More Than He Can Handle

by Cheris Hodges

  She smiled at him and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Let’s do it,” she said as she hopped out of his arms.

  Freddie followed Cleveland in the truck to the fire station and she didn’t know what she was more excited about, seeing where Cleveland worked or being naughty with him in the fire station.

  They dashed down I-285 at a breakneck speed. As they got closer to downtown Atlanta, traffic was pretty much at a stand still. Freddie had almost forgotten that every hour in Atlanta was some sort of rush hour.

  The moment they arrived at the station, Cleveland hopped out of his car, with his cell phone in his hand. He rushed inside, not saying anything to Freddie, who stood near his truck with a puzzled look on her face. What had the phone call been about, she wondered. Seconds later he was back outside. “That was about Roland,” he told her as he ushered her inside. “He’s taken a turn for the worse. We’re going to the hospital.”

  “Do you want me to drive you?”

  Cleveland nodded. Freddie noticed that he was trembling and his eyes were wet with unshed tears. She stroked his cheek gently, unsure as to what she should say to him. Somehow it didn’t seem proper to say, “everything will be all right,” when it looked otherwise.

  Darren and Louis bolted out of the station house and hopped into the battalion chief car then sped out of the lot. Freddie struggled to keep up with Darren as he weaved in and out of traffic. Cleveland gripped his seat belt as Freddie drove, but he didn’t comment on her driving. She glanced at him and saw that he was whispering a prayer.

  Once they arrived at the hospital, there were about twelve other firefighters in the lobby with tear-stained cheeks.

  “No,” Cleveland whispered.

  A man with a white shirt walked over to him and Darren. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Chief,” Darren said, his voice choked up with emotion.

  “He passed away about fifteen minutes ago,” the fire chief said.

  Tears flowed freely from Darren, Louis, and Cleveland. Freddie reached up and caressed Cleveland’s arm, but he didn’t seem to feel her touch.

  Louis shook his head. “This is unbelievable. He’s gone, but Roland . . .”

  The three men fell silent as the other firefighters offered their condolences. Freddie backed away from the group and watched the moments between the men. Closing her eyes, she thought about being on the other side of those handshakes. She didn’t know how she would be able to handle this. But on the other hand, she never knew how connected the firefighters were. It really was a brotherhood and a family. Something that she’d never had.

  “Louis!” Lillian cried out as she burst into the waiting room. She flung herself into her husband’s arms. “Baby, are you all right? I couldn’t believe it when you called from the car.”

  “No, I can’t believe Roland’s gone,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  She held his face in her hands. “I know.” Lillian turned to Cleveland and Darren. “Are you guys all right?”

  They stared at her with blank expressions. Freddie walked over to Cleveland and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to get you a cup of coffee.”

  Lillian nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll come with you.”

  “That’s all right,” Freddie snapped.

  Lillian grabbed Freddie’s arm and whispered in her ear, “Even if you’re pissed with me, this isn’t the time for us to fight.”

  “I’m not fighting with you,” Freddie said. “But I’m not going to pretend that we’re best friends either.”

  “This right here isn’t about us.”

  “So, why are you trying to make it that way?” Freddie asked. “I’m here for my man because he just lost a friend.”

  “Not just a friend, but a brother and my husband is hurting too,” Lillian said.

  “I know that, Lillian,” Freddie said calmly. “I’m going to get coffee, if you’re coming let’s go because the last thing that any of us need is for you to start with your dramatics.”

  Lillian shook her head and followed Freddie to the elevator. “Okay, I was wrong,” she relented when they stepped on the elevator.

  “Did I hear you correctly?” Freddie said sarcastically. “You’re admitting that you’re wrong?”

  “Yes. Who am I to tell you that you can’t love Cleveland? I don’t have to like him, but it’s your life.”

  Freddie smiled at her friend. “I’m glad you came to your senses because I really thought I was going to have to kick your butt.”

  Lillian hugged her friend. “How long have you been my sister? You really think I was going to let that dude come between us?”

  “I’d hope not,” Freddie said as she squeezed her friend back.

  Lillian sighed. “They’re going to need us, now. They ribbed on Roland a lot, but they loved him.”

  “How do you deal? Every day that Louis walks out that door, you don’t know if he’s coming back,” Freddie said as they stepped off the elevator and headed for the hospital cafeteria.

  “It’s a struggle. But I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with a firefighter.”

  I didn’t know it was going to be like this, Freddie thought as she and Lillian ordered enough coffee for all of the men in the lobby. I don’t want to lose Cleveland.

  After getting the coffee and some cream and sugar, the women headed back to the waiting room. Cleveland, Darren and Louis were joined by more firefighters and Jill. Freddie passed the coffee cups to the men who wanted them. Then she took a seat beside Cleveland, who looked as if he was deep in thought.

  “I got you some coffee,” Freddie said quietly.

  Cleveland took the cup from her hands and set it on a table beside the chair where he was sitting and then he drew her into his arms. He didn’t say a word, but after a while, Freddie felt warm tears seep through her blouse. She rocked back and forth, kissing Cleveland’s forehead.

  “I-I can’t even remember the last thing I said to him,” he said. “He was doing me a favor, you know. Covering my shift for me because . . .” Cleveland’s voice trailed off.

  “Because you were in New Orleans looking for me,” she said quietly.

  He cast his eyes upward at her but didn’t reply to her statement. Freddie exhaled and closed her eyes to hide her tears. Though she wouldn’t dare say it, Freddie wondered if Cleveland thought it should’ve been him trapped in that warehouse with people standing in the hospital mourning him. And she couldn’t help but wonder if he blamed her.

  Cleveland patted her thigh. “I don’t regret coming to find you,” he said.

  “But . . .”

  “No buts,” he said. “We put our lives on the line every day, but you never want to see anyone go down.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Cleveland looked up at her, his eyes damp with unshed tears. “Just be here.”

  Darren and Jill walked over to the couple and Darren looked just as emotional as his brother. Jill seemed to be supporting her husband as they stood.

  “Cleveland,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sniffing, he weakly smiled at his sister-in-law. “Thanks, J.”

  Jill stroked Darren’s arm. “Remember the first time I met Roland?”

  Both Darren and Cleveland chuckled, then said at the same time, “Halftime entertainment.”

  Freddie furrowed her brows. “Halftime entertainment?” she questioned.

  Jill smiled. “These cavemen weren’t used to having a woman come over and watch the game. Roland and Louis went on and on about how women didn’t know anything about football.”

  “And let’s not forget how you schooled him on those stats,” Darren said. “He had a newfound respect for women who actually knew what a first down was.”

  Silence enveloped them as they had individual memories of Roland. “I’ve got to get out of here,” Cleveland said, breaking the quiet. He rose to his feet and Freddie followed his lead.

  “Cleveland,” she called out as
she rushed to catch up with him.

  “Freddie, I need some air and I need to be alone for a minute, all right?” he said.

  She stepped back and nodded. As he walked away from her, Freddie wondered if Cleveland was blaming himself or worse yet, her, for his friend’s death.

  Chapter 25

  That night, Cleveland crawled into bed without saying a word to Freddie. She glanced at his somber frame, not knowing what to say to him or if she should say anything. Inching closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Cleveland,” she whispered.

  “Hum?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just tired,” he said as he patted her hand.

  “Is that all?” Freddie probed.

  “Isn’t that enough?” he said as he shrugged out of her embrace. “I just need to get some sleep, all right?”

  Freddie dropped her hands from his waist and turned her back to him. She couldn’t be angry with him because she knew that he was going through some difficult emotions with the loss of his friend. Still, she wanted to help, to do something to make him feel a little better. Right now, she just felt as if she was in the way. When she heard the slight sound of Cleveland snoring, Freddie crept from the bed and headed downstairs. She didn’t know what she should do, should she leave him alone and let him deal with this on his own?

  What if he thinks this is all my fault? Freddie opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water and nervously took a sip. It had been her insecurities and irrational dash to New Orleans that caused Cleveland to follow her and give up his shift. What if he’d been at that fire, would things have been different? Would Cleveland be dead or would he have been able to save Roland?

  “Stop it,” she whispered to herself. “The man is grieving.” Setting the bottle of water on the bar, Freddie decided that she needed to be there for Cleveland in any way that he needed her, even if that meant giving him the space he needed to cope with his friend’s death.

  She crept back upstairs to the bedroom. Cleveland was still sleeping, seemingly unaware that Freddie had even left the bed. She gazed down at his slumbering frame and her heart swelled. She felt helpless to assist him or understand what he was going through. She pushed a stray loc from his forehead with a gentle touch so as not to wake him. Cleveland shifted in the bed, but didn’t wake up. She walked over to the other side of the bed and eased back into place.

  “Where did you go?” Cleveland asked as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  “To get some water. I can’t sleep.”

  “I hope you don’t think I’m trying to shut you out or that I’m being an asshole, this is just hard for me.”

  Freddie inched closer to him as he turned around and faced her. “You know,” he said, “Darren and I were there when my father died. It was bring your child to work day at our school and the call that came in was supposed to be routine. It was a small house fire that turned out to be more extensive when we got there. The men in my Dad’s battalion secured me and Darren on the truck and they went to do their business. Then the explosion happened.”

  She stroked his cheek. “My goodness.”

  “It was the worst thing that a kid could ever see. But what made it worse was waiting in the hospital for the doctors to state the obvious. Darren and I knew Dad was dead the minute he was loaded into the ambulance.” A lone tear trickled down Cleveland’s cheek. “Anytime we go to a call, in the back of my mind, I’m thinking about that day.”

  “Why do you keep doing it?”

  “Because there have been so many lives saved because of what we do. I wish that we could save everybody. But who saves the hero?” Cleveland wrapped his arms around Freddie and held her tightly.

  “No one expects you to save the world,” she whispered. “Your father and Roland died doing what they loved. I know it doesn’t make it any easier.”

  He shook his head. “It’s never easy. You think about things you said to him or stupid little arguments that you had that didn’t make any sense in the grand scheme of things.”

  Freddie leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. “People know that they are loved,” she said. “Even when you argue with them.”

  “I know that, but it’s still . . .” Cleveland became choked up with emotion. “Some times you say things that you want to take back and the sad thing is I can’t even remember the last thing that I said to Roland.”

  Freddie held him tighter. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered as she felt his warm tears on her shoulder.

  It was hours before Freddie and Cleveland drifted off to sleep. But Cleveland didn’t sleep soundly as he tossed and turned, waking Freddie up just as she’d drift off to sleep. Freddie wondered what was going on in his mind and what, if anything, she could do to help him through these trying times. Freddie slipped out of the bed again, heading into the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Maybe after the memorial service, Cleveland would come to terms with Roland’s death and find some peace. Still, Freddie had a gnawing feeling that Cleveland blamed himself and her for Roland’s death.

  Morning came and Cleveland left the bed without Freddie knowing it. When she smelled coffee wafting though the air and felt the coolness of the cotton sheets where Cleveland had slept, she rose from the bed and headed down to the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” she said as Cleveland poured coffee into a mug.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked as he pulled another mug out of the cupboard. “I noticed that you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

  “Neither did you,” she said as she crossed over to him and took the mug of java that he offered.

  “Well, it was either lie in bed and keep you up or come down here and make coffee.”

  Freddie dumped a few teaspoons of sugar in her coffee cup and looked up at Cleveland as he pulled down a box of bran flakes. “I can cook something, if you want,” she offered.

  “That’s all right,” he replied. “I’m going to eat a quick bite and head to the station to see what the plans are for Roland’s memorial service.”

  “Do you want me to drive you?”

  Cleveland clanked a bowl against the counter. “Freddie, I’m not an invalid. I don’t need you babysitting me, I don’t need you feeding me, and I don’t need you driving me around.”

  She shrank away from the counter, tears welling up in her eyes. “Look, I’m just trying to be supportive and I don’t know what to do,” Freddie said, struggling to hold her emotions in check.

  Cleveland closed his eyes and dropped his spoon in his bowl. “Freddie,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He crossed over to her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m not good at dealing with this. And lashing out at you is wrong.”

  She pushed out of his embrace. “I understand,” she said, though she didn’t.

  “I’m glad you do, because I don’t.”

  She flashed him a weak smile. “Everyone grieves differently, but I don’t want to be your whipping boy.”

  “You won’t be, but I need some space,” he said. “If I’m quiet, let me be. I’m not shutting you out, but I have to deal with this my way.”

  Freddie nodded and fought back the urge to ask him if he was blaming her for what happened. “I’m going back to bed,” she said.

  “I’ll be at the station,” he said as she headed upstairs.

  Cleveland drove aimlessly, not really wanting to go to the fire station. His thoughts were a muddled mess. What if he had waited a few days to go after Freddie? Would Roland still be alive? It was his shift that Roland had been called in to work. He knew the station had been facing a manpower shortage. He should’ve put the needs of the department ahead of his own selfish desires.

  But you love her, you love Freddie and if you had been at that fire, you would’ve been distracted with thoughts of her. Still, you would’ve been there. You could’ve made a difference, couldn’t you?

  After an hour of riding up and down the Interstate, Cleveland finally headed
for the station house. He wasn’t surprised to see a couple of grief counselors talking to a number of the firefighters. Walking in, he headed directly for Darren’s office and was surprised to see Jill and Darren embracing each other passionately. He started to back out of the office, when his brother spotted him.

  “Cleveland,” Darren said as he and Jill broke off their kiss. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, man, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Jill crossed over to Cleveland and gave him a tight sisterly hug. “How are you doing, Cleveland?” she asked.

  He shrugged, wishing that people would stop asking him how he was doing. What did they expect that he was going to say? “My friend just died, but I’m doing great?”

  “You’re here to talk to somebody?” Darren asked.

  Cleveland frowned and shook his head. “I’m tired of talking.”

  Jill looked from Cleveland to Darren. “Babe,” she said. “I’ll see you at home.”

  “Kiss Kayla for me,” he called as his wife walked out the door. Cleveland sat down across from his brother’s desk and waited for Darren to close the door. When he turned to his brother, Darren had questions dancing in his eyes. “What’s the real deal, man?”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’re not scheduled to be here for six hours and you’ve never been one to hang out around the station. Is ever . . .”

  “Don’t finish that statement. Everything is not all right and it may never be again.”

  “No, I know what you’re thinking,” Darren said. “I’ve struggled with the same thing. Maybe I worked you all too hard and maybe I shouldn’t have allowed you to go to New Orleans. But you know what, every call is a risk.”

  “Yeah, but what if I had been there that night? Roland would still be here . . .”

  Darren placed his hands on his desk. “No, you can’t say that. That could have been any one of us. We don’t have a crystal ball and we can’t see into the future.”

  “So, that’s why you’re jumping ship?”

  “Here we go,” Darren said. “I knew you had an issue with me moving on. Do you think I want Kayla growing up like we did?”