In your arms

November 24, 2022 - Thanksgiving day

Hi everyone.It's not the sequel you might have been waiting for, but as some of you know, I had this new story in mind to bring to life. I hope you can appreciate it.The entire story will be told from Maya's point of view.The only real warning, for now, is that the story will be a real slow burn, but very slow. Fasten your seatbelts!The first chapter always works as an introduction, but tomorrow I should be able to post the second chapter already. Subsequently there will be one chapter per week, every Friday.Thanks to everyone who stops by!

November 24, 2022 - Thanksgiving day

I am not someone who hates parties and confusion in general. But I do like parties and hustle and bustle to be relegated to specific times: there are pubs to have fun with friends, sometimes discos and parties I always prefer if they are at someone else's house, if they are not in paid venues. I like to have my own spaces and my own habits. In fact, I need my own spaces and habits. When there is something that goes to undermine the balance of that I get nervous and grumpy. Perhaps it also depends on how I was raised, on the fact that in my house no noise out of the ordinary was possible, no friends coming to sleep over or even just to eat or spend the afternoon together. This, by the way, was perhaps the only rule that was really fair and equitable to me and my brother. From a certain point on, however, mine and Mason's rules and habits became diametrically opposed, both, in different ways, victims of the same injustices.

I put extreme passion into the things I do, a clinical and at times somewhat obsessive dedication, but over time I still managed to find a certain balance, perhaps not always so healthy, between the rigidity of my self-imposed protocols and the complexity and freedom of emotions and feelings. So I ended up considering my workplace not just a sterile, precise and organized place from which to shoot to go "save the world," but also a place I can call home.

That's why I hate this Thanksgiving tradition and especially hate the idea that Thanksgiving dinner has to be held right here in the station and that we have to invite outside people. Part of me knows that those outside people are actually the people we love the most, they are the reason why we all work so hard to go home at the end of our shift, because we want to re-meet the people we love and who love us, and so I should be happy to spend time with them. Andy is always teasing me that this hatred of holidays and, more generally, of American traditions must mean something: according to her, there is some secret hidden in my family origins, so maybe I am a descendant of some Northern European lineage. Each time I have to remind her where Santa Claus was apparently born and resides, and I force her to rethink her theories: northern descent is not enough to "hate" holidays and children as I do. The truth, the one, however, that I tell no one, rarely only myself, is that mine is envy. For the most part a great and healthy envy.

Everyone always has someone to invite, over the years we have seen parents, boyfriends, wives, husbands, children, friends, cousins, dogs, cats, and even neighbors rotate around these mega-tables, but almost never I have been able to invite someone. I do not consider myself to be a truly lonely person on a basic level, that is, it is not something I suffer in my daily life. My colleagues are my family, my reference group, and my sidekicks to ask for help. I have some old friends that I still hang out with from time to time, belonging to another phase of my life, and above all there are friends of friends, the impromptu acquaintances, the ones that don't make you feel lonely at night. There is my family of origin, a bit battered and little attended, but all in all it exists. What I really miss sometimes, though, is that one person, that special one, the one you would like to treasure inside you, but at the same time shout to the world that he or she is yours, the one with whom there is connection, there is passion, there is feeling, there is a unique and special bond, as special as that person is. This, however, is a secret that I can hardly reveal to myself, because it seems so far removed from my "character," from the shadowy figure, a little bit wolf and a little bit bear, that is seen from the outside of me that everyone knows.

In any case, tonight could not be avoided and everyone is in high gear for the big dinner. Everyone will bring one or more guests, partly because, barring any major emergencies, we are on duty only until 8 p.m. and then we can enjoy the dinner without interruption. I, as usual, take care of the less fun stuff: I get out the camping tables to set up before dinner and then I'll wash the dishes finished eating. These are the perfect tasks, because they are the ones that allow me to talk to people as little as possible. When, with a full belly and a few glasses of wine in my system, everyone will be making social life, laughing, making conversation, I will stand quietly on the sidelines, true to my task and above all relieved of any social duties. And then it will end as it always does: when everyone gradually retires to their homes, fulfilled and happy, I will leave for some bar to find someone to spend the night with, to find at least some relief and a modicum of fleeting happiness.

Like a perfect dance, a perfectly oiled machine, my other colleagues also adhere to their duties: as per tradition Andy gives the orders; the captain, more bearish than me, stands blissfully cooped up in his office; Sullivan looks down on us judiciously, though thankfully a little less so this year, perhaps because it will be his last party time that he will officially spend with us before moving out of town; Travis and Vic argue in the kitchen, until Ben's wife arrives to dictate the orders and cook better than anyone else among us, under the satisfied gaze of Ben, who in fact, as always, stands at the door waiting for his family; Dean has set up the camping tables with the me and is now laughing at Jack and Luke, who, in theory, are supposed to set the table, in practice are walking from side to side, throwing objects at each other, laughing, teasing each other, while one tries to dilute the tension of the other, who will be introducing his girlfriend to the group for the first time today.

Last Thanksgiving, by the way, we caught Theo, at the time Vic's boyfriend, in the act of having sex with someone else. Not just anyone, but Kate, the firefighter who was filling in for Jack, who was injured. As a result of that event there were three weeks of fire, which is ironic for a fire station, and there was an internal earthquake, so we find ourselves today with Luke on our team instead of Theo. Luke himself it seems will be the star of this evening and what promises to be the event of the month. Enthusiasm for the novelty is through the roof, due in part to the fact that there are few guests at the dinner this year, but mostly I think it is due to the fact that it has been quite a while since there has been anyone new to introduce, and there is nothing like love gossip to revive the station atmosphere.

When everything is ready and we are all already gathered in the dining room, where we will be staying this year so as not to disturb the work of the B-shift that will start soon, the only one missing is Luke's girlfriend herself. He is all flustered, and Jack does nothing to avoid teasing him, calling the girl "eye candy" and adding all kinds of other male vulgarities. I'm usually amused by this attitude too, especially since I know Jack does it with total naiveté and is the last of the macho men, with his goodness and pure soul. Luke and I wouldn't say we are great friends, on the contrary: first of all wherever he is, there are three of us, because you have to make room for his ego. We've already had several squabbles in the field over the course of this year, but mostly everyone else has learned never to bring up somewhat thorny topics of conversation when we're both there, otherwise we're capable of coming to blows and not metaphorically.
The exasperation of anticipation, the fact that Luke has been the center of attention and gloating for a while, the hunger, and the hatred of the holidays are the set of things that are about to set me off.

I open my mouth to speak and finally ask when she will deign to show us her presence this alleged girlfriend (so much so that Jack has been calling her the "girlfriend-ghost" for the past quarter of an hour), when the door to the upper floor opens and all the heads of those present, including mine, turn expectantly. It looks like a scene from a movie, with the frames advancing in slow motion, music playing in the background, and then... BOOM, the surprise. Before us is revealed the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but...

"Oh, fuck," I think.

< Oh, fuck!> Andy whispers beside me. I turn to look at her, almost horrified, or I don't know, I can't really decipher what other thought crosses my mind now.