Wildfire

by Allison Martin

  “Oh, I’m sure he hooks up. Sometimes he’s takes off to Morleau for the whole weekend and I bet there’s booze and women involved.”

  I wave my hands to make her stop and surprisingly jealousy filled me from top to toe. I know it’s true because that waitress in Morleau treated Xan like a dog.

  “What about you?” Del sets down her drink and finally starts helping me clear more of the greasy smudged lipstick from the glass. “Any crazy ex’s?”

  “Nope. I’m sort of in the same boat. A few dates and hook ups scattered in there, but I’ve never been in any other relationship.” It’s a complete lie. Well, not complete, I guess. He’s not an ex per say. But I did see a guy once and after I ended it, I’m pretty sure he didn’t stop seeing me.

  Del rolls her eyes so hard the irises almost completely disappeared. She makes a loud gagging noise that kicks in my defensiveness.

  “You two are the most pathetic,” she stretches out the word pathetic. “God we could plop you guys in the middle of a Sparks movie and the plot wouldn’t even miss a beat.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But I have a strong feeling that I should be offended.”

  We clean in silence for a few moments. “So, he goes to Morleau often?”

  “Nope. Not happening, Briggs. I’m not talking about my brother’s sex life. Don’t know. Don’t care. I will pluck out my own ear drums to avoid hearing about it.” Del pinches her lips shut and I laugh, my cheeks warm from embarrassment.

  “Fine. Topic deleted.”

  “Thank you. But to answer that one question, no he very rarely leaves town. He does a lot with Tabby helping her stay in school, keeping Jet’s business afloat with big jobs that require multiple people. He bails Zeke out of whatever fresh trouble he’s landed himself in every other week. Then his job keeps him basically MIA for the entire summer. Or at least if he can swallow his pride and take his damn health assessment.” Del’s voice carries frustration and she scrubs a little harder at the windshield.

  “Okay, back it up. What health assessment?”

  Del’s eyes widen and her hand hovered above the glass. I shade my eyes to see her better in the sun.

  “Um, you’ll have to ask him about it. Not my story to tell. All I can say is he is on leave from his job and he’s being a stubborn ass about it.”

  “That sounds like him.” I smirk and polish the last of the glass, the windshield finally free of the hateful words. I would be upset but some of the things the trolls leave for me on social media make this sound polite in comparison.

  I toss the rag in the bucket again and admire our work. Well, mostly my work.

  “Thanks for helping with this. I really didn’t want Millie to see.”

  “What?” Del fakes surprise. “You don’t want your ten-year-old knowing that grown-ass women are just as petty and cruel as the children?”

  She places her hand on her chest like she couldn’t believe me, and I shrugged exaggerated shoulders and waving arms.

  “I know, right? And Millie is nine. She turns ten in three weeks.”

  Del spins on her heeled boot, her red lips touched with a wicked grin.

  “No, Del,” I start knowing where this is going.

  “Yes, Briggs. It’s going to happen. You know you can’t stop it.”

  I don’t argue, because I can only imagine Del’s obsession with parties has expanded with age and also because Millie has never had a proper birthday party with kids and cake and games.

  With a sharp finger, I point at her. “No frilly shit. Millie doesn’t do pink. Feminine is fine, no flashy.”

  Del salutes me and then claps her hands together quickly.

  “Oh, this is so exciting.” She lunges at a man walking down the sidewalk. “Pete, I get to plan my niece’s birthday party.”

  Pete, a tall balding man with sweat on his ginger brow doesn’t seem at all phased by Del’s ambush on his personal space.

  “I didn’t know you had a niece,” he says and Del pouted.

  “That’s not the point Peter McLellan,” she says sternly, following him into the bar. “The point is I get to plan a party!”

  She winks at me as the door closes and I’m left stranded on the sidewalk of main street, terrified of how deeply I’m sinking back into this town. Of how fast Millie has been absorbed into Xan’s world.

  If I’m not careful, the Ryker family and the rest of Raston will swallow Millie whole.

  Chapter Thirteen

  XAN

  I take the first slice of pizza and inhale it, the grease burning my lips, so I wash it down with Iced Tea. I’m starving after the practice, and so was the team. The sound of laughing, shrieking, and giggling dies out the second Patty brought us the two large pizzas that ranged in topping from Hawaiian, to meat lovers, to deluxe, to chicken barbecue.

  “Patty, you’re an angel,” I say through a mouthful and she swats me with the dishtowel she always carried around with her. Patty’s one of those women that felt like a mom, not just to her own, but to the entire town. She’s always ready to pull one of us in for a tight hug against her soft figure or stare us down with a thick brow and the wrinkles around her brown eyes carry all her disappointment to the surface on each wave of skin. Her salt and pepper hair is always back from her round face and held in place with a brightly colored scrunchy.

  So many memories of my life surrounded this run-down old diner. The first time I held a girl’s hand was in the far booth. The cracking vinyl of the overstuffed seat scratched along my skin as I tiptoed my fingers along it to find hers resting limply at her side. We sat like an old couple holding hands refusing to look each other in the eye. That was Sandy Warner in third grade.

  My first proper fight was outside the door with Drake Moore because he called my mother a Jesus breeder when she was pregnant with Tabitha. Patty’s husband pulled our scrawny bodies apart and called Drake’s mother. Patty took me to the back, and I sat on a stool in the kitchen while she patched me up. She knew not to call my father. That he would be embarrassed by my behavior and when we got home, I’d get it worse than Drake had given it to me.

  “Patty the Pizza Angel!” the team shouts and lifted their slices in honor. Patty waved us off like she was embarrassed by the praise and scuttled back to the kitchen. Millie’s perched on the edge of her black and silver chair, her dark eyes scanning the table and the diner. She’s an observer, an absorber of her environments. She takes in everything so deeply it inspires me. So many things around this town, in the world even, seem so mundane and unimportant. Millie takes it all in with childlike wonder and I’m curious if she’s always been like this.

  The thought guts me and a pain I never knew possible grows from the wound. The Millie in front of me with her long braid and lopsided baseball cap and gap-toothed grin is the earliest Millie I’ll ever know. I have no idea what her first words were, when she walked, if she was a climber, her first day of school, the first time she picked up a glove...none of it. All the things I remembered as clear as day with my sisters.

  Millie’s gaze finally lands on me, but I don’t hide the fact that I’m staring at her. This perfect human I had a part in creating. Her freckled cheeks turn pink and her eyes cast down, but her smile grows wider, showing more of the teeth she has yet to grow into. I remind myself that she has a lot more growing to do. A lot more firsts that I can support her through.

  “I’m really glad we got to hang out today,” I say folding my arms on the table and the tips of her ears turned red. She tugs on her braid.

  “It was so much fun. I’m so excited for the game. I’ve never played in a real game before. I’m really glad you’re going to be with me. In case I freak out.” She has a slight lisp due to the space in her teeth and the relief in her voice when she says she knew I’d be there for her is the last running step I need before I swan dive off the cliff into my devotion to her.

  The most intense feeling of love I’ll ever experienced comes over me without warning, but I cont
ain it. I bottle it up and tuck it away because first of all I don’t want to terrify the poor girl. The whole situation is complicated and overwhelming for a grown man, I need to be careful what I put on her. Second of all because the second I leapt off that edge it rattles loose all the fears that hid in the shadows. All the reasons for me to be afraid toss around inside me and I need to figure out how to separate and categorize everything to fit into my new life. A life as a father.

  “I’ll always be here for you, Millie. You’re stuck with me now, kiddo,” I say, nudging her with my shoulder.

  The door jingles and I notice the young woman because I’ve never seen her before. Anything unfamiliar is easily recognized in a place like Raston. She has long black hair, deep brown skin with full lips pursed together and thick black eyebrows perfectly arched in concentration. She presses her phone to her ear and holds a manicured finger up to Patty but it’s a gesture that doesn’t feel rude even though it should.

  My phone buzzes against the old yellow table and I flip it over. Unknown number. I silence the call and grab another slice of pizza. My phone buzzes again and this time Jet grabs it.

  “Dude, just deal with it okay.” He glares at me for a moment but turns away before I can say that I am dealing with it. In my own way. Sort of.

  The phone rings again, but this time someone else stands over my shoulder. The woman with the brown skin and narrow but unassuming eyes. She holds her phone out and taps the call button, gently tucking the phone beneath her shiny hair. Half a second later my phone buzzes again.

  Ah, fuck.

  This time I answer, putting the device to my ear. “Hello?” I say quietly and the woman standing next to me smiles wide, her crooked teeth making her appear kind, her energy exuding pride and kindness which is a strange mix.

  “Mr. Ryker,” she says with a thick East Indian accent still making a show of the fact that she busted me screening her calls. “I’m so glad I’ve finally reached you. You are a very hard man to track down.”

  I realize everyone at the table is watching me and I end the call and turn to face my fate. She’s already put her phone away and extends a hand to me.

  “I’m Shunta Bakshi. Can we step outside a moment to talk?” She scans the table of young kids whose eyes were all wide and staring, everyone except Millie who glanced at the woman then me then went back to her pizza. It reminds me that this is a small town, that these kids are not exposed to difference cultures and different languages. Except Millie.

  Millie’s spent her whole life traveling Canada, the US, and Mexico with her mother and in that moment she’s the worldliest person in this room. I smile respectfully and wipe my hands on a napkin before standing and shaking Shunta’s hand.

  “Absolutely, Miss Bakshi,” I say and gesture for her to lead the way.

  The sun hits me hard and I squint as Shunta takes sunglasses from her purse and slips them on. She feels way too sophisticated to be in Raston with her fitted skirt, flowing blouse, and aire of big city superiority.

  “What can I help you with?” I tuck my hands in my pockets and lean against the painted brick wall. Shunta purses her lips at me with disappointment but her energy remains calm, accepting, nonjudgmental. It twists me all up inside not knowing what to expect from her.

  “You’ve been dodging us long enough, Mr Ryker.”

  “Xan is fine.” I correct her and she tilts her head like she’s irritated with my interruption.

  “The powers that be have asked me to come in to replace Miss Lore. They feel like you might respond better to a...firmer approach.”

  I laugh, letting it drown out my discomfort. “A firmer approach, hey?”

  She adjusts her purse on her shoulder and I still can’t tell how to feel about her. Reading people and situations is usually a lot easier than this. It’s almost as if her walls are as thick as mine.

  “Yes, Mr Ryker. Someone who will be more immune to your particular charms and can get you to take your assessment seriously. You need to pass this if you want return to work for the season.”

  “Pass? Like it’s a biology test? I’m sorry, but have you ever stood in the middle of a forest being engulfed in flame? Have you ever carried a hundred pounds of gear on your back in 200-degree heat and smoke that turns you blind and sears your lungs? Have you watched someone you’ve known your whole life die in your arms?” My irritation burns through me as memories buck against their chains, wanting to take over my brain.

  “I’m sorry but that’s not a test you can really pass...” I push off the wall, done with her confusing calmness and condescending head tilt. She doesn’t let me move past her. She steps in my path, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. She is a very beautiful woman, with a deep darkness in her liquid eyes, and I shrink back at her glare.

  “They told me you’d make me prove myself. That you are protective of your inner space and hold trials to gain your approval.”

  My jaw falls open and she advances on me again.

  “I want to be clear,” she says sternly. “My past is none of your business. But for the sake of the job and getting this completed as quickly as we can to get you back on your team, I’ll take your bait. I’ll play your pride game.”

  I want to retort. To deny her claim. To fight back. But she doesn’t give me the chance.

  “I am a refugee, Mr. Ryker. I have stood in the middle of my village as it was burned to the ground. I have snuck away from my home with all my worldly possessions on my back through desert sands that blistered my skin and sucked every bit of moisture from my body. I watched my father weep over my brother’s corpse after a stray bullet pierced his lungs.”

  She speaks with such detachment and calmness that I shrink back into the wall with each word feeling small and foolish and ashamed.

  “I’m not in the business of scorekeeping when it comes to trauma,” she continues. “I am empathetic to your struggle, Mr. Ryker, and would never diminish the pain you’ve been through in your life both personally and professionally. But you’ll have to excuse me if I’m immune to your Poor White Boy defenses. We are both human. We have both felt pain and loss and fear and disappointment. We have both been overwhelmed by life in different ways at different times. We are connected. It’s not a matter of if I can help you. It’s comes down to if you’ll let me help you. You are still in control here, Xan. You like that, right? To feel like you’re in control?”

  She’s still completely devoid of judgment, speaking with smooth calmness but I feel every single syllable as a series of hits to my softest spots. Anger fights its way through me but my disorientation at her approach is too thick to penetrate. A smug satisfaction falls over her and she slips her sunglasses back onto her slender nose.

  “So how about we meet at the office at nine Monday morning and get you back to work, okay?”

  She doesn’t wait for me to answer and I don’t try because I feel smaller than I ever have before. Like a scolded child left to wallow in my own shame and embarrassment.

  I collapse against the wall, exhaustion hunching my shoulders forward and I scrub my palms over my face. I have no idea how long I stand there with the hot sun burning my neck and my thoughts searing my brain.

  The sound of kids piling through the door interrupts my stupor and Jet stands next to me, his shadow shading me from the sun.

  “What was that about?” he asks with concern in his eyes but a hard edge to his voice. Jet is the untrusting one. People thought I was guarded. I’m a fucking open book of emotion compared to my brother.

  I run a hand through my hair and catch Millie’s eye as she leaves the diner. Everything immediately settles into place and I go belly up. I submit. My priorities shift so fast it puts me off balance. My pride suddenly seems foolish in comparison.

  “My boss just pulled out the big guns.”

  Jet grins at me, knowing exactly what I mean.

  “About time,” he says and joins the kids walking back to the school to meet their parents.

&nb
sp; “You coming?” Millie asks and I push off the wall, matching her pace. “Are you okay?”

  The concern in her eyes is palpable. She’s a kid that absorbs everything around her. Even the emotion of others. I pat her shoulder.

  “I’m great, kiddo,” I say and feel adoration for her flood out all my negative thoughts. “Today was a perfect day.”

  She beams at me before skipping ahead to join her new teammates.

  This is the second day I’ve known her, but she’s become my reason for being.

  I need to be worthy of her.

  That was the only thing I’m certain of anymore.

  So, I need to show up Monday, swallow my pride, and get back on my crew.

  I’ll do it for Millie.

  Chapter Fourteen

  BRIGGS

  The sun burns through the front window, warming a path across the hard wood floors and stretching over my body like a blanket as I lie on floral sofa. One of those couches that no one is really ever allowed to sit on unless it’s Sunday and the Jerison’s were over for tea.

  I hold a book overhead and listen to the sound of Millie’s pencil scratching along her papers. She taps the end on the table in a rhythmic pattern until I’m unable to focus on the words in my book.

  “Do you need help?” I ask, resting the book on my chest.

  “I’m working on fractions,” she says, crunching the pencil between her teeth.

  “Okay, then I’m out. I suck at fractions.” I set my book down anyway, fully committed to figuring it out. I’ve been dedicated to her schooling since she was little, knowing that with our lifestyle it would be easy to let her slip for my own convenience. It was easy when she was in first and second grade, I could keep up with the curriculums and help her learn what she needed to know. But third grade started getting a little more cumbersome, and now in fourth she’s starting to learn things that I do not remember learning when I was nine. I actually have to prep and relearn things that she’s supposed to learn.