Chapter 9
Korren
My first day with the fire crew was better than I’d expected.
I haven’t lost my old strength, and it was easy to fall back into the routine of training.
Plus, there’s no need for small talk when we’re all out of breath or trying to work our way through a challenge.
This is exactly what I needed—uncomplicated team dynamics where I can remember how to function as a normal human without anyone paying too much attention to me.
Since I don’t have anything to eat for dinner, I wander off to explore Copper Creek as soon as the day finishes.
There are enough tourists around that no one looks twice at me as I amble along the main street, peering through the windows of all the shops I won’t be able to buy anything from.
Soon I reach the end of town, so I continue down to the waterfront and wander past docks crowded with fishing dinghies, sailboats, and even a midsized cruise ship.
That would explain the sudden flood of tourists.
There’s a river draining into one end of the harbor, and a gravel trail runs alongside this, so I follow it through peaceful pine forest until it spits me back out on the opposite end of town.
Eventually I can’t avoid it any longer, so I make my way back down the main street until I reach the turnoff to Chief Rhodes’ property.
I can hear loud conversation and laughter from inside his house, but I keep my gaze averted.
I don’t want his whole family staring at me and asking me questions, no matter how tempting a hot dinner sounds. Besides, that wasn’t part of the offer.
I’m surprised to find a pile of stuff sitting on the ground outside my campervan. At first I think it’s my firefighting uniform, but when I get closer, I notice there’s a jar of peanut butter sitting on top.
Then I realize it’s a bundle of clothes and cheap food.
There’s a lump in my throat. I gather up the bundle and hurry inside, angry at my weakness. I don’t want handouts. This is embarrassing.
So why the fuck do I feel like Dex has just thrown me a lifeline?
I know it’s Dex, because Chief Rhodes doesn’t know I’m broke, and that’s even more surprising since he said he’s short on cash as well.
Fuck, these clothes might actually fit. And there are instant noodles and bread too, in case I don’t have a way to cook.
My hands are shaking as I put together my backpacking stove and light a match.
I dump the last of my water bottle into my cooking pot, lightheaded at the idea of a hot pot of noodles.
Earlier today I ate better than I have in weeks, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by taking more than my share, so I’m still starving.
By the time the water is boiling and I’ve dropped the noodles in, I’m fucking crying, and I can’t seem to stop. I had a good job, a decent house I was renting, and enough savings to take a month off every now and then to go hiking. I thought my future was secure.
Then, in one day, everything fell apart.
It’s been a fucking rough year. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m still alive. Every day is another struggle, another indignity, another necessity I’m going without.
And somehow I’ve reached the point where I’m crying over a fucking pot of instant noodles.