Yellowstone Memories

by Spinola, Jennifer Rogers

  Alicia pressed the boards back into place and smoothed the carpet then replaced the lamp and stood up. The sky outside the window had lightened, spreading gray-blue over the darkened streets. White and copper streetlights glowed back in pale spots.

  Time to go. Alicia glanced at the digits on her watch and grabbed her red fire jacket. Her boots made a reassuring clomping sound on the carpet as she paused by the fish tank.

  “Looks like this is it, fellas,” she said, gathering up her keys and pack and giving the glass a fond pat. “Don’t give Mrs. Miklos any trouble, you hear? I’ll be back soon.” She traced the glass with a bitten fingernail, suddenly sober. “And if I don’t come back, you’ll get along fine with Mrs. Miklos. Just remind her to buy Sparky brand fish food. That other stuff she buys smells like dead flies.”

  Alicia slid her arm through her backpack strap. “Come to think of it, it probably is dead flies. But don’t tell her I said that.”

  She locked the door behind her, blowing a kiss over her shoulder.

  “Sanchez.” Jorge leaned across the seat as the line of firefighters snaked off the plane in the little Wyoming airport, grabbing their red fire packs from the overhead bins as they went. He winked and leaned closer, giving her a too-close glimpse of his stubbly, pockmarked cheek. “Why didn’t you sit with me? I saved you a seat.”

  “Get lost.” Alicia looked over his head to see if Carlita had emerged from the airplane lavatory.

  “How’d you manage to get on this crew anyway, Sanchez? Convict labor?”

  Alicia pulled off her headphones in annoyance. “Knock it off, Jorge. I’ve been fighting fires longer than you. And you’re the one with the DUI on your record, not me.” Dusty guitar chords from When in Rome’s new song died as she switched off her Walkman—a cheerful, aching tune about love, ironic for how she’d felt dragging herself to a grungy bus station at five a.m.

  But this was Wyoming, and everything felt different. Smelled different. She caught a whiff of fresh, pine-scented air from the tarmac as someone opened the cabin door to put down the ladder. The landscape beyond the plane window swelled in gentle, rolling curves, with dark pines jutting against sagebrush plains. Verdant, lush—so different from the parched adobe clays and cliffs of New Mexico.

  Alicia looped her headphones around her neck as she bent to watch a white-tailed hawk glide and swoop in gentle spirals, eventually disappearing behind a splash of yellow wildflowers. Too bad she couldn’t afford a camera.

  “Aw, c’mon.” Jorge winked, showing a gold tooth in the corner of his grin. “You never forget, do ya?”

  “What?” Alicia looked up in annoyance, pushing her aviator sunglasses up on her hair. “No, I don’t forget. Not when my so-called date gets pulled over for drunk driving. I told you you’d had too much tequila, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m never getting in the car with you again.”

  “What do you mean ‘so-called’ date? It was a date. You said so.”

  “I said no such thing.” Alicia ducked under the overhead bin. “You asked me to buy you a burger, and I did. And you lost all your senses after your bartender friend gave you all those free drinks. Never again, Jorge.”

  “Aw, come on, Sanchez. Gimme another chance.” Jorge tried to grab Alicia’s pack for her, but she pulled away and slid her arms through the straps without any help.

  “There’s nobody else to look at on the crew except Chava, and he looks like a rat,” Jorge pleaded, putting his hands up. Several people behind him snickered. “Please? I won’t drink tequila this time. I swear.”

  “Never.”

  “Why not? You’re beautiful, and so am I.” He cocked his greasy head. “A little skinny though. You lose weight?”

  “Ha. Right.” Alicia slipped her headphones back over her ears.

  “No really. You’re what, a size two now?” He tugged at the baggy edge of her Nomex shirt.

  “Shut up.” Alicia’s voice turned cold, and she raised it loud enough for others to hear. “Those pickup lines didn’t work last year, and they’re certainly not going to work this time. Leave me alone, will you?”

  Jorge ducked his head and moved closer to whisper in her ear. The warm mirth gone from his face, leaving cold black eyes. “I hear from Miguel that you’re free again, although he swears he’ll get you back.” His coffee breath stirred her hair. “I’d watch out for that burro if I were you, eh? He wasn’t too happy about you calling it splits.”

  “Hey.” Alicia whirled around, nearly knocking Jorge over. “Leave Miguel out of this, okay?”

  “Calma, calma.” Jorge showed his gold tooth again. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. I just … thought you should know.” He grinned, the smile not reaching his eyes. “You never know where that snake will show up next.”

  Alicia excused herself and pushed ahead of two firefighters to get away from Jorge. She ducked through the windy door and stepped onto the metal platform, wishing Jorge hadn’t brought up Miguel. It had been what, a month now since she’d kicked him out? Three weeks? Her heart had been closed to him for far longer than that, but fear made her say yes to him time and time again.

  You’ll be sorry, you fat idiota!” he’d shouted before knocking her into the blistered wallpaper, blood coursing between her eyes. “I swear I’ll kill you if you ever leave me. You hear me?”

  Wind whipped Alicia’s hair out of its ponytail as she held on to the metal handrail, trying to leave Miguel and Santa Fe behind. She inched her way down the ladder and onto the wide tarmac, gazing up at a crystal blue Wyoming morning. At least here the sky seemed wide and endless and large enough to absorb all the heaviness in her heart. Free from the glimpses of Miguel’s truck in the shadows or the memory of the scar on his thick chin.

  Where on earth was Carlita? Alicia shielded her eyes to look back up the ladder and then felt someone bump her from the side.

  “There you are,” Alicia scolded, falling in step beside her. “What happened? You fall in?”

  “You know those suction toilets. I caught my belt in one once, and it nearly pulled me under.”

  Alicia chuckled, keeping a wary eye out for Jorge. “So how’s your little gal?”

  “Trisha? She’s a doll.” Carlita untangled a chunk of salt-and-pepper hair from her backpack strap. “Gonna be eight next month. Can you believe it? Says the only thing she wants for her birthday is for me to come home safe.” Her mouth twitched as if trying to quickly cover her emotions with a smile. “Here I am old enough to be a grandmother, and I still go to Girl Scouts and PTA meetings.” She shook her head. “Who knew I’d be a mom again at my age? ‘Oops.’ That’s my only explanation. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”

  “Old enough to be a grandmother? You are one, last I checked.”

  “Yeah.” Carlita’s eyes sparkled with pride. “It’s not so bad.”

  “C’mon.” Alicia rolled her eyes. “I hear you bragging all the way from Santa Fe. Anyway, mamacita, I brought Trisha one of those My Little Pony things. With the pink hair and braids and stuff.” Alicia patted her backpack. “Not a Cabbage Patch doll like everybody wants now, but I hope she likes it anyway.”

  “You and your presents!” Carlita smacked Alicia. “If you don’t quit that, you’re gonna be flat broke. You probably already are. Now cut it out.”

  “Whatever. You know Trisha asks for it as soon as you get home.”

  “You make me look bad.”

  “Impossible. Trisha loves you more than life.” The words love and life made her think, oddly, of Miguel. Of past arguments with him and other men who vanished like smoke when the going got tough. Alicia looked up at the sky, turning the subject away quickly. “Think the fire is as big as they say? I think I smell smoke, but it can’t be from the fire. We’re miles away.”

  “Dunno.” Carlita rubbed her nose. “I smell it, too.” She nodded through the crowd. “The crew boss said they’ve called in the military and still no signs of letting up.”

  Alicia imagined the lush field
s of lupines and pink fireweed seared to a blackened crust. “Nah. No problem. We’ll stomp the beast out in a day or two, if it’s not already on its last legs—and we’ll all pocket a nice chunk of hazard-duty pay.”

  “You can say that again. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to that fancy resort in Taos when this is all over.”

  Alicia tried to guess how many Little India paychecks it would take to pay for a resort vacation anywhere. So far all the restaurant had done was pay her rent and leave her clothes smelling like curry and fry oil. “So what squad are you hoping for?”

  “Mop-up. For sure. They don’t pay me enough to risk my life on initial attack. Give me a rake or a hose lay any day.”

  “Wimp.” Alicia wrinkled her nose playfully. “I hate mop-up. I’m all about initial attack.”

  “I know.” Carlita’s gray eyes turned sober. “I’ve seen you on the hotshot crew more times than I can count. You march right into the flanks of forest fires with nothing but a hand shovel and a bladder bag, and you never back off—even when they want to pull you off for smoke inhalation. You’ve been knocked out twice by dead snags.”

  “So? That’s what fighting fires is all about.” Alicia bristled slightly. “If I wanted a cushy job, I’d serve burgers at McDonald’s. But I don’t. I’m a firefighter.”

  “Right, but that’s not what I meant.” Carlita stuffed her hands in her pant pockets. “You’re a great firefighter, but you fight too hard. You scared me last year when that big branch knocked you out—and you were arguing to go back on the front lines within the hour.”

  “So what?” Alicia walked faster, her breath coming in angry short spurts. “What’s your point, Carlita?”

  “Maybe nothing. But it just seems like you … I don’t know. Don’t value your life much.”

  Alicia stumbled over a bootlace and knelt briefly to tie it, whipping the laces tighter than necessary. “I don’t value my life, huh?” She squinted up at Carlita with cool eyes.

  “Don’t take me wrong.” Carlita put both palms up. “You’re an amazing firefighter. My best crew partner. But you’ve got to be careful, too. Guard your life. It’s not worth dying out there, you know?”

  Alicia stuffed both hands in her pockets and walked beside Carlita, not speaking for a long time. Finally she gave a wry laugh. “Why?”

  “Why what?” Carlita brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

  “Why should I bother? I mean, what do I have to value in my so-called life, Carlita? A couple of betta fish?” Alicia kicked a spot in the concrete. “Look at you. You’ve got three kids and a new grandkid. I’ve got nothing.”

  “Mio Dios.” Carlita looked up to heaven and crossed herself. “How can you say you’ve got nothing?”

  Alicia scratched at an itchy seam on her sleeve, avoiding Carlita’s eyes. “Life just doesn’t work out for me. Trust me. If you had my life, you’d understand.” She twisted her sleeve down over her wrist, hoping it covered the scars and burn marks.

  “No I wouldn’t.” Carlita aimed a severe gaze at Alicia. “Life is always precious. The greatest gift of all. No matter who you have to share it with.”

  Alicia made a face. “C’mon. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

  “You and your death wish,” Carlita muttered. She eyed Alicia suspiciously. “You lost more weight, didn’t you?”

  “Good grief. Not you, too.”

  Carlita opened her mouth as if she’d like to say more then pressed lipstick-red lips together. “How about the scoop on Jorge then?” She managed a weak chuckle. “He’s got the hots for ya, you know. And he’s always fun to gossip about.”

  “Ha. Well.” A corner of Alicia’s mouth turned up. “Talking about Jorge and his issues ought to keep us busy for a while. The guy needs a psychiatrist.”

  “For sure. Well, then, there’s always that Indian fella to jaw about, too. What’s his name?”

  “Who?” Alicia whipped her head around.

  “You know who I’m talking about.” Carlita’s face turned smug. “That tall Iron Buffalo guy, or whatever his name is. From … Nevada? The engine captain.”

  “From Arizona. And his name is Thomas.” Alicia’s shoulders tightened. “What about him?”

  “Thomas what? He’s got one of those Indian names about a beaver or something. I forget what it is.”

  “Eagles, Carlita. Thomas Walks-with-Eagles.” Her voice rose in irritation. “He’s Apache.”

  “Walks-with-Eagles. Yeah, that’s it. I knew his name had something to do with forest creatures. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be here.” She smirked. “And with all your mechanics know-how, I bet you anything they’ll put you on a truck crew with him.”

  “Thomas is a friend.” Alicia pressed her lips together, and she stared up at a pale white moon in the blue sky. “Nothing more. And who cares if he’s here? He’s a firefighter. It’s his job.”

  “Oh, you’ll find each other. I’m no dummy. I’ve seen you talking to that guy on some of our fire details, muchachita. He’s quite protective of you.”

  “Thomas is such a goon.” Alicia chuckled, shaking her head. “He always gets the movie lines wrong. Every time. And he’s hopelessly scatterbrained and eccentric and weird.” She fell silent as Carlita fluttered a know-it-all look in her direction. “Whatever. I’m telling you, he’s only a friend.”

  “Good thing because he isn’t much to look at. If you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Alicia stiffened as they headed between two rows of grounded small-engine planes on the tarmac. “I never said I liked Thomas. But he’s a good guy.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “A really good guy.” She quickly cleared her throat. “So let’s go back to gossiping about Jorge then, eh? I heard some stuff from María Teresa that could curl your hair.”

  “Tell me.” Carlita leaned in closer. “I need another perm.”

  And before Alicia could spout off about Jorge’s jail stint, the crew boss a few paces away let out a low whistle. “Check it out, folks!” he said, sweeping an arm toward the distant horizon. “There she is.”

  “There who is?” Alicia stretched her head around the nose of a yellow Cessna.

  And there above the plain of wheat-colored grasses boiled an angry black-brown sky, billowing into the clear blue like ominous ink. Thicker and blacker than smoke from any fire she’d ever fought—including the double collision gas tanker wreck that had melted steel and burned for three days straight.

  The entire crew halted as the mass of smoke quivered, mushrooming larger so that it covered the left slope of the plain.

  Alicia nearly walked into Carlita’s side as she gawked. “That?” she yelped, standing on tiptoe to see around the corner of the hangar. “That’s our fire?”

  “That’s the tip of our fire,” corrected the crew boss, worry lines creasing his tanned and fleshy brow. “Headquarters tells me they’ve made considerable progress this particular stretch.”

  The other firefighters began to walk again, talking in low tones, and Alicia tagged along behind Carlita. “What do you think of that?” she asked, eyes glued on the horizon.

  Carlita shuddered and crossed herself in reply.

  Chapter 2

  Alicia Sanchez.” Somebody tapped her arm from three heads back in the chow line at base camp. “I can’t believe it. You’re here, too?”

  “Thomas?” Alicia searched for a bottle of plain water in the slushy Styrofoam cooler, pushing aside frosty cans of Coke and Tab. “So they’re dragging you guys out of your beds in Arizona, too, huh?”

  The makeshift tent at base camp inside Yellowstone housed lines of firefighters, all queued for lunch with paper plates. Outside the tarps, sun glimmered through a smoke-fogged haze—mingled now with scents of hamburgers and beanie-weenies. From the smells, Alicia might have thought herself at a Girl Scouts camp.

  “Arizona’s nothing, Alicia. They’re pulling people from all over.” Thomas reached over the half-filled plates to shake her hand. He’d cut his hair
short, making his almond-shaped eyes and humpback nose stand out against clay-brown skin. “This thing’s gonna be a bear, isn’t it?”

  Alicia reached for a napkin and spoke over the laughter and noisy thrum of conversation. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There’ve been some close calls with firefighters already, and one guy died outside the park.”

  Thomas shook his head, revealing a few threads of gray among the black. “It’s scary stuff.”

  “Scary? Nah.” Alicia turned back to the chow-line servers and shook her head no at the proffered corn.

  “C’mon, Sanchez. I’m shaking in my boots. And you’d better be careful, hear me? I know how you are.” Thomas picked up a shiny packet of Capri Sun fruit punch and tucked it under his arm as he accepted a paper plate. “So you still can’t give it up, can you?”

  “Give up what?” Alicia grimaced and gestured for the server to scoop off most of the beans on her plate, and she grabbed a paper cup of coffee. Tucking her water bottle under her arm.

  “Fighting fires. I thought you wanted to go back to school or. You told me you were saving money.”

  “Oh, that.” Alicia shrugged, trying not to think of the hundreds of dollars she’d wasted on Miguel. Buying him drinks, giving him cash for the casinos—and extinguishing any hope she had of sending herself to night law school. “I’ll pay you back when I get paid,” he’d promised. But the paycheck never came.

  At least she’d managed to hide the most important thing from him—right there under his nose, concealed beneath a little patch of tatty carpet.

  “So how about you?” Alicia avoided Thomas’s question about school. “You gonna fight fires your whole life or what? Carlita tells me it’s dangerous work.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “She thinks you can’t value your life much if you’re nuts enough to like initial attack.”

  “She’s probably right.” Thomas shrugged and flashed a friendly, white-toothed smile at the server, ducking his head in thanks. “Which is why I’m smart enough to stay off the crew when I’m out for smoke inhalation.” He poked her shoulder with a plastic spork. “Unlike some people.”