Painting with Fire

Charlie finished strapping his motorcycle into the bed of Jessie’s extended cab pickup truck. He secured the ramp and locked up the storage box. Jessie was loading the last of a large pile of bags and boxes into the backseat of the cab. 

“You gonna have any room in there for my stuff?” Charlie teased her. Other than the way she packed, nothing about Jessie was stereotypical girl. Her copper colored hair was short, only long enough enough to barely push behind her ears, and so short in back it never touched her collar. Her freckle-dotted, tanned face was make-up free. And all she ever wore were khaki cargo shorts and T-shirts. Unlike most people, she actually used all the pockets of the cargo shorts for everything from first aid supplies to replacement parts for their engine or hoses. “Did you pack a firehose or two?”

She threw him a strained smile, unusual as they almost always teased and bantered with each other. “My kit is in the car. Don’t tell me you’re not bringing yours. It’s still fire season.”

And they were wildfire firefighters. California had been ablaze the better part of the year, and after a recent and heavily prayed for rainy spell, all was quiet in the wilds. For now, at least. The fact that they were driving up to one of the many islands off the coast of Washington, should have been a vacation. They both had a ridiculous amount of vacation time saved up. But Jessie’s mother had passed, and there were unpleasant family things to attend to.

Charlie picked up his two bags, one filled with clothes, the other his gear, and threw them on top of the stack. He kept waiting for Jessie to confide in him, let out some of the grief he knew she was keeping a leash on, but like always she soldiered on. They’d been best friends and roommates. for almost ten years, working the fireline together and watching each other’s back.,

“Hey C&J, you guys coming back hitched? We’ve got a pool going,” Nick, another of the guys from their unit, shouted out of the window of his apartment. A lot of their unit lived in the same building, close to the station, close to the helicopters if they needed to move. Only those with families lived without always thinking of the fireline and when the next disaster would begin.

“Jessie would have to grow a dick first,” Mike said from his place near the entrance to the building. Mike was Nick’s roommate, and a total ass when it came to queers and women. So Charlie and Jessie were always on his shit list. “Charlie’s a light foot.” He laughed like he was hilarious. “Lightfoot. Get it? Like Squatting Duck, or some shit.”

“Jessie’s got bigger balls then you’ll ever have,” Charlie told him as he climbed up into the passenger seat of the truck. He ignored the dig. He was half Native American, so the insults and jabs were common. He actually got more of them than Jessie did despite her being one of the few females in their group. They were often teased by the guys in the department about ‘being together’ all the time. Or that Jessie was his beard despite the fact that Charlie was out and proud and Jessie had no interest in romantic relationships or sex. They worked well together since Jessie never treated Charlie like her token gay friend, and Charlie treated Jessie like one of the guys. The fact that she could bench almost as much as he could helped keep jerks away from her, but it was more to do with her absolute resistance to get drawn into petty squabbles that kept them so close. 

Other firefighters learned to say ‘Yes, ma’am, right away’ quickly. Jessie trained most of the newbies, and worked them hard. She didn’t like slackers of any kind. And more than one new recruit had gone home in tears at the end of a training day after being pushed beyond their limits. 

“Come on, J,” he called to Jessie. The last thing she loaded was a small pet carrier, which she strapped into the seat between them. Once they got on the road with the air going, the cat would be allowed to roam the cab. Oscar, who was a somewhat aloof cat with the fluffiest gray fur known to mankind, would likely spend the majority of the trip in Charlie’s lap.

Jessie slung on her seatbelt and turned over the Hemi engine. Normally she wasn’t this quiet. But Jessie never talked about her family. For holidays they went home to Charlie’s when they could. He had a half dozen siblings and probably a couple dozen cousins. Reservation life hadn’t always been pleasant growing up, but he’d been loved, and it was still home.

Charlie rolled up his window as soon as Jessie flipped on the air conditioning. In just a pair of jeans and an A-shirt, he was sweltering in the Northern California summer sunshine. He’d pulled his shoulder-length dusty brown hair back into a ponytail trying to find some relief. He was looking forward to the relatively cool breeze blowing off the ocean that Jessie had wistfully described from memories from her youth.

He waved as they took off toward the highway, headed north. The radio played some top forty station, and Jessie gripped the wheel.

“J…” Charlie began.

“Not yet, Wood Chuck,” Jessie said, using her nickname for him. “Just give me a few more minutes in my own head, okay?”

“Want me to drive?”

“No. I need the focus.”

And so they drove. Charlie let Oscar out, and the cat immediately curled up in his lap. He weighed all of five pounds, and was something like eighteen years old. His fluff made him look huge. Jessie had him trimmed once, leaving nothing but the hair on his head and the rest of him shaved short. It had been the most ridiculous thing Charlie had ever seen. Oscar had given them both disdainful looks the entire time it took to grow back. And Jessie had never had him groomed like that again. Charlie laughed at the memory.

“Remember when you had Oscar shaved? He looked like someone had stuck a cat inside a gray sock.” Charlie rubbed Oscar’s chin, earning a purr from the cat.

“He was so mad.”

“I would have been too. He was like a walking dust bunny. One of those floor sweeper things. The hair magnetically wanted to return to him. And his head was all poof.”

Jessie cracked the first real smile he’d seen from her in two days. “He’d sit there all regal, and lick his paw, as if to say, ‘I’m still beautiful.’” She let out a long sigh, then said, “I don’t know how I feel.”

“It’s okay to feel sad. Your mom died. I’d be a mess if I lost my mom.”

“We haven’t talked for years. I think I’m more conflicted and confused. Like I should be sad, but my heart and head are at war. Ten years is a long time to be angry at someone. And I’m not. Not really. More confused. She was the angry one.”

“Why?” Charlie asked. She’d never told anyone why she’d been driven out of Washington. At least not anything more than a need to escape a family she didn’t get along with, and a dream she needed to run toward.

Again she went quiet. Thinking. Gnawing on her lip, eyes locked on the road.

Charlie sat on his hands, letting the cat’s purrs compete with the radio. He decided to change the subject to see if it would ease a bit of her tension. “We’re staying with your nephew?” It was odd to hear that she had a nephew old enough to be out on his own and established. Jessie was thirty-eight, almost a decade older than Charlie, so an older sibling with a grown child wasn’t that far-fetched. Jessie rarely spoke of her family or her past. Charlie knew they’d had a pretty big falling out, but not the details of it.

“Bastian, yes. He’s got something like four acres to himself. House is huge. Plenty of room for us.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-two, I think.”

And owned four acres on an island in Washington’s port harbor. That was quite an accomplishment at twenty-two. “What’s he do?”

“Paints dolls.”

Charlie frowned at her. “Say what now?”

“He paints art dolls. Sells them for a pretty big profit. I think he had an auction last year for one that went for over eighty grand. And the proceeds for that one went to charity.”

“For a doll?” Charlie was incredulous. 

“Yes. They’re beautiful.”

Again Jessie was not the kind of girl who liked girly things. Dolls just didn’t seem her thing either, as he’d never seen her with one. Their apartment would have been called minimal by most, bare by others. As firefighters they knew the more personal items they kept, the more fuel they’d add to a potential fire. Their lives were about quick responses, movement, and often living in the field months at a time. There was no room for material things. If it weren’t for a friend handling the bills and taking care of Oscar for them when they were out on a run, they’d never have a home to return to. 

“So he’s an artist? A very successful artist.”

“Yes. He paid for mom’s funeral, but is not involved in any other way. Not even with arrangements.” She let out a long breath. “We don’t come from money. Most of my childhood we were on welfare, food stamps, medical assistance... There were five kids, my dad couldn’t keep a job for more than a year at a time. My mom worked at the grocery store for minimum wage. It wasn’t a glamorous life, but we did okay.” 

Charlie’s hadn’t been all that different. His mother wasn’t even sure who his father was. But she’d never brought around a slew of guys. Most of his siblings had other dads. He never knew any of those men. His mom did okay for them, and what she couldn’t provide, their huge extended family did. He and his cousins had run together like siblings. More than a handful vowing to get out, make better lives for themselves and for the family. He had mostly succeeded on his end. He was pretty sure Jessie came from a similar past, but he let her talk and get out whatever was battling inside of her.

“You only need to share with me what you want. You know that.”

She sighed. “I’ve kept it in a long time. Thought I could keep anyone from hurting me again if I didn’t let anyone in.” She glanced at Charlie, her eyes a little teary. “You better not be a jerk in disguise.”

Charlie grinned at her. “I’ve had ten years to use my wiles on you.”

She growled at him.

“I love you, J.”

Jessie nodded. “You’re my family, Wood Chuck. You and your whole family. I’ve tried to move on from everything. Sometimes it comes up like a sliver you didn’t know was there and just starts to burn.”

The past sometimes did that.

“Maybe it will help to share.”

“You want to know my crazy?”

“I already know you’re crazy. Running into fires and that bullshit. Tell me about the crazy you come from. You know all my crazy.”

“I like your crazy.”

“I’m likeable that way.”

“Jerk. Making me smile when I need to be sad.”

He reached out and patted her arm. “That’s what I’m here for.”

She sucked in a deep breath like she was gearing up for something big. “So my older sister is way beyond crazy.”

“Okay.”

“She always had a fondness for dating losers. She was married to a guy right out of high school, had two kids, and then divorced because he was cheating on her. He was actually the best she ever dated, which is sad. She moved to Arizona for a while to be with some guy she met through an online game. Had two more kids, but finally left him when he decided to quit his job at Walmart to play games while she worked to support them.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Took her like five years to leave him or something. She moved her kids in with my mom and dad. And once again the cycle started, loser guy who would take advantage of her, emotionally abuse her, and she’d take forever to cut them loose.”

It was hard watching a family member bent on self-destruction. Charlie had an alcoholic brother who occasionally jumped on the sober wagon, only to fall off weeks later. There was only so much the family could do to help a person unwilling to help themselves. Knowing never helped when they once again fell into a rut, especially as they always dragged others with them.

“It never made sense to me,” Jessie continued. “She was a reasonably smart girl. She should have been able to find a decent guy. Someone with a job, who didn’t treat her like a dog. But that’s never what she brought home.”

She was attracted to the abusers. It was a cycle often started very young, that many never broke free from. “Were your parents abusive?” Charlie asked carefully.

“Yes, no? Not like physically. Verbally, yeah. Took me a long time to come to terms with that. Mostly to each other, but sometimes to us. I remember being twelve and walking into the house feeling happy. I don’t remember why, but I felt beautiful that day. I told my mom, and she scoffed and said ‘You’ve never been beautiful.’” She huffed out a frustrated breath. “I knew I wasn’t the prettiest girl around. My mother sure brought that home that day.”

Shit. Charlie wanted to hug her. “J… Fuck.”

“I’m okay, Charlie. I promise. You know I am. We’ve lived together for years.”

Just because she avoided bringing it up didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt. Charlie sat back and tried to keep his comments to himself. He had a sick twist in his gut that said he wasn’t going to like where all this was going, but all he really could offer someone with a bad past was an ear to listen and some kind words. “Keep going,” he encouraged. “Better out than in, right?”

She glanced his way with tired eyes. “My dad wasn’t really present in my life. I mean he was physically there, but he had no emotional investment in us. He’d go to work and then come home, park his ass on in the recliner and watch television until he went to bed. My mother was expected to cook and clean for him, and raise us, take his verbal abuse. As we got older we did all the cooking and cleaning, but he never changed. Neither went to any school events. Not graduation, not choir concerts or sports games or even teacher conferences. 

“I don’t think my dad even remembered our names most of the time. He and my mom fought constantly. Screaming at each other, calling each other names. My dad often called us names like bitch, whore, and cunt. That was only on the rare occasion he noticed us. Usually when we got in the way of some TV show he was watching.”

Charlie sighed. Just because a man was physically present, did not make him a father. And he was already beginning to see a pattern form in the lives of Jessie’s siblings.

“I had an older brother. No one talks about him. Well, my father did up until he died eleven or so years ago.”

Charlie had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“I was five…”

Sadly, it was exactly what Charlie had suspected. “When he touched you? Your brother, I mean.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “My sister admitted he abused her too. I remember him being removed from the house shortly after, but no one ever acknowledged what he’d done. My mother was more focused on what he might have done to my brother, who was only like two at the time, than what he’d done to us. My father denied it ever happened. My brother doesn’t remember him at all. And my younger sister wasn’t born until he was gone.”

So no therapy for any of the kids. Charlie’s gut churned as he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

Charlie grabbed her right hand, peeling it away from the steering wheel so he could hold it. “J.”

“I’m okay, Wood Chuck. I’ve had 33 years to come to terms with what he did. To move past it. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of that. And if you dare say my asexuality is because of him, I’m going to kick you out of the truck and you’ll be walking.”

“You know I’m not stupid, Jessie. I know you’re the way you are ‘cause the way I like boys and my little spring is sprung, you have no spring of any kind to be sprung over anything. I get it. I’m smarter than the average wood chuck.”

She made a face at him. He made one back. “So crazy sister…” Charlie prompted again now that the mood was lighter.

“She started dating this guy. He was a musician, not a great one, but it was his thing. He was also a handyman. Could do construction stuff. He told us his name was Joseph Davis. Anyway, at first it seemed like he was okay. He was working, even had his own home repair business. He had his own place, and he treated her okay. Then he moved into the basement of my mom’s place with my sister, stopped working, and the abuse started to happen around all of us. My other siblings and I would see it when we had family gatherings or spent the weekend with my sister. He’d become a deadbeat or maybe he’d always been one and just hid it well. And while that sucked, I knew it was normal for my sister. When I pointed it out she told me it was her choice to be with whomever she wanted to, and he wasn’t like that all the time. Typical domestic abuse mindset.”

Except that those abuse cases rarely just extended to the partner, as Jessie’s own family proved with her parents, the kids were often dragged into the mess. “When did you find out he was abusing her kids?”

“Two years had passed. I disliked him, but tried to be civil. Had sort of begun to avoid them so I wouldn’t be subjected to watching the abuse that everyone was okay with. It was a friend of my sister’s who sent me a link to the sex offenders’ registry. It had his mug shot and a different last name, Travis. He’d been lying about his last name. My sister knew, of course. I sent her and my mother the link to his profile on the registry. My sister claimed he’d been falsely accused by an ex-girlfriend who wasn’t happy with him.”

Right.

“Except he had two convictions three years apart for under 13 child sexual assault and a half dozen other dismissed charges. He was out on parole and part of his parole was that he had to register where he lived, his job, the car he drove, and was not allowed near anyone under the age of eighteen.”

“Jesus Christ,” Charlie said. “And your sister let him near her kids?”

Jessie nodded. “He had an active warrant out for his arrest. Violation of parole. The fourth time he’d done it, apparently. The police had gone to my mom’s house several times because they suspected he was living there, but they had no proof and my mom and sister kept telling them he wasn’t there.”

“They knew? Knew what he was?” This was a new level of crazy which Charlie had never before had the horror of experiencing.

“My sister, yeah. Again, she believed his lies. Or maybe she was just that desperate for someone to love her. Though he told her on more than one occasion he was just using her because he had nowhere else to go. My mom, I don’t think, knew the whole truth. Anyway I called the police, concerned for my sister’s kids, and they told me they couldn’t go in without a search warrant unless someone let them in.” She sighed. “I waited until my mom and sister were at work. Then let the police in. They arrested him. And I became the most hated person in the family.”

“But those kids…”

“Yeah. My sister’s friend called Child Protective Services. My sister refused to let them talk to the kids. She claims they were never abused. CPS did nothing.”

That would have been surprising, given the jerk’s history. “What happened to the boyfriend?”

“In jail, as far as I know. He’d gotten out a few times. Busted for drugs multiple times. Meth and cocaine. I have alerts sent to me when his status changes. He’s been out and back in a dozen times over the past ten years. The worst part is that for each of his child sexual assault offenses he only served 190 days of a ten-year term. Keeps getting out for good behavior.”

“Still dating your sister?” No wonder this whole trip home was tearing her apart.

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to any of my siblings or mother for over ten years. Any time I tried they screamed and called me names.”

“Because you reported the son of a bitch? What the fuck is wrong with your family?”

Jessie shrugged like it didn’t matter, but Charlie could see her holding back tears. “I did the right thing.”

“You did.” Charlie gave her a few minutes to compose herself. “So, Bastian?” I prompted carefully.

She let out a long breath. “He lived with his dad for a while after. He was twelve when I got that bastard arrested. He asked his dad if he could live with him. My sister’s ex-husband. There was a big eruption again through the family because how dare he go live with his dad and not stay with his mom and sisters. That worked for a while. But he left his dad’s house when he was sixteen to make his own way. The doll thing was too much for his dad. Bastian’s just as hated in the family as I am, at least by his mom and sisters.”

“Your sister’s boyfriend abused him?”

“Yes. But he’s making it up to get attention.”

Right. “Dammit.”

Jessie threw him a tight smile. “He got out, got help. We’ve been talking for years. Casual. More as online acquaintances than family, which I know is odd. This will be the first time I’ve actually seen him outside of one of his Youtube videos since he was a kid.”

“How is he?” That was a loaded question. Was he continuing the cycle of his family? Drifting from abusive relationship to abusive relationship? Or was he, like Jessie, who’d cut the majority of people out of her life to avoid being hurt again?

“He’s good. Mostly. Has depression and some anxiety issues, but he buries himself in his art. Says the family is angry with him for not sharing his wealth with them.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. They…” Charlie stopped his rant before it began. “Your family is fucking nuts.”

“Sadly, I agree. And that’s what we’re driving toward right now.”

No wonder she felt so conflicted. “So we attend the funeral, and then what?”

“My mom paid the mortgage. She used my dad’s social security to do that. So without them, the house is gone. Apparently they were six months behind anyway, so it will likely be foreclosed on.”

“Your sister didn’t help with the bills?”

“Utilities. But she’s always had trouble keeping work too. She never spent money wisely. Spent too much time buying Coach purses and trips to Disneyworld, to ever create a solid life for herself and her kids. She even took out over fifty thousand in student loans to get a two-year degree. Hasn’t paid a dime back, so I’m sure it’s triple that now. Her credit is so bad I don’t know how she’s going to find some place to live.”

“Which is why your sister is pissed at Bastian. He’s not going to swoop in and save her.” This whole thing was a mess. Charlie felt horrible for Jessie and her nephew who he hadn’t even met yet.

“I wouldn’t either,” Jessie said. “I have money in savings, but am not giving her a dime. If that makes me a bad person, I’m fine with that. I’ll help clean up the house, and pay for part of my mom’s funeral costs, but that’s all. Since Bastian paid for the funeral, it’s him I’ll be paying. God, my mother said some nasty things to him. She stalked his Youtube channel to troll him. He had to remove her comments all the time. I know he said he’s attending the funeral, but I have to wonder why.”

“You don’t owe them anything. He doesn’t owe them anything.” Charlie pet Oscar while trying to keep a rein on his irritation.

“I’m going for Bastian. So he’s not dealing with all of this alone.”

“His siblings never said anything? If he was abused, it’s unlikely that they weren’t.”

“They won’t talk to me, so I don’t know. Bastian hasn’t ever spoken their names to me. We don’t talk about the family at all. Bastian only talks about his art and you know I pretty much only talk about work. Though it was from him that I learned my mother had died. My sister never bothered to call me.”

“Wow,” Charlie said. “Just fucking wow. And I thought my family was messed up.”

She gave him a half smile. “I like your family. You just have a shit ton of them.”

“Aw. If you were a boy I’d ask you to marry me.”

Now she laughed. “What a boring life you’d have then, Wood Chuck. No one to spring your sprung or whatever the hell you’re calling it.”

“Never had any trouble finding a someone to spring me. I’m a Fox,” Charlie told her, reminding her of his last name. 

She winked at him. “That you are.”

“You can’t say stuff like that.”

“I’m asexual, not blind.”

Charlie grinned, happy to see some of the tension leave her eyes at their familiar teasing. “And you’re not alone. Don’t forget that.”