Arnold (Margret Malone)

by Nancy Cupp

  He’d spent almost two months lugging tarps, driving the rig when it was empty, chaining down loads and generally being his dad’s nigger. He wasn’t getting paid, and his dad wouldn’t even keep his cell phone bill paid. Arnold gave a trash can a kick and watched it roll across the parking lot, spewing trash.

  The can came to a rest against a Peterbuilt idling in the lot. The driver rolled down the window yelling obscenities. Rage boiled out of Arnold as he confronted the burly dude that outweighed him by seventy-five pounds. Arnold was the first to throw a punch.

  It didn’t take long for traffic to back up in the tight lot. Trucks waiting to exit after fueling couldn’t leave because of the fist fight blocking the only way out. Angry drivers on a tight schedule piled out of trucks, and added to the chaos and yelling. Horns blared in the street because trucks couldn’t get out of the way and into the fuel island.

  Arnold was down in the piss and oil on the hot asphalt with somebody’s knee on his chest. He was bleeding from half a dozen spots, but he was still throwing punches and kicking.

  Somebody from management noticed that nobody was pumping fuel and went to investigate. He called the cops to clear the traffic jam in front of the store but they couldn’t get anybody to move despite flashing lights and sirens.

  “What the hell’s going on out there?”

  The lounge emptied as curious drivers, hot for any kind of diversion, spilled out into the parking lot. Rumor came back through the crowd about a fight. Ed had a bad feeling.

  “If it’s my boy, I’ll kill him myself,” said Ed to no-one in particular.

  …

  Miles of fence posts streamed past as Arnold stared silently out the window. He was bruised and sore, but at least the beating he took made him feel alive for a while. He propped his foot up on the dash, drawing a look from Ed that could’ve blistered the paint off a car.

  He took a deep breath, shifting in his seat, then sat up straight with his feet on the floor. “How do you stand doing this month after month?”

  Ed flicked the ash from his cigarette. “There’s a lot to see out here. You just got to open your eyes and look around.”

  “Yeah, fence posts, pavement, corn, more corn. What’s the point?”

  “The point is I’m making a living. You don’t always have to be jacked-up on some kind of high all the time. Sometimes you just gotta be happy with being alive.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “What?”

  “It’s bullshit. This ain’t no life, you never get to do nothin’. You don’t even sleep, you just drive.”

  “What would you be doin’ that’d be so great? Playing football? That ain’t gonna last forever.”

  “Maybe not, but there’s got to be a better way to live.”

  “Keeping out of trouble would be a good start.”

  Arnold shot him a back off stare and fell silent again, pretending to sleep. Another hundred miles brought them to their delivery destination. By the time they got parked that night they’d put in another fourteen hour day.

  The truck stop was full. Except for a few trucks circling to check for an open spot, nothing was happening. Arnold lay in his bunk and thought about how he could make money without busting his ass. There had to be a way to get somebody else to do the work while he raked in the dough. A conversation outside the truck was keeping him awake, so he listened in hoping for a diversion.

  “Hand it over.”

  “I gave you all the money I got,” said a young female voice.

  “You’re holding out on me. I watched you go into five trucks and you only come out with sixty bucks?”

  “That’s all they’d give me.”

  There was a slap, and then some whimpering. “You’re lucky I watch out for you. What would you do if one of those guys tried to beat you up? Now hand over the cash or I’ll leave you on your own.”

  Arnold watched the girl pull some bills out of her bra. “That’s better, now go knock on some doors.”

  …

  Ed was up before dawn, he prodded Arnold to get up. “Let’s go, if you want breakfast we get it now.”

  “Leave me alone. Jeez, we’ve only been parked six hours.”

  “You gonna eat?”

  “No.”

  “I’m not stopping later.”

  Arnold turned over to face the wall.

  “Suit your self. I’m rolling as soon as I get back.”

  An hour later they pulled into the shipper. It was heavy machinery again, which meant Arnold would be dragging out chains. He was hungry, and a couple of hours of hard work on an empty stomach wouldn’t help.

  Nothing seemed to go right. First, the bulldozer they were hauling wouldn’t start, so a mechanic had to be called. It put them behind schedule, which made Ed short tempered and impatient. If Arnold hauled chains to the rear of the trailer, they were needed in the front. When he brought load binders, Ed wanted a come-a-long.

  It was past noon when they got rolling. Arnold mentioned getting some lunch, but Ed was determined to make up for lost time. He kept on driving.

  Around three o’clock Arnold rummaged in the cupboards for something to eat. He found a couple of stale pop tarts and a can of warm Coke. Ed pulled a Snickers bar out of his shirt pocket.

  “You got another one of those?”

  “Nope. If I did, I’d eat it myself.”

  Ed finished his candy, popped a white pill and lit a cigarette.

  “I’m out of smokes, let me have one of yours,” said Arnold.

  Ed gave him a sour look, then held out the pack.

  “It’s stupid to push this hard, what are those pills you keep taking?”

  “Pushing hard is what pays the bills, boy.”

  Arnold was dozing when they pulled into the construction site where the crane was to be unloaded. Most of the workers were already gone for the day, but Ed found a foreman who would take delivery of the load. They went to work unchaining and putting everything away.

  “I’m glad you got this here tonight,” said the foreman as he was signing the bills. “I’ve got a crane at another site that needs to get back to Denver early. Can you take the back haul? I see you’re team driving.”

  “How bad do they need it there?”

  “It’s oversized, the only one around big enough for the job. If they don’t have the crane the entire project stops, so we’ll make it worth your while to get it there by six.”

  “We can’t…”

  Ed stepped in front of Arnold. “You got the guys to get it loaded?”

  “I can have a crew there in half an hour.” The foreman stepped away to make a call.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? We’ve already been on the road for eight hours, and we’ve been up since four.”

  “I’ve been up since four, you slept in.” Ed was inches from his son’s face.

  “You planning to eat sometime today?”

  “Shut-up, you ain’t the one running things here.”

  “I’d do a damn better job.” Arnold turned away.

  Ed gave Arnold a shove that sent him sprawling. Arnold came back with his hands in fists, ready to take another beating.

  “Don’t push me, boy. Get in the truck.”

  …

  Trying to calm himself before he’d have to drag chains out again to secure the oversized crane, Arnold checked his pockets for his cigarettes. He found nothing but a crumpled wrapper and a book of sweat-soaked matches.

  “I need a smoke.”

  “You gonna hustle those chains out so we can get to Denver by morning?”

  “I’ve been busting my ass on them chains this whole trip. At least you could give me a smoke if you’re not gonna pay me or even feed me.” Arnold held out his hand and glared across the dim light of the cab.

  Ed downshifted for a turn down a gravel road that would bring them to the construction site. “You starting to understand how hard you have to work to earn a living?”

  Arnold snorted, “You
have to work this hard to earn a living. I’m going to find another way.”

  “Just what do you think you’re going to do that’s do damn easy?”

  “Are you gonna give me a smoke or not?”

  Ed leisurely lit a cigarette, then held out the pack. Arnold took one, then put the pack in his shirt pocket.

  “I could mine this f—ing trucking industry, and make it a hell of a lot better for drivers.”

  Ed threw back his head and laughed loudly. “How you think you’re gonna do that, boy?”

  “I could have a whole string of women working for me. Have a place for guys to go when they’re on the road.”

  Ed’s shoulders shook while he tried to suppress his laughter. “That’s been done. You know prostitution’s illegal, right?”

  “Of course I know that. But if you had a trailer all set up, you could park it at a truck stop in plain sight. The lot lizards never go outside so nobody sees them.”

  Ed was still laughing when he pulled the air brakes at the loading site.

  “Go ahead and laugh old man. I’ll make more than you ever did, and I won’t have to bust my ass.”

  “I thought you were gonna be the next wonder boy that wins the super bowl.”

  “It’s a back up, for after football.”

  11

  THE EDGE

  ED TOSSED BACK A COUPLE more pills, it was going to be a long hard night. He wished he could have Arnold help with the driving, but the boy just wasn’t ready to pull an oversized load. He should have trained him when they were on flat freeways, but there wasn’t time for that now. He’d be driving in the mountains all night, and the load toped out at thirteen-eight. Two inches taller than the Eisenhower Tunnel.

  The greasy burger he’d scarfed down when they stopped for fuel sat in his stomach like a brick. He lifted his stained thirty-two ounce coffee mug, but felt nothing but empty plastic. Ed reached for the can of Coke Arnold had left in his cup holder.

  He thought about Clara and the other boy, Bruce. He hoped this extra load would tip the scale on the mounting medical debt.

  How old was that boy? He wished that one was older. It seemed like the boy wanted to learn trucking, but Clara had too much influence on him. She was always talking about his grades, how he was going to be an engineer or something useless.

  She was a good woman, too bad she was gonna die. It was gonna be a problem with the younger boy. Ed briefly thought about getting another woman, but hell, why sign up for years of marriage just to get one kid through high school.

  He pushed the truck as hard as he dared, but the load required some finesse just to keep it at the speed limit. He caught himself letting it bog down and lose speed on the steep grades. He was tired enough to let second nature things become something he had to concentrate on.

  The load they had wouldn’t allow him to pull off the road for a break. There weren’t too many places that could support a load of this size. He’d taught the boy how to slide underneath him to take over driving when he needed a break or to take a piss. It had actually made quite a difference to have him along. Almost made it worth putting up with the kid.

  Ed could feel his body trying to shut down. He’d been running on about four hours of sleep a night for weeks. He felt like hell, and the pills weren’t keeping him awake. He popped another one, losing track of when he’d had the last one.

  An hour later a dull ache in his left arm wouldn’t quit no matter how he moved it. He was sweating and his back had a stabbing pain. When he hit the rumble strips on the edge of the road the third time, Ed decided it was time to let the kid drive. It was fifty miles to the pass, the boy ought to be able to handle it that far. It would give him enough time to shake off this intense pain.

  “Wake up Arnold, you lazy SOB. You need to drive, I can’t stay awake.”

  He hardly remembered switching places with the boy and giving him instructions. Ed stumbled to the bunk, the crushing pain in his chest took his breath away.

  12

  THE BUSINESS

  CLARA RIFLED THROUGH PAPERS IN a sagging cardboard file box. She was hoping Ed had kept up his life insurance policy. Her own death she was prepared for, and had come to terms with it. She never expected to be the surviving spouse.

  With a file folder in hand, she slogged to the kitchen table. Her limbs were lead, the tile floor, soft mud at the bottom of a swamp that she was drowning in. She wanted to just sit for a moment before opening the folder, but realized if she stopped moving she would sink deep enough for the thick water to close over her head.

  The policy for the truck was there. Ed had gotten the best insurance he could to cover his truck, saying it was their bread and butter. She compared entries from her bank statement. It had been paid in full. The policy would’ve covered Ed’s medical bills, had he survived. She wasn’t sure it would cover Arnold’s.

  What was worrying her was the life insurance. She didn’t know how they would live without an income. Her own illness made it impossible to work, and she didn’t expect to be at Bruce’s graduation.

  “Mom? What are you doing up in the middle of the night?” Clara startled at Bruce’s question.

  “I was just going through some paperwork. I’m worried about Arnold alone in that hospital so far away.”

  “Denver’s not that far, we can drive there. I’ll take you.”

  “I’m not so sure about the car, and gas is expensive.” Clara started to cry. “The funeral is going to cost so much. Who’s going to take care of you boys?”

  “You are Mom. Let’s get some sleep and we can talk about it in the morning.”

  “I will, I just need to put this away.” Clara dried her tears.

  When Bruce had gone back to bed she continued to search for the life insurance policy. It had to be there somewhere. She had been through the entire file box, but couldn’t find a current policy. Ed had been complaining about the expense of premiums.

  Her eyes drifted to the pile of bills and unopened mail on the counter top. She sifted through them until her eye caught the name of the insurance company on the corner of one unopened envelope.

  The bill confirmed her suspicion. He hadn’t paid it. The policy would cancel if it wasn’t paid by the due date. She glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall. The due date was tomorrow.

  If she could get it paid, it should still be valid. The policy would pay out a half million dollars.

  ☙

  “Mom, bring me a beer. Where’s my pain meds? Can’t you at least do that?” Arnold lay on the threadbare couch in the living room. The remote for the TV was in his hand. His leg was propped up, the cast nearly to his groin.

  Clara brought Arnold his beer. She wearily sat in a chair across the room. “The insurance check for the truck came today.”

  “Good. That’s mine.”

  “What? We need it to pay bills, and live off of.”

  “Dad was teaching me the business. He meant for me to partner with him. I can get a new truck with that money to support you and Bruce.”

  “I don’t know…”

  Arnold dropped the remote on the floor, the battery popped out and skidded across the floor, bits of plastic flew everywhere. “Are you going to drive a truck and earn us a living?” His face was red. “That money is to replace the truck the old man wrecked. It’s bad enough my football career is wrecked. He meant for me to go into business with him. The money is mine.”

  “But you can’t drive yet.”

  “It goes in my account until I can get a truck and start working. I don’t need you and Bruce to piss it all away.”

  “But Bruce will need money for college when he graduates, he should get…”

  “Bruce ain’t getting nothing. When did he ever do anything? I’m the one who worked my ass off! That money is mine—so I can support you two.”

  Clara shrunk down in the chair. “I suppose you’re right…”

  “Damn right, I’m right. Sign the check over to me now, then you can put it in my
account tomorrow. We should talk about putting my name on the checking account too—in case anything happens to you. Then I can access the funds—so I can take care of Bruce. Now get me that remote.”

  …

  Arnold limped over to Clara’s grave site. Bruce was still there, trying to prop up the floral arrangement he had insisted on. His cheeks glistened where tears had flowed. The minister was getting in his car to leave, and everyone else had left long ago.

  “Look, Bruce, I think you should drop out of college. Your scholarship was only for a year and I can’t pay your tuition.”

  “What about what’s left in the account for us?”

  “I’m taking care of that. Here’s what I want you to do. You drop out and get your CDL. I’m starting up a trucking company. I’ve got some sweet deals lined up, special loads. You can work for me—uh partners, you know. When we get the estate settled you can use your half to add capital to my business.”

  “You mean our business.”

  “Whatever. I’m heading out to Colorado to set up shop. You can clean out the house and let the landlord know we’re moving out. By the time you get that done the estate should be settled. You can stop by the lawyer’s, pick up your check, and deposit it in my account.”

  “Why am I depositing it in your account?”

  “I need the capital to start up the business. It’s an investment in your future. You do trust me right?”

  “Well yeah, I guess so…”

  “Good. I’ll leave the car for you so you can drive on out there. I’m getting a motorhome to live in.”

  …

  Arnold had spent some time team-driving in a company truck after he recovered enough to actually get his commercial driver’s license. There was no way he was going to live with his sick mother in that stinking rental where he grew up. As long as he was employed as a trucker he had a place to stay.