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81 In the Old Firehouse I decided that we were in the old firehouse after some kind of fire, undressing, and the feeling was the same old feeling, that is everyone wanted to get drunk, but we could not do that, so we undressed heavily and breathed heavily, each breath a full pint, and I sat on a stool beside the bed and pulled off my left sock and then my right sock, each sock like the weight of the day. “The feeling was the same old feeling,” I said. “everyone wanted to get drunk but we could not do that.” Gretchen said, “What is it, allen?” she picked up my suitcoat and tie from where I’d dropped them and she folded them with her dress in a pile of laundry on the chair. she dropped her slip and unhooked her bra, turning by me as her breasts swung free and I noticed them as I had everyday in our endeavors. “some fire,” I said. “Oh,” she said and she smiled at me. “The firefighters had another fire? That’s a lot of work.” she scratched the bulbous side of each breast. “There’s a companionable air in the old firehouse,” I said. “It’s a coed facility and the firefighters were friendly and familiar.” “Firehouse,” she said. “The old firehouse.” “after the fire.” “The men and the women had been through some fires,” she said lifting her gray nightshirt over her head. “The fatigue was palpable.” I said, pulling up my old plaid pajama bottoms. “But it would be difficult to sleep tonight.” “not really,” she grabbed the bedspread to pull it down, but paused. “It was a small fire, allen. smoke really. no injuries, no property damage. How much did you have to drink?” “not enough,” I told her. now she was in the bed, her glorious head on the pillow the way I’d seen it five thousand times. she patted the bed, our old bed. “Your daughter is married and on her way to Hawaii. You did a good job. You looked handsome making your toast and it was a wonderful party. The band turned out to be perfect and everyone had a good time. did you talk to Trudy and Morris?” “Was there a band?” “Get in bed.” “I think I’ll tour the grounds.” 82 “allen. Wendy is not here. she’s married. You want to go up and look in her room again at the boxes.” “Those goddamned boxes. I’d like to get those boxes out of here so we could do something with that room.” “What do you want to do with Wendy’s room?” nowIwassittingonthebedandGretchenputherhandflatagainstmylowerback. “You get eight or ten boxes in a room and it’s a fire hazard.” “We can handle that,” Gretchen said, she tugged on my pajamas. “Come on, get back in bed.” “They’ll be back for those boxes.” I said. “Wendy and Jim will be back all the time.” “Is that his name?” I said. “Jim?” Lyingbackinthebedwaslikefalling.“HisnameisJimandyoulovehimlikeason.” The weight of the covers captured me. I could feel the blood beating in my knees. “In the old firehouse the men and women sometimes shared a bed.” “sometimes,” Gretchen said. “It was a matter of policy.” “They lay side by side in big beds with twenty pounds of covers on them.” Gretchen turned to me and slid her hand onto my stomach, saying, “But they never touched under the covers, the men and the women.” “They were too tired,” I said. “and there was morale to consider.” Gretchen rolled a knee over mine, climbing and she slid her hand down. she was now speaking against my bare shoulder. “But, there was a companionable feeling in the old firehouse.” she held me now in a way that changed my breathing. “and the men and women took satisfaction from knowing that they had done what they could, and everyone for one more night was safe.” ...

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