope so Lade. I don’t have any room for guys that get in trouble on my team.”
…
Susan sat behind a panel of one way glass, her lip was cut and she had a black eye. “That’s him. He came up behind me and put his hand over my mouth, dragged me into the ally. He kept calling me Jenny, I told him my name was Susan, but it didn’t matter.” Susan started to cry.
“Did he rape you Ma’am?”
“I—I think he would have, but he—couldn’t. Then he got mad and he hit me. He called me Jenny, like that made it all right.”
“How did you get away Ma’am?”
“I uh—I don’t know, I dug my nails into his arm and pulled away. I just ran after that.”