The only noise was the water pipes funneling through the dorm to the ten showers plus my fingers clicking on the keyboard. I had pretty much become part of the sofa since we’d arrived back to our temporary home, simultaneously resting and uploading the latest pictures. After the last picture sent, I began typing out the next installment of the MountainEar’s “Fire and Ice” series.
Tyler walked out, his hair freshly buzzed and his cheeks red from the hot shower. When he was clean, the tan line around his eyes from wearing his goggles all day in the sun was more prominent. He was wearing a heather-gray Alpine Hotshot T-shirt, navy cotton shorts, and—from the looks of it—nothing underneath.
“My turn?” I asked as he fell onto the sofa next to me.
Tyler frowned. “The shower stalls are side by side.”
“So? I’m just one of the guys, right?”
Tyler didn’t answer, but I could tell the thought of me showering next to his crewmates bothered him. Initially they’d all offered to let me shower first, but I wasn’t about to make all twenty of them wait after nearly two weeks on the mountain for me to take a shower.
I chuckled. “Just kidding. Puddin’!” I called. “You’re up! Wash the stink off!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Puddin’ said, hopping up from his padded foldout chair.
Tyler breathed out a laugh, and I nudged him with my elbow. “What’s funny?”
“You’ve somehow become the boss around here. They take orders from you like they do from the superintendent or Jubal.”
“Maybe they just need a big sister.”
Tyler watched Puddin’ walk across the room toward the showers with his bath bag swung over his shoulder. Puddin’ ducked under the doorframe, his arms standing out from his body because his muscles were so massive. He was the largest crewmember, followed by Cat and Sugar. Although they had arrived looking like powerlifters, the hiking and arduous labor for twelve to sixteen hours a day had made them leaner. Tyler had said that by the end of fire season, they would all look more like cross-country runners. Puddin’ had already lost forty pounds.
“You think he needs a big sister?” Tyler asked.
Puddin’ poked his head around the corner. “Ellie? Think you could make me another grilled cheese? They’re the best I’ve ever had.”
“I’ll make you one,” Fish said from the table.
Puddin’s sheepish expression made him look like a little boy. “Nah. That’s okay, Fish.”
I smiled. I wasn’t the best cook, but I could make a mean grilled cheese. Puddin’ didn’t mean they were the best; I just made them a lot like his mom had when he was young. “Three?” I asked.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Puddin’ said. His voice was so deep it carried like he was speaking through a muffled megaphone, the way a giant might sound.
“Okay if I do it after my shower?” I asked.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
He disappeared around the corner, and I stretched my neck toward Tyler, looking up at him with a knowing smile. “Yes, I think they all need a big sister.”
“Or a mom,” Tyler said. “They might not let you leave.”
“If I don’t find a place by October, I might not.” I was joking, but Tyler watched me for a long time.
“You need a place?” he asked. “I’m looking for a roommate.”
“I thought you and Taylor lived together.”
“Part-time. After fire season, he travels.”
“I need someplace permanent.”
“Maybe we could look into a three-bedroom. This is Slick’s last season. He and his wife have a three-bedroom condo that will be up for sale.”
I thought about it for half a second. “I can’t afford to buy.”
“I can. I was thinking about it, anyway.”
I shook my head. “We can’t be roommates.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
He nodded a few times, pretending to watch the television. Every few minutes he would smile and start to say something, but think better of it.
Puddin’ came out in a fresh pair of comfortable clothes, and the remaining ash-covered crew looked to me.
“Really?” I asked.
They kept staring.
I sighed. “Go, Cat.”
Cat jumped up, smiling. “I’m her favorite.”
“Bullshit,” Tyler said, pointing at him.
Everyone at the table laughed, and Cat jogged by, smooching his lips at me. “I love you, too, Ellie,” he lilted, winking.
“I’ll punch your cock,” Tyler said, slapping at him.
Sage came out, and I sent Jew in. Bucky came out, and I called on Sancho. Soon, all the guys were finished, and it was my turn. I rolled my eyes at Tyler—he insisted again on standing by the door. It wasn’t the first time I’d taken a shower at headquarters, and the guys would never peek, but they loved to tease him.
I stepped in front of the long line of sinks and mirrors, snuggled in my robe—the only thing I had packed that reminded me of the luxuries of home. I scrubbed my hair with the towel, feeling a little more human. Sometimes we would have access to a tractor-trailer full of shower stalls, but when we were too deep in the mountains for the trucks to reach, it was living dirty or bathing in a pond, river, or waterfall. At fire camp, I was a different person, ignoring the dirt and sweat on my body and the grease in my hair. Once, Tyler had taken me down to a waterfall to rinse off, but the water was freezing. For me, at least, being dirty for a few more days was preferable to the sting of just-melted snow that didn’t warm, even at the height of summer.