"What's your name?" the old man asked. "Marcus." "Henry," the old man said. He didn't offer a hand, but his eyes were different now. Sharper, like he'd asked a question Marcus hadn't heard and was evaluating the answer anyway. Nice to meet you, Henry.
You got more of these? Three more. All right. Marcus moved to the next one without waiting. Same thing.
You take the far end. They worked in silence mostly. The rain didn't let up. By the second crate, Marcus' jacket was soaked through. By the third, his boots were making that wet sucking sound with every step that he hated.
Henry was breathing harder than he let on, but the man had pride woven into every movement. The way he set his feet before a lift, the way he never looked at Marcus for reassurance, just focused on the task like it was the only thing in front of him. After the fourth crate went in, Marcus pulled off a glove and wiped the water off his face. Henry stood at the back of the truck, breathing carefully, one hand resting on the tailgate. You didn't have to do that, Henry said.
I know those people over there. Henry gestured toward the trucks idling nearby. They watched the whole time. I noticed, Marcus said. Didn't bother you.
Marcus thought about that for a second. No, I wasn't doing it for them. Henry looked at him. Then what were you doing it for? Marcus shrugged, pulled his glove back on.
Because you needed help, and I had two working arms. Didn't seem like it needed to be more complicated than that. Henry was quiet for a moment. The rain drumed against the truck bed. "Somewhere across the lot, one of those idling engines finally pulled away." "You from around here?" Henry asked.
"Cedar Falls, born and raised. You I come through this way sometimes. Business?" Marcus nodded like that was all the answer he needed. He didn't push, didn't fish, just started moving toward his own truck. "Wait," Henry said.
Marcus turned. Henry reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and held out a folded set of bills. Marcus could see they were large ones without counting them just from the number of zeros he caught in the corner of his vision. "For your trouble," Henry said.
His voice had that tone again. the one used to giving things on his own terms. Marcus looked at the money, looked at Henry. No, sir, he said quietly. Henry frowned. It's fair payment for your time.