Watching Trin by Freya Barker

Chapter 9

Trin

“I’ll be happy to sit down with you and your sister to talk through your options. Are you available tomorrow at one thirty?”

That’s going to require some logistic finagling. Vic is coming off her shift tomorrow morning and will need at least a few hours of sleep, and then there’s our dad. I’d rather not bring him if not necessary, it would only lead to more confusion. We can go during his afternoon nap but we’d still have to find someone to stay with him. I don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone with Tucker.

I glance through the open door at Nira moving around the kitchen down the hall. She’s been really good with Pops, who was still a bit agitated this morning. She was also helpful providing me with the name and number of Amanda Arshot, a senior-care coordinator who can help us assess what the best options are for Pops’s care.

I hate to ask her for another favor since she’s already been so generous with her time, but I don’t know what other option we have. As luck would have it Amanda just had a cancellation, otherwise, we might’ve had to wait a few weeks to see her. I don’t want to miss this opportunity and have someone else snatch it up.

“Can I call you back in five minutes? I need to make a few arrangements. I promise I won’t keep you waiting.”

“Not a problem,” Amanda assures me. “I’ll await your call.”

Ending the call, I join Nira in the kitchen. She’s placing food from a plastic container to a baking sheet.

“Those look great. What are they?”

She turns and smiles. I’m still amazed this woman is Bodhi’s mother. She’s very petite and quite beautiful, with long shiny black hair streaked with silver worn in a thick braid over her shoulder. Everything about her is delicate, from her fine features to her small hands. I feel like a Clydesdale standing beside her.

“Samosas. I baked a batch for the firehouse yesterday—I do that every so often when it’s Bodhi’s turn to cook—and made a few extra for lunch.”

“Even cold they smell amazing.”

I lean in and inhale the fragrant spices.

“You’ve never had them?”

“I’m afraid not. I traveled a lot before I had Tucker, but most of that was in Africa and Europe. Living in San Antonio as a single mom, with a picky eater for a kid, the most adventurous I would get was the occasional Mexican food from a street vendor.”

She shoves the baking tray in the oven and turns to me with a warm but slightly calculating smile.

“You should have Bodhi cook some Indian food for you. He’s very talented.”

“Oh, I’m not sure I know your son that well,” I mumble, feeling put on the spot.

Nira raises an eyebrow.

“Really? When I invited him for a family meal last night, he mentioned he was having dinner here. With you.”

“Well, yes, he was kind enough to bring pizza for everyone,” I admit, attempting to downplay what for me had been a significant event.

She places one of her small hands on my arm.

“My dear, I doubt kindness had much to do with that. I know my son, and it took me two seconds to recognize the way he looked at you last weekend.”

Unsure what the hell I’m supposed say to that, I’m grateful when Tuck walks into the kitchen, providing a distraction.

“I’m hungry,” he announces.

Not that he needs to, if he’s walking and talking, he’s hungry.

“You’re going to have to wait.”

“I can’t. My stomach hurts.”

“Then have a banana,” I suggest firmly.

It’s met with an annoyed sigh but still he reaches for the fruit bowl and pulls one off the bunch. Then he saunters to the living room—where Pops is watching a wildlife documentary on TV—and plops down on the couch.

“He’s a good boy,” Nira says softly. I turn to her in surprise and she chuckles at my expression. “Believe me, he just hides it well. I remember those days. Teenage years can be tough on kids, especially boys in my experience. My daughter, Anika, was a handful but she was loud about it. An open book. Bodhi, on the other hand, was closed off, moody, and managed to get himself in all kinds of trouble. He’s the one who gave me sleepless nights, but even during those turbulent days I could see through his layers of defiance.” She bumps her shoulder into mine and smiles at me. “I see the same in Tucker. You raised him well.”

Hard to imagine Bodhi as a rebellious teen. He seems so together, so measured, much like his mother. Her calm presence and resonating words give me a confidence I haven’t felt in a long time.

I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants since my mother died. First learning to look after our family at the tender age of ten, then tackling single motherhood, and finally taking on the care of our father. I didn’t realize how much I missed her guidance until now.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Nira’s voice pulls me from my thoughts and I realize my eyes are wet.

“You didn’t,” I assure her. “I’m so used to going at it alone—working from instinct—it just feels unexpectedly nice to get this kind of feedback.”

She smiles wide.

“Oh good, I’m glad. What I intend as support is frequently seen as meddling by my kids.”

“Not by me.”

As I grin back at her, I remember I’m supposed to call the coordinator back.

“Nira, is there any chance you’d have perhaps an hour or so available tomorrow afternoon? I hate to ask, but Amanda had an opening in her schedule at one thirty and it would be nice if Vic and I could both go.” I immediately notice the look of regret wash over her face. “But it’s not a big deal if you can’t. One of us can always go and fill in the other. Not to worry.”

“I have a standing appointment with my daughter. Once a month I spend an afternoon in her salon and she does my hair while we catch up. Sort of mother-daughter thing.”

“I understand. Please forget I asked.”

“Not so fast,” she says, as she walks to her purse hanging off a kitchen chair and pulls out a cell phone. “I have an idea.”

* * *

Bodhi

“Hey, Mom. I’m at work.”

I’m just shoving a tray of her samosas in the oven at the firehouse. Hog already stole two and ate them cold.

“I know, this won’t take long. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Me? No real plans, why?”

“Perfect. Katrina was able to get an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, at one thirty, for herself and Victoria with the senior coordinator, but I’m busy and someone has to be here for Bruce and Tucker.”

I shake my head and smile. Shouldn’t surprise me my mother picked up on my interest in Trin and has decided to meddle. She has no patience. When I turned thirty-five, she decided I’d played the field long enough and it was time to get serious. Since then, any time I’ve shown even the slightest interest in a woman, she gets involved.

The only difference is that this time I don’t mind it nearly as much.

“Sure.”

“Fabulous. Katrina will let you know what time. Oh, and Bodhi? You should cook her a proper meal some time. Pizza? I raised you better than that.”

I can’t even get a word in before she ends the call. Guess I’m watching the old man and the kid tomorrow.

I still have my phone in my hand when a message comes in.

Trin: Sorry. I didn’t know she was calling you.

Smiling, I dial her number and she picks up on the first ring.

“This is so embarrassing.” She’s whispering and it sounds like she’s on the move. “Just a minute.”

I hear a door close.

“She may look harmless, but I know my mother, she can be a bulldozer. You probably couldn’t have stopped her if you tried,” I assure her.

“Look, you don’t have to do this. I—”

“Trin?” I stop her. “It’s not a problem. Even without Mom’s meddling, I’d be happy to do it. I’ll be there at one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Sumo walks into the kitchen and opens the oven door.

“Can these come out?” he asks.

“Yeah, they should be warm.”

“I’m sorry, you’re busy. I should let you get back to work,” Trin says in my ear.

“That’s okay, it’s been quiet so far this morning.”

Of course at that moment an alert comes in over the PA system.

“Murphy’s law,” she jokes, a smile in her voice.

“Yeah. I’ve gotta go.”

“Go save some lives.”

“I’ll be in touch,” I promise her.

Then I shove my phone in my pocket, grab a couple of samosas for the road, and run down the stairs.

* * *

“Roadkill! We’re gonna need the airbags!”

I give Cap a thumbs-up and open the compartment on the rig where they’re stored.

We were called to a construction site, where a crane dropped a pair of steel beams on a group of workers below. Two walked away with minor cuts and bruises, paramedics from Station 2 are working on one guy with what looks to be a significant head trauma, and the last guy is in serious condition and pinned by one of the beams.

Vic pulls out the wood we use for cribbing, and I grab the airbags. Both of us run over to where Sumo and Blue are trying to stabilize the guy the best they can.

“Where do you want them, Cap?”

He points out a gap between the beam and the ground on one side of the victim. It takes us a few minutes to build and stabilize the stack and position the bags, the large one on the bottom and the smaller bag on top.

“Ready?” Cap calls out. “Up on blue, go easy.”

The blue hose is attached to the large bag, which slowly fills with air until Cap gives the signal to stop.

“Hog, you and Sumo be ready to pull the victim free.” When they’re in position, he turns to me. “Roadkill, up on green.”

I inflate the smaller bag, filling the narrow gap until I hear the groan of metal when the beam starts to move.

“Easy!”

As I slow down the flow of air, the steel steadily lifts from the victim until there’s enough room to pull him free.

Crush injuries can be horrific and this one is not an exception. I swear his jeans are the only reason we’re able to get him on the backboard in one piece. It’s a miracle the guy is even alive. Another gruesome image seared in my brain.

By the time we clear the site, my appetite has disappeared, right along with my motivation for the dinner I had planned for tonight. I was hoping to make rogan josh, a fragrant, somewhat spicy, lamb dish that requires time and a shitload of ingredients I’d still have to buy. I’m better off making it at home on a day off when there’s no risk of being called away, and bringing it in to the station. After finding out the construction worker died en route to the hospital—leaving behind a young family—something quick and easy will have to do for tonight.

As it turns out, we barely have time to eat at all with calls coming in all night. It’s not until sometime after midnight I find myself in the station kitchen with Vic, making cheese sandwiches we can scarf down before we try to catch some sleep until the next alarm.

“That was a message from my sister,” she says, putting her phone down on the counter. “Looks like we have a meeting about Pops tomorrow afternoon and you’re gonna keep an eye out while we’re gone?”

I can tell from the tone of her voice she’s ticked off, but I’m not sure what part is pissing her off.

“Yeah, Mom couldn’t do it and called to enroll me. Not that I mind,” I quickly add.

“I’m sure you don’t.”

She tosses the cheese slicer and her knife into the sink with some force.

“Hey. If you’d rather—”

She doesn’t let me finish.

“Since she got here, she’s slowly been taking over everything. Making decisions without my input and now maybe pawning Pops off to some nursing home.”

I’m smart enough to know I’m wading into shark-infested waters, but I do it anyway.

“Wasn’t that the idea?” I get an angry glare but I persist, feeling defensive on Trin’s behalf. “Wasn’t her coming here supposed to take some of the load off your shoulders so you could go back to work?”

She averts her eyes and huffs.

“Yeah, and now she’s pushing me aside.”

“I guess if you want to look at it that way. Or maybe she understands the demands of your job and is just doing her best by everyone in her family.”

“Of course you’d take her side.”

She sounds a little like my sister used to when we got into arguments as teens, but I’m not about to point that out.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side because there are no sides. It’s not a competition, it’s an adjustment. You’re all doing the best you can under the circumstances.”

She appears to think that over as she bites off half her sandwich while I finish off my own.

“I’m worried,” she finally admits. “What if something happened while we were out on a call and she couldn’t reach me? Like tonight?”

“I’m sure if there was an emergency, she’d call 911,” I point out.

“Are you always this annoyingly reasonable?” she grumbles, stomping past me to our sleeping quarters.

“Ask my sister,” I call after her.

She flips me the bird right before she disappears out of sight.