CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The insurance check arrived several weeks later on a Thursday morning. The envelope looked too ordinary to hold the money meant to replace the truck Wes had loved.
Wes stood at the kitchen counter and turned the check over in his good hand. His mother poured coffee beside him and waited for him to say something.
“Is that the insurance check?” his mother asked.
“Yeah,” Wes replied.
“Is it enough for another truck?” his mother asked as she set the coffee pot down.
“It’s enough,” Wes replied after looking at the number again.
“Then why do you look like they sent you a bill?” his mother asked.
Wes sat at the table and placed the check in front of him. He had known the money was coming, but seeing it made the accident feel close again.
“I don’t know,” Wes admitted. “It’s weird.”
“Because you had to lose the other one to get it?” his mother asked as she slid another cup of coffee toward him.
Wes looked at her. His mother already knew the answer, but she waited for him to give it anyway.
“Yeah,” Wes replied.
The check could buy another truck. It could not separate itself from twisted metal, hospital lights, or Bee crying in Grandma’s house.
Wes picked up the coffee instead. The check stayed on the table between them.
“Are you depositing it today?” his mother asked.
“I should,” Wes replied.
“Then do it before you stare at that paper until lunchtime,” his mother said.
“That was the plan,” Wes said, almost smiling.
His phone lit up beside the check. Wes expected another TikTok notification, but the alert came from his bank.
The creator payment had been deposited overnight. He stared at the amount long enough to wonder whether he had read it wrong.
“What happened now?” his mother asked after taking another drink of coffee.
“TikTok paid me,” Wes replied.
“Good,” his mother said.
Wes did not move. His mother lowered her cup when he continued staring at the screen.
“Wesley, did they pay you or charge you?” his mother asked.
“They paid me,” Wes replied.
“Then why are you making that face?” his mother asked.
“That’s a lot of money for talking,” Wes said as he turned the phone toward her.
His mother took the phone and stared at the screen. She looked at Wes, then checked the number again.
“I’ve been talking for free my entire life,” his mother said.
Wes laughed. The sound came easier than he expected.
“Apparently that was your first mistake,” Wes replied.
“I need a TikTok,” his mother said as she pushed the phone back toward him.
“No,” Wes said.
“You don’t even know what I would post,” his mother argued.
“That’s why I said no,” Wes replied.
“Ungrateful,” his mother said into her coffee.
Wes looked from the creator payment to the insurance check. The two amounts changed the thought that had been sitting in the back of his mind.
He could replace the truck without waiting to return to work, borrowing money, or taking on a payment. Wes picked up the check again. The paper still felt connected to everything he had lost, but now it also gave him a choice.
“I’m buying a truck,” Wes said.
“Today?” his mother asked.
“Yeah,” Wes replied.
“You decided that fast,” his mother said.
“I decided weeks ago,” Wes replied. “I just didn’t have the money.”
His mother glanced at his shoulder. The sling had come off the week before, and his doctor had cleared him to drive short distances. She still watched him whenever he reached for a set of keys.
“I’m going with you,” his mother said.
“I can go by myself,” Wes replied.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” his mother said. “I said I’m going.”
“Then I’m driving,” Wes said as he looked toward her keys.
“Wesley,” his mother warned.
“The doctor cleared me,” Wes reminded her.
“The doctor didn’t clear you to argue with me before breakfast,” his mother replied.
“I’m kidding,” Wes said as he reached for her keys.
“You’d better be,” his mother replied as she took them first.
The bank took less time than Wes expected. Ten minutes at the counter turned the insurance check into a number in his account.
The speed of it bothered him. Losing the truck had taken seconds, and replacing the money attached to it took only a signature.
His mother did not rush him when they returned to the car. She waited until Wes reached for the passenger door before unlocking it.
“I thought I was driving,” Wes said.
“You thought wrong,” his mother replied.
“The dealership isn’t far,” Wes said.
“Then you won’t have long to complain,” his mother replied as she opened the driver’s door.
Wes got into the passenger seat. He had borrowed his mother’s car often enough that it no longer felt strange, but it had never felt like his.
His old truck came back to him before they left the parking lot. He remembered late-night snack runs, waiting outside stores, and Bee singing out loud to her songs.
The memory tightened his chest. Wes looked out the window until the feeling passed.
He had stopped checking Bee’s page every day. He had not stopped thinking about her, but the thoughts no longer interrupted everything else.
His mother kept the radio low during the drive. She did not ask where his mind had gone.
The dealership lot held rows of trucks beneath the bright morning sun. Wes followed his mother past polished windshields until a salesman approached them.
“Good morning,” the salesman said. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“A truck,” Wes replied after glancing across the lot.
“You came to the right place,” the salesman said with a laugh.
“That’s good,” Wes replied.
His mother looked away to hide a smile. The salesman seemed to realize that Wes was not interested in a long speech.
He asked about four-wheel drive and cab size. He also asked about towing and how Wes planned to use the truck. Wes answered each question while they moved deeper into the lot.
They stopped in front of a dark gray truck with a crew cab and clean lines. The untouched paint reflected the sky along the doors.
“This one came in last week,” the salesman said. “It has the towing package you wanted.”
Wes walked around it slowly. He checked the bed, the tires, and the space behind the front seats before looking through the driver’s window.
“Can I drive it?” Wes asked.
“Absolutely,” the salesman replied.
Wes handed the salesman his license. His mother looked at Wes before turning toward the truck.
“You said the doctor cleared you,” his mother said.
“He did,” Wes replied.
“I’m still coming,” his mother said.
“There’s plenty of room,” the salesman said as he looked between them.
Wes climbed behind the wheel while his mother took the back seat. The salesman sat beside him and explained the controls.
The engine started with a low rumble. Wes rested both hands on the steering wheel and adjusted his grip until his shoulder felt comfortable.
The truck moved smoothly through the lot. Once they reached the road, the salesman stopped talking long enough for Wes to hear the engine and feel how it handled.
The cab had more room than his old truck. The ride was steadier, and the steering felt lighter beneath his hands.
Wes turned onto a side road and pressed the gas. The truck responded without hesitation.
“Don’t get excited,” his mother warned from the back seat.
“I’m testing it,” Wes replied.
“Test it slower,” his mother said.
The salesman looked out his window and tried not to laugh. Wes eased off the gas before his mother could say anything else.
When they returned to the dealership, Wes stayed behind the wheel. The engine idled while he pictured the truck sitting in his driveway.
“What do you think?” the salesman asked.
“I like it,” Wes replied.
“That makes my job easier,” the salesman said.
“Ask him the price before you fall in love,” his mother said as she leaned between the front seats.
“I know how buying things works,” Wes said.
“You’ve never bought a brand-new truck,” his mother reminded him.
“Neither have you,” Wes replied.
“That has never stopped me from having an opinion,” his mother said.
The salesman laughed openly that time. Wes shut off the engine and handed him the keys.
Inside the dealership, the salesman pulled up the final price. He turned the screen so Wes could see every number.
The insurance settlement covered most of it. The creator payment gave Wes enough to handle the rest without a loan.
“What monthly payment are you hoping to stay around?” the salesman asked.
“None,” Wes replied.
“How much are you putting down?” the salesman asked after a brief pause.
“All of it,” Wes said. “I’m paying in full.”
“No financing?” the salesman asked.
“No financing,” Wes replied.
“You’ll still have money left?” his mother asked after checking the total again.
“Yes,” Wes said.
“Enough to pay your mother for chauffeuring you?” she asked.
“No,” Wes replied.
“Add a fee,” his mother told the salesman.
“Don’t listen to her,” Wes said.
The salesman smiled and started the paperwork. Wes read each page before signing it.
For weeks, Wes had needed rides and help getting dressed. His mother had reminded him to take his medication. Doctors had controlled when he could return to almost everything else.
The purchase did not fix his shoulder or change what happened with Bee. It returned one piece of independence he had missed.
His mother stayed until the payment cleared and the salesman brought out the final papers. Once Wes had the keys, she picked up her purse.
“I’m taking my car home,” his mother said. “Try not to race me.”
“You couldn’t keep up,” Wes replied.
“You still live in my house,” his mother said as she pointed at him.
“I know,” Wes said.
“Remember that before you get brave,” she replied.
Wes watched her leave through the dealership doors. He finished the last signatures on his own.
“Congratulations,” the salesman said as he stood and offered his hand.
“Thanks,” Wes replied as he shook it.
The salesman placed the keys in his palm. Wes closed his fingers around them and felt their weight.
Outside, the dark gray truck waited near the front of the lot. Wes unlocked it and climbed into the driver’s seat.