Leaving Hedges
by Theresa Konwinski
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3, 4 |
part 3.2
The rain began to slow from a steady downpour to sprinkles. The truck driver stood up. “This might be my only opportunity.” He sat his coffee cup on the arm of the porch swing, hopped off the porch, and jogged to the truck, lifting the heavy hood and peering under it to fiddle and fuss with the motor.
“I need to get underneath this old girl. Wish I had a lift,” the driver said, just as Big Phil came into view, walking in our direction. I assumed he was going to the general store to pick up things he needed. I waved to him.
“What’s happening out here, little lady?”
The truck driver withdrew his head from under the truck hood and starting at Big Phil’s feet, slowly raised his eyes to take in Phil’s full height. He let out a low whistle. I don’t think he could help himself.
“Mister, how tall are you?” The truck driver had forgotten about his truck for a minute.
“Nine feet, seven inches.” Phil always answered this question very matter-of-factly, but I thought he was probably sick of hearing it. “What’s wrong with your truck?” Phil said.
“I’m not sure. The engine overheated; it was belching smoke, making an awful racket, and then she stopped dead. I have a feeling there’s a bad gasket leaking fuel for it to get as hot as it did, to fail in the middle of the road. I just can’t see where the problem is from the top. I need to get underneath her, but I need a lift.”
Phil stood quietly for a minute, rubbing his chin. Then, he scratched his head and said, “I believe I could lift the front end of the truck for you long enough to take a look.”
The truck driver laughed, then stopped short, seeming to sense Phil’s seriousness.
“Man, I couldn’t ask you to do that. How in God’s name—”
“I’m strong. You wouldn’t have a lot of time. I couldn’t hold it up long enough for you to fix anything, but I could hold it high enough off the ground for you to get under there and take a look.”
It was starting to rain harder again. My clothes were sticking to my skin, and I shivered. At that moment, I was glad Mom had made me start wearing training bras even though I hated them. I turned my attention back to the men. Funny. The rain didn’t seem to bother them.
The truck driver looked to the sky. “If you think you can lift ’er, I can make it quick.”
Phil turned to me. “Helen, do you think your mother would let me borrow a towel to give me something dry to get a grip with?”
I didn’t answer but ran to the house and retrieved a bath towel.
“What on earth, Helen?” Mom said as I flew past her. She followed, but stayed on the porch, where Davey and Joey joined her.
I gave Phil the towel. He looked at the truck driver. “You ready?”
“Whenever you’re ready, mister.”
The truck driver dropped to his knees by the side of the truck.
“Okay mister, on three, you lift the front end, and I’ll duck under real quick.”
I heard thunder and saw a bolt of lightning in the distance. The rain was pouring again. I ran back to the porch and stood by my mom. I could see worry in her unblinking eyes, in the furrow of her brow.
Phil held the towel in his hands in such a way that it would be a cushion between his hands and the bumper.
“One, two, three.”
Phil lifted the truck, and the truck driver scooted under its cab. In a heartbeat all I could see was the sole of his boots. Phil was straining, taking deep breaths. I could see veins in his neck starting to pop out. His jaw was taut. The rain fell in torrents. I was freezing, shaking like a leaf.
Through gritted teeth, Phil grunted, “Best hurry!”
“Just a minute. I think I can see the problem.”
Phil took a deep breath and lifted the truck a tiny bit higher. His shirt stuck to his body. I could see exactly where all his scars were. His face was red as the poppies that grew along the fence in our back yard.
“I said, best hurry, man!” Phil’s lips were pulled back, exposing his gritted teeth.
The truck driver ignored Phil’s pleas.
“Just a minute more...”
Now, Phil was shaking, his muscles giving out against the strain. I wondered if he was thinking about why he offered to do such a thing.
“Come. Out. Now!” Phil yelled.
“Hold on one more minute. I’m almost...”
Phil lost his grip on the truck, and it crashed back down to the pavement. The truck driver went silent. He said nothing more and stopped moving his old boots. There was no sound at all except the rain against the pavement.
Phil tried to lift the truck back up. He looked frightened, his eyes wide-crazy-looking-and his face pale. Unable to lift the truck again, he paced back and forth in front of the broken-down old heap.
“Oh, God. What have I done? What have I done?” He pulled at his hair as he paced.
My mom’s mouth was wide open in silent horror. I felt like I was going to throw up. Davey peeked out from behind Mom’s skirt. Joey sucked his thumb, something he hadn’t done in years.
Mom snapped out of it first. In a quiet, very calm voice, she said, “Helen, go in and place a call to Dr. Allen. Tell him to come quick.”
I hurried into the house, glancing over my shoulder in time to see Phil on his knees, trying to look under the truck, trying to use his mighty strength to lift the truck by its axle.
I found Dr. Allen’s number on the pad of emergency numbers Mom kept underneath the phone. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely dial.
“Dr. Allen’s office. This is Ruthie.”
“Ruthie, it’s Helen Simmons. We need the doctor to come to our house right now!”
“Helen, slow down, honey. What’s happened?”
“A man got crushed by a truck. It’s really bad. Please tell the doctor to come quick.”
I heard her gasp. “My gosh, Helen. I’ll send him right over.”
I hung up and went out to report to my mom. By this time, Phil was back out from under the truck. He was sobbing, his shoulders shaking and chest heaving. There was no movement of the truck driver’s feet, which were still sticking out from under the truck.
“Phil, come up here on the porch, out of the rain,” my mom called.
He ignored her, sliding down to the pavement with his back leaned up against the front of the truck and his knees pulled up in a tuck.
Mom shooed my brothers into the house and disappeared there briefly herself to retrieve an umbrella. She used it to keep the rain off her as she walked out our front sidewalk to where Phil sat as if he was in shock. I could hear her soothing tones.
“Phil, come up to the house. The doctor is on the way. There’s nothing that can be done for this man right now. It was an accident. An accident. We witnessed it. Please. Come up to the porch. You need to get out of this rain.”
Phil looked up at Mom, then slowly stood. I’ve never seen a human being look as sad as Big Phil looked in that moment. Together, Mom and the gentle giant came up to the porch. Phil would only sit on the steps.
“I’m going to call the constable because he’ll need to make some kind of report. There’ll be family to notify and such.”
Mom went into the house to make the call. Though it was still raining, I sat down by Phil on the steps and took his hand. He barely seemed to notice.
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Copyright © 2023 by Theresa Konwinski
