by Claire Adams
“How are the kids?” Kendra asked, as she leaned ran her finger around the edge of the plate and then offered her finger to Howard, who had jumped up between us and was now acting like we didn’t exist. He sniffed Kendra’s finger, blinked once, and then turned and walked away. KO laughed. “Wow, picky little bastard, isn’t he?”
“He’s his own person,” I said, as Howard curled up at the far end of the couch and licked his paw before putting his head down and closing his eyes. “The kids are good. I met with one of my students’ fathers this week.”
“Oh yeah? Helicopter parent come to read you the riot act about his precious angel?” she asked dryly.
“No, actually he was a divorced dad who came to find out why his daughter is failing history,” I said, wondering if I wanted to tell KO just how hot Blake Gaston was.
“Was he hot?” she asked, cutting through my question.
“Unbelievably,” I said, grinning as I fanned myself.
“Why didn’t you ask him out?”
“KO! Are you kidding? That would violate about ten of the clauses in my teaching contact!” I protested.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she shot back. “That’s utter bullshit. I mean, I can see you not dating students, but their parents? Bullshit.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s a specific rule against dating a parent,” I admitted. “But it would feel weird to date a student’s dad, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, Em,” KO said, as she leaned back and laced her fingers behind her head. “We live in Waltham; it’s a small freakin’ town, and there are a limited number of eligible men around here. My theory is that if you like him and he likes you, you should go for it!”
“I have no idea if he likes me,” I admitted. “I just can’t stop thinking about him, but there’s no way I’m going to just call him up and ask him out.”
“What’s he do?”
“Firefighter,” I said.
“Oooh! That means he probably comes into the Clover!” KO said perking up. “You should come in and watch the game tonight! Maybe you’ll run into him! No harm, no foul if you meet him out on the town, my friend.”
“You’re so bad,” I laughed.
“We’re going to have the Celtics game on the big screen,” she teased. “And the drinks are two-for-one until 9!”
“Fine! Fine! I’ll come sit on a stool at the bar and watch the basketball game while you work,” I laughed. “How pathetic is that?”
“It’s only pathetic if you stay home and watch the game with your cat,” KO said. Howard opened one amber eye and looked at her disdainfully before rolling over and going back to sleep.
That evening, I put on jeans and my Celtics jersey in anticipation of the game.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said, as I flipped off the space heaters. From his spot curled up on the couch, Howard lifted his head, blinked once, and then curled back up and ignored me. “Can’t leave these things on if I’m not around. Stay curled up. I’ll turn them back on when I get home, okay?”
I pulled up in front of The Lucky Clover and immediately found a front parking spot.
“Great, this is pathetic,” I muttered under my breath, as I made my way across the room and sat down at the far end of the bar closest to the television screen and the back door. KO smiled and poured me a beer without saying a word as I sat waiting for the game to start.
“Hey, darlin’,” a voice from behind me said halfway through the first quarter. “You waiting on your husband?”
“Huh? What the—” I said, shifting my attention from the game to the guy now standing next to me.
“You alone, darlin?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, scanning the bar for KO. She was at the other end pouring drinks for a group of guys who looked like they’d already had one too many.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing alone in a bar like this?” he said, before chuckling to himself.
“Um, watching the Celtics kick the crap out of the Pistons,” I said in a flat tone that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but utter annoyance at the interruption.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, ignoring the frosty chill radiating off of me.
“No thanks; I’m good,” I said, shifting my attention back to the screen but keeping him in my peripheral view.
“So, you from around here?” he continued.
“Look, I know you’re just a guy in a bar trying to make a connection with someone,” I said, turning to look at him. “But I’m not that someone. I’m here to watch the game, and I really don’t feel like being social. Not with you or anyone else, so I’m going to recommend that you pack up what you’re selling and move it a little further down the bar.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to get hostile, babe,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender.
“I’m not hostile; I’m just trying to watch the game!” I repeated, as I turned and looked up at the screen. “And you’re making me miss all the scoring! Now move on, buddy!”
He picked up his drink, and as he moved several seats down the bar, I heard him repeating his opening line to a pretty brunette sitting alone nursing a drink. I muttered good riddance and then quickly felt my spirits lift as I watched Thomas sink a three-pointer from the side and take the Celtics lead into the double digits.
“Hell yeah!” I shouted, as I pounded the bar.
“Man, you turned that guy down cold,” KO grinned, as she nodded at the guy several seats down now intensely involved in a conversation with the brunette.
“Didn’t seem to stop him from moving on,” I shrugged.
“Girl, you’re a piece of work,” KO said, pouring me another beer and sliding it across the polished wood surface.
I watched the Celtics cream the Pistons in peace as I drank a couple more beers, and by the time the game was over, I was in good spirits. KO and I talked for a bit as the late night patrons began to filter in, and as business picked up, I waved goodbye and headed home for the night wondering what Blake Gaston was doing.
Chapter Eleven
Blake
I pulled up to the station on Christmas Eve and saw that Chief had gone all out on the annual cookout we threw for members of the community. The lawn in front of the fire station was covered in lights, and off to one side was an enormous blow-up Santa blaring Christmas carols from the bag next to his feet. I laughed as I grabbed my bag out of the truck and walked up the drive.
Inside the station, Tony was in a foul mood as he slammed cases of soda and bottled water onto a dolly. I went back to the locker room and stored my stuff before I returned to the kitchen to help.
“What’s up, man?” I asked, as I took a couple of cases of soda from him and set them on the dolly.
“She’s driving me crazy, B!” Tony shouted, as he hauled three cases of water out of the storage closet and dropped them on top of the soda. “She’s got me doing things that aren’t my job!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I said, as I swung the dolly around and pushed it toward the back door of the garage.
“She’s supposed to do the inside stuff, and I’m supposed to do the outside stuff!” he protested. “She’s got me wrapping presents! You know I have no idea how to do that shit!”
“You know, you’re kind of a dick, Tony,” I laughed, as we began pulling the plastic off the water and tossing it into the large tubs we’d set up near the grills. “Wrapping packages isn’t a gendered thing, my friend.”
“But I shovel the walk and hang the lights!” he protested more loudly. “I’m supposed to be exempt from that girly shit!”
“Oh, Tony, you have my sympathies, man, but you’d be wise to get with the program,” I laughed. “This is, after all, the 21st century. Besides, who are the packages for?”
“My parents,” he said.
“Jesus Christ, man,” I said, shaking my head. “You are so lucky your wife doesn’t kill you in your sleep!”
“Hey, guys, who's killin
g who?” Cal asked, as he joined the conversation. Tony stared at him without saying a word as I ducked behind the cart and grabbed a couple boxes of soda and began putting them in a second tub. Cal tried again, “Seriously, what’s going on?”
“Why don’t you go grab the rest of the drinks, rookie?” Tony asked, without looking at him. Cal sighed and then slunk away as Chief and two of the guys lit up the grills and signaled the start of the party.
“Why do you have to be so tough on the kid?” I asked, as Tony rapidly threw bottles into the tub and then dumped bags of ice onto them.
“He’s an idiot,” Tony grumbled. “Asking questions when he should keep his mouth shut. Doing stupid shit that he should have learned not to do in basic training. Idiot.”
“We were all idiots, Tony,” I reminded him, as I grabbed a bag of ice and covered the cans I’d put in the tub.
“Well, he’s a special kind of idiot,” Tony muttered. I knew Tony’s irritation was about more than the rookie, so I let him stew while I helped Chief get the meat ready for the grill.
Every Christmas Eve our station threw a party on what was normally the slowest night of the year, to celebrate another successful year, and every year the members of the community came and brought food, drinks, and toys that we would donate to the Marines Toys for Tots drive and brighten the holidays for kids who might not otherwise get anything from Santa. We provided the food, and the community provided gratitude and gifts.
It was more than a fair exchange.
“You ready to light up the grill, Chief?” I called, as he emerged from the station wearing a tall white chef’s hat and a long white butcher’s apron. Chief loved playing the role of the chef every year, mostly because at no other time did he do any cooking at the station.
“Ready and waiting!” Chief bellowed, as he cranked the gas and lit held a match to each of the three gas grills we’d borrowed for the event. Soon the grills were flaming hot, and Chief began dropping burger patties on one and hot dogs on the other.
The smell of sizzling meat made my mouth water as the guests began to arrive, each carrying a side dish or a dessert. One after another they deposited their offerings, until the long tables groaned under the weight of all of the food. My stomach growled as I hugged two elderly women who’d been attending the festivities for longer than I’d been on the squad.
“Come and get it!” Chief hollered, as he set two trays, heaped high with still-sizzling meat, on the tables next to the buns and condiments.
“You guys eat first,” Bill Reynolds, the owner of Lexington Hardware, said as he gestured to the tables. “The rest of us have the luxury of knowing we definitely won’t be sent on a call tonight.”
The firefighters crowded around the table and made quick work of the first grill offerings as the guests served themselves appetizers and drinks. Chief threw more meat on the grill, and someone cranked up the Christmas carols as the party shifted into full gear.
Somehow the holiday magic extended to our station, and as the night wore on, things remained quiet. By midnight, the last of the guests had headed home to dream of the next day’s celebration, and we finished cleaning up the remains of the party. Tony’s mood had lifted a little, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught him telling the rookie that he’d done a moderately good job of keeping the drink tubs filled.
I smiled as I stored the rest of the leftovers in the fridge and then headed to the bunkroom to get some sleep. With any luck, we’d sleep through the night, and I’d be well rested for my family’s Christmas celebration in the morning.
Chapter Twelve
Emily
I was sunning myself on a warm beach as Blake Gaston began slowly rubbing sunscreen up my leg. I tipped my head back and sighed as his strong fingers worked their way up the inside of my thighs, spreading the slick substance higher and higher.
“What the hell?” I spit, as something fuzzy lodged itself in my mouth. I sat up coughing and spitting as I slowly realized I’d been dreaming. I whipped around to find Howard perched on my pillow, licking his wet little paw and ignoring my outraged utterances. “You are a little bastard, you know?”
The air in the room was well below a comfortable temperature, so I pulled the comforter around me as I quickly crossed the room and turned on the space heater. I hated using them, but until my landlady fixed the furnace, I really had little other option than to do what I could to keep the place warm.
“Damn it, I told that woman I wanted the heat fixed before Christmas!” I muttered, as I slid my feet into my slippers and moved into the living room to flip on the heater before heading to the kitchen to make coffee.
I turned on the oven so I could make a pan of baked French toast, and soon the house was warm enough for me to drop the blanket. Howard padded out to the kitchen and sat at my feet mewing as I brewed my first cup of coffee.
“You think I’m going to feed your dream-wrecking ass, do you?” I asked, as I grabbed his bowl off the floor and filled it with dry food. He shot me a look that told me he was not the least bit amused before turning his attention to his breakfast.
After breakfast, I did a load of laundry and cleaned the bathroom and the bedroom. It was late afternoon before I settled down on the couch to watch Die Hard. I laughed as I recalled how, the day before vacation, a couple of faculty members debated whether it was a Christmas movie or not. Personally, I thought it was, and had a hard time understanding how others couldn’t see it.
Just as John McClane began climbing up the ventilation shaft to get to the bad guy, the phone rang. It was KO calling from home.
“Hey, Em, how’s it going?” she shouted over carolers in the background, belting out an enthusiastic rendition of “Jingle Bells.”
“It’s going good,” I laughed, as I heard her turn and tell everyone else to zip it. “Quiet day at home with me and Howard, nothing major. How’s your trip?”
“These people are crazy,” she said, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial level. “I cannot believe I’m related to them.”
“Ah well, once a year exposure is good for you,” I said, as Howard jumped up on the couch and patted the hand holding the phone.
“Yeah, it reminds me why I left in the first place!” she laughed, before getting serious. “You okay, Em? Seriously.”
“I’m fine,” I said, as Howard pawed my hand a little harder. “But I think your biggest fan wants to speak to you.”
“Tell that fat little boy I’ve got a surprise for him, if he’s good,” she laughed, as I lowered the phone down and listened to Howard mew a couple of times. KO responded with an interested, “Is that so?”
“Okay, well, if you two BFFs are done, I’m going to finish watching my movie,” I laughed. We wished each other a Merry Christmas and then hung up. I looked over at the screen to find the plane on fire already and grumbled, “Oh great, I missed the best part!”
Howard blinked before turning around a couple of times and then curling up on my lap, where he promptly went to sleep. I watched the rest of the movie and then flipped the channel to find the old version of A Christmas Carol just starting. I pulled the quilt off the back of the couch and covered Howard and I with it as I snuggled down to watch the movie.
A few minutes later, my phone rang again. Thinking it was KO calling back, I answered laughing, “My God, can’t you just enjoy the holiday without harassing me?”
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Emily,” an icy voice replied. My stomach clenched as I realized I’d said pretty close to the absolute wrong thing I could have to my mother.
“I’m sorry, Mother, I thought you were KO,” I said, trying to convey remorse I didn’t feel. “Merry Christmas. How are you?”
“How do you think I am when I only have one of my daughters home for the holidays?” she replied tersely.
“I’m sorry, Mother. I know it’s a disappointment, but I just couldn’t get away in time,” I said, fudging the truth. In reality, I had zero desire to return to my parents’ home for a
ny length of time, and especially not during the holidays, when I’d simply be on display as a testament to their outstanding skills as parents and mental health professionals.
“If you’d have planned better, you wouldn’t have had to miss out on the family gathering,” my mother said, pointing out my shortcomings, as usual.
“Yes, well, you know me and planning,” I said, making a weak joke to avoid having to deal with the reality. “How’s Dad?”
“Your father is the same as usual,” she sighed. “Working way too many hours and not taking care of himself. You know, you’d better make it a priority to come home soon and see him or else you might regret not having done it while you had the chance.”
“Is Dad sick?” I asked, alarmed that I’d been excluded from something like that.
“No, of course not,” she said in an exasperated tone. “I’m just saying that nothing lasts forever, and you’d be wise to make more of an effort to come visit us while you can. It’s been entirely too long, Emily.”
“I know, Mother, and I’m sorry, but I’ve got a lot on my plate,” I said, offering another weak excuse.
“I’ll never understand why you chose to follow such a low-paying career path with so few benefits,” my mother sighed. “It’s tragic to see you wasting such an outstanding education on something so…so…menial.”
“I enjoy it, Mother,” I said, gritting my teeth to keep from telling her what I really thought. The incredible irony of my family was that my parents were both world-renowned psychiatrists who were completely unable to have a direct conversation with anyone in our family. As a result, we never actually addressed the issues that drove us apart. As a teenager, I’d tried, but having been rebuffed by the professionals one too many times, I gave up and now was extremely adept at playing the family game.
“There’s more to life than just enjoying your career, Emily,” she said, in a mildly scolding tone. “You need to be financially responsible for yourself.”