Page 9 of Not Looking
I laughed and looked at my limbs. “Don’t think so. Still got my arms and legs.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Be serious.”
I rolled my shoulders and felt the now-familiar twinge, then squeezed my hands a few times to get blood moving to my fingers properly again. “Nothing’s worse than the doctor’s note already mentioned.”
He scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Did you do anything stupid that might turn into an injury in a few days? Trip over a branch? Kickback from the saw?”
I shook my head. “Nothing that I can think of.”
He nodded. “You know I’ll have to have you sign off on that. Think real hard, cause you won’t be able to claim it once I get your signature.”
I considered the question again and tried to recall anything that seemed minor, but was maybe a bigger deal than I thought. I shook my head again. “I think we’re good.”
Another scribble, then he turned the paper to me and pointed with a pen. “Sign and date here.”
I skimmed his chicken scratch, but didn’t expect him to lie about nonexistent injuries since he was exceptional about documenting real ones. I scribbled my signature, added the date, then handed it back.
He nodded and added it to the stack of paperwork. Then he glanced up at the clock. “That was it. I’m noting that your end time for today was two forty-seven PM.”
I swallowed. “Ok.”
He stood and extended his hand. I mirrored the motion, and we shared a handshake.
“It was good working with ya, Craig,” he said, trying to hide any emotion with added gruffness to his tone. “Sorry to see ya leave. Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks, Michael. I’m going to miss it.”
“It’s a shame…”
I nodded. Neither of us needed him to finish his thought.
I made sure I hadn’t dropped anything, then headed toward the door. I’d just pulled it open when I turned back. “Hey, Mike?”
“Yeah.”
“Give me a call if you need an extra hand during wildfire season.”
He sighed. “You know I can’t do that, man. Not without your doctor’s clearance.”
The words were a punch to the gut; the final nail in my career’s coffin. They needed every hand they could get in bad wildfire years, but I wouldn’t be able to help unless my injuries magically healed themselves.
Even good intentions couldn’t clear the hurdle of bureaucratic red tape.
I swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah… I guess I forgot that.”
“You know I’d take you in a heartbeat if I could.”
I turned to the open door. “I know.”
Heavy silence hung between us.
“They’ll have your final paycheck at the office on Monday.”
“Ok…” I blew out a breath. “See ya around, Mike.”
“Take care, Craig.”
I stepped down from the shack and strode across the landing to my truck. I got in, took a minute, then reached over and turned on my CB. The speaker crackled as vehicles along the logging road called out their locations.
