Page 26 of (La)Crosse My Heart

Either way, I need to focus on what’s going on with my life and my sport. I’ve only got a few years left in lacrosse and I’ve got to stay focused on that. Jessa might not even be here for that long, especially if I can’t get my brain to relax.

12

Jessa

“If you’ll just bring that dresser in, I’ll show you where it needs to go.”

Instead of following me, the guy wheels the dresser and leaves it right behind my car before walking back up the ramp for another piece. He’s got headphones in, so I do what I can to get his attention. It ends up being a wave with what feels like a bad Irish jig.

“Why did you just put it here?” I ask, trying to be polite when he finally removes his headphones.

“You don’t have the proper entry for our dolly to get through without injury. We’ll just leave your stuff on the driveway and you can figure out what to do with it.”

“So you put it right behind my car? What if I need to go somewhere?”

The guy walks over and moves the dresser just to the right of the back of my car.

“You can’t take it inside? In the contract it says I paid you to move my stuff out of my old place, transport it here, and then help me move it into the house.”

The man doesn’t stop moving things up and down the ramp. The other one with him doesn’t say much either.

“There’s no way I can move the dresser inside on my own.” It’s the very sturdy kind, passed down by my parents. It’s hard enough to move by sliding, let alone needing to go up the three steps to the front door.

“I’m sorry, but this is the best we can do,” the guy says.

I’m not sure whether I should pace or throw things right now. How can a company just do that to their clients?

I sit down on the porch and pull out my phone. It doesn’t take long for me to find the receipt for this company, and I read all the smaller print to see what it says.

There’s nothing in it that says they can’t move the furniture in if there’s no ramp.

I walk over to them as they finish taking out the last two pieces of my furniture, along with the boxes of clothes I’d sent.

“There’s nothing in your contract that says you can avoid moving the pieces inside.” I lift the phone so it’s closer to the guy’s face.

He swats my hand away. “I don’t care what it says. I’m quitting anyway.”

The other employee looks confused, as if not sure how to react to that.

“You’re quitting? You’re supposed to be my trainer.”

“Sorry, kid. I need a different career.” He pulls out his clipboard and says, “Sign here.”

I shake my head. “I’m not signing. The agreement was that you’d put it into the house.”

Instead of saying anything else, the guy walks around the truck and gets in. His partner runs to jump in just as the truck drives away.

I don’t think I’ve been this mad in a long time, and that’s saying something. I’ve had enough stressors to make it so I’m close to that brink often enough, but how am I going to get all of this inside?

It takes everything inside me to push back the panic and tears. This move hasn’t been as easy as I thought it would be. Next time I’ll have to figure out how to do it all myself. Get the truck and just drive it out here or something.

Then again, I hope I won’t have to move for the next couple of years.

I turn to see five men walking over, one of them wheeling a dolly over.

“What are you doing?” I ask, wiping at a stray tear.

“We noticed they were just dropping everything off in the driveway. Tell us where we need to put it,” Clark says.

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