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I zipped out into the street on Alki without looking carefully, a car struck
me and I went tumbling over the hood. The feeling I d had for those few
seconds as I flew through the air was a lot like the feeling I d been having
for the last hour tonight acute disbelief. A feeling that it couldn t be
happening. That it couldn t be real. That this couldn t be my life. Maybe
somebody else s life, but not mine.
Even if I managed to talk my way out of a jail term for the bonds,
there was still Chief Abbott s death to worry about.
As the hours passed, the puddles in the street grew deeper and
broader, and as happened sometimes at big fires, the water runoff itself
became one of the problems.
 You know, Gum, I ll be seeing my attorney, J. P. Gibbs, first thing in
the morning. You should see yourself an attorney, too.
 No shit.
T HE S MOK E R O OM 139
By ten o clock the fire hadn t diminished. In fact, shortly before we
were relieved, another interior wall collapsed and prompted a flare-up
that shot over a hundred feet into the night sky. We oohed and aahed like
schoolboys and then carefully redirected our streams to tamp down the
hot spots, though our water was about as effective as a BB gun against a
charging moose.
Toward the end, I went back to Tronstad, who was getting weary and
didn t refuse my help this time, although after a moment he said, You are
just the biggest friggin jackass I ve ever known. You never should have
said a word to Sears.
 You re right. I should have turned you in that first night, at Ghanet s
house.
Tronstad held my eyes for a few seconds, then burst into anguished
laughter.  That s right. That s exactly what you should have done.
After the crew of Engine 11 relieved us, the four of us trudged over to
the rest area and took off our MSA backpacks and bottles. Sears crossed
the street to the command post and began communing with a chief he
knew. Johnson sidled up to another black firefighter and began talking in
low tones, while Tronstad downed Twinkies and a Coke. I wasn t able to
force down anything but a cup of Gatorade. Afterward, I stood off by my-
self in a funk. I was angry with myself. With Sears. Tronstad. At my dumb
luck for having been assigned to Station 29 out of drill school.
We were in the rest area fifteen minutes before I spotted someone I
recognized in the crowd on the other side of the yellow fire-scene tape.
I walked over and stood in front of her for a nanosecond before her
eyes came to rest on mine. When she realized who I was, she gave a little
jump. The old guy she d wrapped herself around wore a disheveled suit,
his tie unknotted. He was maybe sixty or seventy. Hard to tell. I d only
seen him once before, the afternoon the pig fell through their roof, and
his eyes looked dead then, too. They were black and flat tonight and never
looked at you directly, always surveying some object in the distance.
Bernard Pederson. Daddy.
Iola wore tight designer jeans, high-heeled boots, and a fancy coat.
When she spotted me, Iola whispered something into Bernard s ear,
140 E A R L E ME R S ON
sending him on an errand, and as he turned and lumbered gracelessly
through the crowd, she gave him a pat on the butt. I was pretty sure he
hadn t recognized me.
After he was gone, Iola turned to me, stepping forward until she was
pushing against the yellow ribbon.
 Firefighter Gum. How nice to see you in all your gear. She whis-
pered,  You know how hot that gets me.
 What are you doing?
 We came to see the fire. We were on our way home from Carmelita s.
A little celebration.
 What s all the smoochin on the old guy?
 The old guy? That s funny. I suppose from your perspective, he does
look old. Surely you remember Bernard.
 Bernard s not . . . but you call him Daddy.
Stepping forward, she cupped my face in her cool palms.  A lot of
wives call their husbands that. Don t be upset. I think it s sweet that you
didn t realize he s my husband. I mean, that s what I liked about you from
the beginning. Your naiveté. I suppose it s only fair to tell you I m tired of
it now.
 You mean you re tired of me?
 That s right, sweetie.
 You re ending our relationship?
 Is that what it was? A relationship? Yes, I suppose I am ending it.
 If I d known you were married, I never would have had anything to
do with you.
 I wear a ring, sweetie.
 I thought that was from your first marriage.
 This is my first marriage. It was a lark, sweetie. Something to fill my [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]