880 The White Truck

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Sitting in the den, I can usually hear vehicles coming up the driveway. Sometimes not. But I can always hear a car door in the driveway, and for some strange reason, I can always hear a vehicle going down the driveway, even if I didn't hear it come up.

I heard a door slam in the drive a few minutes ago, and I looked out to see a white pickup truck disappearing down the driveway. It reminded me of a cute story about Jay. I may have written about this already, I forget. Whatever. I want to now. I'm thinking about him a lot today. (Yeah, I want him back. Even severely damaged, I want him back.)

When he was no longer able to go to the office every day, The Company allowed him to telecommute from home. I'd drive him in when he needed to attend meetings. Now, something to remember, Jay had no innate sense of time. It got worse as the tumor grew. A day, a week, a month were all the same to him. The past was simply the past, all one lump.

One day, after he'd been home a few months, he asked me "Who's the guy in the white pickup?". I asked what pickup. He said "The one that pulls into the driveway, and then turns around and leaves. He keeps doing that. Why doesn't he come to the door?" I assured him that I didn't know anyone who drove a white pickup.

As the months passed, he got more agitated about the guy in the white pickup. He never heard him arriving, but always heard a door slam, and then caught a glimpse of the truck as it left. It had multicolored stripes on the side, so he was sure it was the same truck every time.

One day, after some tests at the hospital, we were driving through Kingston, and we passed a service garage with the doors open. There was a white pickup on one of the lifts, and Jay said "That's it! That's the truck! I recognize the stripes!" I figured it was time to solve the mystery, so we turned around and went past again, slowly.

White pickup truck.
Stripes on the side.
Writing on the door.
The writing said "Central Hudson Gas & Electric".

The meter reader.

Jay then sheepishly confessed that he was beginning to think that I had another man, who pulled in and then left when he saw Jay's car in the driveway.

I tried very hard not to laugh at him.

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The phone rang a few minutes ago and I didn't answer it. The caller didn't leave a message. It may have been Booker (I've had two emails from him this morning). I don't know what to say just yet. He's such a nice guy and I'm such a nasty person to want more than just that. Sigh.