“You fuckin’ left a woman alone at a rest stop and then think it’s okay to toss a dog out onto a highway?” Young Trucker is up in Artie’s face now and Old Trucker does nothing to back him off. I am so weak at the knees, I sink onto one of the orange plastic chairs. I put my head between my legs. I am either going to pass out or throw up.

“What are you going to say to this lady? Huh? What have you got to say, mister?” Young Trucker takes on the school bully persona that is at odds with a rather baby face. He’s probably had to kick ass more than once to prove his masculinity. He jabs Artie in the chest with a slim, clean finger. Old Trucker stands behind Artie so that he can’t back away.

I need to stop this. “Thanks, both of you. He’s told me enough. There’s nothing else he can say.” I really don’t care if this kid beats the crap out of Artie; I just need to think for a few minutes. Neither one of them backs down. I can nearly smell the testosterone emanating from two guys who see a chance to blow off some steam.

“What kind of asshole are you to ditch this woman and dump her dog?” Clearly, Artie hasn’t answered this question to the satisfaction of Young Trucker.

“She was making me late. You know what that’s like, keeping to schedule. And I didn’t know her goddamned dog was in the backseat—where he didn’t belong.” Artie raises his own finger now, waving it in the kid’s face.

“Arthur Schmidt? Your truck’s ready.” Al’s sudden appearance at the doorway to the lounge snaps all of us out of the drama.

Both of my knights step away from Artie, letting him take the invoice out of Al’s hand. Al looks at all of us, shrugs, and leaves the lounge. As long as Artie pays his bill, it’s nothing to Al if three strangers gang up on him.

Old Trucker is still behind Artie and now he leans in so that his mouth is next to Artie’s right ear. “What are you going to do to make this right?”

“What can I do? I don’t know where her frickin’ dog is. What am I supposed to do?”

Old Trucker smacks Artie against the back of his head, tipping his dirty cap forward. “Apologize, you shitwad.”

I could almost laugh. Almost. The look on Artie’s face is priceless, but it isn’t the price I want him to pay. For what he’s done to me, there is no price. Apologizing can’t bring Mack back to me. And I highly doubt that Artie has the capability of apologizing with any sincerity, or any true sense of being in the wrong.