“Nobody’s from here and we don’t know anyone. It’s penance.”
“I know a lot about penance. You must have committed a pretty big sin to be given all this.” I indicated the house with the peeling paint and the brownish hills.
“My sin was that I wasn’t what he expected. My bigger sin was that our boy Trevor wasn’t what he expected either.”
“I know a lot about sin too. Unfulfilled expectations doesn’t fit the definition. A sin is a grievous offense, done with sufficient reflection, with the full consent of the will. That’s Irish catechism class, verbatim, circa 1965.”
“It sounds like you’re offering me absolution.”
“Not at all. Absolution requires a sin and penance requires a transgression. It doesn’t look to me like there’s been either one. This looks like punishment. This is like dumping Napoleon on St. Helena.”
“At least Napoleon got to bring a few friends along, and St. Helena had ocean views. That’s what’s got everyone running around in circles. An army wife is supposed to obey. They’re confused. So am I. I’ve been married for sixteen years, and I’ve always done what I’m told. I’m not a tough person. My mom was a military wife too, so I thought I knew the score. But my husband is a block of granite.”
“How does it feel to be laying your line in the sand?”
“Amazing. For the first time in my life the people in charge are wondering about what I might want. It’s fun.”
“Congratulations on your first nose-thumbing at authority. It is fun. I’ve built my life around the concept. It can also be dangerous.”
“Dangerous for whom? I might decide to just do whatever the hell I want from now on and to hell with the Colonel and the US Army and everything, except Trevor. It looks dangerous for them.”
“Now you’re talking. The TO has me on waiting time. He said it might take a couple of days. They’re going to try and convince you to stay here.”
“Good luck to them. Everyone’s scrambling down at the base trying to figure out what to do with the crazy wife. Do you think I’m crazy?”
“Not at all. I think you were maybe a little crazy in Nebraska. Now it looks like you’re getting a little sane.”
“Me too. What does a mover do on waiting time stuck in the middle of nowhere?”
“Not much. I’ll find out if there’s anything interesting around and check it out. I’ll get a motel room in town. I’ve got a barbecue grill in my truck, and I like to make my own meals at night. I read a lot. This kind of thing actually doesn’t happen very often, so it’s a nice break. Besides, Uncle Sam is being very munificent. I think they’ll lose patience with this whole deal in a day or two if you hold firm. What will you do in the meantime?”
“The realtor said there’s a nice lake up the road with a swimming dock and picnic area. I’m looking at this like Trevor and I are on summer vacation. If you can find the lake later, come on by. I’ll give you the latest breaking news from the army about the crazy wife.”
I had no answer for that. I paid off my crew, dropped the trailer in the driveway, and bobtailed to the local motel.
The clerk was polite but curious as to what I was doing in Lakeland. I told her just enough, and she told me if I was on waiting time with nothing to do I should go to the lake because it had a swimming dock and picnic area. There wasn’t anything else to do or anywhere to go.
That afternoon, I drove up to the lake in my tractor. Sure enough, there were Mrs. Howard and Trevor under a picnic canopy. The lake was a lovely spot and practically deserted, this being a weekday afternoon.
They looked pleased to see me. Mrs. Howard smiled at my approach. “You came to the lake after all.”
“It’s a highly recommended place. Your realtor and my motel clerk both gave the place high ratings.”
“That truck looks funny,” said Trevor. “Like a midget.”
“I know it does. When there’s no trailer connected, it’s called a bobtail. Wanna see the inside?”
“Nope.”
“No interest at all? That’s un-American. I thought every kid wanted to see the inside of a big truck.”
“Not me, and I’m not a kid. I’m fifteen.”
“Sorry. How’s the water?”
“Cold.”
“You’re just a bundle of sunshine.”
“This place sucks.”
At that point Mrs. Howard jumped in: “I’d like to see the truck.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“OK.” I was glad I had cleaned it up. After a few travel days the interior can get pretty raw. Nothing horrible, but there will be empty coffee cups, fast-food wrappers, full ashtrays, Gatorade bottle chamber pots, and dirty bed linens that can coalesce into a distinctive aroma unnoticeable by the primary occupant. I unlocked the passenger side and helped Mrs. Howard climb up the monkey bars into the cab. She sat in the shotgun seat and looked around. “You sleep back there?”
“All the time.”
“It’s so cramped.”
“Not as cramped as my last truck. This is a palace, believe it or not. But yes, it gets tight. That’s why I’m at the motel in town. I can spread out a little.”
“That’s the opposite of my experience. I live in a big house with a cramped life. You live in a cramped house with a life that looks big and exciting.”
“A lot of people think that about truckers’ lives. If my life is big, then a lot of other lives are microscopic.”
“You don’t see it because you’re in it. Many other people’s lives are microscopic. Mine is, or was. You have to understand that my husband’s plan was to exile Trevor and me out here. He was never going to come. He wasn’t going to divorce me or anything. That would have hurt his career. He was just going to live on base, and with a bit of luck and time we’d just dissolve. Kind of like putting an unruly dog out to a farm family. You tell yourself the dog got a good home and then you forget about it.”
“It sounds like this has been going on a long time. What prompted the move now?”
“Trevor.”
“How?”
“He just turned fifteen. He doesn’t want to see your truck. He doesn’t play Grand Theft Auto and he doesn’t want to shoot guns, hunt ducks, or do calisthenics.”
“I see.”
“Yes.”
“Pretty tough on the Colonel, eh? He didn’t get the playmate he wanted.”
“He didn’t get the wife he wanted either, but that’s just how it is. Reality is at odds with his idea of what should be. Rather than adjust his views, he finds it simpler to remove the impediments. And they’re calling me crazy?”
“I think I understand.”
She stood up, leaned over the doghouse, and kissed me on the lips. “Thank you. You’re a nice man.” Then she hopped out and joined her son.