We all chuckle, and the table goes quiet as we stuff our bellies full of Mama’s delicious cooking.
One of her many talents, cooking has always served as a refuge for her. She’s happiest puttering away in her kitchen, whipping up some savory delight. Or baking on weekends to see us through the week fed and loved.
Thank heavens I work out for a living, or I’d have to cut back on her delectable bites. I can only imagine the time I’d shave off my watchtower hose haul if I didn’t eat her food. But some things are worth the sacrifice.
“When’s your next shift?” Kel asks before piling more chicken onto his plate.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Urgh, yuck.”
Mama laughs. “Honey, someone has to wear the cape.”
Kel’s twisted frown has us both laughing now. “Nope, me and shift work have never met, and I intend on keeping it that way.”
“It’s not so bad. Gives you a few days off after,” I offer.
“No, babe. Still the worst thing ever to have been invented.”
“You remember that when you’re drooling over men in uniform, little fella.” Mama points her finger at him.
Kel rolls his eyes, but the smile creeping over his face tells me more than I need to know. Besides, he doesn’t date. He’s more of a no-strings kind of guy. And good for him.
“Movie tonight?” Kel asks as we rise from the table and clear the plates.
“Yeah, nah. Early start, remember.”
I scrape the plates into the bin and run the wash-up water.
“See, told you, shocking set up. No time for the finer things in life, culture, and entertainment—that’s a hard no from me.”
I fling a tea towel at him, and he snatches it. We hook into cleaning the kitchen. Almost an hour later, tired and ready to hit the hay, I hug him goodnight and he promises to keep me updated on the puppers.
I close the door and turn back to find Mama standing nearby, arms folded over her chest. “That one’s a bad influence. Dating at work is a bad idea, bubba.”
“I know, Mama. I wouldn’t.”
“Good. You’ve worked too hard for some man to ruin your career...” She doesn’t say it, but I hearruin your lifeas it hangs unspoken between us. Even at the ripe old age of twenty-two, I understand the stakes hanging over our heads. Financially. With our careers. With our safety.
Besides, the last man on earth I’d be interested in would be a crewmember. Too messy. Too forbidden. And for a hella good reason. Our lives depend on our professionalism. Those lines are ones that can never be blurred. Lest the consequences endanger our very lives.
On that morbid note, I pad to the bathroom and shower. Pulling on my pajamas, I wander through the living room and find Mama watching her nighttime program. I bend down over the back of the couch and kiss her cheek. “Night, Mama. Aroha koe.”
“Night. Love you too.”
The alarm screams, and I jolt off the bunk. The bunk. Not my bed. The first twelve hours of our shift went by uneventfully. Now, the overhead alarm wails, the automated voice repeating the address and incident. I fly out of my quarters while pulling on my boots and slam straight into a hard wall of muscle.
“Shit!” I stumble and pull on the other boot.
Hammond looks down at me. He’s fully dressed and barking commands.Of course he is.
Davey stumbles from his room, pants halfway up his legs, a deer in headlights. I don’t know how you ever get used to the harsh wakeup call of the house alarm system.
Less than a minute later, we’re hauling our turnouts up our bodies, and Schmidt is yelling roles. Sandy fires up the engine as we pull open the doors and climb on up.
I fumble the headset, and when the microphone wire tangles in my ponytail that’s barely still together, I realize it’s on backward.
God, shit.
