The sound of a vehicle door closing woke me. It was dark out but the faint preview of predawn light was detectable. I heard an engine start and rolled over in bed to peek out the window even though I knew exactly who the vehicle belonged to. It was my next door neighbor Cal who was warming up the truck for a moment before leaving for work. He did track maintenance for a large regional railroad in the area and had to be there by 6 am.
I looked over at the red square outlines of the old digital clock. Why do I still own this? Believe it or not because it’s plugged in. That’s the only reason. I don’t have it in me to unplug the damn thing and get rid of it. It has this feature where you can program it to play a particular radio station as your alarm instead of the normal alarm sound. I did this for one day and woke up to a classic rock song I’ve heard a million times throughout my life. The experience made me fantasize about discharging a firearm into it. Now our only interaction is when I reset it after the occasional power outage, along with the stove and microwave clocks, having to remember how to reprogram them each time and cease their off-key blinking.
It was 5:02. He was late. Cal usually left the house no later than 4:47. You would think I would be used to this routine after years of being his neighbor but no. 11 years of waking up to his door closing and engine cranking. I gave up caring long ago, at least I don’t get mad about it anymore, and rolled over to fall back asleep until my alarm went off.
It was during this time I worked in the warehouse of a well-known logistics company loading trucks that would then go out to make residential and commercial deliveries. It was a simple job overall. Load the trucks, preferably in a manner the driver begrudgingly approved of. It was straightforward enough. The variables were the number of trucks you were assigned to load and the volume of incoming packages. Everyday was usually busy but not continuously. There was a certain ebb and flow to the whole thing. The packages entered the building through one of the many mouths of this vast warehouse and were gradually digested throughout various parts of the interior. They made their way through a mechanized small intestine that traveled all throughout the building, finally being routed to their general areas then deposited down the chute and onto the conveyor belt in the center to be loaded onto the trucks backed up to it.
The driver of one of my assigned trucks was memorable. He had been fired three times but would always get rehired somehow. I guess the company and him had found a way to work it out. He would usually come by the truck about 15 or 20 minutes before the shift ended and take a look around, getting a sense for what his route looked like that day. He would walk around the truck, look at the labels on oversized packages or bulk stops, and inspect my quality of work. Sometimes we would talk for a few minutes. I developed good rapport with him and one morning when he appeared I asked him why he’d been fired and he said it was for fighting. ‘I don’t take no shit man. Not from those fuckers in the office or other drivers. They try to put extra stops on my route. No way man. My route, my rules. Pretty much everyone here thinks I’m an asshole and honestly I don’t give a fuck. But I’m the only one who can drive this route so they can all go fuck themselves.’ He did have a disproportionately larger share of business stops than other drivers, and it was common for these stops to have lots of packages daily.
His last comment was casual and indifferent. I asked him why he bothered to keep coming back at all, since he seemed so angry all the time. He shrugged and shoved a box back further under a shelf to make more room in the narrow center walk way. Packages were everywhere to the point where it was hard to move around, a normal occurrence.
‘It’s a good job.’
It felt like he was responding to an unvocalized question posed from somewhere within himself. I nodded silently, not in agreement or dissent. It’s turning out that the best response to everything in life is silence, with the occasional incisive question when required. After awhile you begin to realize there’s little to say. You talk when you need to, knowing the words are utilitarian sounds uttered to accomplish a particular thing. Eventually the amusement of hearing one’s own voice both in vocal and thought form gets old and wears out. And that’s fine. Anything that needs to be urgently communicated doesn’t come from speech but specific actions instead, often for little or unknown reasons. It originates from an unseen place, like a mountain spring flowing from an unassuming rock.
I did my thing. I did it every day for the time that I was there, which was just the season. I’ve never been anywhere too long. And I think about the people I meet at places who have. Where did the years go? Who stole the years of my life? Wait how did you put all that time in? The longest job I’ve ever held is my own life. Some days it’s my favorite and some days it’s not. It can get tiring and wear on you though. I think about how cool it would be for the part of me I think of as me to leave my body completely and float around doing what I like to do, while my body goes on doing whatever it’s doing, no one suspecting anything, not knowing I have permanently fled and will only return once in awhile to make sure the illusion is still there for the benefit of others. Unbothered at last, I can roam the earth and solve the insane puzzle that is life and see what happens next.
But for now I keep going because I don’t know how to do that yet. But in the back of my mind I think about those people, it doesn’t matter who they are or were, that abandoned their lives for something else, whatever that was. They may have taken up residence in caves or on mountaintops. Or figured out something else completely and live on the busiest corner of the biggest city, undisturbed. Not necessarily free from the things that have a near undefeated record of turning into problems but able to understand them in a way that neutralizes them. A bite from a defanged creature may still hurt but doesn’t have the same effect.
I think about the prevailing arrangement. The ad hoc organization of life; lurching, grasping, going a few steps forward then backward, finding a temporary equilibrium, abandoning it for a new one, the process repeating ad infinitum. I don’t think a human was supposed to live like this. It just so happened that that is how things have come to be, not by choice or even consensus so much as the result of millennia of ignorant blundering, a byproduct of other factors, not right or wrong, an all-encompassing and continual misapprehension of what life is. And I’ve seen what has happened to subscribers of this or any established protocol because I’m living through it right now. One sees everyone around them following the same patterns and without realizing it proceeds to follow them as well. You paint yourself into a corner without realizing it, having been swept away in the momentum endemic to groups and drowning along with them. You may live close to a hundred years and it will feel more like a thousand because of the weariness that ignorance brings on. The behavior of groups exerts a gravitational pull that is extremely hard to escape from, and what further compounds this problem is the ongoing call for attention from the needs of the body, muddling up one’s assessment and driving one further into the mess. How it all came to be though is largely a distraction because it takes one’s attention off the very real and immediate problems of one’s life. The last place you think to look is the one you should start with first.
I did my shift that day as usual. Ran some errands and had some coffee in my car while watching the busy intersection of the place I usually buy it from. This is my live entertainment these days. Watch the traffic and read the license plates. I thought about my behavior at work that morning. I had anger’s itch and something that could no longer be ignored had worked its way to the surface like a splinter that only a week ago was just a dark speck under your skin.
It happened earlier that morning, ostensibly because Mondays typically had lighter volume but less staffing so it felt busier. I was doing my best to load my trucks and had fallen hopelessly behind with no chance of catching up until the end of the shift when it was time for the trucks to leave. I remember freaking out and losing my temper. I did not like Mondays there. Started hurling packages into the back of the trucks with no attempt to organize or verify if it was even on the right one. Said full on fuck it and gave in to my anger which always feels like the right choice in the moment. I was furious and it was funny because of how exaggerated my reaction was. Hardly anyone even noticed because they were all too busy trying to keep their heads above the onslaught of packages. I walked off the belt in a fog of anger and adrenaline, found my supervisor and put my two weeks in on the spot. Even in the midst of that episode I couldn’t just quit and not come back. I wanted to do the courteous thing and leave on good terms. He was shocked speechless. ‘I thought everything was ok.’ He shook his head slowly and was dumbfounded. I felt embarrassed and apologized. I didn’t know how to tell him I always keep things bottled up in me until they burst like an aneurysm. He told me not to worry about the trucks. I came back the next day and resumed my duties like nothing ever happened.
‘At least I’m retiring with a full fucking pension and health benefits.’ Pension and health benefits. That’s not happening for me. Fighting a war on all fronts is what things feel like instead. Don’t laugh but how does everyone else do it? The answer is irrelevant because it wouldn’t do anything for me when I inevitably try to apply it. But I still don’t know how everyone else does it. I heard my driver’s voice in my head as I found the right shelf for the mailer that was in my hand. I agreed, I thought there was a pretty good chance it would be true. If I walked in on some random morning years from now before the trucks left the warehouse, I’m pretty sure I’d see him in the back of his truck looking over his load for the day and cursing his unending list of enemies under his breathe in a steady mutter. As a matter of fact I still see him sometimes when I’m out driving and pass his truck going in the opposite direction. It reminds me of that chapter of my life. It was kind of like seeing someone you grew up with somewhere out in public and you recognize them but they don’t recognize you anymore. And you wouldn’t necessarily mind if they did, but there’s simply no interest in reopening a door life closed for you.
I was on the back deck when I heard Cal’s work truck pull up. A few minutes later I heard the sound of a sliding door being opened and the far away tinkle of a bottle cap hitting the bottom of a recycling can. He stood at the railing of his deck and looked out into the dusk of the day as the shadows deepened in the back yard.
I sat at the table and in the light from the door plus the window over the kitchen sink worked on feeding a new spool of string into the weed whacker.
“What’s up man.”
“What’s up dude. Come on over if you want. Just messing with this thing.”
He climbed over the fence and walked up the deck stairs. Grabbed a chair and pulled it out, letting himself fall into it. The light from the sink window fell on his face and I looked up at it. Cal was starting to look worn out in a way I hadn’t noticed before. It was like he was losing whatever had been propelling him so far and was now operating under an existing store of momentum instead, gradually beginning to slow down.
He used to be married but that was awhile ago. He had a son and daughter he didn’t see much. They were in high school and came over once in awhile to visit with their mom, who sometimes came in and sometimes stayed in the car.
His job with the railroad is what most people would call good. He had a good salary, access to basically unlimited overtime, solid health benefits, and was now in the running for a supervisory position, meaning he wouldn’t have to work as hard physically as he did now plus make more money too. He was somewhere in his early fifties and if he played his cards right, should be able to retire in 10 years or less. At least that’s what he would always say.
I would just listen for the most part. Felt like a certain kind of human service to do so. Providing something that was missing in daily life. I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t do it intentionally. It just happened for some reason. When people started talking I just went silent for some reason. Let them say whatever was on their mind.
“Yeah, can’t wait to retire, sick of this shit, all the new guys fucking suck, no work ethic, Frank’s a dick, (Frank was the current supervisor and apparently effective yet disliked by his subordinates) they’re saying we’re getting too much overtime, you know man, same shit.”
Cal’s statements would go up, down and sideways. Hard to know how he felt sometimes because in the same breathe he’d curse everyone but then keep talking about how good it was for him to work there, how good it was for his kids. He was conflicted and I understood. A human says many things but keeps doing what they are doing.
I listened as best as I could. All I could offer was my ears and an open heart. I hope no one ever tells me they’re a serial killer or something because I dont know what I would say. My response might be “Damn. That’s crazy. You shouldn’t kill people.” I don’t know what else I would say. I would probably ask why.
He was silent for the first few minutes. Took a couple swigs from his beer.
“Fuck those motherfuckers. Seriously man. I hate everyone there. Especially Frank.”
“What’d he do now?”
“It’s what he didn’t do. This guy on our crew had his fucking hand in the wrong place and it got mangled somehow in a coupling. Frank arrives on the scene shortly after and tells everyone to forget what they saw if they value their jobs. Can you believe this guy?”
“Then what?”
“We all went home. He told us to take the rest of the day off. So me and the guys met up to have a few then I went to my daughter’s recital. First one I’ve been to in awhile. Usually I have to work overtime and miss them.”
“What does she play again? I forget.”
“Piano. The song was ‘A Whole New World’ from that Disney movie with the genie, what’s it called.”
“Aladdin?”
“Yeah that one. Sometimes it gets stuck in my head while we’re workin. Maybe I’ll find an old lamp on the tracks one day. I could sure use a genie.”
“Piano is cool. So much depth to it.”
“She’s good. I don’t know where she gets it from. Her mom I guess cus it sure as hell ain’t me.”
“You think she can do something with it?”
“I sure hope so. Maybe get a scholarship for music or something. College will be here soon and Steph was telling me they like to see a kid who can play an instrument on the applications. And a bunch of other shit too. They want you to play an instrument, run a charity, speak another language, all while having straight A’s for chrissake. Then they rip you off with some bullshit degree. And I’ll be paying for all of it.”
He laughed at his own joke.
“She could always work for the railroad then,” I offered. “Follow in her dad’s footsteps.”
“Fuck no. Over my dead body. I’d rather she went to college instead. Use her brain.”
“What about your son?”
“I don’t know about him. Between you and me I’m worried. He’s been getting in trouble at school. Cursing people out and got into a fight the other day in the lunchroom. I know he learned it from me and I don’t care but I don’t want him to grow up and be a knucklehead. There’s a time and place for that, you know? Don’t want him to be a hothead.”
I nodded. The spool slipped out of my hands and hit the deck. It proceeded to roll out across the floor and bumped down the stairs to the backyard, leaving a trail of clear string behind it. I gently set the weed wacker down behind me off to the side, resisting the urge to hurl it over the railing like I did with those boxes. I kicked the string aside with my foot. A project for tomorrow I guess.
My attention free, I turned to Cal and looked at him.
“When are you going to hang this shit up man? You really want to be supervisor? And deal with Frank all day? You know he’ll make your life hell. Retire. Or quit. Go work at Home Depot or something, I don’t know. You’re miserable.”
Cal stared off into where the sun had been.
“Can’t retire yet man, you know that. Gotta get a few more years. Trying to get the house paid off first. And put more into these 529 plans. Plus money to Steph and my own retirement accounts. I can’t leave yet.”
I nodded. I was giving him a hard time and he knew it. Cal was only my neighbor after all. He could do what he wanted with his life. Only reason I even bothered bringing it up was he came over here almost every night after work to talk and drink so I felt like I knew him pretty well. We had this conversation once a week. I don’t think he had anyone else to talk to. He sounded like he was close to the guys he worked with based on the way he talked about them, but he said they never hung out if it wasn’t at a bar so I doubted how genuine those friendships really were.
The hours passed and the empties piled up on the table. We talked about work, sports, and life as the moon slowly rose above the clouds. It was close to 11 when he abruptly stood up.
“Well, guess I’ll head to bed. 4 comes early. You got these?”
He gestured to the empty bottles on the table.
I nodded.
“Cool. Good talkin with ya. Have a good night.”
I continued to sit and stared at the moon for awhile.
One Saturday morning later that year I went to a coffee shop for a change. There was a national newspaper someone had left behind on the table I sat down at so I absentmindedly picked it up and began to read it.
A small headline on the side read ‘Financial Train Wreck At Major Railroad’ and pointed me to the business section. I found it and began reading the article.
What caught my eye immediately was the company at the center of it all. It was the railroad Cal worked for. Apparently an audit had been conducted as part of an investigation into claims of fraud and embezzlement from an anonymous whistleblower, who alleged that the abuse was occurring at a massive scale. The results of the audit found that the company’s finances were seriously impaired, most notably with respect to the pensions. The majority of the embezzlement had been from the money that was supposedly being set aside to pay for employee pensions. Over the better part of a decade, several high ranking executives along with a few key employees essentially raided the pension funds, using the proceeds for a wide variety of personal and company expenditures. This had been able to occur for so long because of a retaliatory corporate environment, where threats and coercion helped coverup the situation along with additional fraudulent acts committed to make the financial picture appear sound. Now it was a major scandal, and the CEO had been implicated as well. At the moment it was unclear how things were going to unfold. To further complicate matters, the company was actively seeking a buyer and was engaged in talks when the news broke.
I sat there and let the news sink in. I wonder if Cal knew. I took out my phone and called his cell.
No answer.
I tried him at home.
No answer there either.
Fuck, this is bad.
I went home and knocked at his door.
No answer.
His truck’s not here. It’s a Saturday. Then again he could be working overtime. Who knows. I’ll catch up with him later.
I went to my house and busied myself with yard work.
It was somewhere after midnight when I heard his work truck pull up. For some reason I immediately jumped out of bed and went to the window. It was parked at a weird angle, with the front passenger’s side tire up on the curb.
What the hell.
I ran down stairs and went outside. I went over to his truck. As I approached the door opened and Cal basically fell out. A beer can fell out with him and rolled around in a circle on the street. I knew immediately he was a stone drunk mess. There was vomit on his jacket and a bump on his head.
I put his arm around me and helped him get to his feet. I told him who I was but I couldn’t tell if he recognized me or not. His full weight rested on me and he couldn’t stand unassisted. We slowly walked to his house and I searched his jacket pocket for his keys, which weren’t there. I sat him down on the lawn out front to go check the truck, and he promptly keeled over a moment later. Thankfully the keys were there on the floor and I was able to finally get him inside. I laid him down on his couch and he passed out a moment later. I sat down in a recliner and prayed he hadn’t harmed anyone with his choices that night.
The next morning I put the coffee on and opened the door to sit out back. Cal was slumped in a chair, disheveled and haggard, pulling on a cigarette that looked like it went out five minutes ago.
I grabbed the lighter for the grill and held the flame underneath what was left.
I shook my head slowly.
“What the fuck is wrong with you man? You could have fucking killed somebody. Maybe you did for all we know.”
His voice sounded like a road that desperately needed repaving.
“Relax, I didn’t hit anyone. Know for a fact. Was only around the corner at Cranky’s.”
“Don’t tell me to relax. I don’t give a fuck where you were, that don’t make it right. You talk all this shit about corner cutting at work putting people in harm’s way then you go and do some shit like this. Seriously what the fuck. You need to dry out.”
I poured myself a cup of coffee, and reluctantly one for him too. I should have poured it directly on him.
I went back outside and set it down in front of him, which he acknowledged with a grunt and a head nod.
I sat down across, taking up our usual positions around the circular glass patio table. It was odd to be out here in the morning. This was usually an evening routine.
“What’s going on with the company?”
There was a long silence. I wasn’t sure if he could even form a sentence or not.
“Long and the short of it is we don’t know yet. Had an emergency meeting about it yesterday and there’s a bunch of rumors and shit but no one really knows. They gotta investigate and see how bad the situation is but if you ask me it sounds pretty fuckin bad.”
He paused reflectively.
“I think we can all kiss those pensions goodbye. Doesn’t sound like there’s much left. That was pretty much my retirement.”
“At least you have the stock they were giving you. That’s something.”
He made eye contact for the first time that day.
“This didn’t make the news yet but-“
“What the fuck-“
“Those shares are basically worthless now. Since the company’s private it’s different rules. They have to first approve the sale which they’re not gonna do after all this shit.”
He took a drag.
“Because you sell it back to them or an approved buyer. Plus the valuations are all fucked up now too because there’s no public market to set the value, it’s the company that tells you how much a share is worth. And they were blowin smoke up our ass for years saying these shares are getting more valuable with each passing year when come to find out they ain’t even worth the paper they’re printed on. Don’t think they’re even printed on paper nowadays but you get the point.”
I sighed.
“I’m really sorry man. That absolutely sucks. You tell Steph?”
“Yeah, she knows, called me soon as she found out all worried. I just told her it is what it is, nothing we can do about it. And the wild card remaining is this sale thing. If we get bought out who knows what the fuck is gonna happen. Can’t imagine someone would want to buy us now after all this. Then again this situation might look like a bargain to a buyer because of the scandal and everything. They might think they can get a deal. Who knows man.”
“When you can take a look at your money situation and let me know if you need some grocery money or something. Hell, even stuff for the kids, whatever. I don’t have much but I can spot you a little if need be.”
“I appreciate it man. I have my 401k, not a lot in there but it’s something. Don’t want to withdraw early but I’ll probably have to now. Was really counting on that pension and the stock as the bulk of my retirement. The 529s are for the kids so I can’t touch those. House has some equity in it I can probably get out. Steph will have to be patient. And I have a little miscellaneous cash on hand. I don’t know man. I’ll figure it out somehow. Definitely not planning to retire anymore though. Just gonna work till I drop.”
I stood up.
“I’m gonna cook up some breakfast. You want some?”
It was about a year since the news broke and Cal was mostly right. The only major updates were the company’s debt situation, which was worse than originally reported, and there were indeed a number of buyers jumping at the chance to scoop up a company on the ropes. A large private equity firm that was looking to add a railroad to its portfolio ended up being the winner, then promptly announced it would be streamlining the railroad’s operations by essentially breaking it up and selling off various pieces of the business to other buyers, which had the unintended effect of slowing down the ongoing investigation. The pension would be more than previously thought but still far less than what it would have been and the employee-owned stock would be bought back by the new company but for a fraction of its original overinflated value.
There was mention of various lawsuits underway related to the pension and stock. I asked Cal about it one evening when he came over if he was a part of it. He waved his hand dismissively.
“Yeah, but I’m not holding my breathe. Those things take forever. Plus the money’s already been spent so how are they gonna give it back to us?”
“Good point.”
“Also got this today.”
He pulled out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket.
It was a warm spring evening and we were seated out back. I cut the grass earlier that day and the smell still hung in the air.
“What’s this?”
“Read it,” he indicated with a nod.
I unfolded the paper and read the heading. It was an email that had been printed out.
Re: Notice of Impending Termination
“Lot of us are getting laid off before year’s end. This one isn’t for me, least not yet. This is from one of my guys.”
Cal had been promoted and was now overseeing his own crew, reporting directly to Frank.
“How does this keep getting worse,” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Dunno but to be completely honest with you, I’m not even mad anymore. I expected something like this. And you know what? This is the most noble thing they’ve done so far.”
“To lay you off?”
“At least they’re giving us the courtesy of letting us know it’s coming. Because I didn’t expect that from them. One of my guys was telling me his wife used to work for this big logistics company.”
“Same one I used to work for?”
“No, different one.”
“Apparently she was employee of the month this month. Her picture is currently hanging in management’s office. Now get this. She tries to enter her building like normal for her shift yesterday. But her access card doesn’t work. Won’t scan or something. She doesn’t know what’s going on and sees someone she knows who’s about to go in for their shift. They see her and they’re like oh hey, come on in, hold the door for her, you know like when you see your buddy at work type a thing.”
I nodded.
“She goes to her IT people and asks about her card. They take a look and the guy’s all confused like ‘I don’t know how to tell you this but you’re not even in the system right now. That’s why your card isn’t working. You don’t have access anymore because apparently you’re no longer an employee? Did you get fired or something?’ She storms into management’s office and is asking what’s going on and they’re all surprised, asking her how she got in, she’s not supposed to be there, avoiding her questions, all that.”
I was in disbelief.
“She was laid off and they didn’t tell her. And weren’t going to. She had to find out on her own. And a week ago she was employee of the month. Said her picture was still up on the wall. Unreal.”
Cal stared off into space.
I was jolted out of sleep by what sounded like my phone going off. In that sleep haze I couldn’t be sure. I kept hearing it though so I got up and ambled over to the table to see who it was.
It was a number I didn’t recognize. I picked it up and answered. A woman’s voice was hysterically crying and I could barely make out what she was saying. All I could understand was something had happened to Cal. I asked who it was even though my instincts said Steph, which was correct. I didn’t know she had my number. I asked her to take a breathe and slow down. What happened?
She got a call from Frank saying Cal had been seriously injured in a work accident and was currently on life support in the hospital. She didn’t know all the details but it happened a couple hours ago. It was almost 5 in the morning right now. They were working overnight to repair a section of line and then somehow the accident happened. She was calling to let me know and said Cal gave her my number recently just in case she needed to contact me. She said there was an incoming call from Frank and she would let me know what she found out. I sat down on the edge of the bed and digested the news.
I found out later Cal died of his injuries about 15 minutes after that call. There wasn’t enough time for Steph or the kids to go see him, not that much of a visit was possible. I couldn’t believe it.
I hadn’t seen Cal much over the last several months. Last time I saw him in person he climbed over the fence like usual after work but when he sat down I noticed he didn’t have a beer with him.
“No beer?”
“Nah, I’m done with that. Today’s my 67th day sober and I feel good but man is it hard. Felt like I had to though. Ever since that night you scraped me off the ground out front I’ve been thinking about it and realized I gotta do something about this. I don’t want my kids to remember me like that plus I don’t know. Just felt like I had to do something.”
“I’m really glad to hear that man. Keep going with it. That’s a huge accomplishment. I know one day at a time sounds cliche but you can only live one day at a time anyway so might as well.”
He nodded and smiled a rare, non-sarcastic smile.
“You’re always welcome over here. If you ever feel like you just need to get out of the house by all means come on over here. I know how it goes. You’ll be sitting at the kitchen table, doing nothing, then you’ll see the fridge and think about what’s in it, you’ll think beers and suddenly you’ll want one. Just seeing the damn fridge can be a trigger.”
“Feel like I need a new job too. Or maybe a new friend group. It’s weird not going out with them after work. But they’re cool about it, they understand. Just something I gotta get used to.”
“Hey, by the way. If something ever happens to me, keep an eye on my kids. I’m not saying you have to become their step dad or something, just make sure they don’t ruin their lives. You’re a trustworthy dude and I know you’ll do a good job looking out for them.”
“Ok? Yeah, sure.”
“You know, just in case something happens.”
“Is something going to happen?”
“I don’t know. Just in case. It’s the railroad after all and accidents do happen.”
“And you have enough experience to know how to avoid them.”
“I do but these things do happen sometimes. I just like to be prepared.”
I had never heard him talk like this before. He was talking like he was running through a contingency in his head and it caught me off guard because I always thought of him as a more simple type of guy, not an idiot or anything, just a make-the-best-of-it-and-keep-going type of person. Not overthinking his life. Despite his history with alcohol he hadn’t missed a day of work in more than five years, an impressive accomplishment considering how grueling his job could be and all the overtime he pulled. There was a company plaque he received acknowledging this fact that was found amongst his possessions when I helped Steph clean out his house. I honestly thought he was handling the company implosion pretty well all things considered. And the sobriety was a direction I never thought he would go in. It just seemed too integrated into his life. I was really happy for him with that news.
A couple days after he died I received a letter from him. I was confused about how this could happen until I saw the postmark, which was several days prior. I tried to imagine the timeline. He must have mailed the letter a day or so before the accident. It was sent from a post office in a small town several hours away. He must have drove out there to mail it? I guess he didn’t want or trust anyone else to deliver it so maybe this was his way of ensuring it came through.
I opened it on the spot and sat down on the couch to read it.
[ Hey man. I’m not much for words but I wanted to tell you this and didn’t want to do it through text. There’s going to be an accident soon at work which I’m probably (hopefully) not going to recover from. Feels crazy to write that. It just needs to be this way and hopefully people will understand but who knows. I have my reasons and that’s that. One of them is setting up my family financially. Just keep an eye on my kids is all I ask. You’ve been a great neighbor all these years and I appreciate your friendship and helping me to sober up. My family really appreciates that too. They can remember me as more than just a workaholic and alcoholic. Please destroy this letter after reading it and never mention its existence to anyone. I had to tell someone I know and trust but at the same time aren’t that close to if you know what I mean. It makes sense in my head anyway. Also there’s a bunch of fishing gear in the garage you can have if you want. Tell my kids I love them. My life has been all tunnel, so I had to create the light at the end in the only way I knew how.
Calvin. ]
I just continued sitting on the couch and didn’t move for a long time.
One day I got a call from Steph. She invited me to a piano recital her daughter was in that was put on by the college she attended. She was a music major and would be debuting an original composition at this concert. I agreed. This would be my first time hearing her play the piano.
I enjoyed it immensely. The song was beautiful and moving. Before the song began the students would introduce themselves and gave a description about the song they were going to play. She included a dedication to her dad as well.
Afterwards Steph and I waited in the hallway just outside the auditorium for Casey to meet up with us.
“Your dad would have been very proud of you. He loved that you played piano.”
Casey smiled and nodded. She was quiet yet driven, pouring her energy into schoolwork and piano practice.
Steph excused herself to take a work call and moved off to a quiet corner of the hallway.
“How’s school been?”
“Good. Pretty much worked on that song all semester. That was my main focus. I feel like I’ve learned some things that are elevating my playing too which I really like.”
“How’s your brother?”
“He’s ok. Trying to find himself. That’s about it. Still living at home with my mom.”
Losing their dad had understandably been a devastating life event. Casey seemed to be handling it better than her brother Christian, but it had been very hard on them both.
“Where did the name of the song come from?”
It was titled ‘A Light At The End Of The Tunnel.’
“I remember it was something our dad would tell us sometimes when we were kids. He would say ‘no matter how bad things get, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes that tunnel can feel like forever though.’ I thought about that a lot while writing the song.”
“Can I ask you something about my dad?”
“Of course.”
“And please don’t hold back for my sake.”
“Sometimes when I think about the accident. I wonder how it happened because he was really experienced and knew what he was doing. One day I forced my mom to tell me all the details and it feels strange the way it occurred. Like something that would happen to a less experienced worker.”
There was a period of silence and I nodded. I never mentioned the existence of the letter or its contents to anyone. I had considered it but the whole situation was already painful enough and I couldn’t see the benefit of introducing this knowledge into the picture. Certain things you just go to the grave with. Steph had asked me if Cal told me anything before it happened. The kids never brought it up until now.
“When I think back on the whole thing, I think your dad was stuck in his own tunnel that felt like it was going on forever. So the accident, however it happened, was a way out for him and a certain kind of relief. I don’t know what was going through his mind before or after but I’m sure the impact on his family weighed very heavily on him. He loved you and your brother. Sometimes people do things in life that make no sense to anyone else but are crystal clear to them. I think this was one of those things.”
Casey was looking down and nodding silently.
“I might ask you more about him sometime if you don’t mind. But not right now. And thank you for continuing to look out for us, both then and now.”
“You’re welcome. Whenever you want to talk.”
Steph rejoined us and we all walked down the hallway towards the exit doors. It was empty, quiet, and clean, and we were the only ones left. The only trace of our existence was the sound of our footsteps. As the gray doors at the end swung open we were greeted by a warm and overcast day outside. Down the street was a nice restaurant Steph had picked out and since we were all hungry, we headed off in that direction.