I chuckle. She’s right.
Just then I hear a knock on the sliding glass door behind me. It’s Kailee. She’s holding up a picture that she drew. It shows four people, holding hands, with a big sun in the corner of the page, shining down on them. The four people, as far as I can tell, are me, Kailee, my mom, and Penelope. I can’t help but notice that Kailee put herself next to the nurse.
I give my daughter a thumbs up and an enthusiastic nod of approval. “Kailee drew a picture of you—well, of all of us. Me, you, her, and my mom.”
“Oh? And how does it look?”
“Beautiful.”
15
Close Call
I getto the station early, around half-past seven. I’m feeling good today. The sudden surge of optimism might have something to do with the fact that Penelope is coming over on Friday. Can’t wait till she tries my scallops in white wine sauce.
I find the probie washing the truck. Manny’s sitting in a lawn chair in the corner of the bay, flipping through an old issue ofPlayboy. The house used to have a subscription, but orders from higher up put a kibosh on that a few years before I joined the battalion. Something about a hostile work environment. Political correctness gone awry, if you ask me. Hell, it’s not like we’re likely to get a female firefighter anytime soon.
“Hey probie,” I say. “Didn’t you just wash that thing last night?”
The probie looks at me, and forces a little smile despite the fact that he’s clearly exhausted. “Yep,” is all he says before getting back to scrubbing the already spotless side of the engine.
Manny seems pretty immersed in his magazine. “Manito, you got a crossword hidden in there, don’t ya?” Manny likes to give me crap about my love of crosswords. “It’s okay, man—just admit that you secretly love doing them too, and that deep down you want to be just like me.”
Manny looks up and lifts his eyebrows. “Bro. Come on. Why would I stare at words when I can stare at titties?”
I snort. “You’ve got a way with words, bud. Did I ever tell you that? What do you think, probie—you prefer titties or crossword puzzles with your morning coffee?”
“Huh?” the probie says, looking dazed.
“Titties or crosswords?”
He frowns. He’s trying to figure out if it’s a trick question. Poor guy’s already been conditioned to think everything is a test. He’s not too far off.
“Umm . . . titties, I guess,” he finally says, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.
I shake my head. “Disappointing, probie. Disappointing. Hey, is Dennis here? Didn’t see his car in the lot.”
I want to talk to the lieutenant about the hearing. Once upon a time, Dennis studied to become a lawyer. I figure he might be able to shed some more light on my situation—tell me, with the bluntness that only exists between firefighters, what my chances are.
“You know,” Manny says, turning a page, ignoring my question, “nipples have changed.”
Me and probie look at each other puzzled. “What the hell you talkin’ about?” I say.
“Nipples, man. Didn’t you hear? Them things used to look different. Back in the 80s or whenever this is from—” Manny checks the cover, finds the date. “Nineteen ninety-four.”
“You think nipples have, what—evolvedsince then?”
“All I know is that you don’t seechichitaslike these no more.” Manny holds up the centerfold to illustrate his thesis. I gotta admit, there is something ‘old-school’ looking about the model’s breasts.
The probie blushes like he’s never seen a naked woman before.
“You make coffee, probie?” I ask him.
“Yep. Fresh pot’s in the kitchen.”
“In that case, I’m going to sit down and do a crossword. Gotta regain the brain cells I just lost having this conversation.”
And as soon as the words leave my mouth, it happens.
