“She’s not demanding. She’s asking.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending her!”

My dad was quiet for a second. Then he said, “You know, there are people who have no choice but to spend their lives avoiding their mothers. People whose mothers are mean, or toxic, or drunk. People whose mothers hurt them every time they let their guard down. But you are not one of those people. Your mother is actually a nice lady.”

That was a lot of verbiage for my normally strong-but-silent dad. Practically a soliloquy. “How can you say that after what she did to you?”

“People make mistakes.”

“You can’t make me forgive her,” I said, barely able to believe how petulant I sounded.

“You’re right,” my dad said. “I can’t make you.”

For a split second, I thought I’d won.

Then he went on. “But you’re going to go anyway.”

“You’re wrong,” I said.

“I’m right,” he said. “Because you were raised to do the right thing. And she’s the one who raised you.”

Four

THE NEXT MORNING, I was on shift by 6:30 A.M., the cut on my hand bandaged, ready to keep plowing forward with my life.

But the captain must have been watching for me, because as soon as I walked through the doors, she said, over the loudspeaker, “Hanwell. In my office. Now.”

I was passing Hernandez right then, and he crossed himself at the tone of her voice.

I walked to her office all chastened, with my head tilted slightly down, but just as I stepped through her door, my phone went off.

My mother. Again. And it turned out, the guys on shift had changed my ringtone to “Big Bottom” from Spinal Tap. Because that’s what firemen do.

Captain Harris watched me like, Really? as I scrambled to silence it.

“Close the door,” she said.

I closed the door.

“Take a seat.”

I took a seat.

She shuffled through some files on her desk and let me wait. Captain Harris had been one of the first women to join the Austin Fire Department, back in the eighties. She was also the first-ever African American female captain. I idolized her, and admired her, and feared her, too. She’d seen everything and then some, and then some more.

She was about as close as a regular human could get to a superhero. And guess what? She really didn’t put up with nonsense.

I waited for her to light into me. I waited for her to tell me in unflinching detail how much I’d humiliated the department last night with my behavior. I waited for her to punish me somehow—a suspension or a demotion. Something.

She just kept her eyes on her paperwork and let me wait.

Finally, she looked up. “How long have you worked here, Hanwell?”

“Four years last month.”

She studied me a little. “You’re a good fit here, aren’t you?”

“I think so,” I said.

“The guys like you. Even after you raised Big Tom’s underwear up the flagpole.”

“I suspect they like me because I raised Big Tom’s underwear up the flagpole.”

“You seem to be very admired. For a woman.”

I blinked. “Thank you.”

“I called you in here for several reasons—not just your temporary insanity last night. But don’t worry, we’ll get to that.”

I waited.

“First, we need to discuss your performance on the Lieutenant’s Exam. The scores are in. This was your first time taking it, correct?”

I held very still. “That’s correct, Captain.”

“You realize most people don’t pass that exam the first time?”

“Yes, Captain.” Everybody knew that.

“Some of our best guys have tried three or four times before passing.”

My heart wilted a little, anticipating bad news. I’d studied for months for that test. “Yes, Captain.”

“It might surprise you to hear, then, that not only did you pass, you got the number one score in the entire city. You scored two points below me.”

I sat up.

She lifted her eyebrows, just a sliver, in admiration. “Strong work.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Ordinarily, of course, that would mean a promotion to lieutenant.”

I nodded.

“But your circumstances at the moment are not exactly ordinary.”

I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing a little. I might need to splint a finger.

Worth it.

I lifted my eyes back to the captain.

“I need you to know that the chief and the mayor have had their eye on you for a while now.”

“They have?”

She nodded. “You’ve been on the city’s radar ever since that feature the Statesman did on you last summer, but that top test score clinched it.” Now she was looking me over. “Until last night, you were a perfect representative of the best of our department. You’re young, and fit, and wholesome. No visible tattoos.” She studied my face another second, then added, “Pretty, but not too pretty.”

I frowned. “Thank you.”

“Tell me this, Hanwell,” she said. “Why did we put the hoses on that warehouse fire last month when it was burning too hot for the water to do any good?”

We both knew that answer. A hundred-person crowd had been watching us, and then the news helicopters showed up. And even though the only way that fire was going to go out was to burn itself to the ground, we put water on it anyway. Because that’s what people wanted us to do.

“Hydraulic public relations, Captain,” I answered.

She nodded, like, Exactly. “Image matters. When they see us coming, they need to know we’re the good guys. They need to let us get in and get to work.”

I nodded.

“Do you know what the trouble with women is, Hanwell?”

I shook my head.

“Women don’t look like firefighters.”

No argument there.

“You know Austin is a very progressive department,” she said next.

I did know that, of course. Anyone who’d seen our rainbow flag flying, or shopped at one of our vegan/kosher bake sales, or seen our fire marshal tooling around in a Prius knew we were a progressive department.

“The city wants to update our image,” she said. “And—again, up until last night—I would have said you were a perfect candidate to lead the way. You’re smart as hell, and you’re strong as an ox, and you don’t seem to be scared of anything.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not saying you’re reckless. I mean you have a steadiness about you that’s particularly well suited to the job.”

I nodded.

“You’re not just a token female, is what I’m saying. You’re actually good.”

I’d assumed that went without saying, but okay.

“After we announced you were getting the valor award, the mayor and the fire chief met and made it official,” the captain went on. “They wanted to enlist you as part of a PR campaign to redefine the look of the fire service. Billboards, TV interviews, bus ads. You and a few others. They put together a whole multicultural A Team.”