by Building Fires in the Snow- A Collection of Alaska LGBTQ Short Fiction
Tierney felt more relaxed than she had since leaving home, but still she continued to cast her eyes about in search of Robert. Finally, she spotted him leaning against a wall, engaged in conversation with another clean-shaven young guy, both of them holding bottles of beer. Taken aback by their easy familiarity with one another, Tierney thought for a befuddled moment that Robert must have run into someone he knew. It wasn’t only that the two young men were both somewhat small of stature or that they appeared to be close in age; it was like they had a previous acquaintance with one another. Maybe the other guy had gone to Harvard, too, she finally decided, or perhaps they had discovered they knew someone in common.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, slipping from her chair. Tierney needed to tell Robert that she was going to work for Cleo for a few days in exchange for room and board and would then hitchhike on to Seward with Trish. It was possible she’d run into him there, depending upon how big Seward was, but she wanted him to know that this looked like the end of the road for her and him. As she threaded her way through the mob of inebriated men that packed the front of the bar, she wondered if Robert would be upset with her.
“Excuse me,” she said, trying to push past a pockmarked, overweight customer in a velour leisure suit who blocked her way. Instead of moving, however, the man reached out and seized her wrist, drawing her close enough that she could smell his stale breath and feel how tautly the skin was stretched across his potbelly, like a pregnant woman. Repulsed, she tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. “Give me a kiss,” he demanded drunkenly, puckering up.
Trish appeared out of nowhere, karate-chopping the man’s bent elbow so that he released his grip on Tierney’s arm. Tugging Tierney away, she said loudly, “We gotta go. Right now!”
The man stood swaying unsteadily, rubbing his arm. “Why you gotta go?”
“Go where?” Tierney asked, even as Trish dragged her out the front door into the parking lot, where Tierney stared at her, stupefied.
Trish burst into laughter. “You should see your face.”
The fresh air was a tonic after the stuffiness inside. Tierney breathed deeply, feeling how muddled her thinking had become from the beer. “He doesn’t even know what hit him,” she finally said, giggling. She followed Trish around two corners of the building to the side farthest from the highway, where an empty fire pit was surrounded by standing rounds of firewood set up as stools, and one large log on its side, stripped of bark, apparently served as a fireside bench.
“His name’s Max,” Trish said, sitting down in the middle of the log, facing the blackened depression in the ground. “He can be a real pest. He shows up at the Majestic every now and then. Always wants to date one of us and won’t take no for an answer.” She produced a slender joint and a book of matches from her sweatshirt pouch and grinned. “Wanna get high?”
“No thanks. I think I’m already drunk.”
“Come on.” Trish patted the log beside her while carefully licking both ends of the marijuana cigarette and setting it between her lips.
Tierney took a seat. “No thanks. Really. Pot just puts me to sleep.”
Trish scowled. “You know something? You really need to loosen up.” A few seconds later, as she lit the joint and inhaled deeply, her face was transformed with happiness. When she extended the burning cigarette to Tierney, Tierney raised it to her lips, taking an abbreviated puff but dutifully drawing the smoke into her lungs. She remembered the ramshackle collection of shacks she and Robert had passed through—Tok—and felt a little shocked to realize that that had happened only yesterday.
Finally, Trish exhaled. “Are you running away from home?”
“It’s more like quitting a job before you get fired.” Tierney watched Trish take another extra-long toke. “My dad remarried. I don’t really get along with the new wife.”
Trish nodded, extending the joint to Tierney while holding her breath. Exhaling slowly, she said. “My parents are divorced, too. It sucks.”
“My folks didn’t divorce. My mom died.” Tierney handed the joint back without smoking. “I really don’t want any more of this.”
“When?” Trish sucked deeply from the roach before delicately stubbing out what was left of it.
“Six years ago. I was ten. She died of an infection.”
Trish was carefully dabbing the burnt end of the joint with a spit-moistened finger. “That really sucks,” she said, tucking the roach behind the matches in the matchbook and slipping them back into the pouch of her sweatshirt. “You’re only sixteen? I was sure you were older.”
“Because I’m so sophisticated, right?” Tierney was overcome by her own wit.
Trish laughed so hard that she snorted like a pig, which made them both convulse even more. “Almost peed my pants,” Trish gasped, dashing behind the closest bush, where she dropped her jeans and squatted to pee.
Tierney followed suit a short distance away and they returned to the fire pit buttoning their pants at the same time. “Now we’re pee sisters,” Tierney said. “Get it? Like blood brothers?” They each took a seat again on the log, this time facing away from the fire pit.
“Pee sisters?” Trish shoved Tierney so hard that they both slipped onto the ground. Soon they were tussling playfully, as if they’d known each other for a lot longer than a couple of hours. Trish surrendered first. Breathing hard as she released her grip on Trish’s arms, Tierney felt exhilarated, and not just because she’d prevailed in their contest. She offered Trish a hand up. “Do you know why it’s called the Funny Bone?”
The two took turns brushing off each other’s clothes. “I do. Unfortunately.” Trish refastened her dark, wavy hair in its plastic barrette. “Do you know what an oosik is?” At Tierney’s blank look, she explained. “It’s the penis bone of a walrus, maybe a foot and a half long.” She held her hands approximately eighteen inches apart.
“What? A walrus penis? Is this a real thing, or are you shitting me?”
“If you shut up, I’ll tell you.”
“It’s a real bone?”
“They keep it behind the bar and when a cheechako comes in—”
“What’s a cheechako?”
“Stop interrupting! It’s someone like you. A newbie to Alaska. Anyway, the bartender hands the oosik to someone who doesn’t know what it is, and tells them to make a wish while they rub up and down on the oosik as hard as they can to make their wish come true.” Trish watched Tierney’s face.
“That’s disgusting!”
Trish shrugged. “You asked. That’s how the Funny Bone got its name. Guess what, though?”
“What?”
“Lots of bars in Alaska have oosiks. Stupid, right?” Trish squinted at the sky, which was still very light but no longer bright. “It’s getting late. They’ll be wanting to get down to Seward.” Smiling at Tierney, she said. “We’ll have fun at Raven Creek. Cleo and Gavin have a really groovy scene, man.”
“Are they hippies?”
“I guess so. Maybe. Why?”
“No reason.” Tierney thought about how everyone she knew in Williston badmouthed hippies, but she wasn’t sure why.
“You’ll like it,” Trish said again. “Anyway, I’m ready to take a break from Angela and Donna Sue. The lezzies. They really get on my nerves sometimes.”
“Wait. Are they really lesbians?” Where Tierney came from, anyway, being a lesbian if you were a girl was just about the worst thing that someone could say or think about you.
“They act like it.”
“But acting like it is not the same as being it, right?” Tierney peered into the other girl’s eyes.
Trish laughed. “What are you talking about?”
Angela and Donna Sue appeared together at the corner of the building. “What are you doing?” the two blondes said accusingly, almost in unison. Tierney and Trish laughed so hard that Trish doubled over and Tierney crossed her arms over her stomach because each time she gasped for breath, it hurt.
“Are you h
igh?” Angela demanded.
“God, Trish,” Donna Sue added.
“What’s going on?” Trish finally managed, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“They’re in there talking about Watergate,” Donna Sue said, rolling her eyes. “We got bored.”
“What’re they saying?” After months of seemingly nonstop news coverage, each revelation about the White House scandal more shocking than the last, Tierney realized she hadn’t heard anything about Watergate since she’d left home. What was the president up to now? Her dad called him “Tricky Dick.” Were they still conducting those impeachment hearings?
Angela and Donna Sue could not enlighten her. “I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal,” Angela confessed. Tierney watched the two girls carefully, wondering why Trish had accused them of being lesbians.
The four of them trooped back into the Funny Bone. No sooner had the door closed behind her than Robert confronted Tierney. “Where were you? I’ve been looking all over.” Angela and Donna Sue made their way back to Cleo, Gavin, and Pearl, but Trish stayed with Tierney.
Robert introduced his new friend, Lance, and Tierney found herself shaking hands with possibly the best-looking boy she’d ever met. He even had shiny, white movie-star teeth. Trish inserted herself, offering Lance a dazzling smile and proffering her hand as if she were royalty. Robert was telling them that Lance worked at a “fly-in wilderness lodge.” “He’s pretty sure they’ll want to hire me, too, since they need to build two more cabins this summer and some other stuff.” Robert sounded really eager. “I’ll learn how to build with logs!” In a more serious tone of voice, he added, “The plan is for me to drive back to Anchorage with him tonight, so we can talk to the owner first thing in the morning.” He searched Tierney’s eyes uncertainly. “Sorry.”
Tierney’s first reaction was indignation that Robert had gone ahead and made plans without even discussing it with her. Then she marveled at the way both she and he had more or less simultaneously stumbled on separate solutions to the problem of splitting up. She told him what had transpired for her among her own newfound friends. Robert smiled broadly when he realized that Tierney wouldn’t be alone, and his obvious relief touched her. “Sounds good,” he said. “I’m happy for you.”
“Me, too. I mean, I’m happy for you, too.” Tierney noticed that Trish had maneuvered Lance into a less crowded space a few feet away and was talking to him earnestly, her hand on his forearm. Gee, she didn’t waste any time, did she? For his part, Lance looked relaxed but not nearly as engaged by the conversation as Trish; it was as if he were accustomed to pretty girls throwing themselves at him. Tierney knew that the odds were slim to impossible that someone like Lance didn’t already have a girlfriend.
Robert said he needed to get his pack from Pearl’s car. “Me, too,” Tierney said, and as if on cue, Pearl appeared, leading the other group out of the bar. She and Robert joined the procession and once outside, Tierney introduced him to Cleo and Gavin.
Pearl unlocked the trunk of the Lincoln; the blondes displayed their purchases to Cleo while Robert and Tierney retrieved their packs, setting them on the gravel. Lance and Trish emerged together from the bar, Trish still talking his ear off.
Robert hooked an arm through one strap of his backpack and shouldered it, turning to Tierney. “I guess this is it, then,” he said. “Good luck, okay?”
She surprised herself by offering him a hug made awkward by the presence of the bulky pack. She felt like she should say something, but found herself at a loss for words. “You, too,” she finally managed. Detaching himself from Trish, Lance led Robert across the parking lot to an older-style red pickup, and using both arms, Robert swung his pack up and into its bed.
The girls were replacing the shopping bags in the trunk of their car. As the red truck pulled onto the highway and gained speed, Tierney noticed that Robert never looked back.
“Farewell, Sir Lancelot,” Trish sighed under her breath, so that only Tierney could hear her. “Goodbye, Bob. Good riddance, Thingamabob.”
Tierney turned on her angrily. “His name isn’t Bob. It’s Robert.”
“Are you going to cry?”
“No,” Tierney snapped. “No, I’m not. Are you?” Trish could be fun, she thought, but she might have a mean streak, so Tierney had best be on her guard.
3.
Cleo and Gavin had their own emotional, full-body goodbye in the parking lot beside their extended-cab truck. Tierney knew that a big truck like that cost a bundle. In fact, Tierney noticed, a record-setting number of new or nearly new trucks filled the Funny Bone’s parking lot. She guessed they belonged to the pipeliners inside. The Lincoln’s trunk remained open; Pearl explained to her that Gavin was driving himself to Valdez that night, so Cleo, Trish, and Tierney would ride with Pearl and the blondes as far as the Raven Creek bridge, at which point the three of them would continue on foot to Cleo and Gavin’s “homestead.” Trish helped Tierney maneuver her pack into the trunk and Pearl closed its lid.
Without discussion, Cleo took the front passenger seat; the four girls squeezed together in the back, Trish and Tierney sandwiched between Angela and Donna Sue. Tierney was glad she got to sit beside her new friend. As Pearl started the car, Cleo remarked casually to no one in particular, “That Lance looks like a real Prince Charming.”
Pearl glanced at her, laughing. “You better not let Gavin hear you talking like that.”
“I have a feeling he plays for the other team,” Cleo said.
“Me, too,” Pearl agreed.
Tierney came to attention. What other team?
“What are you talking about?” Trish demanded. “He’s not a homo.”
“How do you know?” Cleo said mildly.
“Because.”
Tierney kept her eyes focused straight ahead. First, Trish had called Angela and Donna Sue lesbians; now Cleo was saying Lance might be homosexual. Was it because they were topless dancers, she wondered. Did that make them see everything in terms of sex? After all, Cleo had assumed she and Robert were sleeping together when nothing could have been further from the truth.
Then Tierney remembered waking up in the tent to discover Robert all but naked beside her. Was that really just last night? So much had happened in a single day! She thought of Maggie-Magpie. Where was she now, and was she okay? Tierney realized she would likely never know what had happened to her.
She noticed she was getting used to the shady light that passed for midnight. “Does it ever bother you guys that it never gets dark?”
Cleo spoke without turning. “Six months from now you’ll think it’s nothing but dark.” She laughed at her own cleverness.
It made Tierney feel good that Cleo assumed she would still be here in half a year.
“It’s almost solstice,” Cleo said. “We should make a fire on the beach on Sunday.”
“Solstice bonfire!” Donna Sue said excitedly. “Hot dogs!”
“S’mores!” Angela chimed in.
“What’s the big deal with solstice?” Pearl said, giving voice to the question Tierney was too shy to ask. They had broken through the screen of trees to an open stretch where Tierney could see the dark ocean and the looming wall of mountains again. Now, in the late light, the water beside them glinted silver, like mercury.
“The longest day of the year,” Trish said. “A big effing deal in Alaska.”
Pearl glared into the rearview mirror. “I said ‘effing,’” Trish protested.
“Watch your mouth.”
“Eff you,” Tierney heard Trish mutter ever-so-softly under her breath.
“Alaskans have to make hay while the sun shines,” Cleo explained. “Work our tails off when it’s light and warm, and then hibernate when it’s dark and cold.”
“Hibernate and sew costumes?” Pearl teased her.
They were crossing a bridge. Tierney looked at the churning stream that ran between the wooded mountainsides on the left to meet the ocean on their right. A lone fisherm
an stood almost silhouetted at the mouth of the creek, holding his rod with its tip pointed out to sea, reeling in slowly. “What’s he fishing for?” she asked.
“King salmon,” Cleo said. “Gavin caught a nice one this morning.”
Pearl slowed, steering the car into a pullout. When Cleo got out, Angela and Donna Sue scrambled for window rights to the front seat.
“Shotgun!”
“I said it first!”
Pearl lowered her window, speaking to Cleo. “See you in a few days.” Calling to Trish, who was helping Tierney extract her pack from the trunk, she said, “Behave yourself.” Finally, directing her words to Tierney when the two girls joined Cleo at the driver’s side window, she said, “You’re welcome to stay with us in Seward. Have fun.”
Cleo and Trish both offered to take a turn with her pack, but Tierney, anxious to prove herself, insisted on carrying it alone. In any case, Cleo needed both hands to hitch up her skirt to keep it from trailing on the ground. The three crossed the highway and set off single file down the muddy trail, hiking alongside the milky glacial water that coursed at a powerful, clamorous clip just a few feet away. Realizing that she had not yet strayed from the road system in Alaska, Tierney was thrilled by the prospect. The three said little, concentrating on maintaining their footing on the slippery trail that followed the stream bank—a task made more difficult by the fact that, because they were in a narrow valley, it was now actually quite dark. Tierney walked directly behind Cleo, watching carefully where the older woman placed her rubber-booted feet. The smell in the air when they’d gotten out of the car had reminded Tierney of fertilizer, but as they left the ocean behind them, she began to sniff something bright and sweet, a plant smell she’d never encountered before.
“What is this?” she asked. “It’s yummy.”
“Balsam poplar,” Cleo said, indicating a grove of large trees on the opposite hillside. “It’s the buds. Best perfume in the world.”
