I searched on my phone and called the first one that picked up, which was a two-truck outfit out of Mesa.
“Ma’am, you understand it’s a holiday weekend? There’s a surcharge, and I’d have to pay the guys time and a half.”
“That’s fine.”
“…Okay. When were you thinking?”
I looked at that note on the table with the turkey magnet still on top of it.
“Tomorrow morning at eight.”
There was a pause on the line.
And then — and I have thought about this man many times since — he said:
“Ma’am, can I ask you something? Are you okay?”
And I said: “I’m about to be.”
He said: “Eight o’clock. I’ll bring three guys.”
I Did Not Cry That Night, and I Want to Explain Why, Because It Wasn’t Strength
