Page 147 of When In Doubt

“Someone from the department called, they wanted to get ahead of it before we heard rumors. One of the crew got hurt, but they weren’t sure who, or how bad it is.” She must see something in my face, the truth about how close I am to shattering right now, because she pulls me into a tight embrace. “Come here, I’ve got you.”

I try to pull myself together. I need to be strong right now, ready for what might happen. I can’t just sit in there with all the other families and be a wreck, that’s not going to help anything.

“I’m scared.” I let the truth out into Valerie’s neck.

“I know. I am, too.”

We head into the station, my arm looped through hers. We follow the sounds of voices from the upstairs living room and find about twenty people clustered together in groups, all looking as nervous as we are. I see Joni and give her a weak smile which she returns, tension bracketing her mouth.

My arm tightens a fraction around Valerie’s. Should I even be here? I look around and take in all the spouses, the families waiting for news, and I feel a bit like an imposter. Oscar and I have only just made things official. This feels like something private, sacred.

I consider leaving. Maybe I should just wait in my car and Valerie can fill me in later, but as fast as the thought occurs to me, I banish it. Oscar wouldn’t leave me. I have to be here for him.

We take up places in a pair of uncomfortable plastic chairs and set to waiting.

I don’t know how much time passes. It seems to move in a strange way. Slowly, then all at once, like bathwater draining. You don’t always notice the water running down until there’s a whirlpool beneath your feet.

The tension in the room thickens as each minute passes without news. At some point, Becca comes by with sandwiches for everyone. She hands me a wrapped package which I accept with a smile, but I don’t open it. If I ate anything right now, it would just make a reappearance all over the floor.

The town must be waking up, hearing what’s happening. I hear noises from the apparatus bay. I guess everybody’s starting to show up, to wait with us. The phone tree that alerted Valerie must have spread out and soon it feels like the whole town is inside the station, but it never gets loud. It’s still painfully quiet, despite the crowd, only soft murmuring and the echoes of so many people breathing in one space.

At one point, someone starts talking about a structure fire on the edge of town, an old warehouse going up, but I don’t know how much of it is just rumors.

Every time the downstairs door opens, a hush descends, everyone waiting to see who it is, but so far it’s only ever been one more person coming to stand vigil.

I’ve never been upstairs in here before. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe something more like what I’ve seen on TV, but it’s mostly like a normal office. The linoleum floors squeak every time somebody nervously shuffles their feet, and the whole place smells like the coffee that’s running on a near constant stream from the overworked espresso machine in the corner.

I try to picture Oscar here every day. I can see him in the corner, standing in his uniform as he washes dishes, or sprawled out on the massive sectional watching sports with the rest of the crew. My chest hitches and I almost double over. What if I never see him again? The thought’s so unbearable to me that I have to squeeze my eyes shut against the picture of it. It happened so slowly, the way he’s knotted himself into the fabric of my life. Now, I don’t think I could live without him.

A shout comes from downstairs. “Tucker saw the rig headed through downtown.” I don’t know who says it, but the reaction is immediate. Everybody’s up, heading down to the bay to see the truck pull in, to see who’s on it. Somebody opens the main door and the crowd moves back, making space.

It’s another ten minutes of paralyzing quiet before we finally hear the rumble of the engine, all of us just waiting, breaths held. My heart rate gets faster and faster until, by the time the truck pulls in, it’s like a racehorse in my chest.

Nobody gets out of the vehicle for a long time. Eventually, just when I think I can’t take it anymore, the side door opens and Ryan climbs down. He doesn’t look at anybody as he walks, slowly, like he’s moving through honey, over the chain to bring down the roll door. When he turns to take in the faces of the crowd, I see how pale he is, mouth opening and closing like he thinks he should say something but can’t find the words. My gut twists, dread sitting like a stone as he turns and heads into one of the changing rooms.

Movement from the truck has my head whipping around, and my knees almost buckle as I see Oscar getting out of the back.

Oscar.

He’s okay.

He’s okay.

My eyes scan over him, looking for any sign of injury, but all I can make out are a few smudges of soot here and there. I hear Valerie let out a choked sound next to me as we take him in. I’m about to run to him, needing to have him in my arms, but the look in his eyes stops me before I can take a step.

It’s utter devastation. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not when he got back from the wildfire, not when I told him about Aaron. Not even when he told me about his dad. He looks like a ghost.

His eyes scan the crowd, softening a fraction when they catch mine, but his gaze doesn’t linger. He’s looking for someone else.

I don’t see who he’s headed for, but I see the way he’s moving. Squared shoulders, body tense, like he’s waiting for an axe to come down.

“Oh, God,” Valerie whispers, seeing before I do.

The people in the room move back, like oil droplets on water, leaving Joni in an empty circle, Oscar marching toward her. I see his chest rise on a deep breath as he takes both of her hands, enveloping them in his.

I can’t make out what he says, but I don’t have to.

The sound that comes from Joni is barely human, like a wounded animal, a bear ready to gnaw off its own leg to escape from a trap. Oscar catches her as her legs give way, arm tight around her back as he guides her down to the floor. Her knuckles are white as her fingers fist in the front of his shirt, stretching it almost to the point of tearing.