This afternoon, I pressure washed my deck and thought of how interconnected people really are. It turns out that Nick’s advisor for his major was his kindergarten teacher. This was a teacher to whom I was grateful because she saw Nick as a good kid who happened to be strong. Once, a wiry frustrated kid kept punching him in the shoulder. Nick finally used the blocks he’d been taught as a white belt in karate to stop the hitting. Then, this boy ran to the teacher, pointed to his skinny arm, and yelled, “He hurt me!”
She replied calmly, “You hit him and then he blocked your punch.”
She was not unkind to the little guy, but wasn’t going to blame Nick for his hurt arm.
I was always grateful to have overheard that conversation from the hall where I sat reading with another child.
And there’s the list of children I sat and read with over the years. I’ve been doing it for thirteen years now, though I didn’t get paid until a couple of years ago. It’s funny how I’ve crossed paths with their families.
I should have told you this earlier, but I had an angel the other day.
It was a Friday. I was so happy that it was my day off. I texted back and forth with my friend Rachel, who’s down with an injury. I figured I could show up with junk food, walk Teddy together with her dog, and chat a while to distract her from her pain. Yeah, that was the plan.
On Fridays, I try to take all the piles of books back to the library and get new ones for me and the kids I tutor. I have a bigger appetite for books than I can get through, so sometimes, I need to return a bunch of books I didn’t read because they sat around at my house too long. Mostly, I put the interesting ones back on my list and let go of some I’m pretty sure I’d like if I just sat down and read them.
I had two big bags of books and a couple that wouldn’t fit, but I piled them up on the passenger seat of Nick’s car, got Teddy to jump into the back seat, and I was off.
At the bottom of the hill of my driveway, putting on the brakes rolled one of the bags of books off the seat. Accelerating down the road rocked it back where it pinched one of the loose books into a page-folding vice. I hate when library books get hurt. I couldn’t reach the book if I were to drive wisely.
You know, what I mean. The distracted driver thing isn’t just about checking Facebook on your phone while you’re driving.
So, I looked for a wide place by the highway where I could pull off and rescue the poor book. I turned into a dead-end road past the only stop light between me and the library. I didn’t even bother to pull off that road. There was a graveled spot on the right, but the deep ledge off the asphalt looked like a kathunker. I put the car into park, but still couldn’t reach the book.
So, I got out of the car.
At the last second, I clicked the lock/unlock button because I thought the passenger side door would be locked. I hated that I didn’t have a clicker to Nick’s car.
Without thinking, I closed my door.
It was then that I realized that I’d accidentally locked the doors rather than unlocking them.
With the car running.
In the middle of nowhere.
With Teddy inside.
With my phone inside.
Fuck. I walked around the car and tried every door even though I’d heard them all click. I laid my arms across the hood of the car and tapped my head to the warm, dry spot in the center. I stood back up and walked up to the highway and watched people drive by.
Maybe someone I knew would drive by and recognize me, I thought. Maybe my friend Laura would be getting off work soon and would drive past.
No luck.
I turned back to the rumbling car. Teddy looked out the back window at me, pleading with his eyes.
I knew I would have to leave him there to walk home to get a spare key. I hoped the hidden key was still outside the house. I’d have to leave Teddy there. I’d have to risk it.
So, I set out at a clip toward home. It couldn’t be that far, could it?
And then my mind engaged. Walking lets you think and so I began to think of what would and what could happen. The further I walked, the more upsetting it was.
Someone could stop by my car and call the police. My car could be towed.
With Teddy inside.
What would happen to him if my car got towed?
Someone worse could stop by my car, break a window, and have a free car.
With Teddy inside.
What would happen to him if someone who stole my car got hold of him? He was so innocent. He thought all people were kind to dogs. He could get abused, lost, let out along the highway. He could get abused.
I walked as fast as I could, but I knew I needed to ask someone to call the police.
Would the police babysit my running car while I got back? Would they at least not tow it?
Finally, I reached the stop light.
I waved at a woman in a SUV and held my finger over my thumb to ask her to roll her window down just a little bit. I was dressed in ratty jeans and a faded hoodie. My hair was probably standing up from the breeze and I realized I looked a little frantic.
Or crazy.
Thankfully, this woman rolled down her window just a little bit.
“Can you please call the police for me? I locked myself out of my car with it running and my dog inside. I’m just down the highway on the next right at a dead-end road. Can you please call the police and tell them I’m walking home to get a spare key? Please?”
“I can do that,” she said.
“Thank you!” I yelled as she made a right onto the highway. I crossed the street and continued my walk down the highway.
That was something. That would help. Maybe I would get lucky and Teddy would still be there when I got back..
Then, I started crying. It isn’t the awful things people do that make me cry. It’s the kindnesses.
I walked as fast as I could, hoping, praying that it would all end up okay.
I pray when I’m scared and I was scared. Teddy was so sweet. I felt as though I’d left a four-year-old in a running car by the highway.
Then, in the distance, a car pulled onto a side street and someone rolled down their window and waved. Was it Laura? Had the Universe heard my pleas? I ran toward her.
When I got closer, I could see it wasn’t Laura. It was the woman I’d flagged down at the light.
“You need a ride,” she said. “Get in.”
I didn’t hesitate. I jumped into her passenger seat and burst into tears while she talked. She’d stopped at my dead end road and seen my car with Teddy in it. She’d talked to a man who waited for his daughter to get off the bus. He’d called the police and she’d come back to get me.
I could barely breathe, I sobbed so hard. Here I was, this ridiculous, frantic woman, and she came back to help me.
“You’re my angel,” I said to her.
“We have a community and I think it’s important to support people in it.”
Oh, this woman drove me all the way home, waited in her car while I searched for the house key, got inside, couldn’t find a spare key to Nick’s car, tried to call Mike on the landline, couldn’t call Mike on the landline because it was really an Internet line and it was unplugged, and tried to plug in the ancient princess phone with the coiled line to the handset. Finally, after all that failure, I ran back out to her car, thankful that she still waited for me, and asked her to call Mike. She did.
Mike didn’t answer.
“What are you going to do if you can’t get him?”
“Maybe I’ll break a window.”
“You’ll need a big rock,” she said.
“Can you let me out for a minute so I can get a rock from my wall?”
She backed up her car and I pulled out a big rock from the retaining wall by the driveway.
“Do you think this is big enough?” I asked. It was about a fifteen pound rock. She laughed.
As she turned out onto the highway, she chatted while I tried to keep from crying again. She wanted to know if we had any connections. What about this teacher I knew, that mom she knew, the florist?
We both knew the florist.
Then, I asked her to call Mike again. She handed me the phone. This time, he answered.
“Hi honey, I…”
“Who is this?” he asked.
“It’s me. I’m calling from someone else’s phone. I locked myself out of the car and she’s helping me.”
I started to cry again. God, I was a mess.
“Did you get the spare?”
“No, there wasn’t one. And I couldn’t call from home because the landline was dead.”
“You just need to plug it in.”
“Nick’s car is running.”
“You’re kidding.”
“And Teddy is inside… with my phone.”
He laughed. I managed to laugh.
“I’ll be there in a little bit.”
I told him where the car was parked and then I got off the phone. My angel turned into the dead-end road and thankfully, Teddy was still there, looking out the car window.
When she pulled onto the gravel ahead of Nick’s car and stopped, I reached over and hugged her. I was crying again, and laughing at the same time.
“You know, my son just graduated from the high school. Do you know anyone at the high school?” I said.
“My grandson just graduated too! That’s our connection,” she said with a smile.
Then, she said his name.
He was one of the boys I read with in the hall when Nick was in kindergarten.
Thank you for listening, jules