Using the van

Leaving the gym, the mottled sky looks ominous. Rain falls down in light, irregular sheets. I look up, appreciating the unusual weather in my zen state of mind. The wind suddenly gusts hard, driving the tiny droplets into my face like needles. My appreciation diminishes somewhat after that.

At Mindy’s house I ring the doorbell and wait, realizing how the combined wind and rain are unseasonably chilling, and that I didn’t dress for this. She opens the door and gives me the usual hug despite my dampness, then offers me coffee. I decline, saying I would take her up on it after getting back. She leads me to the garage and hands me the keys to her van. After she opens the garage door, she looks up at the fast-moving dark clouds and frowns.

“Have you heard the forecast?” She asks.

“No, how bad is it?”

“I don’t know. The wind was already enough to keep me awake last night. What do you need the van for anyway? Helping someone else move?"

"Not this time. I am tasked with picking up and delivering something for a charity auction."

"Look at you, helping all the time,” she says with a slight smile, but it disappears as she looks back to the sky. "It looks like it is getting worse out here."

“Well, I’d better get going then. I’ll probably be at least an hour, maybe two.” I get in the van, confirming that the back seats are still removed.

Mindy looks uneasy. “Okay...Hurry back—but drive carefully!” I close the van door and wave as I drive off.

It takes thirty-five minutes to get to the address that Victoria gave me. In that time, the rain starts to come down hard, making it difficult to read the street signs and house numbers. When I do find it, it turns out to be an expensive looking victorian house on a street that has several other historic buildings. The old woman that answers the door tells me to dive into the alley and make the pickup from the garage. I back the van up to it as the woman comes out in a raincoat and opens her garage door, showing me what is I have come for.

There is a large wooden crate, about three feet by four feet by two feet tall. Next to it are six cardboard boxes. She tells me that the large crate contains the auction item, and all of the boxes contain bottles champagne for the gala dinner. This is more than I had expected, leading me to wonder if Victoria intentionally downplayed the job, or is this old woman realizing she can get me to do two jobs for the price of one.

I start by moving the large crate. It is heavier than I’d hoped, perhaps 175 pounds. I am able to lift the rope handles and drag it close to the van’s back door. The woman watches me struggle to lift one end onto the bumper, unable and unwilling to offer any help. After wrangling each end for fifteen minutes, I am finally able to lift and push it in the rest of the way, pinching my fingers in The process. Then I load in all the champagne boxes in the space remaining. She gives me a ten dollar tip. It feels a little insulting to take, but I need the money. With most of the van’s floorspace used, I head to the downtown drop-off address.

The rain is pouring buckets, and the best I can tell, the address matches a solitary steel security door in a mixed-use brick building. I double park long enough to run through the rain to the door and pound on it. I run back into the van, waiting as long as I can to see if anyone answers. No one does. I call the phone number provided. It rings until I get a voicemail message saying they are unavailable for the rest of the day and will be back on the following day. The voicemail doesn’t specify what days it is referring to, leaving me less than confident. “Well, that’s just fucking great,” I gripe, then drive back to Mindy’s house, wet all over and cursing Victoria’s name.