by Fiona Keane
My phone buzzed again, another message from Lizzie. She could’ve sent a crap emoji and my heart would’ve swelled because it was from her. I know, I was hopeless. It was a series of emojis consisting of a heart, a wine glass, a bikini, which I knew meant something else…if I grind my teeth any harder, I’ll need dentures…and two cats. That meant she was waiting for me at her house…and she wanted to torture me…or play. I gnawed on my lip while glancing around, listening to Ben laugh with some others near our bunks and Nina conducting an attendance call with the new recruits. I knew how to play Lizzie’s game; I just needed somewhere more private to do it.
I carried my phone into the locker room with me, placing it on a bench near my unit while I took off my shirt. My hip was still raw, healing from my latest tattoo of a calla lily, but it looked great and drove Lizzie mad in the best way possible. Shirtless and inked, I clenched my abs and held the camera above me to get an angle of my body that I knew would destroy her series of emojis ten-fold.
I pressed the send button just as the siren blared throughout the station, not even getting a second to check if I sent it to Lizzie and not my mom. The banter and conversation previously filling the fire station ceased, and we were swiftly into the garage awaiting instruction within three minutes. I think my shirt was inside out, my phone might have butt-dialed for pizza, and none of it mattered. I had a job to do, a life to care for, and I could do it better knowing I had a life waiting for me that night.
“Ben’s got the notes,” the chief hollered to me as I approached my team. “This one’s close, Rossi.” His palm smacked my shoulder, lingering with his fingers briefly pinching into my skin. It was like he tried to keep me there, to prevent me from going, and I knew part of him wanted me to stay as much as I did. Sometimes, I wish he didn’t care so much about me, to keep letting me know how traumatized I would be by seeing scenes similar to the night I lost Jade. Other times, I wondered if I thought that way because I wanted to forget.
I sat in back for this ride, nestled next to two recruits. The kid on my right sorted through a bin of supplies in preparation. It was my job to prepare them, like they were interns and not actual paramedics already. I didn’t mind supervising them, giving them tips and all that, but I was used to the field, and out there, there’s no room for babysitting.
“When we get there,” I glanced at both of them, “there’ll be blood, glass, terrified people…just treat it with facts. All you know is what you’ve studied, what you see before you. Move fast, but with efficiency, while reassuring the victims you’ve got them covered. That’s all they need to know.”
“What if they’re not going to make it, Rossi?”
“They don’t need to know that.” I pulled my hands along my face, sighing into my palms before speaking again. “Do you want to know you’re dying before you die? No. If hope is all you can give, give it.”
“One minute,” Nina called from the front. It was silent once more, other than our siren and the fire engine on our tail. And my pounding heart. Normally, I’d think of Muffin to keep me together in an accident like this, but I wasn’t this time.
The back doors tore open with Ben leaping inside for an equipment bag. The three of us shuffled out behind him, grabbing what supplies we thought best for triage. I surveyed the scene as my feet slammed against the wet pavement, my eyes stopping on the young woman cowering next to a lone car tire.
“Noah,” Nina approached with panic, “three cars up there, people are stuck, one guy over there, haven’t checked that one.” She nodded to a flipped black SUV. I ran from Nina, heading toward the flipped SUV and calling out for anyone to answer. The first voice I heard over the clamor of sirens and cries was the scream of the woman by the tire.
“What’s your name?” I first called out to her as I approached, keeping my gaze between her and the flipped car. She stood, which I hadn’t expected, and lunged toward me.
“Mary,” she stammered against my chest. “My husband! He’s in the car!” Her fingers clawed my back as she clenched onto me, spinning us back to the flipped car. A wave of nausea washed over me, swelling and rushing once more like a never-ending current.
“Wes!” Mary screamed, her body almost falling into me. This is why I do this. This is why. She is why. Mary, Avery, Jade…and now Lizzie was waiting for me at home. I swallowed the fear I felt burning in my throat, crawling up my skin with its crackling heat, and I knelt against the wet pavement. The driver was limply hanging in his seat, flopped over his constraining seatbelt with his arms loosely dangling. His hands were bent, pressing against the roof of the car parallel to the pavement.
Mary continued to scream and cry behind me, and I willed someone to help her as I leaned into the broken driver’s side window of their car. It was always an eerie silence that surrounded that type of moment, nothing but the rush of my pulse and trauma battling my blood while I assessed a situation all too familiar.
“Wes,” I stated calmly, poking and prodding his body while searching for a pulse, “I’m Noah. I’m here to help you.” I felt his spine, worried about how his head slumped while drooping forward, but felt nothing out of alignment. I reached further into the car, calling his name three more times and reminding him I was there, that I was with him, while looking for any sign of life. He dangled lifelessly, contained only by the seatbelt crossing his leaning torso.
I maneuvered out of the car, calling for someone to bring a neck brace and a stretcher. Mary’s sobs almost drowned my pulse, the chaos around us. One of the newbies tore a path across the scene, stretcher in tow with supplies piled on top. I wasted no time telling him it was a mess as I pulled on another pair of gloves, none of us needed that, and grabbed the brace. Wes was still unresponsive, but I took all precautions. I leaned in, the steering wheel poking my back as I squeezed beneath Wes. With my weight against my left hip, I couldn’t miss the repeated vibration of my phone invading the moment.
I moved with a slow urgency, delicate and precise as I unwrapped the neck brace and prepared it from the awkward angle below Wes. I talked him through each movement, letting him know it was still me, that my hands were what he felt on his shoulders and jaw, and I told him what to expect. I meticulously strapped the brace around Wes’s neck and chin, as though it was simple and second nature. Meanwhile, I was terrified as hell: terrified he could die, he was dead, and I couldn’t fix it. Once he was stabilized and two more crew members were outside the car, I unfastened Wes’s seatbelt and helped guide him out. Each subtle movement spread the growing tide of blood on his shirt, adrenaline responding in my veins.
Life weighed the most when it was almost gone. There was no release and liberation of soul, it was all horrendous when unplanned, and Wes was no exception. He was thin but carried the burden of uncertainty, and it felt like each attempt we made at helping him was delayed by our feet stuck in quicksand.
He wasn’t responding to CPR, so I shoved Nina out of the way to take over. Mary was corralled by police officers while we rushed Wes into the ambulance. I hovered over him, almost mounting the stretcher. It was a bumpy ride, but I managed to slice through the fabric of his shirt without hurting either of us.
“Rossi,” someone called to me. “How much? Rossi?” I couldn’t answer. Blood stained my gloves, warming through the latex to my hand. Cursive military slogans tattooed his skin, stretching along Wes’s ribs. He was in the service and his life was threatened after a car accident at home, not in combat…and with his wife watching. He was like me, like Jade, and I felt myself slipping until I was able to tear the thoughts from nightmares and turn them into purpose…like I did every time this happened, every time something was too familiar, too close…every time my heart rested on my sleeve. Just like with Sean and Avery, and that chance brought Lizzie into my life.
It was the purpose of fixing hearts, caring for people, saving lives that kept me working, and it was my drive, my passion. I directed the rookies in back with me, interrupting Nina’s call from the front, giving them e
xplicit orders to follow if we hoped to save Wes’s life.
With his abdomen wrapped in gauze, I switched gloves and leaned toward Ben’s seat in the front. “I’m going to be sick,” I whispered to him. I swallowed the weakness, returning my attention to Wes’s care.
He gagged, gasping for air, and each pathetic gulp gurgled with blood. Everything we did on the way to the hospital failed him, but he couldn’t know. I tried cleaning the blood from his mouth, his throat, but there was a puncture we couldn’t stabilize. I hovered over him, my whisper loudest above the flurry around us while others maintained his care. Wes opened his brown eyes, bloodshot and limp, lacking urgency to wonder where we were. He probably knew; he’d seen combat. His ink told me so.
“Wes,” I told him, holding his cheeks in my hands so his wandering gaze would find mine, “I’m Noah.” He limply coughed, his throat bubbling with more blood, muscles too weak to lift his chest.
“Stay with me,” I ordered, watching his brown eyes roll backward. “You’re going to be fine, Wes. We’ve got you in the ambulance. Mary is right here,” I lied. He didn’t need to know. With the mention of Mary’s name, Wes’s eyes opened once more, this time covered with a sheen of imminent loss.
“M…” He attempted to gurgle her name. I pulled the arm of a recruit, getting only her concerned glare and a gasp of surprise in response. I took her hand, not even sure I remembered her name in all of this, and placed it between Wes’s.
“She’s right here,” I told Wes, while looking at my recruit. “Feel her hand, Wes? She’s right here.”
“I…” her voice cracked, “I’m here, Wes.”
“You’re going to be fine,” I lied to Wes once more, squeezing my hand around theirs. She held his hand for the rest of our ride, cradling his face while we ran through the emergency department with doctors. I knew he wouldn’t be fine, but Wes didn’t need to know that. If hope is all you can give, give it. Give it with your soul, make it your everything. If it keeps someone alive long enough to say goodbye, it’s what you do.
I threw up twice in the ambulance on the way back to the fire station. Ben let me by without questioning me as I tumbled out of the back and stormed into the shower. I needed to burn away the memories that came with shifts like that. I had a life now, one with an incredible woman who was waiting for me to come over later…and meet her friends.
I walked home to Lizzie’s that night, letting Muffin sniff each hydrant and bench as we crossed State Street. She wasn’t home when the old man and I got there, and I knew it was for the better. As much as all I wanted to was fall into her arms and sleep, I realized I needed to be alone in the comfort of her home before I could adjust.
When I got inside, carrying the wine I almost forgot to get, I was overwhelmed with the scents of cinnamon and vanilla. I’d learned anything that smelled like artificial baked goods was Lizzie’s go-to when she forgot to refill her oil diffuser. I didn’t mind unplugging the putrid air freshener and filling the diffuser, welcoming the fragrance I’d found could erase so much when it sent my thoughts straight back to how comfortable I was at Lizzie’s and how happy we were.
I sat on her patio for a while before cocooning myself in her bed, met with the quiet rumble of one of her cats. I never knew which; they were both smelly, furry, and purred a lot. Muffin couldn’t climb onto the bed. His poor legs could only pace enough to switch from one floor pillow to the next. My phone vibrated in my pocket, buried beneath so many layers that I thought it was the cat at first. I missed Lizzie’s messages to me after I’d fooled around with my selfie, the memory of which brought a smile to my face, and the thought of Lizzie’s reaction cleared what haze remained. The first message was a picture of my girl, sticking her tongue out at me with a raised middle finger that sparkled with new nail polish. She’s so damn gorgeous. The background was her office overlooking downtown, and the gesture of her taking a picture at work, somewhere normal, seemed so routine, so real. I felt better thinking of that, relieved I guess, because it was life. It grounded me, just like Lizzie, and I let my day go.
Lizzie: Evil. You’re filthy and need a shower. There’s only one shower at my place, and you’re staying there tonight…guess I’ll have to help solve that problem when I’m home, mermaid.
Lizzie: Don’t forget the wine! I hope your shift was boring. I’ll take another selfie any time. Xx
I reread her messages, biting my lip to suppress a laugh. I didn’t know why I wanted to keep quiet. Maybe it’s because her cat finally stopped purring in my face, or maybe because I didn’t feel worthy of this, of Lizzie and us. I shook it off. After a shift like today, the only person I wanted to see was Lizzie. Her cat was pretty damn close, all cute and warm and shit. I opened my camera and snapped a picture of its bushy tail covering my forehead, hoping it would make her smile.
Me: Wish you were here.
I don’t remember the exact time she came home, but I remember waking up to her in bed with me. I would’ve let Lizzie wake me up like that every morning for the rest of my life. It was perfect, but we got lost in each other and were running late for making dinner. Part of me didn’t worry, and I knew she felt the same, but I did care about her and how important this night was for her.
I let out Muffin and climbed into the shower after Lizzie, resenting the isolation because thoughts of my shift flooded back to me.
I stood motionless beneath the scalding water as it cascaded over my skin until I was numb. I needed to tell Lizzie how fragile our time was, but now I was terrified she’d want out. Maybe giving her control would be better for her, maybe then she’d have her out and I wouldn’t hurt her as much…but I didn’t want to hurt her at all. She knew I could be called back, but we talked about that before sleeping together, before our lust turned to addiction. Before we really were more.
The door squeaked open and closed, followed by the soft padding of Lizzie’s footsteps as she wandered elsewhere in her home. Two months with her felt like a lifetime, and that only had me hoping we could last through whatever else came…wherever I went. And now, I had to meet her friends. I wanted to. I wasn’t about to give up Lizzie, and no deployment or job would break what we’d started. She’d understand, it would just break her heart, and I hated being the one responsible for that…but I could mend it; I knew how to care for hearts. She’d taken mine from my sleeve, and I could protect hers.
I turned off the shower and stepped out, my gaze catching on the glass of wine Lizzie placed next to a folded towel on the vanity. The squeaking sound of her closet door opening echoed beyond the bathroom, and I smiled, thinking about how easily the fear and angst I had disappeared with her thoughtful gesture of wine, the sound of her existence around me, and the routine of life. Our life. I was wiping the towel along my face when I noticed the small heart she drew with sparkling red lip gloss on her mirror.
She’d understand. She had Sean and Avery. Fragility and time were concepts they carried around, and Lizzie was a realist. She was blunt, intrepid, and mine. I loved it, and I sure as hell cared about her…Who am I kidding? I was falling faster, and harder, than a boulder over a cliff for her.
“Hey, Lizzie?” I called, stepping out of the bathroom with her white towel wrapped around my hips and wine glass in hand. I swallowed a sip as I watched her head poke out from the closet. Her blue eyes grinned as much as her painted lips. “You think getting me wasted before meeting your friends is the best idea?”
“Well,” she hesitated, stepping out from behind her closet door, sending my heart straight down beneath my towel, “I didn’t think one glass could hurt. If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it.” She approached, arms extended as she greedily reached for the stem between my fingers. The soft tips of her fingers tickled against my knuckles as she pinched the stem, her stare meeting mine.
Lizzie’s free hand pressed against my bare abs, her fingernails grazing the outline of roses painted over my muscles, as she stepped closer to me. Her chest against my stomach, her sweet vanilla perfume, a
nd the drops of water dripping from my hair was sensory overload, causing me to shiver and Lizzie to giggle. It was muffled against my skin as she kissed my sternum. I love that sound.
Every muscle in my body tightened with the soft thump of my towel at my feet. Lizzie’s fingers roamed around my stomach, stopping at my hips before she took a sip from the wine glass. I swallowed, struggling to breathe as her nails grazed my skin.
“I want it,” I declared, my body threatening to implode, desperate for release with Lizzie. It wasn’t just the wine I wanted. Her chest lifted, pushing against me as Lizzie stepped onto her tiptoes, our lips meeting in a rush that turned my balls to the darkest shade of navy as her doorbell rang.
Lizzie’s giggle fanned my chest as the doorbell rang once more with impatience. “They’re excited to meet you.”
“I’m excited to meet them,” I leaned forward to pick up my towel on the third ring, “but you could be doing anything in here.”
“Oh,” she squealed, bouncing once as she stepped away, “I like the promise behind that idea.” With her fingers wrapped around the bedroom door, and me standing in a towel, the bell continuing to scream, Lizzie smiled softly at me.
“What’s keeping you?” I winked, pulling on my clothes. I couldn’t lie. The anticipation of meeting Sean, the man I watched die, the guy anchoring their group of friends, the one who brought Lizzie and me together without knowing it, this mythical creature, was terrifying. I felt like meeting Lizzie’s father, who also happened to be in charge of a mafia family or something. I’d seen trauma, disaster, violence…and none of it left me as anxious as the idea of meeting this guy.
“They really want to meet you,” she repeated, “and…they’re protective…Sean is protective. It’s a pain in the ass, but he’s like my brother.”
“What’s his story?” I tried to play it cool, sipping from the wine glass with my free hand.
