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Authors: Sara Vinduska
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attention to it the night before. He couldn’t remember how many minutes it recorded, wondered if two months worth fit. He really didn’t want to play the messages and finished his cup of coffee, then poured himself another cup. If he was smart, he’d erase them all without playing them. His finger pressed the play button anyway.
The first three were from his brother. Then his chief wondering where the hell he was. Chad. One from the last woman he’d slept with, wanting to get together again. Another from the chief. A guy he ran the trails with sometimes. A few hang-ups. A few others from guys in the firehouse.
The tape ended and he sank against the wall. Strange hearing people’s concern over him. Sad that there really weren’t all that many people who did care about him.
Finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, he took his cup of coffee outside and sat down heavily on the steps in front of his apartment. He watched neighbors he didn't know come and go from the parking lot. The plumber whose name he couldn't remember came out, handed him the bill and drove off.
An hour after the plumber had left, he found the strength to go back inside and look at his newly remodeled bathroom. It was much roomier now with only the sink, toilet, and a glassed-in corner shower stall. He could breathe in there again. After shaving off his beard, he stood for a long time staring himself down in the mirror. Then, he shaved his head.
Chapter 16
Trent pulled his beat up Chevy truck into his regular parking spot at the firehouse. He recognized most of the vehicles around him including the chief’s spotless black F150 in the reserved spot closest to the building. He got out, grabbed his gear off the passenger seat, and walked briskly towards the side door, giving himself no time to change his mind. He hadn’t told anyone in the house that he was coming, but there was nowhere else he wanted to go and staying at home alone was out of the question.
He took a calming breath and pushed open the door. His senses were assaulted with the familiar sights, sounds, and smells. The hallway was dim, the fluorescent light that was out still hadn’t been replaced. He closed his eyes and took it all in. The muffled voices and TV noise down the hall. Lingering aromas of spicy food cooking, sweat, and smoke.
When he opened his eyes again, a big man with shaggy black and gray curls stood at the end of the dim hallway. Ted, one of the ladder guys and Trent’s occasional drinking buddy, shook his head as if he’d seen a ghost, which wasn’t that far off from the truth.
“Trent, shit, why the hell didn’t you tell us you were coming in?” he asked.
“Thought I’d surprise you,” Trent said, coming closer and depositing his gear in front of the row of lockers that lined one side of the hall.
Ted clapped him on the shoulder, then inspected his shorter hair and crooked nose. “Well, at least you're not such a pretty boy anymore. Though you do look better than the last time I saw you.”
Another familiar face poked his head out of the lounge area a few doors down. “He still looks like shit to me. Barlow! Get the fuck over here!” Chief Burt Culmer said, joining them in the hall.
“Chief,” Trent said with a small nod.
Ted motioned him forward and he and the chief followed Trent into the largest room in the firehouse where they usually gathered when they weren’t in the kitchen or out on a call. Trent was instantly surrounded by men he considered brothers. The rumble of their voices welcomed him home.
“Damn good to have you back, man.”
“Our very own celebrity.”
The comments ranged from these to concerned silent looks and unasked questions. Trent looked at the familiar faces as he shook hands and felt their slaps on his back. There was one guy he didn't recognize. And one that was missing. “Where's Chad? The son of a bitch never takes a day off.” Trent said.
Dead silence. Awkward glances.
“Chief?” Trent
The first three were from his brother. Then his chief wondering where the hell he was. Chad. One from the last woman he’d slept with, wanting to get together again. Another from the chief. A guy he ran the trails with sometimes. A few hang-ups. A few others from guys in the firehouse.
The tape ended and he sank against the wall. Strange hearing people’s concern over him. Sad that there really weren’t all that many people who did care about him.
Finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, he took his cup of coffee outside and sat down heavily on the steps in front of his apartment. He watched neighbors he didn't know come and go from the parking lot. The plumber whose name he couldn't remember came out, handed him the bill and drove off.
An hour after the plumber had left, he found the strength to go back inside and look at his newly remodeled bathroom. It was much roomier now with only the sink, toilet, and a glassed-in corner shower stall. He could breathe in there again. After shaving off his beard, he stood for a long time staring himself down in the mirror. Then, he shaved his head.
Chapter 16
Trent pulled his beat up Chevy truck into his regular parking spot at the firehouse. He recognized most of the vehicles around him including the chief’s spotless black F150 in the reserved spot closest to the building. He got out, grabbed his gear off the passenger seat, and walked briskly towards the side door, giving himself no time to change his mind. He hadn’t told anyone in the house that he was coming, but there was nowhere else he wanted to go and staying at home alone was out of the question.
He took a calming breath and pushed open the door. His senses were assaulted with the familiar sights, sounds, and smells. The hallway was dim, the fluorescent light that was out still hadn’t been replaced. He closed his eyes and took it all in. The muffled voices and TV noise down the hall. Lingering aromas of spicy food cooking, sweat, and smoke.
When he opened his eyes again, a big man with shaggy black and gray curls stood at the end of the dim hallway. Ted, one of the ladder guys and Trent’s occasional drinking buddy, shook his head as if he’d seen a ghost, which wasn’t that far off from the truth.
“Trent, shit, why the hell didn’t you tell us you were coming in?” he asked.
“Thought I’d surprise you,” Trent said, coming closer and depositing his gear in front of the row of lockers that lined one side of the hall.
Ted clapped him on the shoulder, then inspected his shorter hair and crooked nose. “Well, at least you're not such a pretty boy anymore. Though you do look better than the last time I saw you.”
Another familiar face poked his head out of the lounge area a few doors down. “He still looks like shit to me. Barlow! Get the fuck over here!” Chief Burt Culmer said, joining them in the hall.
“Chief,” Trent said with a small nod.
Ted motioned him forward and he and the chief followed Trent into the largest room in the firehouse where they usually gathered when they weren’t in the kitchen or out on a call. Trent was instantly surrounded by men he considered brothers. The rumble of their voices welcomed him home.
“Damn good to have you back, man.”
“Our very own celebrity.”
The comments ranged from these to concerned silent looks and unasked questions. Trent looked at the familiar faces as he shook hands and felt their slaps on his back. There was one guy he didn't recognize. And one that was missing. “Where's Chad? The son of a bitch never takes a day off.” Trent said.
Dead silence. Awkward glances.
“Chief?” Trent
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