I went into Frank’s garage the next afternoon intending to leave with a truck. I had brought neither enough money nor enough friends, but until Frank named his price I did not understand which shortage mattered. He stood between two raised hoods, drinking coffee from a chipped cup. Behind him, the delivery truck occupied a narrow bay. Its windshield was cracked, its front wheel still bent. “You said identification,” he told me. “You didn’t say I was giving anything away.”
I walked around a stack of tires to examine it. A painted rectangle on the door showed where somebody had rubbed away an old business name. The bed held two loose boards and a length of wet rope, nothing that explained the urgency surrounding it. Frank came after me carrying his cup. He named a charge for towing, storage, and damage to another vehicle. “Which other vehicle?” I asked. “One that needed fixing.” He would not show it to me.
I put my hand on the truck’s cold hood. “You’ve got their property. Let them pay for their own repairs.” “They’ll pay for mine first.” He shifted between me and the driver’s door. I could have shoved past him, but a truck with a ruined wheel was not going anywhere because I won an argument. I told him I would bring Leo. Frank shrugged toward the open entrance. Outside, Paul sat in our car with his hat tipped over his eyes.
Leo was waiting downstairs from the doctor’s rooms, wearing his coat over his injured shoulder. He wanted to walk rather than ride with Paul. I took the wheel and let him sit beside me. Paul moved into the rear without speaking. At the garage, Leo got out slowly, bracing himself on the door. When he saw the truck, he went straight to it and touched a split in the wooden bed. “That’s ours,” he said. “Bruno paid for that timber himself.”
Frank set his cup on a bench. “Then Bruno can pay what’s owing.” Leo listened to the amount and shook his head. He said the truck had been crowded against the wall, not driven into another automobile. Paul came in from the street at that. “You were leaking blood. Maybe your memory leaks too.” Leo turned toward him. I stepped between them before Leo could answer. There was no gain in discovering how much strength an injured man could waste.
“Tell me what you saw,” I said to Paul. He ignored me and pulled the sliding entrance door partway shut. Its rollers rattled overhead. The strip of daylight narrowed behind his shoulder. Leo saw it too. He backed against the truck, his good hand searching for purchase on the sideboard. Frank reached for that wrist. I caught Frank’s forearm and moved it away. For a moment we stood joined together like men helping lift something heavy, except nobody was helping anybody.
“Open the door,” I told Paul. “Let him finish talking.” “He’s finished.” Frank jerked his arm free and knocked his cup off the bench. Coffee spread beneath our shoes. He demanded payment before anyone left. I could hear another mechanic moving somewhere behind the cars, but he did not come forward. My wage envelope was inside my coat. Rose expected part of it that evening for groceries and coal. I had counted her share twice before leaving home.
I laid the envelope on the bench. Frank opened it and counted every bill while I watched. It was not enough. “A deposit,” I said. “You hold the truck. You don’t hold him.” I made Frank write the amount and his name on a plain receipt. It settled no question about the collision; it only established where my wages had gone. Paul slid the door open after Frank nodded. I took Leo’s elbow and walked him into the afternoon.
Outside, Leo pulled away from my hand. “You shouldn’t have paid.” “Then help me get it back.” Before he could answer, a dark car stopped beside the curb. Bruno Ressa got out, thick through the shoulders, with a pale mark beside his mouth. He looked first at Leo’s bandage, then at the receipt I was folding. “Come here,” he told Leo. I said I needed another minute. Bruno planted himself between us, leaving Leo beside the open car door.
“No more private talks,” Bruno said. “You want something, say it where I can hear.” Behind me, Paul laughed once inside the garage. I put the receipt away. My money had bought Leo an open door, but not the right to stand beside him.