About 20 minutes later, W comes into the house and tells me that he has found a college student willing to help him unload, the father of one of N’s friends. I ask if he would like me to go get takeout for dinner and bring it back to him while he and this guy work on unloading. No, he says he really wanted to go sit down and eat somewhere so he told the guy to come back in an hour. (Oh, can you guess where this is going? Please, please take a guess.) We go to dinner at a fast food place close by and return to the house in about 45 minutes. I asked W if I should change clothes and help with the unloading or if he is good with his student help. He says he’s good with the student help. I go inside relieved that I have been relieved from duty. N goes off to play with friends.
A while later N calls my cell phone and asks if his friend’s dad ever showed up. I tell him I don’t know and that he should call W’s cell phone and ask him. Questions start to float through my mind, but I go back to reading the evening paper trying to not think about it. W wanders through, and I ask him if the guy ever showed up, and he says that he hasn’t. (Is there anyone here who didn't see that coming? Anyone? Anyone?) I tell W I’ll change clothes and be out to help him. He says not to bother, that he can handle it. I doubt very much that this is true but choose not to argue. I roll my eyes after he walks away and return again to my evening paper.
No more than an hour into the project my cell phone rings again. I see from the display that it is W. I answer and hear him weakly say “Help.” I try to ask a few questions, but receive only silence or another weak “help” to each one so I hang up, fold up the paper, get up from my recliner and head out to the driveway. The hand truck he is using is on its side along with a box that had obviously been on it, and just beyond that W is lying on the concrete on his back looking pale. I help him up and get him to a place to sit down in the garage and ask what happened. He was backing down the truck’s ramp with the box on the hand truck when due to its weight it started going too fast, he fell and everything went flying. He claims to be okay, just stunned a bit. I start unloading the truck, barefoot and in my business clothes. I didn’t want to leave him alone even for the time it would take to go in and change. Soon N shows up and wants to know why I am unloading the truck. I explain, and he starts to help. W too joins in as he says he feels better but he is moving slowly. We seem to be making some good progress. Then with my back turned W falls again. This time he says his knee gave out on him, and he just crumpled to the ground. His elbow is scraped, and he has much more difficulty getting up even with my assistance. To get him into the house I stand in front of him and have him put his hands on my shoulders and we “conga line” our way into the house and to a chair where he sits for the remainder of the evening.
N and I finish unloading the truck all except one piece, the top to the computer desk. It is heavy. It is also large and unwieldy. N and I are both tired. I close up the back of the truck and give up for the night. As I close the garage doors I marvel at how we had filled a two-car garage with all our
Arggh, you’d think this would be over by now, but you would be wrong. We should only have one more installment though. Come back for Part VI and find out if the top of the computer desk was ever removed from the truck and if the truck ever made it back to the rental place. Oh, and let me say for the record, moving sucks.