Backfire

by J. R. Tate

  She laughed and patted his knee with her hand. “So, what brings you by today? Eva have to work?”

  “Yeah, she’s working. I just wanted to come chat. Wanted to take care of some of these outdoor chores too.”

  His mom scoffed. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here to take care of work that I can get done.”

  “Are you kidding? You don’t need to be up and cleaning out gutters and things. It’s no problem. If I sit at home, it’ll just drive me insane. I don’t mind at all.”

  “I’m not kidding,” she replied as she smirked. “I wasn’t going to do the work. I was gonna hire someone.” She took a sip of her tea and set it down on the table next to the swing. “I could tell you did need to talk, though. What’s bugging you?”

  Michael shrugged and stood up as he took note to various things that needed to be worked on. “Casey for one thing.”

  “Sit back down and talk. I hate it when you pace.” She patted the spot next to her on the swing and took another sip of her drink.

  Sitting back down, he raked his hand through his hair and watched the cars passing by on the street. She had moved to Queens to get away from Hell’s Kitchen, but with recent observation, Michael was realizing that Queens was getting just as bad, if not worse. Averting his attention back to her, he coughed to clear his throat.

  “I’m feeling really guilty about some stuff.”

  “Like?”

  “I still have a lot of doubt about him and if he’s going to stick to the rehab. Everyone else around me is being so supportive and upbeat. It’s like you guys have forgotten about all of the times he has relapsed before and I’m the only one left with those memories. Hell, I don’t know. It’s just a jumbled mess inside my head.”

  “Oh, I have my doubts too,” she replied. “I’m helping him pay for it all. It’s definitely crossed my mind. But I’ve also done a lot of reading about it all. You know how it is. An addict has to fully hit rock bottom before they finally get the help and stick to it. I’d say what you guys went through was definitely rock bottom.”

  “Yeah. It’s just a trust issue. I don’t want to let my guard down and have him show back up on my doorstep the way he did before. I don’t think I can take that again. I just feel like crap when I have all of these negative thoughts, like I’m letting him down.”

  She leaned forward. “You haven’t told him you are doubting him, right?”

  “No, of course not. Only you and Eva know.”

  She crunched a piece of ice between her teeth. “Then you aren’t letting him down. You are being human. I think a lot of your fears will fade away when we go down to Austin and actually see what’s going on. It’s a better clinic than any he’s gone to up here.”

  Michael ducked his head. “What do I do if he does let us down again? How are we supposed to handle that?” He looked straight into her eyes, remembering everything from the past and how it broke his heart worse each time Casey had flunked out.

  “We’ll just have to cross that bridge if we ever get to it. One day at a time, you know how that goes. Just like with your alcoholism. One day at a time, right?”

  She always had such a calm way to explain things to him. He wished he could be as patient as she was. “Yeah, I guess if I can get through it, so can he.”

  “It’s possible for anyone, Michael.” She smiled and cupped his cheek in her hand, giving him a small kiss on his forehead. “I’m gonna go inside before it starts raining.”

  The screen door squeaked behind her and he was left alone with his thoughts. The sky was turning grey. He began working on the chores before the storm hit, finally calling it quits when he heard thunder in the distance. When he went back inside, she was looking through several picture albums.

  “You decide to come in before you got struck?”

  Michael laughed and sat down beside her, his eyes skimming over all of the pictures of he and Casey when they were toddlers. “Yeah. Got your gutters cleaned out and one of your flowerbeds. About all I could do.”

  She patted his arm. “More than enough. Thank you.” She handed him a picture of when he was about five, sitting on the old Ladder Twenty One rig with his dad beside him. He was smiling and the fire hat he was wearing was far too big for his head. His dad looked proud with his arm around him.

  “Wow, look at that. The station house really hasn’t changed much,” Michael said.

  “I’m just going through some pictures. One of Casey’s counselors said to compile some of his pictures through the years together to take. I’m taking a walk down memory lane as I do.”

  “That’s good. Lot’s of good times back then.”

  She turned to look at him, her expression sharp with concern. “How are you doing with everything?”

  The question caught Michael off guard. Standing up, he grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and took a long pull off of it. Thunder rumbled outside and raindrops fell hard against the kitchen window above the sink. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve had a rough few months. You really haven’t said much to me about it. I’ve just wondered how you are handling all of it.”

  Sitting back down, he thumbed through another album, which had pictures from their teenage years in it. Those were times he wished he could forget. “I’m doing okay. I mean, I have moments where I’ll think about it all, but I just try to think about something else when that happens.”

  “You know if you need to talk about anything, we don’t always have to talk about Casey.” She gave him a small nudge. “Don’t downplay what you went through. You’re a tough man for getting through it and protecting your baby brother. You understand that, right?”

  Michael wasn’t sure why, but he felt embarrassed. His face heated up and he hoped his mom didn’t notice his discomfort. “I’m not downplaying it, Ma. If you’re wondering about my drinking, yeah, I get cravings a lot. I’ll walk by a liquor store and just stop at the window and stare inside. It gets to the point where I can taste the whiskey in my mouth. And then I feel something just shove me along, sort of guiding me away.” He sipped on the water again. “I give a lot of credit to Eva. She’s really keeping me grounded. What happened with Viper is over. We both made it through. It’s history. Like you said out on the porch earlier, one day at a time.” He was shocked at how easily the words flew out of his mouth. She was always so good at getting him to talk without even pressing the matter much.

  “You’re absolutely right, Michael. I’m very proud of you.”

  Visiting his mother was a good decision. Upon leaving her house, he had felt a sense of ease he hadn’t experienced in a long while. On his commute back to Hell’s Kitchen, her advice, though short and sweet, was like an express train running full force at him.

  One day at a time. He had to remember that for his own personal life, as well as Casey’s recovery. He had to cross bridges when he got to them.

  Chapter Three

  Michael sat in the waiting room of the psychologist’s office and glanced down at his watch. One stipulation of him getting to work back on the truck was to have a weekly visit with the FDNY shrink. It embarrassed him and he wasn’t all for the idea, but if it meant getting back to work, he’d humor the bosses. He had a shift that day, but the captain let him come in late on days he had appointments.

  He stared at the different artwork on the walls. Things advertising different FDNY services were everywhere, as well as cheesy quotes about pushing through and being strong. He felt like an idiot. If his dad was alive, he’d laugh in is face for allowing some stupid event to take over his life the way it had.

  After a few more minutes of waiting, Dr. Bowen greeted him and led him to her office. She was an older woman and had kind eyes. He sat across from her and always waited for her to speak first. He never knew what to say until she initiated some form of conversation.

  “So, McGinnis, how have things been going since our last visit?”

  Shrugging, Michael fidgeted in his seat. He felt as
if he were under a microscope. “Same thing. Nothing going on.”

  She held a writing pad on her lap and positioned a pen between her fingers, ready to write down all of his neurosis and quirks. Just once, he’d love to get to glimpse at the paper for even a few seconds, just to see her true opinion of him. It must have not been too bad since he was back on full duty.

  “How’s Casey?”

  “Doing good. Still staying strong. Proving me wrong everyday, which I’m okay with.”

  Dr. Bowen arched her eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  Michael scoffed and leaned forward in the chair. “You know exactly what I mean. I’ve told you this every week for the past four weeks. I’m scared he’s gonna screw up. I’m scared he’s gonna relapse like all the times before. I’m scared he’s gonna show up on my stoop again, bringing all of his troubles in to my life without even blinking.” He trailed off when he saw her frantically writing things down. He felt like he had said too much at once.

  “Well, as you said McGinnis, he’s been proving you wrong each day.” She put the pen down and adjusted her reading glasses. “Still having a lot of thoughts about that day you got trapped in the warehouse?”

  He didn’t want to get into this, but knew not speaking looked worse than bearing his soul. “I had a dream the other night about getting trapped with a little girl. The details are vague. I just remember choking and not being able to breathe. Then I woke up.”

  “What about Viper?”

  Michael didn’t answer right off and allowed a long and awkward silence fill the room. He could hear the ticking of the second hand on the clock above her desk. It seemed like forever before she spoke.

  “Michael, have you thought about Viper any?” Her question was soft.

  “Yeah, I have. I think about him probably more than I should,” he replied.

  “What kind of thoughts are they?”

  He gripped the armrests of the chair tightly, picking his words wisely. “Any time he creeps in to my head I feel angry. I think about how he took my best friend’s life in one of his warehouse fires. Darryl’s death was my fault and I hate Viper for doing all of this to us.” He looked at his watch again, wishing this hour session would go by faster than it was. “I mean, what the hell do you want me to say? I think about Viper and get all cheery? That I want to shake his hand and hug him?”

  Dr. Bowen nodded, but didn’t say a word as she looked at him. It made Michael uncomfortable.

  “What?”

  “I think part of the way you can get over your PTSD is forgiving Viper. It’ll help with all of the unresolved anger you have built up inside of you. If you can get through that, it’ll trickle down to your other problems.”

  Scoffing, he began to fidget again. “Forgive Viper? Don’t make it sound so easy, Doc. I don’t think I can do that.”

  She peered over her glasses. “Oh, I think you can, McGinnis. Looking at your department file, I surmise that you are full of lots of compassion.”

  “How so?” His tone was coming off as overbearing and it wasn’t his intention.

  “Just from the different things I’ve read about numerous saves you’ve made over the course of your employment with the department. Superiors talking about your bravery, your camaraderie with others, your extreme passion for protecting children.”

  He scrubbed the palm of his hand over his face, glancing at the time again. “All of that stuff is gone now.”

  “Explain what you mean by that, Michael.”

  “All of that positive stuff in my department jacket is cancelled out now that it’s on record that I’m seeing the department shrink. I’m not the firefighter I was before all of this bullshit happened. All thanks to Viper, and here you are suggesting that I forgive him for taking so much away. Screw forgiveness.”

  Dr. Bowen folded her arms over her chest. “Start with the positive. At least you and Casey survived. You still have your lives. I understand he took Darryl’s, but don’t look at all of that.”

  Michael didn’t respond. He had no idea what to say. He was done talking and was now worked up for no reason. He was craving a shot of whiskey. He wanted to feel the burn flow down to his stomach. And to think, visiting the psychologist was supposedly helpful.

  “I’m suggesting that you visit Viper in prison.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Michael said, his tone full of disbelief.

  “No, I’m not. Talking face to face has proven to be good therapy, not only for you, but it’ll help Viper as well. I’m going to call Rikers and put in a visiting order. It will only go through if Viper is willing to allow you to see him. It’s something you need to think about. I think it’d be beneficial. Many victims find that facing the culprit helps, especially if they see them being reformed in the prison system.”

  “Reformed? The prison system just makes them worse.” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m not okay with this, Dr. Bowen.”

  He stood up to leave and felt her hand grasp his arm. “Just think about it, McGinnis. I know it’s not something you can decide immediately. Next week, we’ll discuss it more.”

  Looking down at her, he nodded and left the office, feeling as if ten more tons of bricks had been added on to the load he was already carrying on his shoulders.

  He didn’t feel like messing with a subway so he hailed a taxi and rode to the stationhouse with his mind in a haze. If the cab driver was speaking to him, he wasn’t aware of it. He couldn’t get Dr. Bowen’s words out of his mind. He grew up as a Catholic so he knew how important forgiveness was. The only problem was he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Visiting Viper in prison didn’t seem to be a good idea to him. He felt it was ignorant of her to even suggest it.

  The cab edged to the curb and Michael handed the man his fare. Getting out, he nodded toward Walsh who was out, smoking a cigarette. He extended the package to Michael and he declined.

  “You don’t look so good, Mikey. Rough morning?”

  “Rough is an understatement.”

  Walsh pursed his lips as he exhaled the smoke. “And it’s just a little after nine AM. Not too shabby.”

  Michael leaned against the brick wall behind them and looked up at the grey clouds. “It’s times like this I wish I had never stopped smoking.” He took in Gregg’s second hand smoke, savoring the memories of how a cigarette used to be so calming to his nerves. “I miss anything so far?”

  “Not a damn thing. Been quiet since I got here at seven. They picked up a three alarmer earlier, but since then it’s been dead.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or a good thing. I’m gonna go tell Captain Rooker that I’m here.” He walked back to his office and knocked on the door.

  “Firefighter McGinnis, come on in!”

  “Hey Sir, was just letting you know I’m here now.” He turned to leave.

  “Hold on there, McGinnis. How’d it go?” There was a genuine look of concern on his face.

  “Going good. Everything’s good, Cap.”

  The fire alarm went off, paging out both the engine and ladder trucks to an apartment fire. Michael slid down the pole and slipped into his turnouts. “So much for it being dead, eh Walsh?”

  “Bite me, McGinnis,” Walsh replied, smiling at him. “It’s all because of you, Mikey. All because of you.”

  The address was just a few blocks from the house. On the ride over, Michael clenched his hands open and shut as his mouth suddenly became dry. Moisture formed under his gloves and his pulse felt out of control. Before a fire, nerves always ran wild, but he had never felt this type of emotion before. He was unsure of himself, as if he was a probie on the first day of the job again.

  Pulling up to the fire, Michael’s eyes immediately went to the floor where the flames were shooting in every direction. It appeared to be up on the seventh floor. All of his fellow firefighters hopped off the truck and began their duties. Michael was the last one, his gaze still up high on the building. Since he had been back, he had to deal with a smal
l fire here and there, along with wrecks and emergency calls, but this was his official first huge fire back on the job.

  It felt just like in his dream. Everything seemed wrong and already, his lungs were growing tight in his chest. He hadn’t even gotten close to the building yet. People all around him were yelling, several were running, and one lady came up to him and was yelling and pointing toward the area that was on fire. It was as if things were in slow motion, and even her talking seemed muffled and distant.

  He felt Gregg push him and he too, was pointing. Captain Rooker grabbed his arm and gave his face a nudge. “Snap out of it McGinnis. There’s been multiple reports of civilians up there. What’s your problem?”

  Michael finally realized what was going on. Everything that seemed muffled before was becoming clear. The yelling and panic around him was now moving at a normal pace.

  “Get the cement out of your boots McGinnis, and get your ass up there! You are search and rescue, now do your job, damn it! We are going to lose this building!”

  Captain Rooker shoved him and Michael took one last glance back before adjusting his mask and coat. Running in, he found the nearest staircase that looked safe and took the steps two at a time. Why did he hesitate like that? That wasn’t who he was. There was no time to over think things with people in trouble. He reached the seventh floor and observed the orange flames as they engulfed the wood around him.

  “FDNY, if you can hear me, yell out!”

  The smoke was so thick that the visibility was zero. Getting on his hands and knees, he crawled through the toxic air, listening closely for any type of sound. He suddenly began to worry that his air would run out. Looking around, he tried to keep from panicking. What if the flames locked him in? What if he failed the victims? Closing his eyes, he pushed through the negative thoughts.

  “FDNY, is anywhere here?”

  “We’re in here! Please help us!” The roar of the flames was intense, but Michael could hear the woman yelling over the rumble.

  “I’m coming, ma’am. I’m coming!” Crawling, he finally found an area where the smoke wasn’t as bad and stood up. A woman with her baby was crouched behind a couch. The baby was crying uncontrollably and the woman had complete fear in her eyes.