W is for Wayne

“Katey,” Wesley says, turning to look at my from the passenger seat of the car. “You have to get a cell phone.”

We are in the middle of Rankin Avenue in BigCity, NC and the axle or steering mechanism or transmission on my car is dangling like a loose tooth from the innards of the vehicle.

“But–” I say, wanting to remind her that they don’t even work where I live.

“You don’t have to tell anyone you have one. You just really should get one, you know? What if you were alone?”

She is right…maybe. But now’s not the time for debate and we are on her cell phone with AAA who wants $3 per mile and a ninety minute wait. We try Geico who connects us with Wayne at BigCity Recking and he shouts into the phone as if he is a bird of prey at the top of a tree, hollering down to us rodents blocking Rankin Avenue.

“I’LL BE THERE IN 30 MINUTES. IT’S $2.50 PER MILE, Y’UNS JUST SIT TIGHT!”

We sit tight.

The pressure in my throat grows and starts to make my head throb and I am thinking about FamousAuthor’s uninspiring peace poem at the reading we just attended, and how his poem sounded like a children’s book (and then cursing my self for being so critical and why did I think I was well enough to go out tonight and, and, and…) when Wayne from BigCity Recking pulls up. In my half-sleep half-sick state of mind I am overly agitated by the lack of a W in the company name. I consider that Wayne has a W in it and wouldn’t Wayne like W’s and want another W in, say, the company name? As in BigCity, Wrecking? “Where is the W, Wayne, where is the W?” I want to shout but I don’t because it would only be an awkward manifestation of my hallucinations and besides, Wayne with a W is here to save the day (or night, rather).