Miles to Go

Chapter 2-2

“Is that a fridge?” Toby asked, surprised.

“Yep, bottom drawer’s a freezer, top’s a fridge.”

“Damn, that’s cool!” Toby said, sincerely.

“If you slide that cover behind you, there’s a microwave, too.”

“Awesome,” Toby said. “Is there a bathroom on here, too?” he asked, halfway expecting Wayne to say yes.

“Not quite,” came the reply as he reached into a compartment in the console to pull out a thick white plastic bag. It said Travel John on the front.

“What the hell is that?” Toby asked.

“It’s made for pilots of small planes. You pee in it and it instantly turns the pee into crystals and it won’t leak out and it won’t stink. You just toss it in the trash when you stop.”

“You’re shittin’ me, right?”

Wayne laughed and said, “No, I’m not and it don’t work for shittin’. For that, you gotta stop somewhere.” Wayne put the truck in gear and told Toby to hit the red and yellow knobs to release the parking brakes. The loud release of air complete, Wayne eased the truck forward a few feet and stopped. As he climbed out of the cab, he told Toby he had to do one last check of the locking pins and make sure the trailer was perfectly secured. He was back in a minute and the trip began in earnest. Wayne steered the big rig through the factory’s parking lot and out onto the highway. They had about an hour’s drive on local highways before they’d catch I-40 that’d take them to Knoxville.

Toby liked the view from riding high up in the truck. He could see way down the road, over the tops of the cars and far off into the fields and farms they passed. “I like sitting high up like this,” he said.

“Yeah, you’ll see some s**t from up here.”

“Like what?”

“People are just fuckin’ weird and crazy. You’ll be drivin’ down the road and some lady will flash her t**s at you.”

“No kiddin’?”

“Nope. And I guaran-damn-tee you, you’ll see at least one guy beating his meat on this trip.”

“No way,” Toby said, genuinely shocked.

“Yes way. I guess some guys will just do it anywhere. And they know we can see in from up here and they don’t hide it or nothin’. You may see some guy getting’ a blowjob, too. Not as common, but it happens.”

“Holy s**t,” Toby said. “I knew I’d see some new things on this trip but wasn’t expectin’ any of that.” They both laughed.

The truck was loud, but not so loud they couldn’t talk normally. It was also kind of bouncy and swaying but the seats were comfortable and had their own suspension, so Toby felt like he was being rocked a little bit. He wondered if he might have trouble staying awake, especially when the sun was warm.

“Whaddya say we get to know each other a lil bit?” Wayne suggested.

“Okay,” Toby answered, unsure exactly how.

“I’ll ask you somethin’ then you ask me, cool?”

“Sure!”

“When’s your birthday?” Wayne started.

“November 15th, 1996,” Toby answered.

“Okay, so if it’s 2018,” Wayne tried to do the math in his head. “You’ll be twenty-two in November?”

“Right,” Toby confirmed.

“Your turn,” Wayne said.

“When’s your birthday?”

“October 14th, 1995,” Wayne answered.

“Wow,” Toby said, smiling. “We’re born one year, one month and one day apart.”

“Well, f**k. That’s kinda cool,” Wayne said. “Okay, my turn. Hmm, what’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously?” Toby asked, laughing. “We in third grade or somethin’?” Wayne laughed too. “I guess green since my truck is dark green. My turn. What’s your favorite memory?”

“Oh lawd, we goin’ deep, now, are we? Hmm, lemme think a second. Oh, I know. Fishin’ with my grampa. When I was little, he used to take me all the time. He started having problems with his hip when I was about twelve. We haven’t fished much since. Okay, who’s in your family?”

“Well,” Toby started, “you met my mama. My dad lives in South Carolina—on Patchetal Island.”

“It’s beautiful down there,” Wayne said. “Who else you got?”

“My Aunt Betsy—she’s my dad’s sister. She lives in Asheville. And Mama’s got a brother—Uncle Ted, who lives in Alaska. He worked for an oil company in Texas forever but then he took a job in Alaska last year. Can you imagine working up in fuckin’ Alaska. You ever watch that show Alaska State Troopers and see all the crazy s**t goes on up there?”

Wayne cracked up laughing. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. Gotta say, it’s a unique crowd of folks up there. No brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. Folks divorced when I was only about two. Guess they weren’t gettin’ along enough to make any more babies,” Toby said, smiling. “Who’s in your family?”

“Well, my folks, John and Peggy. My oldest sister, Sarah—she just finished medical school and she’s startin’ a residency in Charleston. My middle sister, Rebecca—she went to Clemson for two years. Met this knucklehead who was two years older and when he graduated, he got a job in Charlotte and she quit school to move with him. They got married last year and now she teaches fuckin’ yoga. My younger sister, Tonya—she’s a freshman at University of South Carolina in Columbia. Wants to be a teacher.”

“So, you’re the only one going into the family business? No college for you?”

“A little bit. After high school, my dad said if I wanted to take over the business, I had’a get a college degree in business. I didn’t really wanna. We compromised. I took classes at our community college and drove trucks around my class schedule. I finished an Associate’s Degree in business last year. It ain’t a four-year degree, but I think it gives me enough to go on. Okay, my turn. What’s your mom and dad do for work?”

“Pop’s a boat mechanic. Works on diesel boat engines—mostly fishin’ boats,” Toby explained.

“That’s mostly what everybody has on Pachetal, ain’t it?”

“Yep,” Toby confirmed. “Mama’s on disability. Her kidneys are shot. She was a clerk at an auto parts warehouse the whole time I was growin’ up. About three years ago she started getting’ sick. Her feet and ankles got all swolled up, she was exhausted all the time, couldn’t hardly sleep ever, then she started havin’ trouble breathin’. She’d say she’s not one to run to the doctor for ever’ lil thing, but finally, she couldn’t deny that somethin’ was wrong. Turns out she had diabetes, prolly had it for years and never did nothin’ about it. Now her kidneys don’t work and she has to have dialysis every week. Her eyesight ain’t great—especially at night, and there’s time’s her feet hurt like the dickens.”

“Damn,” Wayne said. “That sounds rough as s**t. What’s gonna make her better?”

“A kidney transplant is all that’ll work. Me’n my Uncle Ted both been tested to see if we could donate, but neither’s a match. We’re havin’ a little trouble gettin’ her on the transplant list. Docs are havin’ to do a bunch of extra work cuz it looks like she didn’t take care of her diabetes, but she just didn’t know she had it. They say there’s just some process they have to go through and then she’ll get on the list. Meanwhile, the dialysis is supposed to do what her kidneys should be doin’.”

“That’s wild how they can take somebody’s heart or lungs or eyeballs and just drop ‘em into another person. My sister Sarah wants to be a surgeon and she’s thinkin’ either a trauma surgeon or a transplant surgeon. Wouldn’t it be wild if Sarah put a new kidney in your mama?”

“Don’t it take a long time to become a surgeon?” Toby asked.

“Yeah, Sarah’s doin’ a three-year residency in emergency medicine. She says she’ll be lookin’ at probably another four-year residency for general surgery and another year to focus specifically on transplant surgery.”

“So, like eight years?” Toby asked.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

“Mama’ll be dead by then.”

“Seriously?” Wayne asked. “This s**t’ll kill her if she don’t get a new kidney?”

“It can. Doc says she could live five to ten years on dialysis but, and he told her he’s jus’ bein’ honest, he said after seven, she’s prolly gonna wanna give up. Plus, once you’ve been on for too long, you’re usually so sick they take you off the list anyhow, so you’re jus’ basically fucked.”

“Damn, Toby. That really sucks. You scared for her?”

“Not too much, not yet. She’s doin’ okay for now. Plus, she’s not worried. She’s super religious and she’s a hundred percent sure God’s gonna take care of her somehow.”

“Is she like Jesus loves you-religious? Or more like speakin’ in tongues and snake handlin’-religious?” Wayne asked, smiling.

Toby laughed. “Not quite either. She’s just in church every Sunday mornin’ and Wednesday evenin’ and always prayin’ and readin’ the Bible. She only listens to Christian music. She’s always doin’ stuff with the church ladies—gatherin’ up clothes or food for the poor people and helpin’ with the spaghetti dinner to raise money for new choir robes an’ s**t like that.”

“So, you too? Pretty religious?”

“Not so much. I mean, I always go to church with her on Sundays, but I don’t seem to be as afflicted with it as she is,” Toby said.

Wayne cracked up again. “Afflicted with it?” he asked, laughing even harder.

Toby laughed too. “Yeah, afflicted with it. What ‘bout you. You a church goin’ man?”

“Never been in one other than for weddings, funerals and christenings.”

“Seriously?” Toby asked. “You believe in God?”

“Seriously. I do believe in God. My folks taught us about God and Jesus and we always say grace at dinner. I pray—sometimes. Can’t say I’ve read the Bible. My folks didn’t like their religions so we just never went to church. I think what happened was when they were getting’ married—they got a lot of s**t because one of them’s Baptist and one of them’s Methodist and those two groups don’t much like each other. Somethin’ like that just got them both all turned off of church.”

“I get that,” Toby said.

“Okay, my turn again. What kind of music you like?” Wayne asked.

“I’ll listen to almost anything. I like rock, pop, a little country—if it ain’t too hard core—jazz, classical, dance music, gospel music, folk—just not much into rap or hip-hop. What ‘bout you?”

“Pretty much the same. Some country is okay with me. Some I can’t stand. How you feel about some ole Southern rock?”

“What you mean Southern rock?”

“Um,” Wayne said, thinking, “you know bands like Eddie Money, the Doobie Brothers, Allman Brothers—groups like that.”