Thirteen
Craig
“I should have the CPR thing sorted out this weekend.”
My vocational counselor typed away at her keyboard, just “hmming” in response. The six-inch succulent planted in the gray unglazed pot on her desk looked withered. In the corner of the room, a variegated snake leaf was browning.
“So that means I can try that safety job, right?” I asked.
Picking up a pen she began chewing on the end while she scrolled through computer screens. “Well, let me see.”
Snake leaf is a very hardy houseplant with tall shiny green and yellow leaves. It takes a ton of neglect to kill it. Succulents are the other go to low–to–no maintenance office plant.
“It looks like the listing is still active, so yeah, we can do that. I’ll print you out the reference number so you can fill out the online app once you have the course certificate.”
“Great. Thanks for that.” The printer began humming. It was the same note my counselor hummed. For a moment I thought I should try and remember her name, and then decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
“Craig.”
I stopped picking at my fingernails and looked up. The woman, really just a girl with a piece of paper on the wall who’d never turned a wrench in her life, was tapping her tooth gnarled pen against a yellow pad.
“Craig.” She said my name again trying to be sympathetic, or convincing, and was neither. “Have you given any thought about what you are going to do if this interview doesn’t work out?”
The tip of my middle finger nail rubbed back and forth against the pad of my thumb while I stared at her. The finger nail was sharp and could use a trim. “Apply for the next job.”
She sighed and stopped tapping her pen. “We’ve been through the list, and I am running out of classification categories. Pretty soon you are going to be back applying to places you’ve applied to before.”
“Then they are going to get tired of seeing my application.” The soil in the snake leaf’s pot was dry and brittle.
A heavy gust from the heating system could blow it away.
One of the leaf clusters was cocked at an angle, a sure sign that the soil was so degraded the roots had nothing to moor the plant in.
“You might want to think about filing for disability.”
Refusing to lean on my cane as I stood up, an electric stab shot up from the heel of my foot.
My face betrayed me as a grimace rippled across my lips.
Now on my feet, I responded, measuring my words.
“If you are worried about me not getting this job after I pass the training then I think you should look at the listings and identify something else that fits within my transferable skills and physician recommendations,” using rehab speak so she would understand.
“You can email them to me if my coming down here is taking too much time away from your other tasks.” Like watering your plants.
“Craig,” she said my name again as if it was going to change something, “I think you just need to make sure you are considering all your options.”
Considering something that wasn’t going to happen wasn’t a worthwhile activity.
Driving a truck straight down a mountain wouldn’t get the load of logs to the highway, it just made a mess.
That’s why there were switchbacks, paths that took longer but accomplished the task within the ability of the equipment.
I just needed a map with the switchbacks on it.
Something that showed more than just the interstates.
And this girl with the expensive paper degree framed on the wall was supposed to be drawing me that map.
That’s what she went to school for. It wasn’t what she was doing.
It was so much easier fixing a flat tire or broken chain, or even dealing with a steep grade.
You just geared down and got things done.
All this people stuff was the reason I missed the trees.
Sighing, I gripped the handle of my cane, finally letting my arm take some of the weight off my twitching leg.
On the desk was a glossy pamphlet covered in fabric and paper trees.
In the foreground of the photograph a spotted white and black cow tap danced between the trees.
A crazy cow prancing through a forest. I felt sick and alive at the same time.
Why was the dancing cow from my repeating dreams on a pamphlet?
Instead of running from my dream, I reached out and turned the trifold pamphlet over.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s a dinner theater my husband took me to last week.”
Across the front of the cover was printed “Liberty Lake PlayHouse” and at the bottom, “Into the Woods.” And there were woods, and odd characters peeking out from behind the trees.
The characters looked out from the protection of the trunks and sheltering branches.
One particularly scruffy looking fellow was waving to the viewer to join them in the woods.
“Dinner theater?”
“Uh, yea. They serve you dinner while you watch the play. It’s a classic, and the production was decent even if it’s mostly high school kids.”
Dinner. And a stage. And lights. And a crazy dancing cow. And trees. Shoving the pamphlet into my pocket I turned to go. “I’m going to borrow this.”
“Sure. We went last week. I think it’s still going on.”
On my way out the door I turned back to look at this mousey woman who had so much control over my future. “Don’t forget to send me the safety supervisor application information.”
“Okay.” She said, turning back to chewing her pen cap. “Good luck.”
Luck was for people who didn’t know how to work. I didn’t need luck. I just needed a break. A Hispanic youth with a mop of curly dark hair and an arm in a sling sat in the waiting room. He looked at my cane and the ugly black plastic around my calf and started to breathe hard.
“Don’t worry. She can’t hurt or help you,” I grunted in passing.
Stopped in the parking lot, I leaned against the wheel well of my truck and pulled the pamphlet out of my pocket.
The cow was still dancing. Unfolding the pamphlet revealed the dates, directions, and a small menu.
Herb steak was the top entree. I folded it closed again so I could stop hyperventilating.
This was really really wrong. I dreamed about Rilee and then she was there.
Or maybe my earlier dreams had morphed to include her, giving definitive shape to her.
But dancing cows in stage lights, and steak, and Rilee, all together, that’s just a weird dream.
Until it’s not. Until it shows up in waking life.
I opened the pamphlet again, not looking at the cow this time.
The last three dates were next Friday, Saturday and Sunday.
And the price was expensive, especially for an unemployed truck driver, but not exorbitant.
There was a phone number and I called it, but it was just a message service directing tickets sales online.
I couldn’t make my phone work correctly to operate the ordering system and chucked the stupid machine onto the seat of my pickup.
I’d do this at home. I left the advertisement spread open on the seat next to me as I drove.
At each stop light I looked at the calming colors of the forest in contrast to the frantic faces of the actors.
This was crazy. Rilee had entirely ignored me at the game last night.
Not even a smile or a wink. Maybe a wink was too much to expect.
The website was more functional on the home computer.
This weekend and next Friday were sold out, but there were four seats left for Saturday and two for the Sunday matinee.
Only old people eat a steak dinner at two in the afternoon.
And two o’clock on a Sunday took the whole day.
What if Rilee had something going on Saturday?
I could text her and ask? But it was really easy to say no over text, and Jackie said I texted like I was eighty. I would just have to ask her tomorrow.
But there were only four seats left. They could be gone by tomorrow afternoon.
Probably would be. This was idiotic. We’d been on a single non–date.
What I was doing wasn’t dumb, it was insane.
I put two tickets in the cart. At checkout a box popped up demanding I choose the entree.
Steak, chicken, or grilled portobello. Ordering dinner for someone who hadn’t said yes was beyond insane.
I chose steak, for both of us, and checked out before I could have second thoughts.
As the confirmation email hit my inbox, I blew out the breath I’d been holding and ran my hands through my hair.
I was sweating like a pig and hadn’t done anything hard at all.
Tomorrow was going to be a beast. Sit through the long class.
Pass the practical exam. Ask Rilee out again. All without losing my shit.