Thruway Kevin Leahy
Southwest of Rochester, Frank pulled into a
through the diesel fumes. It should have been enough to
Sunoco off the New York State Thruway. He could not
puncture his dark mood, but all it did was remind him he
remember why he’d agreed to take Claire’s bedroom
should have been home raking leaves or weeding. If he
set to Cleveland, but lately he’d been talked into a lot of
let himself enjoy any part of this trip, he risked losing the
things he didn’t want. Like last month, when he’d leased
righteous anger that sustained him. After two months with no contact from Claire, last
this pickup. He’d told the salesman he was looking for a sedan, but the young man at the Ford dealership was
Thursday Frank received a call on his landline from a
earnest and sympathetic (having recently been sepa-
Richard in Cleveland claiming to be her friend. He’d been
rated himself, he said), and after the salesman spent an
trimming plastic nubs from the gunwales of his new USS
hour guiding Frank through the lot to the showroom
Indiana model in his basement, and was so engrossed
to the management offices, leaving his side only to get
that he barely noticed the intrusion until his answering
him a break on price, Frank felt he had no choice but to
machine beeped.
take the truck. For days afterward he drove around with
“Put her on the phone,” Frank said.
a little ball of lead riding in his chest, but it was only a thirty-six-month lease, so what was the big deal.
“She’s at work,” said the flat voice on the other end of the line. “She wanted me to talk for her.” At that, Frank held the receiver away from his face
He pulled up to the pump, behind a huge silver truck mounted on oversize tires. He put the gas nozzle into
and took a deep breath. The X-Acto knife in his other
the tank, locked the trigger on, and saw the tarpaulin
hand had a suggestive heft to it.
had come undone at both rear corners of his truck bed.
“Tell her to call me herself.”
At least nothing had fallen out: four fluted bedposts,
“Look, all she wants is her grandmother’s bedroom
the cherry brown chest and attendant brassware, all
set.”
accounted for. Frank took the tarp in both hands and
“So tell her to come get it.”
straightened it with a snap, felt soothed by the slow way
There was a sigh and a long silence on the other end.
it draped across the frame, the headboard, the burled
Despite himself, Frank felt a twinge of sympathy for
panels stacked atop one another. He tied down the
Richard.
corners and lobbed a bag of bolts and washers into the
“We’ll give you two hundred dollars to bring it here.”
center, flattening its air pillow with a satisfying thunk. A
“Four hundred,” said Frank, surprised at his own
quarter mile back was a Christmas tree farm, and even
boldness. He immediately thought he should’ve said five
at a distance the crisp smell of pine and Douglas fir cut
hundred, since gas would cost at least seventy-five, but
photograph by Terry Knouff
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