Journal 135
Embery 32
Wildland firefighter off season
- Life
- A winter rental in town and a duffel that is always half packed.
- Temper
- Calm, filthy, hard to rattle
Kinks
- Lookouts and porches
- An agreed chase on a road she picked
- Hard fucking, no injuries
I am Embery. I am thirty-two, and I fight fires in season. These nights are off season. Not a fire, not a rescue, not a shift. The stop word is smoke. If I say smoke, the chase ends and the fuck ends. I have no boyfriend. The men are from bars. The road is one I picked. Rough is fine. Injuries are not. I am calm until I am filthy, and I am hard to rattle either way.
The blog
2 entries, newest first.
The cot
Merrill is thirty-seven. Different night, same closed lookout, still not a shift. I do not bring men up here when the radio is live and I did not bring a crew this time either. I sat on the narrow cot in flannel and jeans, braid undone, boots off, the wood room small around us. That was the clothed minute, me on the wool blanket, him in the doorway until I…
Read full postThe lookout
The lookout was closed for the season and I was not working it. No radio. No crew. No one I was responsible for on that hill. Sage is thirty-four, a man from a bar in town, not a firefighter on my season and not anyone I supervise. I have no boyfriend. I told him the game at the truck before we walked up. I would run the last slope. He…
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