He sat down on his bunk in the dim light and put the bus ticket in his wallet. Taking off his boots, he could hear the hum of the generators from the trucks at the truck stop. He didn't have an APU on his rig and to save money would be sleeping tonight in humid 80 degree Kansas City nights with the windows open, if he could sleep at all. Three weeks on the road was taking its toll.

As he lay down, his troubles gathered like a Missouri cold front. He was so frustrated. He told his dispatcher that he needed to get home this weekend to Dallas two weeks ago, but the Quailcom told him the only loads available went to North Carolina. So, I can either deadhead home and waste $400 on fuel, or quit and take a bus home. But he knew if he walked away from his truck, his company would put, “No rehire, abandoned equipment” on his DAC report.

But larger worries loomed in his head. Why hadn't his wife, Wendy, responded to his calls and texts in two days? He reflected over the past few months. Although he wanted to deny it, clearly Wendy was growing distant from him in more than miles. He was the son of a truck driver and grandson of a truck driver and although it was in his blood, he knew that the life was hard on a family. He tried the phone again. He heard her cheerful voice on the voice message.

Wendy lay in bed. The phone stirred her from her half sleep. She really didn't sleep much anymore. She felt like crying when she saw who it was and hit “ignore” sending the call to voice mail. Wendy's mind was on someone else. She had cried so long that her eyes burned and she couldn't cry anymore. Wendy had been in bed crying most of the days and nights all week. She hadn't eaten much as she didn't have much of an appetite. A half empty glass of whiskey was on the bed stand.

How could he do this to me, she asked herself for the millionth time? He told me he loved me. He cried as he told me that. He brought me flowers. He told me we would be together. He talked about building a new house and having his children spend every other week with us. He is always so thoughtful and nice when we are together. And his wife is horrible. He doesn't love her, he told me that over and over. So why is he going on a trip with her? Why has it been two years and he still hasn't moved out? He promised a year and a half ago he would. He said that he was worried about the children. He said that he had to get his finances together. He says he has always had trouble with confrontation. Maybe he's trying and I just need to be patient. But I have to be honest with myself, I'm being used. But I love him so much. As these thoughts and more circled in her mind, she knew this would be a long night.

It was hard to deny he thought as he stared at the ceiling. Wendy was growing distant. She quit asking when I am going to be home again. I have noticed her eyes red and puffy when I am home. I thought at first it was because she missed me. But the long hugs and wet kisses are gone and replaced by a peck on the cheek. She doesn't call like she used to and now I can't get a hold of her. He had to get out of the truck. This laying here thinking would drive him crazy.

The cell phone rang. It was Wendy. He had a deep sense of foreboding as he hesitated on answering the call. “Hi, Wendy,” he said picking up the phone. He heard her sad voice on the phone as she said, “Are you coming home? We have many things to talk about.” “My dispatcher was supposed to get me home this weekend, but wants to send me to North Carolina. I have a bus ticket, and I think I'll quit and head home. We both know something is wrong and I need to be there.” At that moment, a voice came on the Quailcom. “The North Carolina load needs to be there in 36 hours. Are you moving?” “Don't quit,” she said, “what I was going to tell you this weekend is that I'm moving out and we need to talk.” He sat up in his bunk and looked out the front window of his truck and hung up the phone. He put on his boots, tore up the bus ticket and picked up his Quailcom. “Moving,” he answered.

Copyright 2010, Tom Kretsinger, Jr.