I hung up.
“What do you think?” I asked Joe. “Was that convincing?”
He started up the truck. “Yep. I think we got away with it. You sounded like you were dead asleep. Well? Was it worth it? Do you feel vindicated? Did you find closure?”
Did I find closure? No. I thought I had some more to do in my life before I enjoyed that sensation. But I did feel vindicated. I felt like I gave as much as I had been given the past few days.
“You know what? For the first time in a long time, I feel like I have some control over my life again,” I said. “I don’t feel like I’m a fish flopping around on the ground.”
“You feel like you’re back where you belong. Like you’ve reclaimed some more of yourself.”
“Yes. My voice and my essence.”
“Voice and essence,” Joe repeated. “That’s a wonderful way to express that.”
“I must have heard it somewhere,” I said. My face turned hot, and I made sure to look out the window, so Joe wouldn’t see me blush.
“It’s lovely. Voice and essence. It says it all.”
“Do you smell something?” I asked. Something smelled horrible in his truck. Really horrible. Like something died and then someone ate the dead thing and threw it up. Blech. I opened my window all the way to get some fresh air, but it didn’t help the smell.
“That might be you,” Joe said.
“Me?”
“You spilled sewage all the way down your back. I didn’t have the heart to tell you before.”
I tried to look at my back. “Oh no. It must have happened when I slung the hose over my shoulder. I’ve messed up your truck.”
“Messes can be cleaned.”
And that seemed to say it all. Messes could be cleaned. Joe wasn’t upset, so I wasn’t either. For the first time, I believed that maybe my mess of a life could be cleaned up. Maybe I could start fresh with a clean slate. Maybe there was life after tragedy. Maybe struggles ended happily.
Messes could be cleaned.
“I’ll clean it for you,” I said.
“Nonsense. I’m going to drop you home so you can rest and celebrate your victory. I’ll handle the truck in the morning. Not a big deal.”
I put my hand on his arm. “No, Joe. I’ll clean it. It’s time for me to start cleaning.”
CHAPTER 12
“There’s a Knock at the Door”
I had been dreaming about something good, but suddenly the dream ended, and my memory of it evaporated from my mind. Even so, I kept sleeping. It was the deep, sweet sleep right before a person is forced to wake up.
I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have a place to go. So, there was no reason I would be forced to wake up. But somehow, in the recesses of my sleeping brain, I knew I was going to have to leave the ultimate comfort of a deep sleep.
Something was going to wake me up.
Or someone was going to wake me up.
Actually, someone was waking me up.
I opened my eyes. Hudson was standing over me with his arms crossed in front of him in an obvious display of disapproval.
“This can’t be a dream,” I said. My mouth was dry, and my tongue felt like it had swollen to twice its normal size. “I don’t have these kinds of dreams. Normally, I’m flying, or I’m naked during a final exam.”
