by Jack Fisher
Eventually, he gave in. A sense of despair and acceptance was clearly overwhelming him. Taking a deep breath, Peter finally told her.
“Okay, here goes. In the simplest terms, I killed somebody.”
Chapter Eight
#xa0;
Her ears were ringing. Mary blinked a few times in disbelief. Peter couldn’t have just said what she’d heard him say. It couldn’t be that outrageous. He can’t have just admitted to killing someone, can he?
Her mouth hung open in astonishment. She tried to say something, but no words came out.
Peter let the revelation sink in for a moment, shifting awkwardly under her gaze. He tried to watch the softball game, which was still going on, but this time it offered little distraction for either of them. It wouldn’t matter if they were watching a tornado form. It couldn’t have shaken Mary from her shocked state.
“So, yeah…it was pretty bad,” Peter said, finally breaking the silence.
“What did…? How did…? I, uh… Wow,” stammered Mary.
“Need some details?”
“Please,” she managed to get out. So many crazy scenarios ran through her mind. How can something like this make sense?
It definitely qualified as a moment of clarity, being involved in someone’s death. She was sure of that, but Mary still refused to believe it had been as terrible as he’d said.
“It happened three months, two weeks and five days ago. And yes, I have been keeping track. And, yes, I know that’s not healthy,” Peter said, clearly trying to maintain his composure as best he could.
“I’m…not sure that concept applies here,” Mary said, still struggling to remain calm.
“It’s a typical Tuesday at the fire station. I was nearing the end of my shift. I was already making plans. I went to the garage to do a final inventory of our gear, as I was required to do. Then, I got this text on my phone. It was from a woman I’d been flirting with—an insanely hot woman who claimed she had every modeling agent in the palm of her hand. She’d once bragged that her pussy brought agents—male and female—to their knees.”
“She’s hot. I get it. How the fuck does this relate to killing someone?” Mary asked.
“Both directly and indirectly,” he answered. “In her text, she sent me a picture of her in stiletto heels, black lace panties and nothing else. She also sent an address of the hotel she was staying at, which was only a thirty-minute drive in LA traffic. She told me she would be flying out of town later that evening and this would be our last chance to hook up. I just had to duck out early, get in my car and go to her.”
“Still very confused here,” Mary said.
“Then here’s a crash course on the nature of my job. I’m a firefighter. Lives are on the line when I’m on duty. While we’re on our shift, we need to be ready at a moment’s notice. If we’re not, we put those lives in danger. Being a guy who loves to set high standards, I made it a point to always be ready. Sure, there had been times when I slipped—sometimes because of a woman and other times to catch a movie—but I’d never flat-out abandoned my post. For a woman like this, I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Then, as I was running out to my car, I heard the alarm go off.”
Mary struggled to see the connection, but these details were clearly important to him. The way Peter described them made them a critical part of this defining moment. He stared off into space, as though he could still hear that alarm ringing in his ear. She resisted the urge to ask more questions.
“I should’ve responded to that call,” Peter said solemnly. “It didn’t matter if it was just some idiot teenager who’d lit a trashcan on fire. It was still an emergency and I was the guy my crew relied on to go the extra mile. I was a leader and an example to everyone.”
“Was?” Mary asked.
“I know what I said,” he replied, “because the moment I decided to meet up with a beautiful woman instead of doing my job, I threw away that title. I knew it was wrong. I even hesitated, giving myself plenty of time to change that decision, but…I didn’t.”
Now dropping his head low in shame, Peter swallowed a couple of times in another clear sign of emotional strain. Reliving the moment was obviously traumatic. It didn’t explain how that related to killing someone, but it revealed a profound upheaval in his life.
As the shock wore off, Mary continued to listen. She gave Peter the time he needed. The strong man he’d grown into seemed to revert to the insecure boy she’d known in her youth. Just as she had in years past, Mary tried to give him strength.
“Maybe you should stop. Maybe this is something I don’t need to know,” Mary said.
“No. I want… No, I need to tell you,” Peter said, his strength returning. “What happened next is kind of a blur. I turned off my phone, ran to my car and drove off. I still remember the sound of the siren. I even remember hearing the fire truck pull out. After that, I shut everything out. My dick was in the driver’s seat. I didn’t allow myself to think any other thoughts.”
“That woman better have been worth it,” Mary said.
Peter scoffed and shook his head in dismay. “That’s the pathetic part. I don’t even remember it being that special. I met her in her hotel room. We had a few drinks, then we ripped our clothes off and fucked. It really wasn’t any different from the dozens of other pretty girls I’d slept with. She just had a slightly nicer rack than most of them.”
“So…it wasn’t the mind-blowing sex she promised you?”
“Not really. It was just sex. We got into bed, we talked dirty and we humped each other’s brains out. I did what I always did. I’d long since stopped overthinking it, just lost myself in the pleasure. Hell, I don’t even remember going home that night. It wasn’t until morning that I realized how badly I’d screwed up.”
The strain in his voice escalated. He made an angry fist and cursed himself under his breath. It probably wasn’t the first time, either. Mary had done more than her share of self-loathing, but not like this. She was tempted to give him some space but stayed close. If he really needed to tell her, then she needed to be there to listen.
“As soon as I turned my phone back on, I saw a long string of missed calls and voicemails,” Peter continued. “Derek Sanchez, one of the lieutenants, had sent most of them. That call I ignored wasn’t just some stoner who’d fallen asleep on his couch. It was this old apartment complex in West Hollywood. Some rats got into a bundle of outdated fuse boxes, chewed through some wires and ignited the wooden infrastructure. Most of the people on the lower levels got out, but…there was this family on the top floor. They were throwing a big family party to celebrate this guy’s eightieth birthday. He was in a wheelchair, so when smoke started filling the building, they were reluctant to leave.”
“Understandable,” Mary said, “but don’t all firefighters train for that sort of thing?”
“Of course we do, but training only goes so far when you don’t have the right equipment. Remember how I said I was checking the gear before I got that call? Well…” He cursed himself again, giving himself the brunt of the blame for what happened. Mary could only assume it was worse than anything he could describe.
“My squad—the squad I was responsible for—didn’t have enough oxygen in their tanks,” Peter said solemnly. “It was my job to make sure those tanks were full. It was my job and I neglected it…all for some meaningless sex with some bimbo I haven’t seen since.”
“You can’t blame yourself entirely,” Mary said.
“It gets worse. Even without full oxygen tanks, they still could’ve saved those people. I could’ve led them. Hell, I had led them through way worse situations before. Even on my worst day, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Except…I wasn’t there. I should’ve been there, but…I wasn’t.”
Saying those words out loud clearly hurt. Peter eventually stopped cursing himself and slumped down on the bench in defeat. Mary knew that feeling, as well.
“To their credit, my squad made a hell of an effort. However, they only ended up mak
ing things worse,” Peter said solemnly. “They broke down a few too many walls, causing parts of the roof to collapse. Some got injured, which slowed them down even more. This made the situation even more dangerous for the family. The smoke kept getting thicker. The flames kept getting hotter. By the time someone made it through…”
Peter had to stop again. Tears had formed in his eyes—something Mary had never seen before. Growing up, he had been so reserved. It had taken a lot to get him to show much emotion. After reliving the painful moment, he looked ready to break down.
In an effort to console him, Mary gave his hand a firm squeeze. It seemed to help somewhat, but he was still very tense, breathing steadily and swallowing hard to contain his emotions. This time, she didn’t ask him to stop. She could’ve filled in the blanks from here, but Peter needed to finish sharing his tormented recollection.
“Nine people were in that room—three men, four women and two children,” Peter said, the memories still painfully vivid. “They all died—every one of them. By the time my squad got to them, the smoke had killed them. The news called it a tragedy. My squad called it a botched rescue. I call it what it is…a crime.”
“Peter, you can’t—” began Mary, only to be cut off.
“Yes, Mary, I can,” Peter said angrily. “It was criminal negligence on my part. I wasn’t there. I didn’t do my job. I was so fucking mad at myself. Anything in my condo that wasn’t nailed down, I threw it. If it was nailed down, I punched it. Every beautiful woman I’d ever slept with… It now felt so…so tainted.”
Mary opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. There was nothing she could say to undo the impact of what had happened. She could only try to understand it within the context of her own pain. However, he still wasn’t finished.
“I was ready to throw myself onto the steps of the nearest police station,” continued Peter, still brimming with anger. “I prepared a confession. I even prepared hand-written letters to every relative of that family. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you look at it—the station chief stopped me. I told him everything. I told him about the woman. I told him how I left my shift early. I even laid out in perfect detail how I could’ve saved those people if I had been there. I wanted to pay for my crimes.”
“But he didn’t see it that way, did he?” Mary surmised.
“No. He couldn’t have,” Peter said. “We did end up getting sued by the owner of the building. I was ready to accept full responsibility, but the case got dismissed as soon as the insurance companies stepped in. By the letter of the law, the only thing I was guilty of was ducking out of work. The worst that would have gotten me was a suspension, a pay cut and a reprimand. I would’ve accepted all of that and more, but all the chief did was reprimand me. He didn’t even demote me or dock my pay. He said my record was too good to be tainted by this tragedy.”
“Except it still wasn’t just a tragedy in your eyes.”
“Don’t talk like you understand, Mary,” he said in a harsher tone. “I did something I knew was wrong, but I didn’t care. Nine people died…all because I couldn’t turn down a chance to fuck some nameless bimbo. Now, I have to live with that until the day I die. And honestly, I don’t know if I can.”
The full weight of Peter Rogers’ burden finally became clear. In his mind, he’d killed those people. It didn’t matter what the law had said. It didn’t matter what his colleagues had said. He blamed himself for those deaths. There weren’t too many people who could understand that kind of burden. However, Mary was one of those select few.
A heavy silence fell over them. The sounds of the softball game kept it from getting too awkward. Even in the hot summer wind, a cold feeling came over her. Mary kept her hand on Peter’s, offering what comfort she could. He remained distraught, obviously reliving the impact of that decision. Mary gave him time to deal with that while doing what she could to support him.
The shock she’d felt earlier had morphed into something completely different. The events of the previous night took on a very different meaning, as did her own personal burdens, but just understanding Peter’s plight wasn’t enough. Hearing his story put her problems in a new context. Now, the dorky boy turned handsome man sitting next to her had become someone else entirely.
“Gabriel Anderson,” Mary said, finally breaking the silence.
“What?” Peter said, tensing at the sound of the name.
“Gabriel Anderson,” she repeated. “That’s the name of the man whose family died in that fire, isn’t it? He was the man they were celebrating that day.”
“How did…?”
“Sister Angela mentioned that name,” Mary said before he could finish. “She also said the family sent you letters saying they forgave you.”
Peter groaned something under his breath. He was cursing Sister Angela for telling her, but she sensed that he still directed the bulk of the anger at himself.
“Does it really matter?” he questioned.
“Yeah, I think it does. I think it matters a lot,” Mary said.
“Well, their forgiveness doesn’t matter to me. Why the hell would Sister Angela tell you about that? Don’t nuns take a vow of secrecy or something?”
“You’re thinking about doctors and priests. And even if there was an oath like that, I don’t think Sister Angela would keep it. She’ll bend the rules if she thinks it’ll help people cope…although her preferred method of coping is still suspect.”
“That still doesn’t explain why she told you,” Peter said.
“It’s not for the reason you think. She came to me earlier today, saying she was worried about you. She asked me to reach out to you. She told me this because she thought I would understand your problems better than anyone else. Now I know she was right.”
Peter looked at her strangely, clearly neither believing Sister Angela’s reason for telling her nor accepting that she was right. However, Mary was already convinced. It was tragic, but promising in some ways, because it meant he might be able to understand her pain in the same way she understood his.
She kept trying to comfort him. She even tried to flash that goofy smile that had always seemed to work on him when they had been kids. This time, however, it didn’t.
“I…I can’t do this anymore,” Peter said in a distressed tone.
He abruptly pulled his hand out of her grip then stood. Mary did, as well, and she tried to reach out to him again, but he pulled back and began walking away. Unlike last night, though, Mary didn’t get angry.
“Peter, wait!” she called out.
“I’ve had enough of this today, Mary,” Peter said. “Thanks for listening, but I think I’m worn out.”
He started walking faster, navigating the stands like an obstacle course to get to the exit. Mary did her best to keep up with him. She could tell he was still upset, hiding his expression and avoiding awkward gazes from everyone he passed. She couldn’t let him run off this time. She might end up losing more than just a friend.
After making it out of the stands and halfway toward the parking lot, she managed to catch up. He tried cutting across the lawn of the park, but Mary kept pursuing him. When she finally caught up, she grabbed his shoulder to stop him.
“Peter, come on. Don’t do this,” Mary urged him.
“Damn it, Mary. What do you want from me?” barked Peter.
He turned around and shoved her arm away. He tried to send her back with his upset glare, but Mary refused to be scared off.
“I want you to listen for a moment. I also want you to try something, because I really think I can help,” Mary said, staying calm yet assertive.
“I don’t know what kind of help you can offer, but I’m pretty sure I don’t need it right now,” Peter said.
“Come on, Peter. Your eight-year-old self was more convincing than that and he couldn’t lie about stealing my Halloween candy.”
“We’re not kids anymore. Don’t talk down to me like I’m the puny little shit I used to be.”
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br /> “I know you’re not that same boy. You’re a man now—a man who has been stumbling around the dark, tripping over his own ass trying to deal with his problems. You know you can’t do this alone. You’ve indirectly admitted it.”
“How do you figure that?” he scoffed.
“Because if you really believe what you just said, you wouldn’t have told me everything in the first place,” replied Mary. “Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”
His lips quivered. He had to know she was right. He wouldn’t admit it overtly. Peter had always hated admitting he was wrong. He didn’t have to in this instance. His silence gave Mary the answer she needed.
She gave him a moment to calm down, letting him fume so the emotions could run their course. Now they stood alone in the middle of a clearing in the late afternoon sun. They had no distractions from the softball game. They didn’t have to worry about being careful, either.
They had officially put themselves in the exact situation they’d promised to avoid, but Mary was willing to take that chance. She had taken so few over the past months, but now she had an opportunity to do something bold.
“What the hell are we doing here, Mary? What are we supposed to gain from this?” Peter asked, now more exhausted than angry.
“I’m still trying to figure that out. After what you just told me, I have a somewhat different perspective on my problems,” she said, “but I have an idea on how we can help each other. Not saying it’s a great idea, but I’m willing to try it. Are you?”
“That depends. What is it, and how crazy is it?”
He still looked very skeptical. Mary shared some of that. She had since turned off the part of her brain that urged her to second-guess herself. She had been doing that since she’d admitted she was a sex addict. In hearing Peter’s story and relating it to hers, she saw a few common themes.
Looking at her friend, Mary concluded that Peter didn’t have eleven months to deal with this problem through the program. Even if he did, he didn’t deserve to feel the misery and emptiness that she had experienced over those months. When she moved back to Hartman County, she’d had nobody to help her through the personal turmoil. Peter didn’t have to go through that…nor should he.
