Chapter 10
I keep my eyes on the road while I go over my presentation in my head.
My hands grip the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turn white.
It will be over soon. If I just get through the first few lines, it will be okay.
You are a goddamn firefighter, Gonzales.
You should be able to talk to a bunch of nine-year-olds.
I silently curse myself. Why is it easier to run into burning buildings than it is to speak to groups?
The school rises in front of us. Its rigid square shape is a stark contrast against the buildings around it.
I park the car near the entrance, hop out without saying a word, and grab the presentation kit from the trunk.
Maya follows me quietly. Fuck. I should have told her about the anxiety.
I muster a weak smile and open the door for her.
She returns a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
The kids squeal loudly before the teacher is even able to introduce us. Or rather, me. Maya disappears to one of the rows in the back.
She would excel at this. Her energy, her bubbly personality, the way she speaks—the kids would eat it up.
But instead, it’s me. Me, the woman who is stiff and hates speeches, with about sixteen pairs of eyes staring expectantly at me.
I inhale shakily and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. My muscles tremble.
When I open my eyes, I search for Maya. She is frowning at me, but inclines her head as her gaze meets mine. A relief spreads through my chest. I can breathe.
“Good morning, carinos. I am Elena, and I am a firefighter.” My voice sounds far steadier than I feel.
“Good morning, senora Elena,” the kids reply dutifully.
I see them shift eagerly in their chairs.
Not just the boys, the girls too. I know some of them might not have seen a female firefighter before.
But after today both boys and girls will know that they can become whatever they want to be.
I get to be a part of that. A grin spreads across my face.
All the fear I had a few breaths ago melts away.
“Alright, come closer,” I say as I sit down on the ground.
The kids look at each other for a moment, then at the teacher, and then back at me. Then the first brave one slides out of their chair and scoots closer. Soon enough, I am surrounded by sixteen nine-year-olds. I lower my head as if I am going to tell them a story at the campfire.
“Have any of you ever seen a real fire?” I ask, my voice deep.
A little hand shoots up.
“My abuela’s kitchen burned down once,” a bright-eyed boy replies.
“Ay, nino,” I exhale. “What do you remember?”
“Uhm… There were flames, and smoke, and abuela cried. And then there were the firefighters. And they used their hoses and then it was done.”
I smile. Kid logic is simple. I love that. My nod toward the boy is dutiful, and his classmates are gaping at him.
“That’s right. When there is a fire, we come to put it out.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” one of the girls asks.
I smile at her. “Very dangerous. The flames can get up to a thousand degrees. That is so hot that it can melt steel.”
“Doesn’t that kill you?” The kids look nervous now, their eyes on me.
My nod is slow and purposeful this time. I knew this question was coming, it always does. The younger the audience, the faster it happens. The soft laugh I release through my nose gets rid of all the anxiety that was left. Good, now breathe.
“It can. That’s why we wear protective clothing.” I look around the circle of kids. “Who wants to see the gear?”
The eruption of delighted screams is so loud that I have to cover my ears for a moment.
I can’t help but laugh. A cheerful sound that erupts from my belly.
My eyes dart up to meet Maya’s gaze again.
The expression on her face is unreadable, yet it still makes my stomach flip.
I frown and return my attention to the kids.
“So, this here is a turnout coat. It is made out of a special material that doesn’t melt under heat. Go ahead, feel it.”
I pass the coat around and watch as their tiny hands greedily touch it. The fabric is rough and stiff. The coat is heavier than they expect. I grin.
“We have pants and boots like that too. It keeps us safe from the heat.”
“So, you’ve never been on fire?”
“No,” I chuckle, “but what should I do if I were?”
“Get water?” The answer comes almost instantly from at least three kids at the same time.
I gently shake my head. It spurs other kids to react too. Their responses range from anything like running outside to taking the jacket off. I shake my head again. Then one soft voice stands out.
“Call 112.”
My eyes find those of the small girl hiding a bit behind the other kids.
Her green eyes are watching me intently.
The boy next to her huffs and tries to elbow her, until he notices my gaze on him.
He mumbles something under his breath and her face falls.
I grit my teeth, and breathe in slowly. They are just kids, Gonzales. I slowly incline my head at her.
“That’s right. When there is a fire, you always call 112.”
The boy eyes her jealously, but her chest swells with pride. Good.
“When your clothes are on fire, you need to put them out first though,” I add softly. “You can do that when you STOP, DROP, and ROLL.”
The words fall from my lips and my hands naturally make the motions to go with it. I have done it dozens of times. But these kids see it for the first time. Their eyes are wide, so I slow down and repeat the motion.
“Can anybody show me how that’s done?”
Before I can pick one kid, they are all up on their feet. One by one they crash dramatically to the floor and start rolling around. The teacher and I lock eyes for a moment, both snickering at the sight. Why the fuck were you so nervous about this? This might just be the best part of my job.
***
At the end of the presentation, the kids are exhausted and their voices are hoarse from excitement. I smile slightly at myself. My eyes dart toward Maya, who is still tucked away in her corner.
She is no longer alone. One of the girls is nestled comfortably in her lap. She has her thumb in her mouth and her head is resting against Maya’s chest.
A weird feeling of jealousy comes over me. What if that was you? Wait, what? Don’t you want to know what she smells like? Feel her hair between your fingers? Taste her on your lips? I blink rapidly. My cheeks flush, and I tear my gaze away.
What the hell is happening? The kids around me are still bouncing in place, but suddenly I need to go. I put the smile back on my face and ask their favorite question one last time.
“So, what do we do when our clothes are on fire?”
“Stop. Drop. Roll!” The kids scream in unison as they jump up one more time to dramatically roll over the floor. I grin and push myself off the ground. The teacher starts clapping and soon the kids follow.
“Thank you, senora Gonzales. That was wonderful,” the teacher exclaims.
She places her hand on my arm and smiles warmly. I return the smile and give her a small nod.
“Our pleasure. Bombers de Barcelona are here to protect, but also to serve.”
In my peripheral vision, I see how Maya gently puts the girl on the floor and hugs her, softly saying her goodbyes. Her hand ruffles the dark strands of hair, before she saunters toward me. I am about to ask her if she is ready, when the teacher opens her mouth again.
“Maybe you can tell me a bit more about it over dinner, lieutenant Gonzales… Elena,” she chuckles, and her cheeks turn crimson.
Her eyes dart toward the ground, nervous.
I frown. It takes guts to ask another woman out, but the way she avoids my eyes indicates that she’s really nervous. What an odd contrast.
“Oh, I am flattered, but I already have plans,” I say to let her down gently.
The woman is good-looking, but far too timid. Besides, my focus is on my job right now. I need to keep my crew safe. That means that I have to prepare drills, train extra on the weekends, and don’t even come home some nights. There is no room for a partner.
“Hey there, superhero,” Maya’s voice is a low teasing hum. “Ready to go?”
Her voice is so close to my ear, that her breath tickles my skin.
A shiver runs down my spine and goosebumps spread all over my arms. I whip my head toward her and stare at her for a moment.
My gaze travels from her eyes to her lips and lingers there.
By the time I move back to her eyes, I see her pupils dilating.
Just grab her and pin her against the wall already!
What the hell? There are kids here! And, she’s work.
Plus, there’s no room for a partner, remember.
If she would even want you. I swallow hard.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I reply, my voice rough.
The teacher’s eyes dart from mine to Maya, and then back to mine again.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were involved. I wouldn’t have asked if I knew,” she stammers, her cheeks coloring even more now.
I shake my head and start to say we aren’t, but the desperation in her eyes is so great that I let it go.
“Thank you for having us. Stay safe now.”
I turn on my heels and walk past Maya, who is looking puzzled. Thankfully she doesn’t argue or question me, but just follows. I raise my hand at the kids one last time and then disappear through the door. What the fuck is wrong with you?