Ring of Fire

by David Agranoff

  “Please have a seat, Mister Rivers.”

  Jake turned and looked down the hall. “I thought we were doing an examination.”

  Doctor Wilson took a deep breath. She looked at the nurse who pulled the door shut.

  “It’s about your physical, Mister Rivers.”

  Jake felt defensive. He waited for her to speak, but he was an athlete, he ran every day. Despite the torn ACL that killed his football career he played pickup hoops weekly. He had to let some guys get to the rack to protect his knee, but he was healthy, just some stomach discomfort, gas. It was enough that Vic forced him to go to the doctor.

  “It’s about the MRI.”

  “You said that was just precaution.”

  Doctor Wilson crossed her arms. “It was and good thing we did it.”

  “OK, OK what is it?”

  “I had Doctor Burse at Oncology across the plaza look at it to be sure, and I think you need to see him right away.”

  Doctor Wilson held an MRI photo, pointed to a fuzzy region. “Right now it is the size of an acorn but it is right on the outer wall of your intestine. Your food is traveling past it.”

  “Past what?”

  “An aggressive tumor.”

  Jake let that sink in for a moment.

  “A tumor? Cancer?” Even as he said it, all flashed before his eyes. It would be a struggle, but he wasn’t concerned for himself. It was his children and wife he worried about. Tiffany and Damian were so young, and Victoria who lost both her parents to disease—her mother to lymphoma and her father to years of soul crushing dementia. How could he tell her?

  “. . . Mister Rivers?”

  Doctor Wilson had been talking. She had kept talking and he heard none of it. It was then that he realized he was crying. He had built his life and career in a tough guy’s world but this was too much to handle. Jake blew out air and wiped his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, just one more time.”

  The young doctor was nervous. He could see it on her face. She really was new at this. Jake wanted to show her mercy, but cold waves of fear washed over him.

  “Doctor Burse, he is our oncology specialist. He is right across the parking lot. I think you need to see him right away. I am told this is a rare cancer, deep enough that traditional radiation is difficult.”

  “Not impossible.”

  She smiled. “It is possible, but very difficult. I don’t want to misrepresent the struggle you have ahead. This really is a conversation you should have with Doctor Burse. He is much more knowledgeable than I am.”

  Jake stood up. His legs felt shaky. “I’ll go see him.”

  Jake couldn’t stay. He turned and hit the door.

  ***

  Jake didn’t run to his car, but he got there as fast he could. He opened up the locks with the remote and was in the driver’s seat of his Subaru Forester. Once the door was shut he gave himself a look in the mirror. His eyes were puffy. He had to pull himself together. He looked across the parking lot at the oncology center and couldn’t bring himself to even walk towards the building.

  “Go to work,” he whispered out loud as he turned the key. He had to confront this, he knew it. He turned the key turning off his SUV and stepped out. He took several steps toward the building, saw a woman being led out by a nurse. Her hair was a memory and she was wrapped in a blanket on that warm day. Her body was shriveled like a raisin. He couldn’t tell her age, but the sight of her twisted Jake inside. In that moment he thought about the tumor deep inside him. It was killing him slowly.

  Jake reached for the door and pulled it open just as a woman stepped out. Jake stepped past her not looking at her. She was pale skinned wearing large sunglasses. He was past her when he did a double-take. It was Kristen, now ex-wife of Andy, his buddy from the station who he ate lunch with almost every day.

  Instantly they both wished they hadn’t seen it each other. The divorce was nasty, and the topic of many lunch time rants. Jake wanted to hate the woman but looking at her now he realized she was not well. Walking out of this building she had bad news as well. Jake wondered if Andy knew, and if he did why hadn’t he told him that his ex was sick.

  “Hey, uh . . .” was all Jake managed before Kristen was gone.

  Jake couldn’t blame her. No one ever walked into this building because they wanted too.

  Chapter Two

  Will grabbed his car keys and realized he had forgotten breakfast again. If he didn’t get out the door before 8:30 he would hit a wave of traffic that snarled the 8 west every morning before the split to the 15. It would make his commute almost twenty minutes longer. The rush was good. No time to reflect on how empty the house was. His wife and daughters had been gone two months but it felt longer.

  All his fault for refusing to leave his job and follow his wife to a better paying job in Costa Mesa locked to a desk. He was a professional loud mouth, and had worked long and hard to turn that into a career. That is what he told himself, but when Cindy took Rachel and Micky with her, he was crushed, but torn. Micky wanted to have her bat mitzvah here at the temple around all her friends, so he volunteered to handle all the arrangements. Both girls took their mother’s side.

  With almost two decades on the radio as co-host of the Willy-Billy Show on San Diego’s sports talk leader am 690, it was his identity. Professionally, he was Willy Goldman. His wife complained that Willy on-air was more important to him than Will at home.

  Will pulled out of the garage and drove in a morning daze. He listened to the Rolling Stones, half-singing until he stopped at a stoplight where he stopped every morning. The music cut off and the Bluetooth engaged. He looked at the phone hooked on his dash. His fifteen year old daughter’s face came up on the screen. He reached over enough to tap accept and her voice came automatically out of the speaker.

  “Hey, Daddy!”

  “Hey, sweetheart, what’s cookin?”

  “Off to school.”

  Will felt a moment of sadness knowing that she had grown to like high school in Costa Mesa better than La Mesa. He didn’t know what to say or ask her about the situation. He wished Cindy had not made it her or the show. It was where they were at. The light turned green and he headed toward the freeway.

  “I miss you, sweet pea.”

  “Daaaad.” The way she said it, Will braced for a money request. “You coming to my soccer game tonight?”

  He felt guilty and heartbroken at the question. “What time?”

  “Four-thirty.”

  Will stopped at the last stop light before the off ramp to the freeway. He could see up above on the bridge that the 8 was already a parking lot. He cursed inside.

  “Dad?”

  Will snapped back to do the math he was supposed to do. He was off the air by three PM. Without traffic he might be able to make it north for her game but not with the normal traffic.

  “I’ll try, sweetheart. I’ll try to make it by the end of the game.”

  The light turned green but no one on the off ramp moved towards the freeway. Will felt the pull to punch his horn. Horns blared all around him, hearing others frustration eased him a bit. Over the horns he heard a rumble. The sky was not as bright as normal, but thunder was not possible. Then the whine of sirens.

  “Let me call you back, sweetheart.” Will ended the call and turned down the radio.

  Will could not see the east bound 8 from where he sat, but he saw several helicopters flying just above the freeway. They were military–he knew that much. Sirens sounded going east on the freeway. Finally traffic moved enough that he could cross to the off ramp. He hoped he made it to the station in time. By the rate he was going now he would have to run to the studio.

  ***

  “Good morning, San Diego.”

  Martin sat at the desk in his new office for the first time as chief of staff. The Office of the Mayor was on the eleventh floor. His view in his old office was the parking garage, but now on the south side of City Hall he could see the convention center and a tiny blue
speck of the bay. He would take it. Thirty-one years old and in his second administration, Martin had worked as an intern in City Hall out of college and done every dirty job. For several years his job was watching the clock and giving the mayor ten to five minute warnings. Sometimes he would tap his watch.

  “You ready?”

  Martin turned to see Chuck, his biggest cheer leader and the outgoing chief of staff. Chuck was sixty years old but looked twenty years older. He had not bought a new shirt since three mayors in the past and his belly was giving the buttons a work-out.

  “Yeah, totally, totally prepared.”

  Chuck laughed. “One totally is fine. The Mayor wanted you to have this job for a reason. Youthful energy, piss and vinegar, not too much though.”

  Martin nodded and straightened his suit. He knew he had a good half an hour before the Mayor even walked in the door.

  Chuck gave him a thumbs-up and spun around disappearing into the various cubicles of the support staff. Martin grabbed his folder that had the day’s agenda in it and walked towards the main conference room.

  District Three City Council, Chris Harper, waited for him. Martin noticed his hair was well-slicked. Thicker than normal.

  “Martin, you have a minute?”

  “Uptown library is our focus today, I promise.” Martin waved his folder.

  “Big Bean on university closed. Like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  Martin cringed. He knew another coffeehouse closing in Hillcrest was a huge deal. Small businesses through Harper’s district were having trouble keeping up with rising rent. They were hemorrhaging shops and cafes. This one was a surprise, the Big Bean was a block from the LGBT Center and very popular.

  “I thought they were doing well.”

  Harper shrugged. “Sign on the door said illness in the family. I need the Mayor to address retail rent control.”

  “Maybe the sign was the truth?”

  Harper gave him a disapproving stink eye.

  Martin smiled “Library is in your district, a great story. Look, I’ll have Maddy type up a press release . . .”

  Martin noticed that his assistant Madeline was not yet at her desk. He looked around the office, they were thin across the board.

  “Where is everybody?”

  “East county fire is messing with traffic everywhere.”

  Jessica, one of the council reps walked toward him with a coffee mug in hand. “Two call outs in the admin staff. Chuck will be answering phones at this rate.”

  The office door opened and Kevin Alvarez, the district rep from Barrio Logan and parts of South Bay, walked straight towards them.

  Chuck shook his head. “Go easy on him, Kev, it’s his first fucking day on the job.”

  Alvarez represented one of the poorest districts in the city, and he was good at his job. Everyone knew when he stepped into this office, he came with an agenda.

  “When was the last time you talked to the Mayor’s office in TJ?”

  Martin thought this might be a trap. Tijuana was just 20 miles south across one of the busiest border crossings in the world and made their job unique. They had to work in international relations in a way most cities never had to do.

  “I am not sure, Kev. A couple days, maybe.”

  “Couple days? You have no idea why I am asking, do you?”

  Chuck shrugged and gave Martin a silent apology.

  Martin sipped his coffee. “It appears I don’t know.”

  “Jesus Christ, Chuck.” Alvarez looked ready to split blood.

  “We have a massive crisis brewing with this fire. Frankly, Kev, if you wait . . .”

  “No!” Alvarez cut off Martin. “We have a crisis too.”

  “Can’t TJ handle this, Kevin. It is their fucking problem.”

  “Whoa, whoa, what is their problem?”

  Alvarez shook his head in disbelief. “It happened ten hours ago and your chief of staff doesn’t know?”

  Chuck exhaled. “A sewer pipe burst in TJ again.” They all knew what this meant. The pipe was pumping raw untreated sewage into the river. It had been happening over and over and the river drained right into the ocean.

  Martin put his hands up. “When can they cap it?”

  “They say noon . . .” Alvarez shook his head. “. . . but that’s over 100 million gallons at least. We need beach closures.”

  “Lisa?” Martin called out to the office a few doors down. The media director for the Mayor stepped out. Martin pointed at them. “Craft a statement. I will call Mayor Vargas. The fire is going to affect their air, right now we are both guilty.”

  Alvarez walked away with Lisa. Chuck waited till they were out of sight. “Wow, actual shit hitting the fan your first day.”

  “Not the time, Chuck.”

  Martin walked into their media center. Three TV’s were constantly on local stations. NBC and KUSI, the local independent, were both covering the fire story live. Martin felt stupid not knowing about the sewer pipe, but worse about the fire. He looked at the map and had an inner sigh of relief. The fire had taken a large swath of land but technically it was not their jurisdiction, being county and federal land. He had been so wrapped up in his own day. He lived downtown, so the commute on foot from his condo was next to nothing, he didn’t think about it.

  Chuck came in the room with the newspaper folded under his arm.

  “SDFD is already mobilized, but let’s make sure all agencies have what they need.”

  “Is it that bad?”

  Chuck shook his head. “Spreading like wildfire is a phrase for a reason. Get out ahead of this.”

  Martin nodded and headed for his office. Chuck held up the newspaper.

  The Union-Tribune newspaper headline was the one he wanted it to be. He had crafted the press release himself. ‘Uptown library moves ahead.’ Chuck pointed to a side bar article, one still on the front page: ‘UCSD researching local Cancer cluster.’

  “You know about this?” Martin pointed at the cancer cluster article.

  “Nada.” Chuck shook his head. “My advice, just issue a statement saying you are closely following the findings. Then start closely following the findings.”

  Chuck turned and left the media center. Martin looked at the TV. A reporter stood on a country road. Behind her it looked like the National Guard was mobilized.

  “Somebody get me on the line with FEMA!” Martin called out to the office.

  ***

  Victoria lined up the lunch bags on the counter and waited for Tiffany and Damian to come down the stairs. Damian came bouncing down the stairs first. At six years old, he received both regular love and torment at the hands of his older sister. Damian allowed his mother a hug before he ran out the door to a primed minivan waiting in the driveway.

  “Tiffany, we gotta go!”

  Tiffany was a younger copy of her mother. Long blond hair that made Victoria feel like a clone when she was still a reporter. She was covering a major car accident on camera when her identity crisis hit. Five local stations were live from the scene. She was one of three women with the same hair and make-up and almost the same exact boots. She was pregnant with Damian, but not yet showing. She had felt competitive not only with the younger women at the station but all the women working in the city. She hated that feeling, and Jake supported her need to step away.

  “Tiffany!”

  The fourteen year old came down the stairs, her thumbs texting quickly. Her hair was pulled back and she was wearing skirt. It made Victoria feel a bit uneasy. She was growing up so quickly, but they didn’t have time. She pushed her out the door. Tiffany was in the van and pulling the door shut when Victoria stopped. She felt something on her face. It felt a little like snow. In San Diego?

  She put out her hand. The little flakes fell gently from the sky. Not as heavy as a flurry but they were dusting her windshield. They collected on her hand. Victoria pulled her nose closer. It was faint, but it smelled like her grandfather’s ashtrays.

  “Mom!” Damian ye
lled from the car.

  Victoria shook the ash off and ran to the car. The kids couldn’t be late.

  Chapter Three

  Austin pushed her bike up the sidewalk that went up the side of Texas Street. It was a fifteen percent grade that dropped cars at high speed downhill into Mission Valley. Every time she had to go up the hill she shifted her mountain bike into as high a gear as possible and still ended up pushing the bike more than half of the way. She always lost her breath a bit pushing up the hill but now the air felt different. She stopped and looked up. The sky had darkened a bit and she felt something tickle her face. She held out her hand and watched ash falling lightly.

  “What the fuck?” She said out loud and got to the bridge that took Adams Avenue 50 feet over Texas Street. She saw two tents set up behind brush under the bridge. The spot was set on a shelf and just big enough for the tents. She knew Robbins’s faded red tent anywhere, this was his uptown spot; she knew most of his spots. He liked to move around the city, and she was glad she guessed correctly.

  Austin leaned her bike up against a bridge support.

  “Robbins?”

  Austin heard the sounds of cans being pushed around in the other tent.

  “Robbins? It’s me Austin.”

  His red tent didn’t move.

  “He ain’t here!”

  She got close and saw the zippers hooked shut with a padlock. The tent behind her opened up. Austin turned to see Smelly Pete. Robbins trusted him for the same reason he trusted her. Robbins was an activist in the early ‘90s with Pete’s parents. Robbins had joked that they were all family because they had all been padlocked to doors and trees together.

  Pete and Austin were the only people in town that seemed to remember Robbins before he was homeless. Pete would say back when Robbins was still sane. Yet he followed him around town.

  “Where is he, Pete?”

  “Working on the book.”

  “Library ain’t open yet.”

  “Probably watching the fire.”