Hell, Fire & Freedom (Fighting for Freedom)

by Callahan, Shannon

  “Brynn, I don’t even know what to say,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had. Seriously, you didn’t need to do all of this, though. The pancakes were more than enough.”

  “Well, it’s only just begun. I’m making dinner and dessert tonight, and then we’re going bowling,” I say, laughing.

  “Bowling?” she asks curiously.

  “Yes, bowling. You know, wearing other people’s wonky shoes, throwing heavy bowling balls down the gutter. Normal people stuff.”

  “Thank you, this is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” she whispers, before taking a big bite of her pancakes.

  I wonder if she knows it’s one of the best days of my life, too.

  ~

  I find myself waiting for Blaze to come into the café that morning, but he never shows. I recognized another fire fighter from the calendar, though, so maybe it was his day off. I admit defeat, and take my break with a cheese scone and a peppermint tea. That’s when he slides into the seat beside me.

  “Sorry, there were no other seats,” he says pulling an almond croissant out of his bag. “I hope you don’t mind.” I gaze up at his face. He looks anything but remorseful, instead he’s smirking like a cat who caught finally his mouse.

  I scan the café, and like always, we’re packed. Maybe he really did just need a place to sit. I let my eyes wander back to Blaze who’s wearing a grey t-shirt and black running shorts. He’s eating casually, but his eyes are studying mine.

  “That’s fine, I should be getting back to work anyway,” I say awkwardly, and begin putting the barely touched scone back into the bag. He stops me by placing his hand softly over top of mine.

  “Please, Brynn. I would love it if you’d sit with me. I promise, no napkins, no clumsiness, I’d just like to eat lunch with you,” he says with a sincerity that surprises me.

  It also doesn’t escape my notice that his big, strong hand is still resting on mine, and I pray he can’t feel my pulse quicken. I decide to let my guard down, just a little.

  “Of course,” I say, using all of my willpower to pull my hand away from his. I look back down at my scone, which doesn’t look nearly as appetizing as he does. What am I doing here?

  “My name is Blaze, by the way. I’m a firefighter just down the street. The Frothy Moustache is kind of a staple for us,” he says casually.

  I nod, unsure of what else to say. I can’t even look him in the eyes without wanting to giggle like a school girl.

  We eat for a few more minutes in silence until I figure it’s about time for me to get back to work. I search deep inside of myself for the courage to speak to him.

  “Thanks for the company, Blaze. I’ll see you around,” I say, gathering my mug and the remnants of my scone.

  “The pleasure has been all mine,” he says warmly. I chance a quick look at him before returning to work.

  The next month continues in a similar manner. Blaze seems to show up during my break daily, always sitting at my table. We talk about the cafe, food, weather, and any similar interests we have and I’m glad he doesn’t push me for anything too personal. I start to feel really comfortable around him and look forward to seeing him during the work week.

  I mention him to my therapist who encourages me to keep talking to him. Marie does wonderfully in school and has even made the swim team. Her teachers say she’s doing well, but she’s still resistant to make friends—she seems to be letting people in slowly, though.

  We call Ma at the hospital, but she’s not doing very well. They are lowering her sedation little by little to see how she reacts as the withdrawals become less intense. She’s still not very pleasant, but when has she ever been?

  Doctor Enman calls back to let us know what was lacking in Marie’s blood work and luckily, she seems healthy aside from a few vitamin deficiencies. We pick up some supplements and hope her levels improve.

  Then one Wednesday Blaze doesn’t show up during my break, or at all that day. Thursday and Friday pass and still no sign of Blaze. I find I’m actually disappointed when the weekend rolls around, and I know there’s no chance of seeing him again. I’m guessing he got bored with our small talk. I’ve never been that great of a friend, to be honest. In fact, toward him, I’ve been pretty cruel in the past. Not on purpose most of the time, though, the wind always feels knocked out of me when he sits down beside me. I become too nervous to open my mouth or even look in his direction. Once he starts talking, I’m fine, but that sexy smile … it renders me speechless.

  Marie has swim practice all weekend, and I tag along and read when she’s not the one swimming. I start reading romance novels at the advice of my therapist. She thinks it will help me realize that there are good men out there, and also attempt to normalize sex and relationships for me. To be honest, I’m still skimming over those parts. I’m not sure how sex is supposed to be pleasurable. I remember being sixteen and looking forward to my first time so I could share that closeness, that love, that connection with someone. I wanted it desperately.

  The first night Carl had sex with me, though, I knew it was all a big lie. The only thing I felt was pain and emptiness. I’m probably going to be alone for the rest of my life, and I think I’m okay with that. Anything is better than those five years in Hell I spent with Carl. I’m happy on my own. At least until Marie goes off to college, maybe then I’ll get a dog.

  Monday rolls around, and all through the morning I’m hoping Blaze will return. I hate that I’ve come to expect him, that I’m already depending on a man for my happiness, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Even with no chance of a relationship, he’s still become a great friend.

  The walk to work today was tough; I kept looking over my shoulder, positive I could hear Carl calling my name. He was never there when I looked, though. I think I’m starting to go crazy.

  I take my salad and peppermint tea to the only empty table in the café. I hear the doorbell chime and look over my shoulder.

  That’s when my heart stops beating.

  Blaze is in a three button, navy blue suit that fits every inch of his body to perfection. My eyes travel up to his beautiful face, and it’s only then I notice his bloodshot eyes. His hair is no longer tousled, but in a fancy men’s cut. It’s absolutely stunning on him, but it just doesn’t seem to fit who I have come to think of as Blaze.

  But what do I know? Nothing at all, besides his first name and occupation. Can you say stalker? He looks around the room until his eyes find mine. He walks over to me with slouched shoulders, looking utterly defeated and nothing like the strong virile man he was a week ago. He sits opposite me, and what do you know, I finally speak first. I guess I find it easy to connect with sorrow.

  “Blaze, are you all right?”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at the table and shaking his head.

  “I shouldn’t have come in here like this, but you’re the only person I wanted to see. I don’t want to complicate things for you, or for us, but I had to see you.”

  Did he just say us? My heart starts beating out of my chest, and I do the bravest thing I think I’ve ever done in my life—I grab his hand.

  “I’m really glad you’re here, Blaze. Do you want a coffee? I’ve still got twenty minutes left of my break,” I offer.

  “That would be great. Thanks, Brynn,” he says solemnly. I head behind the counter and have Amber make him a coffee. When I sit back down at the table he places his hand on mine again. It’s incredibly warm, and I find myself wishing he would never stop. We sit in silence for what seems like forever before he speaks.

  “My dad died,” he says, eyes cast downward. “He was kind of my hero. I never thought he would die, at least not for another thirty years anyway. He was just one of those men that never stopped. He looked healthy. He looked great, actually. I used to joke all the time that he was in better shape than I was,” he says, disbelievingly.

  “He had a heart attack the other night. I found him when I went over for our w
eekly morning run. I tried to save him, but he’d already been gone a while,” he says with a pained voice. I squeeze his hand gently and wait until he lifts his eyes to meet mine. They’re full of pain, and I see the tears he’s refusing to let go of in the ducts of his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, Blaze. He sounds like a great man,” I say, wondering how I would ever know. I never met my father. All I know is he ran off when I was young, or maybe he was never there to begin with. It’s hard to get a true story out of Ma. As for my grandfather, Ma refused to even speak his name. He probably hated his alcoholic daughter, too.

  “He was. I’m sorry for coming here and dumping all of this on you. I’m being a selfish prick. I’ve just missed seeing you this week. I needed some strength, and I knew you could be it for me,” he says, and I stroke his hand with the pad of my thumb. “I have to meet with his lawyers in an hour. It just all seems so final. I think I’m still in shock. Is that even possible?” he asks.

  “I wish I knew what to say, Blaze. I’m glad you came in, though. You’re not being selfish. You’re in pain, and if I know anything at all, I know pain,” I say, cringing at the words that just escaped my lips.

  Damn it, Brynn, real smart.

  He seems to notice the slip up, but luckily he doesn’t press me on it.

  “I know this is a really bad time to ask, but are you doing anything later? I’d love to do anything at all but think about this. I even promise to try and get out of this somber mood,” he says, attempting to laugh, but failing miserably.

  I start to panic and think of excuses. I mean, he’s a great friend and all, but can I really be alone with him? Fortunately, thanks to Marie, I have a valid excuse.

  “I’d love to, but I can’t actually. My sister has a swim meet later,” I say, instantly regretting it. He clearly needs someone right now, and here I am still pushing him away, acting like a self-centered brat. It’s not like he can’t find another woman to help him clear his head, though. In fact, I’m sure someone else would be more than willing to take care of both heads for him. I wince at the thought.

  “She swims? That’s great. I swam in high school and all through college, too. I can understand that, and I’m sorry for asking you. You deserve more than that for a first date,” he replies.

  DATE! DATE? I start to panic and look down at the floor. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I am not ready to date. I can’t let him go home, though; he’s in so much pain.

  “You’re welcome to tag along if you’d like,” I mutter nervously. “I usually just sit alone and read when she’s not swimming. It would be nice to have some company,” I lie, giving him a hopeful smile, and praying he can’t sense how terrified I am. At least it’s in a public place, right? The stands usually have students and the occasional parent scattered about for practices, I’m sure the competition tonight will attract more people.

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind. I can pick you up?” he offers.

  I panic at the thought of being alone in a car with him, but at the same time a small part of me is excited by the idea. What if he kissed me? I don’t even know how to kiss. I’ve only ever kissed Carl, and I have never really kissed him back. I always tried to block it out of my mind, allowing him to control it, like he controlled every other aspect of my life.

  “I’ll actually just meet you there at six. Walker Street High School. I usually have supper with her beforehand,” I answer nervously.

  “That sounds great, Brynn, I’ll see you there. Thank you for the coffee and for the talk. I knew seeing you here would brighten my day. It always does. Until tonight,” he says before walking out of the café.

  I gather my wits, steel my nerves, and get back to work. Tonight is going to take some serious courage.

  Chapter 8

  “You’re meeting him there?” Marie asks incredulously, taking her last bite of Shepherd’s pie.

  “I am, but it’s not what you’re thinking, Marie. His dad just died suddenly, and he wants to get out and take his mind off things. It’s not a date at all,” I say, feeling slightly disappointed at that thought. “He was on a swim team in high school and college, too, so he’s excited to watch you swim.”

  “Really?” she asks excitedly, “maybe he could give me some pointers then. There’s still a lot of people finishing before me during practice. I hope I don’t completely embarrass the school tonight. But I really am sorry to hear about his dad. I have no issues with you dating, in fact, I feel just the opposite. You’ve dated and married one shitty man in your entire existence. Get out there, and find a good one. I need to know they exist, too.”

  “Don’t you dare think about dating, Marie Vincent,” I say, pretending to scold her.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re at least weeks away from me dating,” she says, sticking her tongue out at me. I feel my heart skip a beat. I can’t even think about Marie dating right now, but I guess she’s only a year younger than I was when I married Carl. Crazy.

  “Anyway, back to you and Blaze,” she says rolling her eyes. “He seems really nice, Brynn. I’m just a little worried about you. How is therapy going?”

  Marie and I have been doing therapy both separately and together a few times a week since we arrived in New York. I really don’t want to hash out all the details of the repeated sexual abuse, Carl’s attempts to impregnate me, or even the beatings in front of Marie, so it’s nice to have that time alone with the therapist. In our joint sessions, we cover our childhood, working through the abandonment issues we feel from never having met our fathers, and from having an alcoholic mother. I have no idea what Marie talks about in her individual sessions, and I would never ask. When she’s ready to talk, I’ll be here for her.

  “It’s going well. I think it will be easier once I finally get the divorce papers back. I know Tara is working hard to rush them. I just hate being legally bound to him. As warped as it is, I feels as though he still owns me. He’s also being charged, and I’m not sure how that’s going either. That’s probably my own fault, though, since I told Tara I didn’t want to know until it was all said and done. I know I’m not ready to date yet, but having a friend couldn’t hurt, could it?” I ask, knowing in my heart that what’s between Blaze and me is more than a friendship, at least on my end.

  There’s no denying that I‘m physically attracted to him. I know he probably just pities me still, from the time when I ran into him and acted like a total fool. He’s never acted like that’s the case while we’re together, but honestly, how am I supposed to know the ins and outs of friendships and relationships?

  “Not at all, sis. Just remember that you’re worth every bit of kindness anyone ever shows you, and if they show you anything but, walk away because you deserve the world and nothing less,” Marie says sympathetically.

  I give her a hug, because I’m not sure what to say to that. I can’t see me ever having the fairy tale ending I’ve always dreamed of. Nothing in my life has ever gone the way I would have liked it to. I just need to resign myself to the fact that prince charming isn’t out there. Not for girls like me, anyway.

  We do the dishes, and then I get dressed while Marie does her homework. I find myself lingering in front of the mirror, curling my hair, and perfecting my makeup. I tell myself that it’s not about Blaze, and more about feeling good about my appearance.

  My palms are sweating, and I wish that I wasn’t so nervous. I grab a hand towel and wipe them off before tossing it into the washer. I walk back out to the kitchen and grab the newest book I borrowed from my therapist’s library, Wilde Ride by Maegan Lynn Moores. I‘ve been having trouble putting it down lately, so if the conversation goes south, at least I have a good book to dive into.

  “You ready, Marie?” I shout, zipping my leather boots up over my jeans. I decided to dress casually since I went a bit overboard with my hair. I don’t want him to think I thought it was a date, even though I have to keep reminding myself of that, too. He’s hurting and needs someone to talk to. That’s it. It doesn’t hurt to have fri
ends. Marie emerges from her room with her swim bag in hand.

  “Did you finish your homework?” I ask, feeling matronly and loving every second of it.

  “I did. I even read a chapter ahead in the book we’re reading for English class. I think you’re enjoying this too much by the way,” she says, laughing.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, rolling my eyes obnoxiously. “Now let’s get going before you’re late.”

  We walk down to the school quietly, enjoying the commotion of the busy New York streets. I notice Blaze is already waiting for us as we walk up to the front of the school. He’s standing with his back pressed against the front entrance, a tray of Frothy Moustache cups in hand. He’s changed out of his suit and into a black hoodie with a yellow helmet, his fire department, and PRESCOTT printed on it. He’s wearing light colored jeans, sneakers and that award winning smile. He looks to be in a much better mood than this afternoon. I smile back at him.

  “Hey Brynn, and Marie, is it?” he asks, nodding toward Marie.

  “Hey, yes, this is my sister, Marie. Marie, this is Blaze,” I say, introducing the two formally. He extends his hand, and Marie awkwardly accepts.

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I got you a hot chocolate. It’s one of my favorites,” he says, before handing her a cup from the tray.

  “Thank you,” Marie mumbles, blushing profusely.

  “Well, I’d better get in for practice. I’ll meet you after, Brynn?” Marie asks.

  “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you then. Good luck, Marie; not that you need it,” I tell her.

  “Thanks,” she says before turning and walking through the front doors of the school.

  “This is for you. Payback for the coffee today,” he says, handing me a cup. I smell the aroma coming from the top of the lid—peppermint tea, a new addiction of mine.

  “You remembered,” I say, a little flustered. This is incredibly sweet of him.