Page 9 of Control Line

“Nope, lived here since middle school. Moved away for college and came right back.”

It baffled Zee that a man who seemed to have his life figured out, at least more than her, was homeless. On TV, firefighters spent a lot of time at the station, but not so much they didn’t need a home. What did she know, it wasn’t like TV was all that accurate, but something about the entire exchange bugged her.

“Here, chop these into about one inch cubes and I’ll start the meat.” Barney laid out an assortment of peppers and onions on the counter along with a chopping block and knife.

She was chopping and crying when she asked, “Are you really homeless?”

Barney reached around her and snatched a bit of pepper from the pile she was cutting and popped it in his mouth with a sad smile.

“Not only homeless. Dead.”

“Shit.” She nicked her finger.

“Fuck, sorry.” Barney grabbed a paper towel and dragged her over to the sink, running cold water over her ever-so-slightly bleeding finger.

“Death isn’t a joking matter.” Yet in reality, she was as casual about it as he was and that bothered her.

“You’re right, sorry again. Hold that.” Barney left her squeezing a paper towel around her finger while he grabbed a first aid kit.

“Let me see.” He wrapped a clear bandage over her cut. “I guess joking is my way of coping at this point. I’ve already gone through anger and bargaining.”

Zee was no stranger to the stages of grief, but she couldn’t figure out the puzzle of Barney.

“According to the government, I’m deceased. Lost everything I own because the state of California frowns upon dead men owning or renting property.” He dropped a kiss on her bandage.

“All better?” He asked as he closed the first aid kit.

“Yeah.” Her answer was a whisper. Zee couldn’t get her voice to work because she was still chewing over the fact he was dead.

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