The Pike: Ships In The Night (3 page)

His companion was a petite black woman, no more than five foot nothing, who was hugging his arm.  She had the smile of an outgoing and take no prisoners kind of personality as she joked with the sisters at the counter at the poor man's expense.  They shared glances that told the whole story... though they seemed exact opposites, they completed each other and were completely enamored with one another.

Or the older lady at the other table.  Her fuzzy little dog was looking out of her carry bag; I didn't know the breed.  But she was a lonely woman, I saw her watching the couples outside as she absently gave her pup little tidbits of what she was eating.  Her face told the story of a long and eventful life.

A businessman who obviously took being an adult far too seriously was walking out through the door as the little bell tinkled.  He was trying to prove to the world he was an adult and a no nonsense man.  Losing a piece of himself in the process.  Life is pretty pointless without having fun.

Then there was a teenage boy, likely on his way to school with his backpack.  He was all infatuated grins, hormones, and smiles as he watched the sisters.  He always orders a banana nut muffin each morning, then rushes out with a blush.  Ah – teenage crushes, we all thought we'd never survive them at one time or another.

Zoey would help Eve out at the front counter between orders as she rushed back and forth into the back to prepare some items like the bread bowls.  The two would throw out sarcastic barbs and finish each other’s jokes with the customers like a well-tuned machine like only close sisters can pull off.

The customers dwindled, and the bakery calmed, like the lull before a storm.  It was as if the place were holding its breath.  That was the ominous sign that it was getting close to the Market's opening bell, and then they would be slammed by a torrent of tourists.  That bell would be my signal to skedaddle before that wave of folks wearing “I Heart Seattle” shirts and wielding their cameras, and cell phones like weapons, invaded the Pike.

As Eve rushed around, cleaning tables and clearing away dishes, she called out, “Incoming.”

Zoey moved aside in the doorway as her sis moved past her into the back.  Zoey looked relieved to be able to relax before the second wave.  And made her way quickly over to my table nodding at another regular at the far table as he looked up from his iPad where I bet he was reading the paper just like me, just in the cold electronic format.

I squinted at her as she approached.  I swear she was saying “Zoom,” under her breath as she approached.  She's odd but not that odd, right?  Right?

She flopped into the chair across from me, tossing the little dish towel she was holding over her shoulder and blew that errant hair out of her eyes again.  She looked like a sailor relaxing on shore leave.  Ok, so maybe she was that odd.  I loved the sisters here.

She said, “Ok. Let the gossip...”

She was cut off by Eve calling out from the back room as she came through the kitchen door and stood in the doorway, “Zo, the doors are stuck on the dishwasher again, I can't muscle them open this time.  We really need to get Ashley in here to fix it, or we'll be stuck hand washing again.  That's going to slow the flow here.”

Zoey exhaled and seemed to puddle in the chair as she melted in exasperation.  “Drat.”  Then to her sister, “On it.”  She gave me a lopsided smile, “Sorry Sparky, duty calls.  Be right back.”

I stood and grabbed my cane.  “Let me take a look.”

If it just needed a little muscle to open the doors, Eve and Zoey had the combined muscle strength of a puppy and a kitten wrestling.  I could make myself useful for something other than sitting around and doing nothing all day every day.  I was getting so bored without being able to work at the station.  I was on the cusp of driving myself crazy, I needed to do something, to help someone.

Zoey shrugged as I followed her, putting weight on the cane to relieve some of the aches in my leg.  She was saying, “The lever that raises and lowers the doors on either side of the conveyor has been jamming lately.  If Eve couldn't budge it, then I don't know what you can...”

She trailed off as we arrived at the stainless steel beast where Eve was humorously trying to pull a metal lever up, her feet sliding everywhere.  I grinned at her and grabbed the lever, planted my good foot firmly and yanked up.

With the screech of metal on metal, the lever moved up a bit, then sprang up smoothly the rest of the way on springs and tracks.  I only had to give a moderate effort to free it.  I glanced up to see something that defied nature.  Zoey and Eve just blinking, speechless.  One or the other is always talking.

I blushed slightly and then looked at the lever release mechanism and pointed as I said, “Looks like the catch is bent.  It'll need to be hammered flat or replaced.  But if you lubricate it where the metal pieces are rubbing, then you should be able to use it until your repair person can get to it.”

Eve moved her hand up slowly like she didn't want to startle a deer, and spoke behind it out the side of her mouth, “Sparky gots muscles.”

Zoey said with a toothy grin as she nodded, “Yup.”

Then they were their bubbly selves again after their almost choreographed silly act.  “Thanks, Alli, I'll get Ashley in here tomorrow to get it fixed.”

It felt good to help someone, even if it was something as trivial as opening a stupid dishwasher.  We adjourned to the main room again after Eve got another load of dishes started through the machine.

We had a few minutes for us to trade gossip and just shoot the breeze before we heard the opening bell and I stood.  “Well ladies, that's my cue to get to PT and avoid the crazies from South Dakota and such.”

We said our goodbyes and Eve handed me one of the thermal mugs labeled Sparky, full of the sinfully savory coffee, and I was on my way.  Heading out into the world that I didn't feel a full part of anymore.  Feeling a ghost of my own self.

I held the door for a young family as I exited the building, the father thanked me, and I responded with a “No problem sir.”  Some people think me odd to call everyone sir and ma'am, even if they are younger than me, or doing things like holding doors or giving up my seat on the bus.  But that's how I was raised.  It pays to be courteous and treat everyone with respect if you expect the same in return.  Besides, it's just good manners and my mama would have had my hide if I didn't, so shut your pie hole.

I looked up to the cloudy sky, my leg was aching something fierce, a change in atmospheric pressure.  Rain was coming.  I grinned, of course, rain was coming, it was Seattle after all.  We get rain one hundred and fifty-five days a year, not quite an average of every other day, but close enough.

I took a deep breath, ocean air, fresh baked bread, and fish.  I found it invigorating.  I strode off and turned the corner, heading east. Trying hard not to rely too much on the cane, letting my muscles stretch out, knowing what was coming when I reached my destination.

My cell buzzed in my pocket so I paused, juggling the mug into my cane hand as I rested the cane on my hip.  I fished it out and suppressed a grin, he never gives up.  I answered, “What's up Trip?”

He earned the nickname from me because he is always tripping over things when he is loaded down with all his medical gear when we respond to calls.  To his chagrin, the rest of the company started calling him Trip too.  Serves him right, he's the one who laid the Sparky moniker on me.  Payback's a bitch, and so am I.

I did wind up grinning at his chuckle. “Just seeing what you're up to for lunch Sparks.  I got something the Cap and the Chief want me to run by you.”

I sighed in resignation, my shoulders slumping a bit as I said, “I'm not dropping by the Five, Tanner.”

He was quick to respond, “Geeze... I know, I know.  Just meet me at the Cafe at noon you wretch.”

I was tempted to brush him off, but he was one of the few friends from before the accident who bothered to stay in touch.  I muttered, “Fine.”  Then I hung up on the man before he could say anything else.  I pocketed the cell and took a long sip of coffee before continuing on my way.

The Cafe was one of the preferred hangouts of the local fire departments, it's real name was Cafe on the Corner, because they like to be literal, being on a street corner and all.  Their food had that home cooking feel to it that most of us hose jockeys preferred.

It was only a couple blocks down from where I did my PT, which is likely why Trip chose it.  I sighed and finished my walk to the PT facility on Madison, pausing every block to rest my leg and engage in a little people watching.  I love this city.

I glanced across the street to the children's hospital as I arrived at my destination, I had to do a double-take as I saw three women with a whole gaggle of little dogs on leashes that ran happily around the small woman in the middle who had platinum blonde hair, tying her up.  The dogs all had working dog bibs on.

I had to smile at the woman who was giggling almost like a child as she extracted her legs from the tangle of leashes wrapped around her.  She simply said like she was talking to a bunch of misbehaving children, “Ok, ok, you stinkers.  You've had your fun.  Now come on, time to get to work.”

As soon as she said work, the dogs all settled down, their enthusiasm still apparent in their wagging tails, but they all straightened up and walked in an organized manner through the automatic doors with the three women.  Wow, they were well trained, she hadn't even used any commands.

I shook my head in amusement and turned back to my task.  I exhaled in resignation and pulled the door open, then made my way inside to the elevators.

I won't bore you with the tedium of the exercises, stretches, and weight training they put my leg, hand, and core through on each visit.  I'd compare it to something more akin to medieval torture if it weren't for the fact that all the physical therapy seemed to be working, at a glacial pace mind you, but working.  I was out of the damn wheelchair now.  That and it gave me some human contact that I missed while being holed up in my place all the time.

I moaned as Heidi gave my leg its cool-down massage.  This alone was worth the torture.  I said as her fingers dug into the knots that seemed to be ever-present now, “Marry me, Heidi.  Your hands are magic.”

The stout blonde woman chuckled and slapped my leg playfully. “I'm down with that, but I'm not sure if my husband would be all that thrilled.”  Then she added, “Well then again. Two women... he'd be in heaven.”

I conceded the point, “Men be like dat.”  We shared a chuckle as she nodded.

She gave one last twisting rub on the problematic area beneath the burn scars, I moaned again.  Then she stepped back and snapped her hand towel at my butt and said.  “All done, brat.”

I squeaked at the pain from the snap, my panties were no armor against it.  I deserved that one.  I smiled.

Then she stepped over to the sink beside the table and started washing the oils off her hands as she supplied, “Things are loosening up a bit there, I'll let Ken and Jill know that there is some progress with whatever it is they are having you do.”

As I slid my jeans back on, I nodded. “They say that if I keep showing improvement, they may scale me back to just two visits a week next month.”

She nodded and said as I slid to my feet and took a couple limping steps to retrieve my cane and carry bag on the chair by the sink, “Well, you're one of the few who do their homework, Allison.”

I chuckled.  I wanted to get my mobility back, I knew I'd never be at one hundred percent again, but I wanted to recover as much as humanly possible.  So I did all the stretching and strength exercises that Ken and Jill recommended for while I was at home, or even when I had idle time like on the ferry rides across the Sound each day.

My right leg was pretty strong now.  The swelling in the nerves had receded over the past few months, and it feels pretty normal now, just a little weak from being in the wheelchair a couple months.  Because of the muscle atrophy, thus the PT for it.  It is getting stronger every day now.

It is my left side that will never be the same.  From when I was pinned beneath...

I shook the dark memories from my head and smiled brightly down at the short massage therapist.  “I'm working hard, I need my mobility to follow your magic hands around.”

She blushed and grinned, shoving my shoulder, ushering me out of her room and chuckling. “Alright you sweet talking Casanova.  Off with you.”

I gave her a smug smile as I saluted then headed out.  “See you tomorrow.”

I glanced at the time on my cell, almost noon.  I exhaled in resignation and made my way out the building and turned north.  Trip would be at the Cafe.  I paused and looked up when I heard the familiar music that got my blood pumping as SFD Engine 25 went roaring past, siren wailing.

As the siren receded into the distance as I watched the engine turn up the way, I heard the creaking of my cane as my hand gripped the handle with white knuckled ferocity.  Every instinct in my body was screaming out for me to help.  I just stared at the spot where they disappeared up the road and then growled in exasperation and turned back toward the Cafe.

My cell rang, and I ignored it, muttering, “Yeah yeah, Trip, on my way.”

I doubled my pace, my leg feeling much better after the massage.  I made good time to my destination, and I stepped into the door wedged at a forty-five-degree angle on the corner of the six story building and looked into the slightly upscale cafe that still had plenty of Americana charm.

I saw Dave and Chuck at the counter in their SFD teeshirts, enjoying a meal.  They raised their coffee cups to me in greeting.  I mustered up the smile I hid behind and winked at the men as I scanned the tables.

I paused when I saw the familiar unkempt fuzzy red mop of hair of my old partner.  He had his medic uniform on with the always wrinkled white shirt and his SFD medic ID hanging off the pocket.  Imagine a wiry Irishman with an extra helping of freckles and a perpetual smug look on his face, and that'd be Trip, Tanner O'Leary.

He glanced up, and his face broke into a beaming smile.  The thought of a puppy dog came to mind the way the man brightened, just making him look younger.  I swear he looked sixteen when he was first assigned to the Five.  I swore like a sailor when the Captain assigned him to my truck.

But it turns out, he was not the worst probie I could have been saddled with.  And once I knocked the rough edges off of him, he was a decent firefighter.  He was no doorway dancer and always wanted to plunge right in to help people as the hose jockeys beat down the flaming beast, that's probably why I liked the kid so much.

I made my way over and slid into the other side of the booth.  Greeting him.  “Trip.”

He smiled and raised a hand toward Mille, the lunch shift head waitress and pointed at me.  The woman nodded and headed over with a coffee mug.  He looked back at me. “Hey, Sparky.  I'm surprised you came.”

I'd call the man a smartass if he didn't have a reason to say that.  More often than not I would come up with an excuse not to come, or just not show up.  But I would occasionally break down and meet him or some of the other guys when I was missing the family from the Station.

I countered with a well thought out response to the ribbing.  “Yeah yeah.  Shut up, Tanner.”

Millie set a mug in front of me and poured me some coffee that smelled almost as good as the Pike's.  “Hey sweetie, you staying for lunch or just the coffee?”

I smirked at Trip and said to the woman, “Since Trip here wanted this meeting, then that must mean he's buying.  So lunch would be great.”

She nodded as Tanner slumped in dismay.  Sucker.  Then he grinned at her sheepishly.  She winked and wandered off saying as she headed toward the kitchen while writing on her order pad, “Two French dips and onion rings, coming up.”

I grinned.  I loved being a regular at places, it always made ordering so much easier.  I thought about it and amended the notion slightly since I have never really ordered anything at the Pike... Zoey just sort of makes whatever and brings it out to me.  And it is always mouth watering.  I swear, if she weren't married, and swung my way...

I asked with mock sweetness, “Whatever did you need to talk with me about that you volunteered to buy me lunch?”

He grumbled, “Why is being your friend always so detrimental to my pocketbook Allie?  Not even a chance of first base.”

I shrugged and sipped my coffee, “Eh.  Buy me pie and I'll let you tell the guys I kissed your cheek.”

He chortled. “Your idea of fist base and mine differ significantly, woman.”

I grinned into my mug at our ages-old joke and took another swig of the hot nectar of the heavens.  Then set the mug down in front of me, stretched out on the table between my hands, looking at him expectantly.

He asked in a mock indignant tone, “Can't a guy ask his old partner to lunch without there being an ulterior motive?”

I stared at him, and he broke, “Fine whatever.  Cap asked me to pass a message along to you. Apparently, you have been avoiding his calls.  And Hank's, and George's, and...”

I held up a hand to stop him, “I get the point.  I've just been... busy.”

He had the common decency not to push.  He knew the real reasons I avoided most of them.  What good was a firefighter who couldn't fight fires?

He eyed me for a long moment and said, “We miss you at the Five.  It isn't the same without a woman kicking our collective asses.”

I hid a grin.  “What about Bridget?”  She was our... well, 'their' truckie.  The ladder company driver of our station.

He countered, “Bridget's a woman?  I thought she was an angry grizzly.  Don't be obtuse, you know what I mean.  She doesn't mingle with us mere mortals.”

True, Bridget was pretty solitary.  We all had our reasons for being what we were when we took up the job, and we never pry.  If the muscled brunette wanted to keep to herself, that was fine as long as she had our backs on a call, and she did.  But the moment her shifts were over, she was out of the station like a shot.  I don't think she ever spoke of her life outside the station and didn't have any personal photos inside her locker like the rest of us had.

I saw I was going to have to pry the reason for the meeting out of him.  I regarded him a moment as Millie arrived and set plates piled high with onion rings and our French dips in front of us.  She rested a hand on my shoulder a moment and said, “Let me know if you two need anything else.”  I nodded, and she headed off to quell the lunch rush.

I picked up an oversize onion ring, examined it then took a bite and asked as I chewed, “So what does old man Porter want?”

Captain Porter took me under his wing when I first arrived at the Five as a snot nosed probie myself.  He didn't take shit from anyone, so it was easy to see why he was captain of the gem of the SFD.  Men fought to lead the Five.  Porter had the ear of the Chief and the Mayor.  I saw the old leather-lunged bastard as a sort of father figure.

He dipped his sandwich in au jus and took a big bite, speaking around the roast beef and swiss creation. “We all miss having you around.”

I chuckled as I ate while I studied the hedging man. “Sweet talking now?  What sort of shit storm am I sailing into here?”