60. Davis

It was easy to lose himself in the controlled chaos of the fire. The vast majority of people in this part of the mountains knew that fire was a true part of their life, had prepared and followed the evacuation orders without much difficulty.

At night, the sky glowed a hazy red, making it difficult to fall asleep. During the day, smoke clogged the sky, shifting it to a dirty orange. Davis didn’t see the sun for the entire week he was out on fire duty.

He had sent a message to Foster, Ryan, and Dec on day four. A simple message: If he asks, I’m doing okay. His phone stayed in his pocket, and he didn’t open his messages, with the exception of the photographs that Alex sent of Mary Anne and Caveman.

Alex: I think they’re in love!

Davis hadn’t had the energy to respond back with anything other than a heart emoji. At least his dog was faring better in love than he was.

Jeremy hadn’t said the words I’m breaking up with you, but even Davis could read between the lines there. He turned back to the computer and looked at the current updates for the fire, which was currently sitting at 25 percent containment. Not even good enough for a minor league batting average. A new team of firefighters was coming in from Fort Collins, and Davis confirmed that they would be working on a firebreak on the northwest edge. Logistics helped keep his mind at ease. Davis had been placed in charge of ensuring that crews heading out to dig firebreaks had the appropriate equipment. Managing dozers, excavators, backhoes, shovels, and hydration powders was easier than thinking about how Davis had blown up his relationship.

A reminder popped up on his screen. Coordination Update Meeting – 5 min! It was one of three in-person meetings at the command site, a chance to get updates and ask questions in person instead of over IM and email. Davis was grateful for it. He liked having the information shown and spoken to him, rather than having to read the text-heavy forecasts and updates that flooded his inbox. Leaving his makeshift desk in one of the trailers, Davis crossed to the main area, an outdoor stage where they probably held sheep-shearing contests, which had been covered by a temporary tent. Davis headed down the side, sitting near the front but not close enough that anyone would call on him, a strategy adopted in high school classes that he continued here.

A man sat down next to him, and they each grunted their hellos. The other man stretched, and Davis caught a glimpse of a tattoo— my unconquerable soul. And Davis was struck, because he remembered the stanza, the poem he recited to himself each morning.

I thank whatever gods may be / For my unconquerable soul

Davis, at that moment, listening to an update on evacuation orders, thanked whatever gods may be. For everyone helping and working on the fire. For the resources he’d been using.

He looked out at the distant glow that reminded him that the fire was an ever-present threat.

So he kept thanking whatever gods may be.

For Gram and her love of baseball.

For his counselor and her advice.

For his friends in West Virginia who had been patient with him.

For Henry, who’d taught him about his body and love.

For his cousin Bruce.

The list grew all-encompassing to include more abstract ideas, less tangible things.

For creating a path that Davis could walk all the way to Colorado.

For allowing Davis to get to know himself here.

For bringing Jeremy into his life.

And, he hoped, for Jeremy’s ability to forgive.

Later than night, Davis took a deep breath and picked up his cell phone, double-checking that it was connected to Wi-Fi to make the call clearer.

“Hello?” a man’s voice answered the phone.

“Is Tiff there?” Davis asked. He was a bad friend. Tiff was apparently dating someone new, and he didn’t even know.

“Whose calling?”

“Davis.”

“Uncle Davis!” It wasn’t Tiff’s new boyfriend, but her son, Corey. Corey, who had been starting middle school the last time Davis saw him, was apparently a grown man now.

“Corey! How old are you these days? I didn’t even recognize your voice.”

“I turn eighteen next month. I’m headed to WVU in the fall. Like you did.” There was awe in Corey’s voice that Davis didn’t deserve.

“Proud of you, little guy,” Davis said, wiping his eye. In the background, he heard Tiff ask who Corey was talking to. Then, suddenly, she was on the phone.

“Nathaniel Davis, you goddamn pain in the ass. Move out to Colorado and forget all of us back home like your shit don’t stink.”

“Hi, Tiff.” Davis smiled. People back in West Virginia loved in a different way than in Colorado. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one who didn’t.” She coughed. “Phone works both ways, y’know?” He could tell she pulled her face away from the phone as she told Corey to leave her alone so she could catch up with Uncle Davis. “Sorry ’bout that. Almost eighteen, and he thinks he’s grown.”

Davis laughed. “I can’t believe he’s that old already!” It seemed like just yesterday that Tiff had told their lunch table that she was pregnant and had to keep the baby.

“He’s growing like a weed. He’s been taller than me since he was ten.” The conversation, much to Davis’s surprise, flowed easily, and there were moments that he felt transported back to a bonfire in Anthracite Springs. Tiff had been promoted at work, and Corey had gotten a scholarship.

“So why’d you call?” Tiff asked finally.

“What do you mean?”

“Nathaniel Davis, I’ve known you since we were playing in a sandbox together. I know you.”

“I was seeing someone, and I think I ruined it,” Davis replied.

“What did you do?”

“I don’t know how to tell him I love him. I think I waited too long.” Tiff was silent for a moment, and Davis had a moment of panic that she had hung up when she registered the pronoun. Then she laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“You know that Corey still thinks you’re the coolest guy ever?”

“I didn’t, but that’s an honor.” Davis braced himself for the inevitable realization that his queerness would mean Corey wouldn’t think he was cool.

“He’s gonna think you’re even cooler now,” Tiff said, and Davis knew she was rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “He told me a few years ago he knew he was not straight when he started looking differently at his Sidney Crosby poster.”

“Oh! That’s…that’s great,” Davis said.

“Things have changed round here,” Tiff said. “Not the whole way, but there’s a GSA club at the high school, and two of the girls on the basketball team took each other to prom last year.” Tiff asked gentle questions about Davis, reminded him that she had coached Corey through first crushes and first loves and first breakups and was convinced it never got easier. As they spoke, the knot in Davis’s chest unraveled and was replaced by a soft, warm feeling. The kind he got when he drove through the part of the national forest that had been decimated by Pine Bark beetles and saw dozens of saplings had been planted by the Youth Conservation Corps.

Hope for the future.

And then, suddenly, on a Wednesday a few weeks later, the wind changed, followed by enough rain for the crews to get the fire contained, a reminder of how so much in life was up to random chance. A few days to finish the containment and take stock of the effects of the fire, then Davis would be back to his regular responsibilities.

And maybe back to Jeremy.