Just One of the Guys(67)

“Want to sit outside? It’s a beautiful day.”

We go to the back of the firehouse, where there’s a picnic table and a few plastic chairs. The sky glimmers bright blue with creamy cumulus clouds piled on top of each other. Birdies sing in the trees, and the mountains glow green in the background. Even at the edge of the parking lot, it’s bleeping gorgeous.

Trev sits down and folds his arms across his chest in textbook “I don’t want to talk” body language.

“I really appreciate this,” I say, taking out my notebook. “I’ll make it fun, okay?”

“Make it quick, how’s that?” He smiles to take the edge out of his words.

“So, Trev, have you always wanted to be a firefighter?” I ask, giving him a smile.

His own smile drops into a frown, and he just stares at me intently.

“Is there a bee on me?” I ask.

“What’s wrong, Chas?”

“Nothing,” I protest. “I’m…I’m fine. Why?”

“You look…something happened, didn’t it?” he asks gently, leaning forward.

I take a breath, hold it, then let it go. “Don’t tell my dad,” I begin.

“Shit. Is it that doctor?” His face darkens suddenly.

“No! No, Ryan’s fine. He’s…he’s great.” I sigh. “Remember I told you that I thought someone was bothering me at work, messing up my stuff?” He nods. “Well, someone sent me a mean e-mail today.”

“Who?” he asks.

“I don’t know. It said it was from me, so go figure.”

“What did it say?” he asks.

I glance away from his dark, dark eyes. “Oh, nothing too scary. That I was, um, a bitch. And ugly. He called me Hulk. Like Hulk Hogan, I guess, or the Incredible Hulk. Either way, less than flattering, you know?”

It’s when he takes my hand that my eyes fill. His hand is warm and smooth and calloused, and it feels so good and reassuring and perfect. Embarrassed, I wipe my eyes with my free hand.

“Are you going to the police?” he asks.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You are. And I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not. I’ll—”

“I’m coming, Chas.” He squeezes my hand, then lets it go, and for a minute, my hand just doesn’t know what to do, like its purpose in life has been taken away. “You saved the e-mail, right?” Trev asks.

“Right,” I answer.

“Good girl.”

I swallow, then look down at my notebook. “Well, I still have to do this little profile, okay? So if you don’t mind…”

“Sure. Fire away.”

We’re back to normal, that strange state of just a little more than friends. “Okay. Trev, why did you become a firefighter?” I ask.

“To be like your dad.” The answer is immediate.

I smile a little at that, even though I knew the answer. “And do you love it?”

“Yup. So are we done?” He grins.

I laugh. “These questions are designed to put you at ease, Trevor, and I can see that they’re working just great. Take a breath, relax. We’re just getting started.”

“I just don’t really like this sort of thing.”

“Why not? You guys are the bomb! Everyone loves firemen. You know that.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, I don’t want to make myself out to be a hero. Nobody does.”

“But you are heroes and we do love you. So shut up and get over it, bub.” He smiles and my cheeks feel a little hot. “So, Firefighter Meade, what’s the best part of this job?”

“Serving the community of Eaton Falls.”

I wait, but he seems finished. “Trevor,” I say through gritted teeth, “cooperate.”

“Fine. It beats being a garbage man, okay?”

I throw my pen down in disgust. “My father said you’d help me, okay? So do it, or I’m telling.”

Finally, he laughs. “Okay, you big baby.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.” I pick up my pen again. “If I were to quote you as saying something like, ‘I’m proud to serve the people of Eaton Falls…it’s good to know that my job lets me help those in need’…would that be okay?”

“As long as you make it sound better than that, then sure, I guess.”

I let that one pass. “Tell me what it’s like to work at saving lives.” I give him my best interview smile.

“It beats not saving lives.”

“You know, you were so nice before, and yet now I want to hit you.”

“Come on, Chas!” he says. “Who can answer this stuff?” I glare. He shifts in the chair. “Okay.” He sighs. “Well, of course we don’t get to save lives every day, or even save buildings. Most of our work, as you already know, is medicals, automatic alarms, car accidents. But yeah, once in a while, we get to save a life.”

“Can you give me some examples?” I ask.

He thinks. “A couple days ago, we had this guy about fifty, fifty-five years old. He had a heart attack, and we did CPR, shocked him, got a rhythm back.”

“Did he make it?” I ask.