Things You Save in a Fire - Katherine Center Page 0,28

these guys hadn’t seen every unspeakably nasty thing in the world. As if they hadn’t literally walked over slimy dead bodies and charred human remains. As if any of them could be shocked by a tampon.

But I was actually wondering those same questions myself. In Austin, our firehouse had been pretty close to brand-new—out in a newer suburb, with plenty of natural light and gender-neutral accommodations, and even flexible sleeping areas for different groupings of men and women on different shifts. This firehouse, in contrast, was at least a hundred years old and had not, shall we say, been built with a progressive eye toward gender politics.

“There’s only one shitter,” Tiny called out, “and it’s mine-all-mine.”

“No ladies in the poop zone!” Case chimed in.

“Where is she going to sleep?” DeStasio asked.

The captain had a ready answer. “I asked the chief the same question. The guys up top said to put her in the supply closet.”

I squinted at him. Was he kidding?

“I’m not kidding,” he said. “When you take the shelving out, there’s room there for a bed.” He gave me a wink. “We’ll paint it pink for you, sweetheart, so you’ll feel right at home.”

I gave him a look.

“Unless,” he went on, “you want to sleep with all the guys.”

“You can sleep with me, baby,” Six-Pack called out, and they all laughed.

In truth, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t love the idea of the supply closet, away from the group, but whether sleeping in a big room with these guys would help or hinder our sense of camaraderie was going to depend very much on the guys.

“What’s it going to be?” the captain asked.

I shrugged. “Whichever room has the least number of farts,” I said.

A burst of laughter.

“Don’t sleep near Tiny, then!” somebody shouted.

“If she takes the supply closet,” Case asked, “where will we keep the supplies?”

“Are you talking about a certain stack of supplies that we keep on the bottom shelf?” the captain asked.

“A certain stack of supplies that’s been handed down from crew to crew for decades?” Six-Pack added.

“I’m talking about the supplies that”—Case glanced at me now, wanting to make his meaning clear to the others but not to me—“some of the guys in the house spend time with when they are feeling—” He looked at me again. Words seemed to fail him.

“Restless?” Tiny offered.

Captain Murphy tried to take the high road. “We will find new storage spots for all supplies. Don’t worry, Case. Your porn is safe.”

Six-Pack burst out with a laugh. “’Cause that’s the only exercise Case gets.”

A couple of guys reached out to pat Case on the shoulder.

“Okay, rookies,” the captain said, turning to the rookie and me.

I raised my hand. “I’m not a rookie.”

“Noted,” the captain said, and then began again. “Okay, rookie and newbie, let me tell you a little bit about Station Two. We play hard, but we work harder. I’ll joke around like anybody else, but when I give an order, you don’t think about it, you don’t question it—you follow it. Lives depend on our chain of command, and the one thing I will not tolerate is insubordination.”

The rookie and I nodded in unison.

“I expect everybody on our crew to pull their weight and do their share. There’s no complaining here. You do your job, and you’re grateful for the opportunity. And you stay in shape. How you do that is up to you, but twice a year, we run the obstacle course out back in a crew competition. Even Case,” he said, with a glance at the fat guy.

“We’re going to tease you and prank you and bust your balls,” the captain went on. “Don’t worry about it. Worry if we don’t prank you. Otherwise, no matter how mean we are, just know we’re glad you’re here.” He looked at me. “Even the lady.”

Captain Harris had been right. Not much of a filter.

Next, the captain turned to the crew.

“I know what you’re all probably thinking,” he said. “You’re thinking having a girl here is going to kill all the fun. We won’t be able to play the way we like to, or relax the way we like to, or joke the way we like to. You’re thinking she’s going to have no sense of humor and get offended at everything. She won’t let us curse. She’ll be weak and terrible. It’ll feel like having your mom around all the time, nagging you to pick up your underwear. I get it. In a hundred and twenty years, our station’s never