Sunrise

Day after day, I continued to drive, first to work, then wherever I was sent. Once I was out, away from the construction site, I would do anything to make my stay longer. But there were limits, and I didn't want to get in trouble and lose this gig, so with deep misgiving, I would make my way back to the construction site like a returning convict.

The life was having an enervating effect on me, too. Ten hour days, getting up at four, I was tired all the time. One morning, I had to go to the post office before work. It was still pitch black night and no one was around, so I was driving fast through the rural neighborhood. Coming over a dip in the road, my headlights were shining high into the horizon, but when the car nosed back down, I saw with horror a group of dogs lying in the road. As I say, I was going fast, and one of them could not get up and out of the way in time, and I could not get to my brakes. His eyes looked into mine like the dying carpenter I dreamed of each night, horrified and hopeless, the last minute of breath dragged on into eternity. I could feel him under my wheels, could feel the flesh and bone and blood. It was an accident, of course, something I didn't want, but it was nothing I could undo. I felt cursed, a murderer of sorts. If I had not been speeding, I might have avoided the dog, but the truth was there like a fire alarm and flashing lights.  It was my fault.  I had done it. 

There was nothing to do. I did not stop the car, did not hesitate. I simply drove on.

But I had to return that way to go to work. I had to drive back by the scene of my crime. And there on the street lay the dog, or what was left of him, for the other dogs had turned into cannibals, already dragging his entrails out across the highway. There was no loyalty or sorrow, only brute animals filling their bellies with a fresh kill. As I drove by, I knew I heard somebody yell. I had been caught, I thought. This was somebody's pet. I would be beaten or worse.

And as quickly as I could, I put the scene behind me. I imagined policemen at my door when I came home from work, my father sitting with them looking worried when I pulled into the yard. The sun was just beginning to show the faint outline of the world. I would have to wait and see.

Tired. I could fall asleep sitting up in a chair, and often struggled with just that at work. One morning, I was told to take a pick up truck to the dealership for servicing. Driving down a highway bordered by forests and fields, my eyes kept closing. Over and over again, I dozed off and woke with a start. I tried singing out loud, shaking my head, beating time on the stearing wheel. But it was no use. Everything--the line in the road, the the sound of the warm wind racing through the windows, the tires on the road--conspired to hypnotize me. And suddenly, I awoke. The truck was bumping and thumping at fifty miles per hour through a rough but treeless field, jumping over ruts and bucking over furrows. My foot was already off the accelerator and soon I had drifted to a stop. There I was in the early morning sunlight, stalled in the middle of a golden field staring into the sun. I looked back at the road where cars were passing by. They had seen this, I thought, had seen me drift off the road, had seen the field take hold of my tires, the truck jumping wildly. It must have been a sight. I was lucky to have drifted off where I hd, I thought. There wasn't a tree around.

Plenty of people got hurt on the job. I would take large groups of men to the clinic for their checkups. They were always happy to get away from the workplace and wanted to stop for food and drinks. I didn't care. Most of the time, I had to sit in the clinic and wait for them all to be looked at, but sometimes I simply dropped them off and came back for them later in the day.

Every trip took me by a new junior college campus that was just being completed. I had noticed a sign that said "Now Accepting Applications for the Fall." I hadn't thought about it at all. It was a junior college, a place for losers. But what the hell was I doing, I wondered? Soon, I would be released by the doctor to go back to work and then I would be back among the hard hats instead of sitting around an office all day. I couldn't, I thought. I couldn't do that.

And so I pulled onto the winding road that led back to the attractive new campus. I parked the company truck and walked into a sparkly new building in my work boots and jeans. I went up to a counter where a girl just a little older than I was stood.

"Can I help you," she smiled?

I was embarrassed.  "I want to go to college," I said awkwardly, not knowing if I was answering her question or just stating something I was unsure of.

She handed me some forms and pointed to a table. "Fill these out for me over there and when you are finished, bring them back."

I was sure that I would not get in. I had graduated in the bottom quartile of my class. My grades were horrible. They would ask for my transcripts and that would be that. But I filled out the forms anyway. I was there.  Maybe. . . .

When I finished, I took the forms back to the girl who looked through them and then walked away. I stood there for some time while watching her back as she went about her work. An older lady came over and she showed her my forms, and my heart began to sink. Authority, I thought. She will keep me out.

In a little while the girl came back smiling and handed me a packet. I thought it would be something else I needed to do, some obstacle that I would not overcome. When I looked down at it, though, the first word in bold print was "Congratulations." The rest was a welcome to the college.

The girl was talking to me, explaining something, but I couldn't understand her. My head was spinning.

"This is a list of times for you orientation. You need to choose one and sign up for it. . . . "

Back in the truck, I just sat awhile. The whole thing, from pulling off the highway to saying goodbye to the pretty girl had taken maybe fifteen minutes. I came in a common laborer and left a college student. It was that simple. Crazy, I thought. It was simply that.

Driving back to work, though, I knew I had them. I had options. Whatever happened at work now would not matter to me. If I wanted to, I could quit. School started in a few weeks.