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When Eddie walked into the firehouse that morning, there was a large banner emblazoned with the words “DIVERSITY AWARENESS WEEK” hanging from the rafters.
“Uh, what the hell?” he said to Buck, who’d materialized at his side to hand him a mug of coffee like some miraculous extension of his subconscious.
“No clue,” Buck said gloomily, “but there’s croissants in the kitchen.”
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“I’m sugar- and carb-free this week,” Buck explained as they went upstairs. “I was counting on an omelet from Bobby, but he’s not cooking today, ’cause of whatever this awareness thing is.”
“Can I have yours then?” Eddie surveyed the platter of pastries on the kitchen counter. They looked pretty good to him.
“Knock yourself out, Eds. Normally I’d just work it off later, you know, but my sister keeps buying wine for us, and it’s like, wine, every evening, and I think it’s messing with my metabolism—”
“Dude, no one cares,” Chimney said, reaching around Eddie to snatch an éclair. Eddie helped himself to two croissants and then joined Buck on the couch, where he was staring morosely at his phone, some kind of calorie-counter workout app on the screen.
Eddie gave his shoulder a commiserating pat and took an enormous bite from his first croissant. He was definitely of the “work it off later” philosophy. Since joining the 118, Eddie had spent a lot—a lot—of hours at the gym with Buck, and yeah, the guy came on a little strong with his regimens and his cleanses and his jaw-dropping deadlifts, but now that they were friends, Eddie had a lot more admiration for Buck’s self-discipline. He enjoyed their amicable one-upmanship, and he was actually learning quite a lot about nutrition from Buck’s rambling disquisitions on superfoods, antioxidants, and cruciferous vegetables.
“Stop manspreading, you oaf.” Hen shoved at Buck’s legs so she could squeeze onto the sofa beside them. Her comment was directed at Buck, but Eddie hastily closed his legs too. Hen and Chim didn’t really tease him, not the way they teased Buck. He wished they would, but instead they were almost deferential towards him. Probably because Bobby, to his immense discomfort, had introduced him as a decorated war hero, and that had kind of set the tone for his interactions with the team. No wonder Buck had hated him. That silver star was a fucking albatross; one of these days Eddie was gonna chuck it into the Pacific.
“Cap’s here,” Hen said, and Eddie twitched—the old reflex to stand at attention when a commanding officer was present. Buck leaned into him, a reassuring weight against his arm.
“Morning, everyone,” Bobby said.
Everyone said “good morning” back, with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering what this is about, so I’ll get right to the point. Chief Alonzo read the incident report from the other day’s intubation call, and he had some concerns.”
Intubation call? Eddie tried to remember. Had they intubated someone? Had he been there? Christ, he was tired. Christopher had snuck into his bed before dawn this morning, demanding cuddles. And Eddie cherished his son’s cuddles, he truly did, but he’d stayed up late the night before, chatting on the phone with Buck. Those lost hours of sleep were already hitting him hard. Intubation, intubation… Oh, right. The colostomy bag misfire. That racist old asswipe who hadn’t wanted Hen or Chim or Eddie to touch him. Choking on his own shit in the grass. Yeah, that had been a fun one.
“We followed protocol,” Hen said sharply. “The patient never actually refused care, and if someone loses consciousness, the guidelines clearly state that we’re permitted to—”
Bobby held up a hand. “Relax, Hen, nobody’s in trouble. Actually, the Chief called me in to talk about the patient’s conduct towards our paramedics. He wanted to know if it was a common occurrence. I told him that it happens often enough.”
“So, let me guess: Hen, Eddie, and I are fired, and the Chief’s gonna affirmative-action in some white guys to fill our shoes?” Chimney asked dryly.
Hen snorted, but the question gave Eddie pause. He’d assumed Bobby was joking about that ‘all-white paramedic team,’ but if he wasn’t, and Eddie found himself out of a job, he was thoroughly screwed. He couldn’t imagine any other captain making the allowances Bobby had, for his situation with Christopher, and if he didn’t get to work with Buck anymore—
“Absolutely not,” Bobby said, putting an end to Eddie’s increasingly dire train of thought. “No, actually, the department is conducting an internal review, and all employees must participate in diversity awareness training, so we’re better equipped to handle incidents like that out in the field.”
“I think we handled it just fine,” Hen said tartly. “We did our jobs, didn’t we?”
“Yeah, this doesn’t make any sense,” Buck said.
They all looked at him.
“I mean, like, we are the diversity in this case—or some of us are—obviously not me—”
“Obviously,” Hen said, and Eddie bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
“And I think the department is, like, way overdue for an internal review, but our team saved Colostomy Bag’s life, even after he treated some of us like shit, no pun intended”—there was a collective groan—“so why are we the ones who need awareness in this situation?”
“He’s got a point,” Eddie said.
Bobby sighed. “Unfortunately, Buck, we can’t put the entire city of Los Angeles through diversity awareness training, so the Chief thinks it makes the most sense to start the conversation here, with us.”
“Is the conversation gonna last a whole week?” Chim asked dubiously.
“Well, no, not really,” Bobby said. “But HR thought ‘Diversity Awareness Day’ sounded a little…”
“Feeble?” Hen supplied.
Bobby took out a folder. “HR has provided a series of exercises that I’ve been instructed to lead you through.”
Eddie rubbed his forehead and wondered if he had a migraine coming on.
“C’mon, everybody up,” Bobby ordered. “Push all the furniture back against the wall, because we’re gonna need an open space. Then form a horizontal line in the middle of the room.”
Reluctantly, they all shuffled to their feet. Eddie heard Buck’s stomach growl as they dragged the couch out of the way. “I think we’re in for a long morning,” he remarked. “You sure you don’t want that croissant, Buckley?”
“I am having second thoughts,” Buck admitted.
They lined up as instructed. Hen folded her arms and tapped her foot; Chim picked at his nails. Buck shifted his weight restlessly. Eddie opted for a parade-rest stance: chin up, hands clasped loosely behind his back. His temples throbbed, and he looked longingly at his half-full mug of coffee, abandoned on the counter. But he held his posture and kept his face blank. Suck it up and get this over with, Diaz. Hooah.
“Let’s get started.” Bobby opened his folder, and Buck’s stomach growled again, setting off a round of giggles. “This first exercise will be done with no talking. I will read a question, and your job is to take a step forward, or take a step backward, according to the criteria.”
Buck nudged him. “I’ve done this before,” he said quietly. “It’s called a ‘privilege walk.’ They had us do it during freshman orientation, and let me tell you, it got ugly.”
“Wait, you went to college?” Eddie whispered back. Buck had never mentioned a college degree.
“I dropped out in my last semester.”
“Last semester? Why the hell didn’t you just stick it out, man?”
“Well, it was never really my—”
“Buck!” Bobby raised his voice. “Which part of ‘the exercise will be done in silence’ was unclear to you?”
“Sorry, Cap.” Buck grimaced.
“There’s a survey you can fill out when we’re done, so please save your grievances till then,” Bobby said wearily. “First question: if you were born in the United States, take one step forward.”
Eddie took a step forward; they all did, except for Chimney. Buck’s lanky stride carried him halfway across the room.
“You might want to take smaller steps, Buckaroo, or you’ll be out the window in no time,” Chim advised in an undertone. Buck looked around, saw he’d set himself apart, and hastily rejoined the group.
“Next question: if your parents were not born in the United States, take a step back,” Bobby read.
Chim took a step back. Eddie retreated an awkward half-step, already feeling like this game might be rigged.
“If you’re female, take a step back.”
Hen took a step back, along with the other two women on shift.
And on it went. Take a step back if your family ever relied on food stamps. Take a step forward if you attended sleepaway camp as a kid. Take a step back if English wasn’t the primary language spoken in your household growing up. Eddie was a little dismayed at his lack of progress, or rather, his backward progress. He’d never thought of himself as disadvantaged—hell, half of El Paso had been on food stamps, sleepaway camp was lame, and growing up bilingual was an advantage. Why else would Abuela and Pepa be riding his ass so hard to improve Christopher’s Spanish?
Yeah, Eddie would definitely be airing his grievances in the survey.
“If your ancestors were forced to come to this country or forced to relocate from where they were living, either temporarily or permanently, or restricted from living in certain areas, take one step back.”
That question caused some consternation.
“I’m one-sixteenth Cherokee,” said a probie from B-shift. “Does that count?”
“I don’t think so, no,” Buck said. He caught Eddie’s eye, and Eddie hastily turned a laugh into a cough.
“You have to decide that for yourself,” Bobby said dampeningly.
“What about the Japanese occupation of Korea?” Chim inquired.
Well, if they were going to get technical: “Texas used to just be Mexico,” Eddie felt obliged to point out. “Then one day the Tejanos woke up and it was America. That was the border moving, Cap, not my ancestors. What am I supposed to do here?”
“Remember the Alamo.” Chim popped his gum.
“People, please!” Bobby sounded like a harassed elementary school teacher. “Use your own best judgment, this isn’t meant to be a discussion. If you have immediate family members who are doctors, lawyers, or other professionals, take a step forward.”
Irritated at being left behind again—Buck, Chimney, and many of the others had advanced—Eddie started inventing new questions in his head. Take three steps forward if you bust your ass every day to provide for your family.
I don’t need a provider. Shannon’s voice echoed in his ears. I need a partner.
Eddie needed coffee.
He abandoned his position, making a beeline for the kitchen. He grabbed his coffee and scooped a couple more pastries from the pile. When he turned around, the whole room was staring at him.
Bobby raised his eyebrows.
“Sorry, Cap,” he said sheepishly. “It was an emergency.”
He shoved a croissant into Buck’s hand as he passed him, returning to his place further back.
“I love you, Eddie,” Buck called after him, mouth already full.
Bobby looked distinctly unimpressed. Casual noncompliance was to be expected from the likes of Evan Buckley, not Eddie Diaz. If any of the white people present had so blithely disregarded the exercise, Bobby would probably write them up for it. So what? Eddie knew how to turn a fixed situation to his advantage. If Bobby reprimanded him, he’d just say it was his old food insecurity acting up again, you know, one of those minor consequences of growing up on food stamps.
Eddie Diaz could break the rules when the need arose; he was just more shrewd about it than Evan Buckley.
But as he had anticipated, Bobby merely sighed and shuffled his papers. “Let’s stay focused, folks. Next: if you were ever stopped or questioned by the police because of your race, ethnicity, or sexual orientation, take one step back.”
Eddie stepped back and sipped his coffee, affecting nonchalance. He wanted to explain to everyone present that he’d grown up in a border town, la frontera—ICE territory, for fuckssake—and if he had a dollar for every time he’d been pulled over and asked to show ID, he’d be fucking rich and living in one of those Malibu mansions overlooking the PCH.
He wondered how many steps he had left before his back would be up against the wall.
Chancing a glance behind him, he locked eyes with Hen.
A sort of rueful exasperation passed between them.
Eddie didn’t actually want the danish he’d taken from the platter; he’d just done it to be an asshole. Kind of like the time he’d told Buck that the lighting in the firehouse made his muscles look soft. (It didn’t. Nothing in this world, not even the flattest, bluest light, could make Buck’s muscles look soft.) So he offered Hen the pastry, and she accepted it gratefully.
Fuck this, Eddie mouthed.
She mimed sticking an IV into her arm.
He mimed shooting his brains out.
Silently, they cracked up.
“Last question: if you were told by your parents that you were beautiful, smart, or capable, and that they were proud of you, take a step forward.”
Well, that was something at least. Eddie took the step, along with everyone else.
Everyone except… Buck.
What the hell?
*
“That was completely humiliating,” Hen fumed as they left the firehouse later. “Those bullshit exercises, all they do is humiliate the people whose identities are already marginalized—and for what? The education of our more privileged colleagues? Because I certainly didn’t learn anything, Eddie, did you?”
“Only that I’m a loser, apparently,” he replied. He agreed with her, he’d found the whole thing stupid and embarrassing, but his mind was elsewhere.
“Awareness, my ass,” Hen snapped. “Karen will lose her mind when I tell her. HR is so out of touch, it’s a damn joke. I mean, could they be any more problematic? We shouldn’t have to explain ourselves! And I just know it, the next time there’s a call out in Inglewood, somebody’s gonna be like, ‘Oh, Wilson, you grew up here, didn’t you? Wasn’t that scary?’ So I really get it, Eddie, why you didn’t want to join the fire department back in Texas.”
“Oh, yeah, well…” he said vaguely. He’d applied to Los Angeles and Chicago because they were the best in the country; he chose LA because he didn’t like the cold and figured winter weather would only compound Chris’s mobility challenges. And if he’d stayed in El Paso, his parents would have taken Christopher. It was as simple as that.
Shannon living in LA had nothing to do with anything.
Hen stopped walking and put a hand on his arm. She was scrutinizing him closely. “Am I making you uncomfortable, venting at you?” she asked kindly. “I don’t mean to pry into your life, Eddie. I just—well. I’ve always been so grateful for Chimney, because I can talk to him about things Bobby and Buck won’t understand. But then today happens, and suddenly I’m aware of class all over again, that we come from such different backgrounds.”
Eddie nodded, because he owed her some kind of response. Just that morning, he’d been wishing she would tease him or roast him or mess with him, but he hadn’t expected her to get so real with him. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to, uh. Have someone else on the team who doesn’t take the good life for granted, either.”
“It is.” She smiled at him. “You’re a bit of an enigma, Eddie, but I like you.”
He smiled back. “I like you guys, too. I really lucked out.”
“So you’re happy with the 118? You feel comfortable here? I’m curious to know where your head’s at, Eddie, because your face never gives away a damn thing.”
Eddie knew this was his moment to say that they could all stop treating him like a war hero, for starters, that just because he’d been in Afghanistan and was a single dad and had a kid with CP, they didn’t need to walk on eggshells around him. They could tease him and give him shit; he would take it and dish it two times back. Just ask Buck. Buck knew.
Buck, who just then strode past them without a word on his way to the parking lot.
I’m curious to know where your head’s at, Eddie.
“…Buck,” he said heavily.
“What?” Hen looked perplexed.
“That question. You know, from the game, when we were supposed to take a step forward if our parents said they were proud of us or whatever. Buck didn’t.”
Hen sighed. “How is it possible,” she wanted to know, “that you come out of Diversity Awareness Day worried about the white boy?”
“He basically said his parents don’t love him.” Eddie was troubled by it. His own parents were strict and controlling and they always thought they knew better, but they never left him in any doubt that they loved him.
“Maybe he wasn’t paying attention.”
“He wouldn’t look anyone in the eye all day. And just now—you saw how he avoided us.”
“White fragility? I hear it’s lonely up there.”
“Hen.”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a little shove. “Go on, then, go take care of our boy, Eddie.”
Impulsively, Eddie planted a quick kiss on her cheek. Then he jogged after Buck.
Buck was getting into his jeep. Before he could start the engine, Eddie opened the door and swung into the passenger seat.
“…Eddie?” Buck looked at him suspiciously. “Do you need a ride? I thought you drove today.”
“I did, my truck’s right over there. I just need to talk to you real quick.”
“Okay.” Buck drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m kinda in a hurry, though.”
“You got somewhere to be?”
“Maybe.”
Christ, the guy was a terrible liar. Eddie decided to get right to the point. “During the thing, the—what did you call it?—the privilege walk—you didn’t move when Bobby asked if our parents were proud of us.”
“Yeah, so?”
“That worries me, man.”
“Would you rather I lied about it?” Buck stared straight ahead, frowning.
“This isn’t about me right now,” Eddie said. “And I’m not here to ask you any questions. I just wanted to say that your parents, wherever they are, whoever they are, they should be proud of you.”
Buck’s jaw clenched. He seemed to be grinding his teeth.
“’Cause you’re all those things, what Bobby said—”
“‘Beautiful, smart, and capable’?” Buck said. His mouth twisted bitterly. “Sure, Eddie.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said, doggedly. He hadn’t been raised to call other men ‘beautiful,’ but he wasn’t in El Paso anymore, he wasn’t in the Army, he was a real man, not some cheap caballero knock-off, and he had fucking eyes in his head. Buck was beautiful, and it wasn’t just aesthetics, it was probably mathematics, too. “You’re beautiful, smart, and capable. And, like, I don’t know what crack your parents are smoking if they can’t see that, but—fuck ’em. We see it. The 118. Bobby, Hen, Chimney, and me. So even if your family’s shitty, you’ve still got people who are proud of you, Buck.”
Buck didn’t reply immediately. Eddie shifted in his seat. He’d said his piece, maybe he should give the guy some space now? There was only so much feelings-talk a man could stomach, and Eddie was fast approaching his capacity too.
“I’m sorry,” Buck said at last.
“…why?”
“This is completely ass-backwards.”
“What is?”
“This.” Buck waved a hand between them. “You shouldn’t have to be here, making me feel better. I should be the one checking on you, dude. I saw your face today. I thought you were gonna pop a blood vessel during implicit bias training.”
Eddie chuckled. “Huntington was giving me that ‘I don’t see color’ crap, trying so hard to prove he was down. But honestly, Buck, I’m over it. Not that bothered.”
“No?” Buck looked at him intently. “I mean, no offense, Eds, but how could you not be?”
“Okay, fine, I was embarrassed during the privilege walk, but then I realized… All those steps I didn’t get to take, or all those steps I had to take backwards—those are gonna be steps forward for my kid, you know? With this job, I can give him everything he deserves. Send him to sleepaway camp, if he wants.” Except, whoa, Eddie hated the idea of that, Christopher far away from him. “College,” he amended. “Chris can be a marine biologist, or a vet, or a goddamn astronaut, whatever he wants. Far as I’m concerned, the world is his. That’s all I care about.”
“You’re an incredible father, Eddie. Chris is so lucky to have you.” Buck looked at him with a gaze that revealed both a fierceness and a fundamental decency—not of manners and mores, but of a deeper, more simple noble type. For a man as beautiful as Buck, Eddie reflected, that kind of gaze was rare. People who looked like Buck were habituated to attention; they regarded women and other men with the cold self-satisfaction of an actor in front of a camera. Not Buck, though. Buck was different.
Buck was smiling at him with a certain bashfulness, and Eddie wondered if Buck would still smile at him like that if he knew the truth. Knew what a terrible husband and father he’d been. Knew how badly he’d failed Christopher, year after year.
“‘Lucky’ might be pushing it,” he said.
“Shut up, Eds, you move mountains for that kid.” Buck elbowed him across the console. “And I’m really glad I get to be a tiny part of his life. I’ve learned a lot from Christopher.”
“You and me both, man. Every day.”
They looked at each other, then spontaneously burst into laughter.
“Okay, good talk,” Eddie said, opening the car door.
“Yeah, good talk.” Buck was smirking, he totally knew that Eddie—god help him—couldn’t handle another second of bonding and feelings. And that was the ingenious thing about Buck, he pushed and he pushed, but somehow he always intuited when Eddie needed to slink off and recharge his introvert batteries, to recover from the ordeal of placing his trust in another person. “Thanks, Eddie.”
“Any time, Buck,” Eddie replied. “See you tomorrow.”
He felt utterly drained when he got back to his own car. The acceleration of his friendship with Buck perplexed him sometimes. They were such opposites. Buck was unentangled (invisible girlfriend notwithstanding); Eddie was a knot. There was Eddie’s son and Buck’s childlessness. Buck’s plan for eventual children, Eddie’s battle to care for the child that he had. But they were both lonely, and there was a strange compatibility in their loneliness. So it had been worth it, sharing something of himself, because he’d coaxed Buck out of his funk and got him laughing again.
It wasn’t until Eddie was pulling into his driveway later that he realized Buck hadn’t really told him anything in return.