“I get that. I do. There has to be common ground,” she said.
“We’re sitting in it,” Randy said.
Hazel said, “Things were never the same after our test. We were never the same. Nothing remains as it was. Even this.” She threw up her arms indicating Old Days Pub. “Someday all this will be gone, and perhaps people will come here and find what we leave behind, just like the originals did. We’re nothing. What we do means nothing.”
“Sounds like what my mother said when people called her crazy for wanting to leave,” Randy said.
“Remember the day they left? I sat on Great Rock for hours, until I couldn’t see the sun reflecting off the boat,” Hazel said.
“Yes. I watched it also, from the trees behind you,” Randy said. “That was when you’d throw rocks when you saw me, so...”
She laughed. “Maybe you’re right.” She looked into her empty bamboo cup. “I should drink more.”
“No you shouldn’t. That was stupid of me to say.”
“No it wasn’t. You’re always calm and rational. Yesterday when that kid called me a cop, and I freaked. You calmed me down. Not many people could’ve done that. My mom and maybe dad.”
“What was that, Hazel? There are worse things than being a cop.”
“See, that’s when you piss me off.” She looked at her empty glass and got up. She walked away from him, but changed her mind and spun back around. “I never said being a cop was bad. It’s just not…”
“Not what you thought you’d be doing?”
“I get why people see fire guards as cops. The sacred texts speak of cops enforcing the laws, keeping order and dispensing justice. That’s not fire guards. I see us as priests, in a way.”
“Priests? You don’t believe in God?”
“I don’t. Priests stand for something that comforts people, and makes them feel safe. Helps them see they’re not alone in this world, and people care about them and are looking out for them. It’s all goose shit, but fire guards do all these things. Some more than others, but thanks to the guards, nobody ever froze or went hungry or died of dehydration.”
Randy watched Hazel get more wine. He had to change the subject. “Do you think my mom loves your father?” Randy said. He felt loose, things were going well, and relaxing and drinking made this easier for him to say to the woman he loved. Hazel had spent most of her life building an intricate structure of hatred based on specific people. In a small isolated community like Respite, old fights never died and family history trumped law. He was challenging the foundations of that structure, putting doubts between the bricks, digging at the mortar joints with inconvenient questions.
“Shit don’t mean shit,” Hazel said. She rarely cursed, but wine and truth had a way of loosening old bonds.
“But shit does mean shit,” he said. Things slowed, and his voice echoed extra loud. Randy wobbled and beer erupted over the edge of his cup. A cloud passed before the moon and Old Days fell into shadow. The jungle outside was quiet, and even the night owls had given up the ghost for the evening.
“She uses him like she doesn’t love him, but he never complained that I heard,” she said.
“Why do you think he never said anything?” Randy asked.
“You know why.”
He did.
“Love is bezoomny,” Hazel said.
He nodded. His eyelids were creeping downward.
“Wake up,” Hazel said.
“I was just resting my eyes,” Randy said.
She grabbed his wrist and lifted his cup. “Drink up.” Randy downed half his beer and wiped foam from his mustache. They sat in silence for a time, sipping their drinks, trying to picture the past in their minds.
“I wish I knew more about what was out there. I think maybe that’s why I wasn’t so pissed at your mom when I was young. I wanted to know like her. I shared her curiosity and restlessness. I just can’t believe, can you?” Hazel said.
“Yeah, I believe it all,” Randy said. He sounded defensive, but he didn’t give a crap.
“How? I mean, you claim to be a man of science, yet you act out of faith,” Hazel said.
This was such familiar ground there was no unexplored part of the debate. “You can be both, and neither,” Randy said. “There is no motive to stretch the truth here.”
They argued about everything, but it was delightful. She challenged him, made him consider everything he said before he said it. He got away with no bullshit when he was talking with Hazel. It had always been that way, even from the first moment they’d met at Foundation, and he knew he loved her. Nothing had changed over the years except their family history and their parents doing everything possible to pull them apart. That made Randy try harder, but Hazel never did.
Hazel laughed, and that was a welcome sound. She didn’t laugh enough. That’s what he meant when he said she should drink more. The right way to say it was she should laugh more. That laugh made his heart pound and his legs go to jelly. After all the years she could still make his pulse race. She took a swig of wine and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt. She smiled at him and burped.
“I used to go to Spyglass Station whenever the ear was turned on hoping to hear something from my mother. Didn’t miss a session until I was fire guard,” Randy said.
“I never went. I felt betrayed and didn’t care what my father had to say. There was
