Long haul

Tom stretched his back after completing the last of his post-trip check of the trailer and standing up. One of the ratchet straps over the tarpaulin and lumber had come a little loose, which he'd fixed immediately, but this back right tire was also a bit underinflated. He grunted. Courtesy of Benton County's potholes, no doubt, he thought. Well, he'd have to put some air in it in the morning over at the Love's across the way. One final check mark and his signature and the DVIR for the night was done.

The overhead lights were just coming on and Janyce, one of the local lot lizards, was starting to make her rounds, dressed lightly against the residual heat of the late summer day. Tom had met Janyce a few years before in this very same spot when she approached his truck to ply her trade. While he had never engaged her services, they had become casual acquaintances with one another and always passed at least a smile and a wave.

Tom hadn't always been a driver. Nor had his name always been Tom. But one dishonorable discharge from the Navy and a stint with alcoholism later, and this is where he had ended up. It was a good life: it paid the bills, he got to set his own hours and see the country, and in six months, after his Rhonda retired, she’d be on the road with him full time. He smiled at the thought as he climbed back into the dark red tractor, glad that he’d left the windows cracked to let the breeze in, and shuffled between seats into the sleeper cab area.

Reaching into a cupboard behind the passenger seat he pulled out his last jar of beef stew, lovingly canned for him by Rhonda a few months before, and popped it into the mini microwave. Whirring and buzzing, the green lights on its face counting down. As it heated, he set up his laptop to watch a few episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine before dozing off for the night. Tomorrow he’d leave Prosser and start the slow crawl towards Everett on the last leg of his three-week trip, it promised to be a long and exhausting day.

They’d said it couldn’t be done, but they didn’t know his Rhonda. Rhonda had done it and made it work: she had canned chocolate cake for him to take on the road. As he settled in against the back of his bunk, warm, gooey chocolate cake in hand and the last of “By the Pale Moonlight” playing on his laptop, movement out the front window caught his eye. He had not yet drawn the curtains between the sleeper compartment and the truck's cab so he could clearly see Janyce in the lights of the parking lot as she made her way into the women's restroom - seemingly unaware of the two men following her in.

Tom swore as he practically threw the jar of cake back into the microwave for safekeeping and shoved his feet back into boots. He stopped only long enough to grab the solid wood tire thumper from behind the driver's seat. By the time he’d made it to the restroom door, his bad left knee complaining loudly at his speed, he could hear shouting, dull thumps, and cries of pain.

He charged through the door and took in the scene before him: Janyce on the floor, her tall, lithe frame folded and cowering under the line of stained, white porcelain sinks, angular face bloodied, perfectly coiffed dark hair now a mess. Two men, both in baseball caps and larger than Tom’s 5’6” frame, were yelling slurs and insults and they were brutally kicking at her. Their ferocity startled Tom, but he didn’t hesitate and waded in. The first swing of the tire thumper took out the back of the knee of the assailant to Tom’s right while he was mid-kick, and he toppled, shocked, to the floor. Not stopping his momentum, Tom completed the arc and his second swing uppercut the one on the left, whipping his head back and catching him on the lower right side of his jaw, most likely breaking it. Tom heard the squeaky hinges of the door behind him but didn’t turn around. Instead, he aimed his own kick at the ribs of the first attacker, now scrambling to get up, but was heaved off balance by a wildly thrown punch from broken-jaw. His own bad left knee giving out as he tried to recover, Tom ended up on the floor, bruising his tailbone with the fall. The two assailants, seeing an opening, slammed out the door and into the night.

“Please don’t call the cops!” Janyce gasped, clearly in pain. Tom said nothing as he tried to catch his own breath and collect his thoughts. Too full of adrenalin at the moment, he knew he was going to pay for this in the morning. The words were hardly out of her mouth when Tom heard sirens in the distance, drawing nearer. Janyce looked up at him, eyes wide with fear and shock. He shook his head; he hadn’t called them. Tom was able to stand and helped Janyce to her feet, the tire thumper forgotten on the floor where it had clattered underneath the dividers and into the first stall when Tom had fallen.

Janyce thought to try and escape before the police and ambulance showed up, but she wasn’t quick enough and they were met by multiple officers and bright lights as they exited the restroom. “Hands up! Hands up!” several yelled. Tom let go of Janyce’s arm and put his arms in the air. Janyce swayed on her feet and clutched at a rib. There was a lot of confusion and noise with questions and orders being shouted all at once. An officer roughly handcuffed Tom’s hands behind his back and shoved Tom into the backseat of a patrol car.

He sat there for what seemed like hours and watched as the police questioned Janyce while the medic tended to her obvious wounds. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could tell that she was uncomfortable by the way she stood and seemed to hesitantly provide answers. The large bald man asking the questions seemed terse and mocking under the lot lights. It was a harsh scene. After what felt like ages, baldy made his way over to the car, pulled Tom out, spun him roughly around, and unlocked the cuffs.

“He says you saved him,” said the cop, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards Janyce, now wrapped in a blanket and being more thoroughly tended to by the medic. Tom rubbed at his wrists.

“She,” Tom corrected the cop. He didn’t pretend to understand anything about gender or this transgender business or any of that, but if Janyce said she was a woman and used “she,” then that was good enough for Tom. The cop stared at him blankly.

“Tell me everything,” said the officer, pen poised over this notebook.

Tom relayed how he’d been finishing up his dinner when out the front window of his tractor he’d seen two men head into the restroom after Janyce. He didn’t shy away from the fact that he’d grabbed the tire thumper, something he kept in his truck as both tool and weapon for when the case warranted it, such as tonight. Tom explained the sequence of events, and described the two assailants as best he could, given how fast everything had happened.

The cop looked a little skeptical. “You sure he wasn’t in there just trying to turn a trick that went bad?” He raised an eyebrow. It was clear the officer was trying to rope Tom onto his side and wanted to paint Janyce as the problem here. Tom leveled his gaze at the officer and blinked, not saying anything. The silence between them stretched and lengthened and became awkward, but still Tom said nothing. A warm night breeze ruffled Tom’s curly hair as if to try and provide some relief from the tension. Tom shrugged internally to himself. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d been arrested, and Tom would be damned if he’d let the officer be disrespectful or include Tom in his misrepresentations.

“Sorry, she” the cop sneered the word, derisive, the silence finally broken.

“I have no moral judgements about whatever she may do for money, if that’s what you’re trying to get me to say,” Tom replied evenly. “But, no, she wasn’t in there for any other reason that to use the restroom.” Tom had no idea if this were true or not, and honestly didn’t care.

Just then another officer strode up, this one tall, lanky, and young, bright faced, not yet worn by the world. “We got the video, it’s exactly like the caller said. The vic walked in, two guys followed, screams and shouting, then he shows up,” the lanky one nodded in Tom’s direction, “and soon the perps are seen running for the hills.” Baldy raised an eyebrow and looked side-eyed at Tom.

“Does this mean I can go finish my dinner now?” Tom asked. Baldy grunted and turned away.

Tom headed over to where the medic was asking Janyce if she was sure she didn’t want to get checked out at the hospital. Janyce just shook her head. The medic eyed Janyce’s ribs one last time and gave up, heading back to the front of the ambulance. Soon they were alone in the parking lot.

“I just can’t afford it, y’know?” Janyce asked Tom. “And it’s probably just bruised anyhow.” Tom nodded but didn’t say anything. He did know. “Mostly minor cuts and scratches, a split lip, but nothing serious probably” she answered his unasked question. “Anyhow, thanks so much for saving me tonight, I don’t know what shape I’d be in if you hadn’t of shown up when you did.”

“Anytime,“ Tom said softly. He’d have to get a new tire thumper; this one had been collected by the police and was unlikely to be returned.

“I called my son to come pick me up, he’ll be here in half an hour or so.” Janyce’s voice brought his thoughts back to the present.

“Come on, we’ll wait in my truck,” Tom said, nodding towards his rig. “I’ve got cake .”

They made their way slowly over and Tom helped Janyce up into the passenger seat. After he got in, he locked the doors, just in case. Tom closed his laptop, hit “start” on the microwave, and grabbed a plastic bowl out of the cupboard. When it was warmed up again, he put half the chocolate cake in the bowl and handed it to Janyce, along with a bottle of water and some Tylenol.

Gingerly, careful of her split lip, she took down the pain meds and then tried a bite of the cake. “Mmmmmm” she moaned, eyes rolling back.

“I know, right?” Tom replied with a grin. “They said it couldn’t be done, that you couldn’t can cake, but they don’t know my Rhonda, and chocolate cake can help fix anything.”

Rhonda’s Chocolate Cake in a jar

1/2 cup cocoa powder

1 cup flour

3/4 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon instant coffee

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup water

1/3 cup vegetable or canola oil

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Chocolate chips to taste (optional)

Grease or spray cooking oil in half pint jars. Mix all dry ingredients and all wet ingredients separately, then combine. Fill each jar half full of batter and place on a cookie sheet, bake 30 minutes at 350 degrees. Put warmed rings and lids on immediately after removing jars from the oven and let cool. Yields about 5 half pint jars.