Fire & Flesh: A Firefighter Romance Story

by Kerri Carr

  “You were right, Shirley, that was mind blowing,” Nate said, pulling his shaft out of her love slit.

  Shirley rolled off Andre and lay next to him on the carpet, too exhausted to utter another word.

  “I had better get freshened up so that I can prepare to leave. Thank you for that last one, Shirley, and I wish you both the best in your life together,” Nate said, grabbing his clothes and heading to the guest bedroom.

  THE END

  Another bonus story is on the next page.

  Bonus Story 2 of 44

  Taken by An Extraterrestrial

  Description

  Tally would have lost her mind after her husband disappeared in a plane crash if it wasn’t for the fact that she was pregnant with their first child. She was planning on breaking the news to him as soon as he returned, but that day never came.

  Now one month pregnant, Tally has to figure out a way to make a living in the small town of Connellsville, Pennsylvania. She is able to get a job at a flower store but starts to get concerned when the man who hired her begins to import exotic plants that she cannot even find on Wikipedia.

  One night, Tally goes too far in her research and attempts to eat one of the exotic plants, tempted by its mysterious power, hoping that it could provide some sort of otherworldly nutrition for her unborn child. Tally begins to hallucinate, and the flower shop owner must reveal himself as an extraterrestrial in order to save her life.

  *****

  My husband was a traveller. We were both born here in Connellsville, but he never let that stop him from seeing the world. He didn’t even need to join the military to do it, like the other men around here. No, he worked hard, invested his money, and bought enough airfare for the love of his life to be seated right next to him on every flight. That was my Raymond. After we graduated from State College, Raymond took a job as a broadcaster on the Internet and the next thing we knew they had us going anywhere from Texas to Tokyo.

  “The world is ours, Tally,” he used to tell me as he’d look over my lap and out the plane window. He always let me have the window seat because he knew that I loved to look down on the earth and pretend we were in heaven. I’ve never been a very spiritual person, but I guess riding close to the sky with the man of my dreams is as close as it gets for a gal like me.

  Raymond asked me to marry him in London and we got married two days later in Paris. Since Raymond began to make so much money, I didn’t even need to work after college even though I got my degree in Earth Sciences. Growing up, I always thought I’d be a scientist one day, but with the opportunity to travel with Raymond at hand, I found it easy to forget all of my childhood dreams.

  During our adventures, he never once asked me to pay for anything. He was a gentleman and modest, and his love for me was always more than money. After one year away from the United States, we both decided that it would be healthy to return to Pennsylvania and spend time with the family. It was during that visit, two years ago, that Raymond’s father died of heart failure.

  Raymond wasn’t the same after the funeral, and found it difficult to continue his work in broadcasting. His personality didn’t contain the same chipper, philosophic outlook it once had. I knew that it would only be a matter of time until the grief would let go of him, but the next six months were some of the darkest of our lives.

  We were able to live off of Raymond’s minor savings throughout the summer, but once September rolled around we barely had enough to eat, let alone pay for the endless supply of alcohol Raymond needed to cope. I couldn’t blame him. If I had lost my father, I probably would have died. Even still, I can’t imagine the thought of life without the love or support of my parents—especially now that I’m expecting.

  Luckily, I was able to find a part-time position at the community college in Connellsville. The salary wasn’t much, and Raymond and I were forced to downsize into a smaller home, but it wasn’t the job or the move that kept him veiled in depression.

  Every night Raymond went on about traveling, and sometimes I’d come home from campus to find him speaking for hours into his tape recorder, only to find out that there was no purpose other than his own entertainment. When winter rolled around, Raymond had a day’s worth of material recorded. Some if it didn’t even make cohesive sense to me anymore.

  “One day,” he’d say, “one day you’ll understand, Tal.”

  I wanted to take his word for it, but it was hard for even me, his wife of one year and girlfriend of four, to listen to him when he had a half-empty bottle of wine in his hand and a microphone in the other.

  “I’m sending broadcasts to space,” he laughed one night during the week before Christmas. “They might not pay me now, darling, but you’d better believe that my success is going to be interplanetary.” When his monologue was finished he went out into our backyard raising a glass of scotch to the sky.

  “I’m not the only one who understands the void of grief and the eternity of suffering,” he said.

  Now six months later I sit in the backyard with the hot June sun on my face, sipping a glass of herbal iced tea, and rubbing my belly. Nothing could erase the smile on my face, not even the sadder memories I have of Raymond. It was only less than an hour ago that I looked down at the pregnancy test to reveal the confirmation I hoped for.

  Now he will be with me forever, I think, imagining Raymond’s face in swirl of white clouds above me. I have yet to call my parents and share the news with them, but for a moment I’d like to linger in the bliss I feel and imagine that Raymond and I are celebrating alone, together.

  “I love you, Ray,” I say to the wind. “I’ll love you forever and always.”

  *****

  Raymond left the day after Christmas and that was the last time I ever saw him. We woke up together that morning and for some reason, he leaped out of bed before racing to his computer. I heard him begin typing madly, as usual, until he called out, “Tally! Tally, I’m back in! They want me to go to Iceland.”

  “Iceland?” I asked. It was my first word of the day, and I remember it tasting like peanut butter from the night before.

  What kind of broadcasting could he possibly do in Iceland? I wondered. Either way, I was willing to go to the edge of the earth with my husband as long as it made him happy.

  “When do we leave?” I asked after he resumed typing again. I got out of bed wrapped in our fuzzy orange blanket to find him stooped over the keyboard, his eyes glued to the glowing monitor.

  “I think I have to fly solo this time, sweetheart,” he said, his voice as monotonous as a prerecorded voice message. My husband left the next morning before I woke up. We shared a bottle of wine and a box of pizza, watched reruns of I Love Lucy before falling asleep in each other’s arms. That was the last time I saw Ray.

  I waited the 16 hours that his flight was supposed to last before calling the airline. There are nights I still wish that those 16 hours would never end, that I would be in a state of perpetual suspension. Now I wonder if that state of suspension, not knowing that he’s gone, would be better than never knowing if I will see him again?

  ****

  It is now March and I’ve just begun to show. I think only my mother and I can tell, though, because we’re the only ones who keep a regular check on my belly. Today is Wednesday and I’ve been in bed since nine this morning. I’m hungry, but too lazy to go to the kitchen to make anything. Instead, I prefer to lie here and watch either infomercials or soap operas until my mother comes up to my room to check that I’m still alive. This time I hope she brings pancakes and eggs.

  Outside the sky is gray. It’s been a late winter, but the snow has finally melted. When spring sets in the and the sun shows its prideful face over the lush Pennsylvania greens, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay cooped up in the house any longer. Even pregnant, I don’t know how I’ve managed this long. Mom says it’s because of grief. She’s been praying when the season changes I’ll get the itch to try to move on.

  I’d be lying if I
said I thought her prayers will work.

  About halfway through The Young & The Restless, I hear Mom coming up the stairs to my room, and then a light tap at my door. She doesn’t ask to come in, because she knows I rarely have the strength to answer. She just gives me a little tap and then quietly peaks her head it to see if it is okay. I nod from the bed and when she enters I see that she’s carrying a tray of soup and fresh baguette.

  “You’re the best, Mom,” I say, refusing to budge from my cozy blankets. She sets the tray on the stand next to the bed and sits down next to me. We both watch the new few minutes of The Young & The Restless. It is kind of impossible not to when Johnny is potentially back from the dead but only to find his wife with a new man.

  I’ve got to lay off the television, I tell myself. It only makes my anxiety and depression worse. “You got any plans today, Tal?” Mom asks as Johnny watches his wife and her new lover through a restaurant window.

  “I don’t know, Mom,” say, rubbing my belly. I’m starting to think that she doesn’t buy my pregnancy as an excuse for being a total recluse anymore.

  “Well, I circled some ads in the classifieds that I thought you might be good for,” she says. Johnny enters the restaurant and demands to know what is going on with his wife. She stands up and stares at him like he’s a ghost. To her, he is a ghost, I think. Johnny’s wife doesn’t know that he didn’t die in a street race like she thought. What would it be like if Raymond showed up at my door after these months of me thinking he was dead?

  Life isn’t a soap opera, I remind myself.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to get a job,” I say to my mother. She chews her gum feverishly. The people who write these shows really know how to hook you at the end of the episode.

  “You don’t have to go out and get a career,” she says, finally turning to me once the credits roll over the screen. “But it wouldn’t hurt you to get a part-time job just to get you out of the house a little bit. It’s not like we need the help, but maybe you could start putting a little bit away for the baby.”

  With Mom’s fresh tomato and cheese soup in my mouth, it is kind of hard to display how much I despise the idea. I put another spoonful in my mouth and bite a piece of the crispy bread.

  “I guess I could look at some openings. But I don’t want to be away too long. When I’m away for too long, I start to get sad.

  “But when you sit around here for too long you get sad, too, dear.” She’s right—I need to find some kind of balance. She takes the newspaper out of her robe pocket and opens it to the classifieds where I see several sections circled with red pen. The first job I see is cashier at the local pharmacy. I couldn’t see myself standing around that place for eight hours, let alone the 10 minutes I have to wait in line to buy prenatal vitamins. The second job post that Mom circled is for something that doesn’t sound too intolerable:

  “WANTED—Florist to help run a new local store front that specializes in the sales of exotic plants. An ideal candidate will possess strong knowledge of earth sciences and plant life. Pay starts at $12/hr but negotiable for the right candidate.”

  I read over the ad two more times before opening my mouth about it. “You think I should apply to this one?” I ask Mom.

  “Of course I do. Why do you think I circled it?”

  “I don’t know mom. It sounds like a big commitment.”

  “You sound like you’re 10 years old again,” she laughs. “You know your father and I love you, honey. And you know we’re going to love this child more than anything on Earth. But as your mother I’m afraid that if you don’t get off this miserable path before too long then you’ll be stuck on it for the rest of your life.”

  Coming from my mother, I feel like there is some kind of subliminal message here. Maybe she is having regrets about things she didn’t do with her life. “I’m not going to get stuck, Mom.”

  “You’re stubborn, Tal,” she says. “You’re like your father that way. Won’t listen to anybody until it’s too late.”

  “I haven’t worked anywhere since the community college. I don’t exactly have great work experience. I didn’t do anything after I graduated except travel with Ray.”

  “So what? You have a degree in Earth Sciences. This doesn’t sound like rocket science or anything, Tal. You could bundle the flowers and make them look pretty. Couldn’t you?”

  She stands up from my bed now that The Young & The Restless is over and heads for my door. She’s left soup and had her say about the newspaper. I probably won’t see her until after dark, or unless I go downstairs in a last ditch effort to make her think I’m not completely and utterly hopeless.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say as she closes the door. “Maybe I’ll call the place later.” I know she hears me because there are no creaks in the floorboards until after I’m finished talking.

  After the tomato soup, I fall asleep until after it is already dark out. Damn it, I think. Mom is probably so upset with me. She and dad have already gone to bed by now, but if I wake up early I can use the excuse that I wanted to get a bright start on the application. With the moon outside my window, I put both hands on my belly and try to imagine Raymond’s voice.

  There were so many nights that we looked up at the moon together, and from so many different cities. Now here I am back where it all started, back in our home town where we met.

  Where are you, Ray? I think. When I am alone with the moon outside my window is the only time I ever contemplate prayer. But even tonight I’m not going to attempt it.

  Although my mother has begged me to stop, I still call the special cases unit every week to check the progress on Ray’s missing plane. He wasn’t the only person aboard that flight, but no matter how many times I’ve spoken to a detective they will never reveal the exact number.

  “We’re looking into the case every day ma’am,” one of the investigators will say mechanically. Even if I speak through tears it has begun to feel like they don’t even treat me like a person.

  One of Raymond’s most popular broadcasts was about the idea that if you wanted to make a change in your life, you had to go out and create it yourself. It all started with this silly mug I got him that had a picture of a television remote and said, “Life doesn’t have a remote. If you want to change something you have to get up and do it yourself.” That one mug spawned hours of broadcasts and philosophical banter that people couldn’t get enough of.

  I start to fade in and out of sleep, but every time my eyes peel open they’re struck by the bright glimmer of the moon. My mother is right. And so was Raymond. If I’m going to make a change in my life I have to get up and do something about it. I can’t pretend and hope that my life will be a soap opera and that my husband will magically come back from the grave. I can’t lie around in bed for another three months. I have to become a strong woman for my child. As I drift into a calm slumber, the mood melds into my dreams as Raymond’s face, and I commit myself to applying for the florist job in the morning.

  *****

  In the morning I wake up extra early to make breakfast for Mom and Dad for once. Dad comes downstairs 10 minutes after me at 5:30 to start his morning coffee while reading the paper.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks, looking at me like I could potentially be in the middle of a medical emergency. “Why are you up so early? Is the baby fine?”

  “Oh my God, Dad, yes,” I laugh, cracking an egg into a mixing bowl. “I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking a lot, and last night I decided that it’s time for me to get my butt in gear.”

  “So your mother showed the ad for the florist opening, I take it?” he asks, sipping coffee that I just made fresh. Very perceptive of you, father, I think.

  “Yes, actually,” I say, pouring the eggs into the pan. The sizzle reminds me of when I used to cook for Ray. His favorite was eggs over easy with toast and turkey bacon. “I thought I would get a nutritious start and go put in my application.”

  “I think that’s a great idea, sweetheart.�
� Though he doesn’t take his eyes off of the newspaper I know he’s really trying to tell me that he wants me to get a job just as much as Mom does.

  Once I finish breakfast, Mom comes down and the confused look on her face is priceless. It’s almost like she was more prepared for the kitchen to be burning down than seeing me up so early and cooking.

  “Something smells good,” she says, going to the fridge for some orange juice. I bet she’s trying to avoid talking about me being up so early because she doesn’t want to push her luck. She sits down next to Dad and they both read their favorite sections of the paper together. When breakfast is finished I make three plates so that we can eat our meal like a family.

  “Three plates, four lucky people,” Dad says with a mouthful of pancake. Although my father is a quiet man, he has always been one to look at the bright side of things. I can’t wait until the baby is actually here so that we can feed it with our own hands, watching it grow into perfection.

  ****

  Mom cleans up after breakfast so that I can shower and iron my clothes.

  “It’s not an interview, Mom,” I said. “I’m just going to fill out the application.”

  “People make up their minds about you within the first 10 seconds,” she said. “If I were you I’d go in there looking like you were ready for the job. If you want the job, that is.”

  That was all she had to say to get me feeling bad about how my work ethic has decreased since college. Sure, sometimes parents give old-fashioned advice, but there’s no denying that it’s usually everlasting knowledge.

  Now that I’m overthinking my outfit, I have no idea what to wear. First I go with a low cut skirt but them I’m afraid I will look skimpy. Next I go with a dress and I feel overly professional. Luckily most of my wardrobe still fits me. I’ve still yet to get maternity clothes and have been putting it off until the last minute.