The team of suburban Chicago college boys from A+ Moving Company were fast and efficient. Their matching tee shirts, khakis, and polite enthusiasm gave them a boy scout quality. The foreman shouted echoey instructions up the hallway, while the men strapped impossible amounts of weight to their backs. They responded to the boss with effortless, cheery affirmatives. In less than four hours, the house was reduced to carpet imprints and nail holes. Peg wandered the rooms attempting to fluff the rugs with the toe of her shoe, but the holes were there to stay.
The foreman closed the back of the moving truck with a loud clang and then climbed into the cab of the giant semi. He smiled and waved as the truck chugged away. Peg waved back limp-wristed and watched 20 years roll out of the neighborhood.
Peg noticed Trudy coming up the driveway while Clark made room for Nipper in the car’s back seat, amidst lampshades and plants. The dog sat at attention. Unblinking, he willed the humans into the car. Peg’s legs felt weak.
“You are such a bitch.” Trudy’s lip quivered.
“I know I am.” Peg’s voice cracked.
And then the dam broke. They sobbed in each other’s arms until Peg pulled herself free and jammed herself into the passenger seat. As the car backed away from the curb, she could hear Trudy crying out through tears and cupped hands, “Clark, you’re an asshole. You suck.”
Clark rolled up the car windows.
They turned right at the corner past big-boobed Barb’s house and then right again toward signs for Route 355 South.
Peg cried. She wept. She bawled. Nipper licked her ear. Clark glanced at her sideways. “Adventure time,” he said with a big smile. “It will all be fine.”
Peg lifted her head from her hands, blew her nose and mustered up a non-gasping breath. “I know,” she lied.