First and Last (26 page)

Small pieces fall from the sky and I spring up on my feet. I’ve got to find him, but as soon as I step around the shit that caved in, I see him and know it’s not good. Beneath the rubble lies Gary, only his boots are visible.

“Oh, God!” Using every bit of strength I possess, I lift the heavy wood and other shit laying on top of him. “Gary! Can you hear me?” I get no response. “Shit!”

Slinging this unknown guy over my shoulder, I reach down and grab the back of Gary’s collar and do my best to drag him with me. My legs burn and I’m slow moving, but I won’t leave him behind. I’ll make two trips if I have to.

“Help! I need help in here!” I shout, hoping someone will hear me. With this guy on my shoulder and dragging Gary, I can’t get to my radio. I’m so close to the door, I can see the light from outside. Twenty more feet and we’ll be golden.

There’s another snap followed by a crash. The whole damn building is caving in now, and I could have seconds before we’re all toast.

“Blake! Gary! You guys okay?” I hear Vince, one of the other guys, shout for me.

“I’m right here. I need help!” I holler back. He runs over to me, and I tell him, “Grab Gary. Hurry. It’s about to go.”

He throws Gary over his shoulder with a grunt and we hightail it out of there. With each step, I keep repeating that he’ll be fine. He’s just knocked out. He’ll have a bump on the head and a cool story to tell. We make it through the doors and I collapse to the asphalt, completely exhausted and out of breath. I should probably be more concerned about the guy we pulled out of there, but my main focus is on Gary.

“This guy needs help!” I shout out to anyone listening as I run over to Gary who’s lying on his back. Vince is checking his pulse, and I stop breathing waiting for him to tell me he’s okay. After a few seconds, he starts unzipping Gary’s jacket and I know that’s not a good sign. Vince starts CPR and I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience and all I can do is stand there and watch. This can’t be happening. Vince keeps doing chest compressions while I refuse to accept that Gary’s heart has stopped beating on its own.

Soon, paramedics have him on a stretcher and are loading him up as they take over the desperate attempt to save our friend.

Our fellow firefighter.

Our brother.

“What happened?” Chief asks.

I stare off into space. “We were on our way out when the floor above us started to collapse. He pushed me out of the way and it all fell on him.” I swallow hard, trying to hold back my emotions because something deep inside tells me this is bad, and Gary isn’t going to be okay. “He saved me.”

Chief pats me on the back, sympathy in his eyes. “It’s okay, Blake. We’ll get an update on him soon, okay?”

I nod, staring back at the building that might have taken my friend, my mentor, away from me. The other guys work to get the fire out, but I stand there transfixed on the flames as they flicker, taunting me with the truth I’m not ready to acknowledge.

Once the fire has been completed extinguished, we pile into the truck and head back to the station. You can feel the somber mood radiating from everyone as we ride together. No one says a word. We all sit in silence lost in our thoughts.

Chief gets the call from the hospital an hour after we make it back to the station. He doesn’t need to say a word to confirm my fears. The grief in his eyes gives me déjà vu, and I’m transported back in time to when I walked into my high school office to see the same look on my mother’s face. The ache in my chest grows as my jaw clenches while I fight to hold back the tears. Numbly, I walk away, not focusing on anything other than the harsh truth that I want so badly to be a lie. I enter my bunk and lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel the tears running down my face.

I’m not sure how long I lie there, but when my phone vibrates on the stand next to me, my eyes are burning. Looking at the caller ID, I see it’s Mia.

“Hey,” I answer around a large knot in my throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, unable to speak.

“Are you okay?” The tone of her voice rises, letting me know she’s worried.

“Yeah, I’ll be coming home soon.” I don’t wait for her to respond before I hang up.

Mia’s waiting for me on the porch of the home we bought earlier this year. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her forehead is lined with concern. Without saying a word, she wraps me in her arms and holds me tight. I bury my face into her neck, needing her scent to comfort me. My body shakes as I let it all out and cry for the friend I’ll never see again.

“He died saving me,” I croak out.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” She repeats this over and over as I fill her in on what happened.

“Mia, that would’ve been me. The only reason I’m able to hold you right now is because of him. He sacrificed his life for me.” I crack on the last word as I voice the part that tears me up the most. That should have been me, and now I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.

Guilt.

It’s a unique emotion. I didn’t do anything wrong, yet I still feel responsible. The sensible part of my brain knows this, but guilt consumes it, snuffing out its voice. It wraps itself around me like a second skin that I can’t shed, can’t shake. And I fear no amount of comfort or love from Mia will rid me of it.

October 2009

“H
eeey,” I drag out as I attempt to get up from my chair. “Dinner,” I grunt. Mia stares at me like I’m speaking a different fucking language. “What’s for dinner?” I try again, annoyed.

“Pot roast.” Her reply is short. While she’s calm, she definitely has an attitude, and with the alcohol in my system, it pisses me off.

“What if I don’t want roast?” I’m finally up but stumble a few steps, sloshing my Jack Daniels around in my glass. My head is hazy and I’m a little dizzy. I keep moving to keep from feeling it. I found I can trick my body and not puke that way.

She sighs like she’s about to talk to a child.
What the fuck is her problem?
I just asked what was for dinner. “Then starve. It’s been cooking all day and I’m not making something else because
you don’t want it
.” She won’t even look at me, just keeps flipping through her magazine while she uses her snippy fucking tone. I wasn’t awake when she made it, so I had no idea. Of course, I hardly roll out of bed before noon anymore.

I look at her sitting on the couch without a care in the world. “Yeah, you just sit there and judge me.” I rock back and forth a little and snarl at her.

“If you feel judged, then that says more about you than me. I haven’t said a damn word.” That’s all it takes to set me off.

“You’ve got your nice, cushy job telling people about bullshit they don’t care about. You think people actually care about some hundred-year-old lady’s birthday? No. You know why? Because we all have
real
problems. We don’t have time for that stupid shit or your feel-good stories.” She doesn’t respond and that pisses me off even more. I want her to get mad. I want her to fight with me. I need someone to take this out on. “You go to work knowing everyone is going home. There’s no danger, no roofs collapsing on your friends.” Even through my drunken fog, I can hear the hate and bitterness in my words.

“Then retire!” she yells at me. “Do whatever you need to do, but I’m over this shit, Blake. I’m over it! I’m sorry you lost Gary, but—”

“No!” I take my glass and hurl it across the room. It hits the wall and shatters upon impact. “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know shit, Mia!”

When I look at her, I expect to see tears. A sick part of me hopes to see them. I want to transfer my pain to her. I expect her to get up and run out of the room, but she doesn’t. What I see in her eyes is ten times worse. She’s disappointed in me. I look away, not able to stomach it.

“You don’t know shit,” I murmur again before falling back into my chair.

“Then tell me, Blake. Talk to me.” She comes and kneels in front of me. There’s no anger in her expression, only worry and hurt. I’m hurting her on a daily basis and that kills me. I’m such a bastard. “Because right now I see a man who’s turning into my mother. A man who puts his booze above his wife, just like she put it above her daughter. I won’t live that life again. I can’t. I deserve more.”

I hang my head in shame; her words are like an ice bucket being dumped on my head, sobering me up. The reason Mia came to live with her dad is because her mom is an alcoholic. She wasn’t able to care for her, so she handed over full custody. She hasn’t seen her since. I’m repulsed by myself. Absolutely disgusted I remind her of her horrible mother. “I’ve tried to stop since they put me on leave, but I can’t.” Chief noticed I was taking Gary’s death pretty hard, so he gave me some time off to sort out my shit. I’ve been trying to numb it ever since.

“Why not?” There’s no judgment when she asks, making me feel more comfortable with telling her the truth.

“Because the first thing I see when I wake up is Gary’s face, and it’s just too hard. I don’t know how to deal with it,” I admit, looking down. I’m ashamed and embarrassed. I thought I’d be stronger than this, but I’m not.

“What did you do when your dad died? How’d you cope then?”

I glance up and look her square in the eyes. “I had you.” My voice is raw with vulnerability. It’s the most honest words I’ve spoken in a month.

She grabs my hands. “You still do, Blake. You still do. Let me help you. Use me as your crutch. You don’t need this stuff.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and lean my head against the couch. This is so much different than when Dad died. I wasn’t the cause of it then. I am now. How can anyone live with that? Gary’s funeral was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my life. To look his wife and kids in the eye and tell them I was sorry was crippling. They sobbed and there was nothing I could do to comfort them, to take the pain away. Because the fact of the matter is, I’m the cause of that pain. I lived and he died.

“But I do need it. It’s too hard. Do you know what it’s like to watch someone you care about slip through your fingers? One minute they’re there, and the next they’re not?”

“Yes,” she says very quietly. “I watch you drink yourself into a stupor every night. You’re slipping from me little by little, and I have no idea how to help you. I’ve tried letting you work it out, I’ve thought about talking to your chief about it. Hell, I even called your mother and she didn’t have a solution either.”

That gets my attention. Mom never mentioned Mia calling her. Of course, I can’t really remember the last time I talked to her sober. A sense of betrayal that she would go behind my back and run to my fucking mother creeps in and has me seething.

“I’m at a loss, Blake. But with every sip you take, you drift farther and farther away from me, and it’s killing me. It’s killing us.” I lift my head to tell her she had no right calling my mother about this, but my words die on my tongue when I take in her tear-filled eyes. This beautiful woman who I’ve vowed to honor and protect is looking up at me desperately. I’ve failed her. As a husband and as her friend.

“Do you think Gary would want this for you?” she asks. “Do you think he gave up his life for you to drink yourself to death?”