Leaving Normal by Stef Holm (whitelam books txt) 📗

she thought about the way she'd handled her divorce. She'd handed Greg the complaint at a local notary's office, not wanting to publically humiliate him at work. They'd been married for twenty-one years. A margin of respect for the vows that had lasted that long was the least she owed him, that and a semblance of civility.

"I'm going to need a lawyer," Tony thought aloud.

"I know of a good one." She thought about Chuck Hays, the man who had been her rock while representing her. "He isn't a lawyer who goes for the jugular, but he's fair. That's all I wanted out of mine. A fifty-fifty split, everything as amicable as possible."

"Kim's said she doesn't want to get into it with me. I don't know if I believe her. I made the down payment on this house. I'm thinking I should keep it."

"You'll have to ask Chuck about that. I'm sure he'll steer you in the direction that's best for you. I'll get you his number."

"That would be great. Thanks."

Tony rubbed his jaw, the rasp of a beard beneath his fingernails. "I have to buy a new bed."

The offhand comment was jarring, and the implication sent a clear image to her mind: His wife and her boyfriend must have been together in their bed.

She wished he didn't have to go through this.

He was big and strong, and yet she detected an emotional fragility to him right now. She'd seen it in the craft store, in Hat and Garden. The brief window of hurt that barely surfaced before he closed it off, removing all traces. She had so much empathy for him.

"Kim said I could visit Parker whenever I wanted, but that would mean going to her new boyfriend's house, and I can't trust myself not to kick his ass." Tony mistakenly punched a button on the remote. The TV came alive and he muted the sound. A picture spread over the screen. ESPN. "I know my wife isn't innocent, but I can't help wanting to get in his face. He knew she was married. Why did he pursue her? Or maybe he didn't. Hell, maybe she pursued him. She never gave me a real answer."

Natalie let him talk, sensing he needed to unload, get things off his chest. It was good to vocalize the feelings of resentment, of failure. She had done the same thing with Sarah.

"I mean, shit…something like this makes a man question what he was lacking. What was it that I couldn't give her?"

He grew quiet. She still didn't speak.

"A baby," he said beneath his breath. "I just couldn't do that."

His explanation was surprising. Infertility was the reason many marriages broke down. Her heart went out to him.

"I don't know anything about that, but there are doctors—"

"It wasn't a matter of getting her pregnant. I just didn't want to make a baby with her."

"Oh…" she murmured, enlightened. Now the topic was definitely quite intimate. No doubt he had his reasons. But she wouldn't ask.

He didn't elaborate and she was actually relieved not to hear the details of something between this man and his wife.

Tony clicked through the channels, as if needing something to do. He paused on an episode of Gilligan's

Island. When Mary Ann and Ginger screamed and ran away from headhunters, Tony cracked an amused smile. His interest in a show like this was surprising—until he elaborated.

"I once had a call where a cross-dresser was made up like Ginger. He'd fallen off his platform heels and cracked his forehead open on the curb. When we got there, he was lying against the gutter crying because there was a hole in his gown."

"So Gilligan's Island inspires Boise's cross-dressers? I didn't know we even had any," she commented, trying to make light of the show, make light of the dark mood that had surrounded them prior to the television being turned on.

"I've come across a few. Seen other things I'd rather not have, as well. A lot of overweight people stuck on toilets."

In spite of herself, Natalie laughed. "Really?"

Tony gazed at her. "And they're always naked."

"Oh, my."

"That's not what I'm thinking." A half smile touched his mouth. "I have seen some things you wouldn't want to know about."

"I can only imagine."

Somberly, he replied, "You don't want to."

"Do you ever get depressed?"

"Absolutely."

"I admire you," she said, not withholding her true feelings. "It takes a special person to do what you do."

"Not really. You just have to pass some tests."

"Don't discredit yourself. You deserve the praise." She took a sip of wine, relaxing more. "Did you always know you wanted to be a fireman?"

"Nope. My parents got a divorce when I was in jun-ior high. My dad moved to Portland afterward and he wasn't a big part of my life. I wanted to play on the summer baseball team, but I didn't have a dad to watch me or coach me. So I asked my neighbor if he'd want to sponsor me, help me out. He said he would." A fond expression overtook Tony's features. "He was a firefighter and he took me to the station and I got to hang out there. After that, I knew that's what I wanted to be. A firefighter like him."

"That's a fabulous story."

"I met my best friend in the academy. Rockland Massaro. He's a good guy."

"Is it hard to become a firefighter?"

"Not really." Tony shrugged. "I passed the written, scored in the top one hundred. You're tested on English, math, reading comprehension. Some mechanical-aptitude stuff. Then you take a CPAT."

"What's that?"

"Candidate Physical Aptitude Test. It's a series of physical tests."

He tipped his face to the window, aid she followed his gaze. A light snow had begun to fall, the sunshine fading to a murky blue-gray.

The beer bottle in his hand lowered to rest on his knee. "You have to walk on a treadmill with seventy-five pounds on your back, then you drag some hoses. You can go down there and practice ahead of time. You drag a dummy. Hit some pegs with a