“Remember what he did to Steve? He ain’t never looked the same since.”
Again each woman again laughed loudly at the other. The pair suddenly stopped and sucked deeply on the ends of their cigarettes, in remembrance.
“I’ve gotta go. This town’s too small,” the firefighter later confided to a befuddled friend in the same dimly-lit bar at the foot of the mountains.
“Shit, your folks’re back together again, you just tol’ me. Last week you was bitchin’ ‘bout how they was split up? Now what the fuck’s your problem?” There was no reply. “And what the fuck you gonna do down there anyway? They don’t help you out in the lower fortyeight, man. It’s dogs-eatin’-dogs and all that kinda shit.” The speaker leaned towards the firefighter, scrutinizing him with sharp, piercing eyes reddened from drink.
“Same thing I’ve been doin’, fightin’ fires. That uncle I told you about said he could set me up,” the firefighter said, in what he tried to pass off as a rough, fearless voice.
“You’ll be back... I heard it’s gettin’ so you can’t even see a white face down there anymore.”
“Yeah, it’s not too safe down there, that’s for damn sure.”
“You’re takin’ your guns, ain’t ya?”
“Don’t fuckin’ worry, I can handle it.” The firefighter pushed up a brave smile and hid his annoyance at his friend near where he hid his fear. He again told himself that he shouldn’t worry. He was in control.
“Man, they got the bitches down there... tall and tan, my man, tall and tan... Not like these Alaskan squaws. I might just join ya,” the friend said, though both suspected it would never happen. He slapped the firefighter on the shoulder and yelled, “Shirley, two more!” Then a bell clanged loudly, the same bell that hung in every bar in town. Everyone turned to see a man in large rubber boots wearing a shirt sequined with fish scales release its rope and sit back down amongst others of the same make. There emitted as jubilant a slurred cry of thanks as could be mustered for the fisherman’s act of generosity, and the bartender nonchalantly began pouring new drinks for each person sitting at the bar. “Land of plenty, my man, and you know it!” exclaimed the firefighter’s friend.
The firefighter stared at the melting ice in the glass before him, ignoring the new drink that had been dropped next to it. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he couldn’t stand it anymore. His parents, other people’s parents, his friends, all fucking their lives up as if nothing mattered. It was the same year after year, and it wasn’t going to change. But somehow he just couldn’t imagine adapting to life down there. They couldn’t have the same sense of community that his town had. And did people think like he did down there? He knew a lot of people from the lower fortyeight who were now Alaskans, and they were okay. But in a moment of insight, he concluded that it might be a special breed that came up to Alaska and stayed to live in his hometown. They blended in, with few locals noticing any real differences between the newcomers and themselves. But he figured that there were all kinds of people down there that were a whole lot different from anyone he’d ever met; on TV they seemed to have problems he couldn’t even begin to understand, and that just made him irritated if he thought about it too much.
Chapter 5
At the fire camp’s periphery, Frank wandered restlessly through the still night air. Surrounding voices rose and fell behind headlamp beams, which erratically illuminated the forest. He stopped, took out a can of chewing tobacco, and stuffed an earth-brown pinch into his mouth. A lazy feeling of wellbeing cradled him. Being out on the fire had quenched his thirst for adventure, and he was temporarily at ease in his nicotine-assisted state.
Frank found a path to the river, marked by newly-trampled plants. After arriving at the river’s edge, he sat in an area void of forest debris, and gazed across the water. The lines of the current meandered, making the reflection from the moon divide into flickering sections. He tried to focus on one section, but the forms changed repeatedly and none was discernable from the whole for very long. The river, in turn, flowed in a constantly changing but predictable pattern.
He closed his eyes and imagined himself floating downstream. He tried to feel the current massage and guide his body. A surrender to forces much stronger than himself seemed to hold excitement; he pictured the water stripping away everything on his effortless journey.
Frank took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He listened to the gurgling water of the slow-moving river; it was a mantra that often ushered him deeper into thought. He was glad for his sudden distance from the outside world; from such a distance, the life he led seemed almost comprehensible. He picked up a stick, and upon closer examination found that it bore the neat, rowed teeth-marks of a beaver. The beaver was efficient, he noted; not even a sliver of bark was left on the smooth stick.
Frank rose and spat into the river near its bank. He watched the ripples in the water migrate outward uniformly from the point of the spitball’s impact, then turned away and walked back up the embankment. A breeze sifted through the pines, tossing strands of his hair in all directions. The smells and the various faint sounds of the forest suddenly seemed more pronounced than usual, and he felt more alive, more aware of the world around him.
A feeling of loneliness suddenly and unexpectedly jabbed at him. Its reemergence soothed him, in an odd way. He was aware of the fact that shyness had long kept him an outsider, looking within himself for comfort and selfdefinition. This year would be different, he tried to convince himself. He would change.
He forced himself in the direction of the mess tents, now empty of diners and partially filled with lounging firefighters. Bidding him an unsettling welcome was the rumble of men’s laughter escaping from the opening of the first tent he approached. Inside, he noticed some of the Mexicans from his crew playing cards. He earnestly wanted to join the group, but decided that his high school Spanish was sure to leave him appearing foolish to their foreign eyes. He was glad for the excuse. He walked in the direction of the adjacent tent, and saw that inside sat most of the rest of his crew. He pushed himself through its large opening and walked past all five members of Squad Two, who sat at a table of their own looking over stereo and rifle catalogues and discussing what they might purchase at the end of fire season. He approached another table around which Alice, Scott, the Mexican squad boss Julio, and Fast Horse were seated.
Fast Horse, as usual, was doing the talking. The leader paused to sip his coffee, waiting for Frank to sit down, and then continued: “So, like I was saying, this guy... he thought he was pretty hot shit. Always talkin’ like he was some tough firefighter and tellin’ us about all the ladies he was gonna go back to, sayin’ we were all a buncha mules. We called him Show Horse behind his back, and eventually to his face once he knew us better. And it didn’t take long for that to happen. Anyway, one day, me, Show Horse, the division soop, and some other guy I don’t remember went out on this scouting mission. After a while, it got a bit rougher than we had planned, and we four were stuck, five-foot flames closing in around us. Like them settlers, with Injuns all ‘round em whoopin’ an’ hollerin’ like they do in them movies.” Fast Horse paused to cast a wink at his audience. “’Course we weren’t too scared, but still we had a problem, and it was getting’ hotter than was comfortable, that’s for damn sure. So I told the division soop,” Fast Horse smiled, “that we were gonna jump through the flames into the black. The fire wasn’t going to burn back over that area. I let the soop through first because he was important and I was just a crew boss an’ all...”
A green uniformed man walked by Fast Horse and laughed. “Hey, Fast Horse, don’t forget the part where I save that lost baby.” The man then tugged on imaginary reins in imitation of the storyteller and continued walking.
Fast Horse smiled with familiarity, cast a laugh up into the air, and then leaned back into the center of the table, toward his listeners, and resumed with a softer voice. “So the
n, the soop... he gets all ready. Tucks in his clothes and covers everything up best he can. Then he runs through the flames and you could just barely make him out on the other side slappin’ himself. He decides he’s okay and yells, ‘it’s okay!’ Then the next guy, he didn’t have no problems neither. Then it was my turn.” Fast Horse put both forefingers atop his head and squinted. “I ran through like a bull out of the gates. It was pretty damn hot, I’ll tell you that - singed a few hairs -- but I was okay jus’ like them other two guys. The last guy, though, he came through different than we did...”
Fast Horse knowingly held his audience in anticipation as he paused to sip his coffee. “So then it was Show Horse’s turn. He puts his head up and kinda trots through the flames, like he was in some high-society ridin’ show or somethin’. He probably wanted to tease us later about it because we had gone through in such a hurry, actin’ like we were scared. Hell, we were a little scared. Nothin’ wrong with that. ‘Course I wasn’t as scared as them other two guys.” Fast Horse conspicuously hid his smile as he took another sip of coffee. “Anyway, Show Horse there probably still woulda been all right, but there was somethin’ different with him, he comes through and jumps onto the ground screamin’ and wigglin’, holdin’ his crotch like he just got stomped there by a bull! Whew!” Fast Horse paused and shook his head gravely at the memory, but his face retained a playful smirk. “When I ran over I couldn’t figure it out at first. Well you know, these Nomex fire clothes we got on won’t burn too easily, but if it gets hot enough somethin’ underneath sure as hell will. But as soon as I smelled the smoke comin’ from there, I had a feeling about what had happened. Pretty boy pulled down his pants real quick, and goddamn! All I could see was what was left of his melted little polyester tigerstriped underwear just bubblin’ away on his baaaalls.”
Fast Horse laughed robustly at his speechless listeners as they winced convincingly at each other, and began to laugh.
“Tigerstriped underwear!...” Scott exclaimed, shaking his head and chuckling. “Man thought he was gonna get ‘im some out there.”
Fast Horse waited for a dip in the laughter and nudged Frank. “Eh, College Boy... what’s the moral of that one?” he asked, in a serious voice.
Frank searched his mind and responded, “Only wear cotton tigerstriped underwear?”
The laughter washed through the group once again.
“No,” Fast Horse corrected. “Don’t ever wear tigerstriped underwear unless you want to look like a goddamn idiot!” Fast Horse held a serious look a moment longer before flashing a wide smile.
“Hey Alice,” said Julio, “you like men weeth tiger underwear?”
Alice lowered her eyelids and said, in a sultry voice, “It’s not the wrappin’ that matters, baby, it’s how much you enjoy the present.”
Julio was slightly startled by her comment, as Alice had intended. He looked comical with his eyes open wide in surprise. “Oh,” he managed to say in response, prompting the others to turn their laughter on him.
Paul, sitting at an adjacent table, was trying to appear oblivious to the revelry beside him as he changed tapes. Fast Horse looked over at the solitary young man and formed a clown’s look of unhappiness on his face. “Hey, Paul,” Fast Horse called. Paul turned to Fast Horse, who pointed to Paul’s tape player and then to his own ear. Paul hesitantly handed the headphones to Fast Horse, who smiled exaggeratedly as he set them on his head. Paul pressed the play button and everyone heard the loud screeching of Paul’s music from the earphones. Fast Horse opened his eyes in frightened surprise, as if he had just been shot. Laughter quickly poured over the group.
Fast Horse quickly changed acts. He messed up his hair and lowered his eyelids in a mimicry of a person who had just smoked a lot of marijuana. He looked around the group slyly, slowly nodding his head to the music. A new round of laughter followed.
Paul, on the defense, did not even force a smile.
Fast Horse looked over at him and took off the headphones before signaling an end to the game by straightening his hair and collar as if he were an executive about to step into a board meeting. “So, who’s that makin’ that noise in there, might I ask?” he inquired innocently as he handed the earphones back.
Paul told him the name of the band. “Yeah? They really get paid just for makin’ a buncha noise?”
Paul frowned at what he obviously deemed a stupid joke.
“Think they’d hire a buncha crazy Indians? I got some friends who can make a damn lotta noise when they really git goin at the powwows.” Fast Horse broke into a warm smile. “That’s pretty complex music you got there, son.”
“Yeah, it’s not for everyone,” Paul said sardonically.
An awkward silence developed after Paul’s comment, and Frank spoke bravely into the void, “That band’s full of old men like you, Fast Horse.” Frank instantly feared that Fast Horse had found his joke disagreeable, and wished he could recapture his escaped words.
Fast Horse squinted his eyes, inventing malice. He slowly pivoted his head until his face was aimed straight at Frank. When Frank’s eyes met Fast Horse’s, Frank smiled passively and said, “And... um... therefore, very wise.”
Alice’s laughter stood out amongst the rest.
“Pretty smart for a white boy,” Fast Horse said without changing his posture. He then winked at Frank, releasing him from the pleasant grip of his amicable glare. To the disappointment of those present, Fast Horse’s next expression was one of tiredness, communicated by a yawn. “I’d better get some rest. I’ll see you all in the mornin’,” he said, and began walking out of the tent. Everyone’s eyes followed the performer as he exited his stage.
“Goodnight,” Alice said.
“See ya, Fast Horse,” said Frank.
“Yeah, I’d better get some sleep too. See you guys tomorrow,” Scott said, and left, walking behind Fast Horse.
Suddenly left in the close company of those he didn’t know very well, Frank felt a familiar nervousness creep into him. He turned to Julio, with whom he had had several conversations in the past, thinking it would be easier to talk to him than to Alice, who made him feel almost queasy with nothing more than a smile. “So, Julio... Did you spend last winter in Mexico?”
“Yeas. I go back every weenter. The weenter in Oaxaca, my hometown, is the best. I have money... Don’t haf’ to work. I can do anytheeng I wan’ to.”
“Such as?...”
“Yes... I go up to the mountains to veesit my uncle, or sometimes even to the ocean an’ veesit my brother. Many times I help my family weeth things.”
“How long have you been coming to America?” Frank asked.
“I been coming to the U.S. for ten years now... Seence I was eighteen. At first I stay here only for the weenter.”
“Was it hard crossing the border?”
“Not at first.” Julio was pleased to talk about himself. He couldn’t remember another time when white Americans had been interested in his life. “You know what was hard when I arrived?” Julio continued, “Eef no work, den no food, an’ nobody cares. We camp... police come an’ move us, an’ we haf nowhere to go. We could only peek fruit. I had no green card like I haf now. So I go to the homeless shelter, hungry. Fast Horse, he sees me an’ tell me I could fight forest fires. He feex it somehow so I can, weeth no green card.”
“Wow, that’s great!” Alice said.
“Yes, I was very happy to get some work.”
“So why do so many Mexicans come here, if the situation isn’t so good?” Frank asked.
“Een my home town there is not much to do. Land is not so easy to have anymore.”
“So you came because you could make more money here, right?” Frank asked.
“No, my friend. I had a fuckeeng good job een Mexico in my father’s beesness.”
Alice and Frank both displayed their puzzlement.
“Then w
hy did you come here?” Alice asked.
“Because I want to see America,” Julio said with emotion. “I was young, an’ everybody talk about America. I see the movies an’ leessin to the music. I was ready to see sometheen new; sometheen deeferent from Mexico. That ees why I wanted to come so much.” Julio paused before taking a chance and sharing more of his feelings. Julio looked solemn as he spoke, which seemed to Alice and Frank uncharacteristic for the young man. “It was very hard for me to be a Mexican here at first; don’t always get treated too good some places.” Julio noted the looks of sympathy on his listeners’ faces and said. “But now I like eet here very much.”
“I’m glad it all worked out, then,” Alice said, and smiled.
“Yeah, I’m glad you like it here,” Frank added. He had been surprised to find that Julio had the same desire to travel and learn about new places that he had. Frank said quietly, “I wish people had treated you like I would’ve been treated in Mexico.”
Julio smiled warmly. “No, you don’t want that, my friend. They would cheat you... Gringo,” he said, and then laughed loudly, prompting both Alice and Frank to do the same.
There was a pause in the conversation before Julio spoke again, “So, I theenk thees will be my last season... I have met my wife.” Julio straightened with pride and smiled.
“Congratulations!” Alice said.
“Mebee you both can come to the weddeeng?”
“That would be nice, Julio.” Alice said, relishing the picture she immediately formed in her head of a traditional Mexican wedding, with lots of white lace and mariachi bands.
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” Frank responded, evidencing a genuine desire to take Julio up on the offer. None of his plans were set, and he had wanted to see Mexico for some time.
Frank drifted from the conversation before looking fixedly at Alice as she discussed the wedding plans with Julio. Her shoulder-length, straight brown hair rocked as she moved her head, while her brown eyes sparkled as she delighted in the images Julio was creating for her. But her smile was the feature that captivated him most, he realized. It was large, revealing almost all her teeth, and it had a boldness that forced a person to take note of it. It wasn’t a meek smile suggesting submissiveness, but was strong and almost brash, yet also warm and softening. He felt overwhelmingly compelled to surrender and be drawn in by it. He suddenly wished Julio wasn’t the one receiving that smile, especially with such eagerness.
When a Fire Burns Hot Page 6
