Hot Mess

by Anne Conley

  "You know how your father and I feel about your…illness, and we don't want to expose our friends to that side of our lives. Prayer cures disease. Your father and I have prayed for your cure for years. Since you still have the disease, it must be the work of the devil, Rachel. I will not allow the devil to be a part of your father and mine's celebration."

  "Do your friends even know I exist? Or did you tell them I died in a fiery auto crash?" Her voice was rising, and Rachel knew it was a defense mechanism. If she didn't yell, she would cry.

  Silence at the other end of the phone line gave Rachel her answer and left her breathless.

  "You've told your friends I'm dead?"

  "You are, Rachel. The Lord our God had wreaked his vengeance upon you, and we will not taint our friends with your lustful ways."

  "Mom…" Rachel didn't know what to say. She shouldn't have been surprised, because they'd been treating her like a contagion for a decade, but it still hurt. A lot. Choking back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her despite her best efforts she croaked, "Happy Anniversary," before hanging up the phone.

  The next afternoon, she and Cindy were at the park. It was a beautiful day, and most of the town was there, enjoying the weather. Cindy's daughter Shelley was playing with Sophia on the merry-go-round, and Cindy and Rachel were sitting under a tree watching.

  "Everything going okay with you, Rach?" Cindy asked.

  "Yeah, of course. T cells are good again, viral load is still undetectable. What more could I ask for?" Rachel was flippant because she knew she didn't answer Cindy's question. Her friend was smarter than she was giving her credit for.

  "Um, I wasn't talking about that stuff, although that's really good. But I can see you've lost weight, and you look like shit. What's going on, Rach?" The concern in Cindy's eyes lifted her spirits. At least one person worried about her.

  "My parents think I'm a product of Satan and have completely disowned me, for starters."

  "How is that different from the last time we talked about them?"

  Unable to look at her friend, Rachel's eyes scanned the playground. She watched the kids play, blinking back tears. The tears had been so close to the surface since she and Sam had…well, since she and Sam had broken up. Months ago. She really needed to see Dr. Baine to change her anti-depressants. She needed to go back to her therapist.

  Reading her mind, Cindy asked, "Have you talked to anybody?"

  Rachel shook her head no, and her gaze rested on a pair of eyes on the other side of the playground. Eyes that were watching her intently. Blue eyes.

  Sam.

  Her skin was suddenly itchy under his gaze as the butterflies in her stomach welled, just like they always did when she watched him.

  Only now, he was watching her with an inscrutable intensity that set her body on fire. A sob escaped her throat, and she turned away from him.

  Of course, Cindy noticed. "Rachel? What's wrong?"

  Rachel could feel the tears streaming down her face, and she cursed them.

  "I can't do this anymore, Cindy."

  "Can't do what?"

  "Any of it. I can't deal with not having any friends, nobody loves me, my family's abandoned me. I can't do any of it!" Frustrated, she swiped at the tears, but they just kept coming.

  Cindy pulled her into a fierce hug. "Stop it, right now Rachel Fairchild. I'm your friend, and I love you. I don't know what I would do without you. And don't you dare forget about Sophia. You can't just leave her with that idiotic family of yours. There's no telling how fucked up they will make her."

  "I've already changed my will. After the accident. You get Sophie. I can't leave her anywhere near my family. I thought Brandon would take care of her, but…"

  "Shh…We don't have to talk about this now, Rachel. This is a rough spot. You'll get over it. You're strong. Remain Rachel. That's the name of your site, what you tell people to do for themselves. Stay true to yourself, Rachel, be who you've always been. You have to." Rachel watched as Cindy's eyes roamed the playground, looking for whatever had set off her friend. When they landed on Sam, Cindy turned back to her.

  Rachel composed herself quickly, and swiped at the tears streaking down her cheeks.

  "I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that, Cindy."

  "I do, and he's still looking."

  Rachel looked back at Sam, and she almost started crying again. His eyes held a sadness that matched her own, and she wanted to go to him so badly. But she was afraid of being rejected again. If he did it again, she didn't know what she would do.

  Shrugging, Rachel tried to look away, but Sam stood, still staring at her. As he started walking across the playground, weaving around children, Rachel's heart started pounding. If he came over to talk to her she wouldn't be able to say anything. Her breath came in short gasps, and Rachel was afraid she would hyperventilate. As he got closer to them, she saw his eyes looked glassy, as if there were unspilled tears in them. When he was about ten feet away, he stopped walking and just stood there, still staring at Rachel. He seemed frozen in the spot, and his mouth opened, then closed, and she wondered what he wanted to say to her.

  Apparently deciding against saying anything to her, the next time his mouth opened, it let loose with, "Amanda! It's time to go!"

  Rachel's heart broke again, as he watched him walk away.

  "Damn." Cindy's voice was hushed. "It's like "The Young and the Restless" up in here. Let's go."

  Chapter 15

  Unlike most professionals, firefighters must perform at peak mental and physical levels with little or no notice. Constant readiness is imperative. Preparing for incident response involves more than firefighters merely making sure they know where they are going.--From Firefighter's Handbook, Essentials of Firefighting and Emergency Response

  With the gorgeous Spring weather, came barbecues, trash burning, and wildfires. When the call came in, Sam was playing a game of pool with JT, Cade and Derrick. They dropped their sticks and suited up, leaving in the brush truck followed closely by the pumper truck.

  By the time they reached their designated location, the fire had engulfed several acres and was spreading fast. Sam's crew grabbed the Indian cans filled with water, and headed to one end, while the volunteer department headed to the other. Fanning out at the edge of the flames, they attempted to douse the fire. Sam was between Juan, who was next to Cade, and Derrick. All of them spraying an arc of water into the fire in an attempt to keep it from coming closer. Derrick stepped away from Sam, getting a little too close to the flames. Sam said something to him, and Derrick either didn't hear or was ignoring him. Sam bet it was the latter because Derrick took another step away.

  Sam focused his energies on the fire, which was quickly consuming anything in its path. Summer was almost here, and the Spring rains had stopped, leaving nothing but crackling tinder in its wake. Juan yelled something at Sam, and he looked over at him. Juan's face was incredulous, as he looked over Sam's shoulder. Sam turned, and saw that Derrick had walked too far away and was now surrounded by fire.

  Turning his Indian can to his direction, he tried to calm the flames that were licking closer to Derrick. Derrick's face was an unreadable mask, etched with concentration as he focused his Indian can on the flames in front of him, oblivious to his danger. Sam was yelling, waving his arms, trying to get Derrick's attention, but Derrick was unaware of his situation. Sam wished the department had forked over the money for radios inside the PPG helmets.

  The wind chose that moment to kick up, sending a shower of sparks in Sam's direction. He couldn't get any closer to Derrick, the heat was just too intense. Something broke through Derrick's fog and he turned to see the predicament he was in. Panic lit his features, and Sam redoubled his efforts to tame the raging inferno between them. Juan had joined his efforts to save Derrick, and together, they pumped water on the flames, which seemed to absorb them, almost as if they were feeding on it.

  Sam dropped his empty can and ran to grab the hose from Cade, who still had
n't noticed what was going on. By the time he'd run back to where Derrick was, he couldn't see him anymore.

  Without a thought other than he hoped the protective gear he wore would do what it was designed to do, Sam ducked his head and ran straight into the wall of flames, desperate to find his comrade. He didn't have far to go, the wall of flame was only a stride or two wide, and Sam was on the other side, an almost perfect circle that Derrick had managed to wet with his Indian can before being knocked unconscious by a falling tree. The tree wasn't too big, and Sam was able to tug it off Derrick's legs.

  The suit was keeping him from catching on fire, but the heat was seeping in at an alarming rate. Sam felt like his skin was boiling, and he rushed to drag Derrick out. Pulling him from under his armpits, Sam tried to run backwards dragging the grown man with all of his extra poundage of gear. Sam didn't dare try to take anything off, Derrick would need the extra protection.

  When he reached the wall of flame to drag Derrick through, Sam tried to move as quickly as he could. The heat was incredibly intense, and Sam just knew his skin would start peeling off at any moment. Then he was through.

  Hands grabbed at him roughly, dragging him backwards. Sam was aware of yelling and tugging on his helmet. His last conscious thought was that almost fifty percent of deaths by fire were rescuers.

  His next thought was that the lights were too bright, and somebody had better get their fucking fingers out of his eyes. It was a doctor, or somebody, shining a pen light into his pupils. He reacted, jumping out of his skin, and by reflex, drew back his fists to hit the poor man.

  "Hey, buddy. I see you're awake." The doctor flinched before smiling, relaxing Sam somewhat.

  "Am I in the hospital?" He felt groggy, and his hands hurt like hell.

  "Yup. You are in the hospital. And you're in pretty good shape. You should be able to go home this evening."

  Sam looked around him. He was in an area of the emergency room. He could tell by the familiar curtain around his bed area and the hellacious noise outside.

  "Where's Derrick?"

  The doctor smiled again. "Derrick's going to be fine. I understand congratulations are in order. You saved his life."

  "It's my job," Sam grumbled.

  "Then, somebody should make you employee of the month." The doctor left, and Sam felt around at the tubes sticking out of him. He had an IV and oxygen. His first impulse was to pull them out, and go check on Derrick, but he opted to let them stay. If the doctor said Derrick would be fine, then he probably would be. Derrick may be an asshole, but that was no reason to let him die.

  He waited until a nurse came in to check on him, and asked if he could be allowed to walk around. She didn't agree until she checked all of his vitals and then got the doctor's permission. Then she came back in and removed his IV line. She handed him a portable oxygen tank.

  "You need to carry this with you. They're probably going to send you home with one anyway."

  "Thanks, I've got one at home though. I have all kinds of shit like this in my garage."

  She raised her eyebrows and let him leave the curtained area.

  He walked around the emergency room, peeking in curtains until he found Derrick. He pulled the curtain aside and sat in the chair next to his bed.

  Derrick looked to be unconscious, but when the chair scraped across the floor, his eyes fluttered open.

  "Hey man," Sam said cautiously. "How you feeling?"

  "Like burned toast." Derrick croaked. He had the oxygen tube snaking out his nose, and Sam could see most of his arms and legs were covered with bandages. Thankfully, his head was unscathed. Nobody liked looking at firefighters with burnt faces. It really messed with a guy's self-image.

  "You look like it too," Sam joked.

  A glimpse of a smile broke Derrick's face.

  "Look man, now may not be a good time, but I've got to get some stuff off my chest, clear the air between us. Is that okay?"

  Derrick turned his head towards Sam and lifted an eyebrow. "Sure."

  "I want you to know that Brenda is my employee, and nothing has ever, nor will it ever be going on between us. I promise. I take my responsibilities as a fire fighter very seriously, and I would not jeopardize the team by screwing around with some other guy's girl."

  The smile left Derrick's face. "She's not my girl."

  "Maybe not now, but I'm willing to get into your corner and fight for you, as long as you quit doing stupid shit on the job."

  Derrick was thoughtful a minute, then a hesitant smile came back to his face. "My corner?"

  "Yeah, I'll put in a good word or two, man. She's a good girl, and you can be a good guy."

  Derrick lifted his fist for a bump, then noticed the bandages, as if for the first time. "She's not going to want this, man. She didn't even want me when I was whole. Now I'm just a crispy critter."

  "Naw, I wouldn't worry about that. She's a great nurse with 'Manda. I'll bet she'd love to nurse you back to health, and then you can show her just how healthy you are, man. If you know what I mean."

  Derrick flashed him a genuine grin, and Sam left feeling better than he did when he walked into Derrick's room.

  Until he remembered his own love life was in the shitter.

  Determined to do something about his own life, he called his Dad as soon as he got home.

  "Hey, Dad."

  "Sam! What's happened? You don't usually call unless something's wrong. Is Punkin okay?" Rare emotion seeped into his Dad's voice, and Sam regretted not calling him more often, just to chat.

  "I'm sorry about that, but I have to ask you a question." Sam needed to wrap his head around this thing with Rachel, or he knew he wouldn't be able to move on.

  "Shoot."

  "Okay. If you had met Mom when she was sick, and you knew she was going to die, would you still have done it? Would you have done it all the same way?"

  His father was quiet for a minute, and Sam felt guilty abut the question. It was stupid.

  "Son…I love your mother. I couldn't have done it any other way. Of course I would still have been with her, beside her through all of it, even if she'd been sick when we met. You can't just turn love off because it's hard. What's this all about?"

  "I met a woman. But she's sick, and she's dying. I can't put Amanda through losing a mother again, Dad. I just can't." His voice cracked with emotion he wasn't comfortable sharing with anyone but his father.

  "Son, you fight fire for a living. Who's to say this woman will be the first one to go? Do you love her?"

  "Yeah, Dad. I do."

  "Well, is she staying away from you because you might die on her?"

  Sam thought about it. "I don't know. I fucked up, Dad. And I don't know how to fix it."

  "You may not be able to, but you need to try."

  Sam took Amanda to the lake that weekend with Juan and Cade. He'd missed the weekly fishing trip a couple of weeks in a row, and Cade had called specifically to tell him to come today. After seeing Rachel at the park last week, he still couldn't put aside the strong desire to sink into a six-pack, but he knew that wasn't the right answer.

  He'd wanted to talk to her so badly, but he still didn't know what he needed to say, if anything, and a crowded park wasn't the place to do it anyway. Still, seeing her there made him miserable. Talking to his dad yesterday had helped him sort through his feelings, though. He knew he wanted to try again, but he just wasn't sure how to get the ball rolling, so to speak. She looked as miserable as he felt, and he wasn't about to presume it was because of him. If she was that wretched because of what Sam had done, he wanted to rip his own heart out with a spoon. Guilt was dragging him down, and he needed to make it right.

  Cade had tossed his bobber into the water, and leaned back on his elbows, resting the cane pole on his knees.

  "You are such a lazy son of a bitch," Juan teased him.

  "Well, y'all don't ever catch anything with all that casting y'all do. There's no sense in wasting all that energy. I'm tired." He leaned
back and closed his eyes, lifting his face to the setting sun.

  Amanda had gone to the other side of the lake to get away from the men, saying they were boring and was listening to her iPod and drawing in a sketch pad that Sam had bought her. He liked that she was enjoying art. His mother had been a good artist with charcoals. He smiled at the memory.

  When they'd first moved here, she'd been sad to leave her old friends, still recovering from her mother's death. And then she'd met Sophia and started doing so much better. He had caved and let her go back to Rachel's house in the evenings after her homework was finished. She seemed to be doing better in school and was at least speaking to him again.

  "Hey man, we wanted to talk to you." Juan had taken on the role of Sam's big brother, which was almost comical, since Sam was a good foot taller.

  "Oh yeah? What about?"

  "You." Juan grabbed beer out of the cooler and passed them around to everybody. "And we wanted to give you a heads up."

  "About what?"

  Juan nudged Cade with the beer, "You tell him."

  A sinking feeling hit Sam, and he wondered what in the hell this was about.

  Cade sat up and took a drink from his bottle. "Last week I went out with this girl who is a reporter for the Serendipity Herald. She told me she's going to do a story on Rachel Fairchild."

  Sam's ears perked up. He'd been listening, but it just sounded like Cade was about to brag about his conquests, and he wasn't really in the mood for that. At the mention of Rachel's name however, he turned to face Cade.

  "Crystal?" He knew that woman was trouble.

  "Yeah." Cade took a swig of his beer.

  "What kind of story?"

  "About how she has AIDS," Cade replied, quietly.

  "She doesn't have AIDS," Sam growled at him.

  "Look man, I was just telling you. Maybe you could warn her or something. This girl's a real bitch and said she'd found a website that Rachel ran, or something. She was going to call her soon and try to get some information, but this reporter has been posing as a sick woman and asking Rachel all kinds of questions on her website and stuff." Cade took a sip of his beer. "I'm not going to see her again. I told her to leave Rachel alone, but we ended up getting into a big fight about it."