by S. K. Lessly
18
Paul
It was a beautiful June day. Summer was right around the corner. Clear blue skies welcomed me as I stepped outside to get some fresh air. I was tired of sitting inside the firehouse watching TV. It’s been a while since we had perfect weather like this and I intended on taking full advantage. I grabbed a folded chair and carried outside to the driveway.
I had just settled outside, watching the cars drive by, deep in thought, when I heard someone coming behind me. I turned slightly to find Samson carrying his own chair. He placed his chair next to me and sat down. He folded his arms across his broad chest and sighed heavily.
It had been a while since we’ve been able to talk. When we were working the same shift, I kept my distance, only interacting when absolutely necessary. When I was off, I didn’t answer my phone or door. I just wanted to be alone. My marriage was fucking over. My wife admitted to cheating on me the entire time I had been lamely fighting to save us.
That had been the worst thing about this whole situation. Here I was worrying about making my wife happy, understanding her messed up ways and trying to make her feel wanted, loved, fucking desired and this… this gotdamn…woman, and I use that term loosely, was out here probably screwing any and every one.
I had gotten tested as soon as I got back from South Carolina, just for peace of mind. Even though she and I wore condoms when we had sex, because she didn’t want to get pregnant, I did go down on her. Imagine my delight when the tests came back negative.
If they didn't, I probably wouldn't be here right now. She would have been dead and I would have been in some country without extradition to the US. No way would I have stayed around to get caught.
Samson, seeing that I was ignoring him, cleared his throat aggressively before he asked, “Have you spoken to her since that night at the beach?”
I looked out at the traffic and said dryly, “Why on earth would I talk to her. I have nothing to say to Sabrina.”
“I ain't talking about Sabrina.”
I looked at my friend and sighed when I realized who he was referring to. “No, I haven’t.” I turned back to traffic not really wanting to say anymore on the subject.
Samson never had the knack of taking a hint, I knew, so I waited while he gathered his thoughts.
“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Samson prodded finally.
Wow, he didn’t waste any time thinking about that one, I thought to myself. Now should I lie?
I looked at Samson and said simply, “Yes.”
“Then go and tell her.”
“Samson, I can’t do that.”
“Why can’t you? You said it yourself you felt something when you kissed her. So why can’t you go to her and tell her how you feel?”
I looked at him annoyed before returning my eyes to the traffic whizzing by. The fucker cornered me in the airport the day we left SC, and wouldn’t get out of my face until I told him everything that went down. I started at the beginning and told him about walking along the beach with Lauren. I didn’t know why I started with that but I did. I told him about how close I came to telling her everything about her cheating, lying ass husband but decided against it.
I filled him in on wanting to kiss Lauren, then actually kissing her. I told him about deciding I was done being married and was on my way to find Sabrina to tell her that very thing when I saw her in the bar. He knew the rest. He even saw me punch the guy before I walked away. I had told him everything in hopes that he’d leave me alone. Now here he was in my shit.
“Because Samson,” I began, my eyes facing forward, refusing to look at him. “Regardless of what I feel for her and regardless of that slight moment we had, she’s still married. I shouldn’t have kissed her in the first fucking place, no matter the fact that I know her marriage is a sham. I shouldn’t be feeling this way for a married woman. It’s like bad karma or something. No. The best thing I could do is stay away from her. Let her workout whatever it is she needs to with Sebastian. And I need to pick up the pieces of my broken life and move on.”
“I disagree.” Samson smacked my arm to get my attention. I looked at him irritation evident on my face. He ignored me, which was pissing me off even more and continued. “As a matter of fact, I think you need to call Lauren right now and tell her you need to speak with her. Then when you get off tomorrow morning, you go right to her house and stick your tongue down her throat. Here let me get you started.”
Samson leaned forward and unclipped his phone from his side. He started messing with his phone, I assumed scrolling through his contacts. I didn’t believe he was actually going to call her. I didn’t think he had her number, but as I leaned over and saw her name and number appear, I reached to grab his phone. Samson was quick for his large frame and managed to keep his phone away from me. Just then the alarm sounded signaling we had a call.
I stood, thankful as shit. “See, it’s not meant to be so let it go. Come on, we have lives to save.”
“I’m trying to save yours, you idiot,” Samson replied. He grabbed both our lounge chairs and we trotted inside to jump into our turnout gear with the rest of our squads.
I responded halfheartedly, as I came up behind him, “There's no need. I’m fine.”
I knew what he was trying to do, but it wasn't necessary. Despite me kissing the woman and feeling my entire body come alive for the first time ever, I would not cross that line again. No matter how bad I wanted her. I refused to put myself or her in that situation. Even though I knew her marriage was as shaky as mine. It was her place to learn that and my place to keep my distance. If things were supposed to be different then it would happen on its own.
Lauren
Tonight, was the end of a glorious week. I had met a few of my fellow coworkers out for happy hour and now I was making my way home. I couldn’t wait to get home. I was drunk number one and I shouldn’t be driving myself right now. If I got pulled over, I would surely be going to jail.
And number two, my feet were killing me. I had decided to wear this rust color cotton summer dress to work today so I could hang out with my coworkers later. The dress was very flattering and the only pair of shoes that went great with this dress were these brown five-and-a-half-inch strappy sandals that was comfortable when I put them on at twelve o’clock today. However, at twelve-thirty my feet weren’t too happy. These shoes were not made for the kind of dancing I had done earlier, but I had a very good time letting my hair down and enjoying my friends.
It’s been a few weeks since my life had turned upside down. It’s almost summer and I was about to embark on a new journey in my life. My new job already started and so far, I was loving my new beginning.
It took a while for me to clean up all the splinters I had left from destroying the bed I used to share with Sebastian, but I managed to get everything done. I got rid of the whole bedroom set and bought a new one more my style. I packed away Sebastian’s clothes and he came and got them one day when I wasn’t around. After that, I changed the locks and began to put my life back together.
FYI, I didn’t break my hand that night. It was just a very bad strain. The doctor said I had to wear a hard brace for three weeks only taking it off when I showered or bathed. I kept it on for about a week and a half before I chucked it in the garbage.
So here are a few updates since the end of spring.
I hadn’t spoken to Sebastian since I chased him out of my house, other than to coordinate when he could get his things. Actually, it wasn’t me coordinating but rather it was me texting him, “You need to come and get your shit by Friday before I burn it all”. Needless to say, he got the hint.
Sebastian didn’t go away quietly. He did try to talk to me. He had sent me separate text messages, begging to talk to me. He sent me flowers, cards etc… I had no desire to speak to him. I wasn’t ready to deal with what I saw and the truths it brought to light. It was too painful and my heart was still too fragile.
I did run to the doctor the next
day to get my last test completed. I held my breath while I waited and I cried when it came back negative. I was in the clear and I was thankful for that, especially because of the recent events I encountered.
I had told Tonya what happened a few days after everything went down and swore her to secrecy. She and I went through two bottles of wine each trying to figure out how I could castrate Sebastian without getting caught. I felt better after talking to her. I needed a friend and she came through for me, making me feel better about myself.
Knowing that your life was a lie, and that your husband preferred dick over you could be a blow to any woman's ego. It’s usually your girlfriends hosting a dick roast in your honor that could make you feel better. I never had girlfriends. My friends were always boys. It was actually refreshing to have a woman to talk to that understood me.
In fact, I also told her about my visit with my parents too and wouldn’t you know she was on my side? Picture that. She did, however, scold me for not calling her to take me to the hospital or to pick me up at the train station but she understood, a little.
The one person that I had been dying to see and talk to however, was MIA, missing in action. I hadn’t seen Paul since we talked at the airport. I had tried to call him a few days after I had gotten back from Philly, but his phone would simply go to voicemail. Tonya had told me that Sabrina had been in Florida at her parents’ house since Myrtle Beach. She didn’t know what happened or if she was coming back, but Tyler told her that she and Paul were going through something and he wasn’t sure if she was coming back. He didn’t supply her with any details she said, just that Paul was pretty broken up about everything.
That had my heart aching for him. I remembered the scene I saw and how Paul punched that guy. I didn’t tell Tonya about it. If Tyler didn’t tell her maybe Paul didn’t want him to know. The hurt, pain and rage coming off him that night scared me. I had thought about checking up on him when I got home but, I was a coward.
I couldn’t get up the nerve to knock on his door. He had made it abundantly clear that he and I weren’t friends anymore and he wanted space. As much as I hated doing it, I had to give it to him. Besides, my marriage may be over, but his, hell I didn’t know. It looked over, but maybe he still thought it was worth saving. I needed to respect that and chalk up the kiss we shared to what it was, a mistake.
When I finally pulled up to my house, I could have sworn my feet sighed a bit of relief. I slowly pulled into my driveway, shut the engine off and I closed my eyes. The world took that moment to start spinning, so I opened my eyes and tried to focus on my house.
After a few deep breaths, I slowly got out of my car. I glanced over at my neighbor’s house and noticed something was off. First, Paul's truck was in his driveway, parked awkwardly. It was positioned diagonally, as if he pulled in to park and never straightened up as he got close to his driveway door.
I walked closer to his truck, slowly of course, and that’s when I noticed the second thing that was off. His front door was ajar.
What the hell?
My heart started pounding as I got close to the door, praying that I wouldn’t find anything that would scar me for life, again!
I walked inside the house and closed and locked his door. I called Paul’s name but I got no answer. I stood still and quiet and I tried to listen for any sounds. I didn’t hear a thing, except for my heart pounding in my ears. I contemplated turning around and leaving. After all, this wasn't my house. I had no business being here uninvited. With that bit of truth, I should’ve left. Yeah, I didn’t.
Paul’s sanctuary was his dungeon, which was in the basement. Since I was here, I might as well check up on him. I cautiously moved toward the basement with slow, quiet steps.
“Paul, are you down here?” I called down the darken steps. “Your door was open so I just closed it.” Gah, I sound like a lame, or a serial killer.
I slowly made my way down his steps, holding on for dear life. For some reason, these suckers seemed steeper than I remembered.
“So, you had to close it from the inside?”
I jumped at the sound of his voice. I looked around the dimly lit room searching for him. I hadn’t heard him sound so broken and angry before. It was worse than how he sounded a few weeks ago. The sound sent a chill down my spine and at the same time broke me.
“Sorry, I just wanted to check on you to make sure you were okay.” I continued down the not so “user-friendly steps” and stop at the bottom of them, taking in my surroundings. Finally, after I blinked a few times, I noticed a figure sitting at the bar, his back to me. He sat hunched over, a glass of something brown in his hand. He still had his work overalls on but it was hanging on his hip revealing a dark t-shirt.
“Well, I’m fine. You can go.” He returned, his voice growing darker, colder. I should take heed to the underlined warning in his voice. It was clear he wanted to be alone. The thing was, I wasn’t so sure he really meant what he said. It sounded strange to say and maybe it was my drunkenness that was driving my decisions. I just felt he needed a friend right now and damn it, that friend was gonna be me. I let out a deep sigh and continued to walk toward him, ignoring the way his back tensed as I approached.
“You really don’t follow directions very well, do you,” he said to me, more like a statement then a question. He proceeded to pour himself another drink, which was probably the smooth cognac he loved so much, into his glass. He threw the drink back quick just as I stepped behind the bar to face him. I could see pain etched on his handsome features and I softened. I looked around for the bottle he was pouring, found it and poured him another. He took it in one gulp then met my eyes.
They were blood shot and moist but very angry. I went to touch his face, don’t ask me why, and he leaned back from my reach.
“I told you I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Yeah, well, I’m asking you nicely, Lauren. Go home.” The fury in his eyes scared me a little but I stayed where I was.
“What happened?” I asked softly.
He shook his head and didn’t reply.
The man wasn’t giving me shit to work with but I knew him. I knew there would be a few things that could put this kind of look on his face. Also, he was still dressed in his turnout gear, which told me all I needed to know to proceed.
An idea to get him talking popped into my mind and I asked, solemnly, “Who was it, Samson?”
I held my breath waiting for his answer. He had told me once before that when a fellow firefighter was injured on the job, especially their own, they all rallied at the hospital for as long as they could just to show support. If he was home from his shift, still dressed in his gear, then I assumed something happened.
Paul, still not looking at me or acknowledging me, grabbed the bottle of Cognac and poured himself another drink. I grabbed a glass sitting on the bar for myself and placed it in front of him. He looked at it for a few minutes before he poured me some. He tossed his drink back and I did the same.
When he put his empty glass down, he said softly, “No, it was someone else.”
“What happened?” I asked, my voice but a whisper on my lips.
He sighed but didn’t look at me. I went to pour him another but he shook his head and placed his hand over the top of the glass.
I waited for him to speak and when he finally did, his voice was horse, quiet and matched the pain I had seen in his eyes.
“We were called to a four-alarm fire in East Orange. It was a huge apartment fire, burning out of control. The local companies needed help, which was why we got the call. There was no way we were going to be able to put it out, so we worked to try and contain it. My team was tasked to assist with sweeping the neighboring buildings, evacuating those still inside their apartments. As we were doing the sweep, the fire jumped to the building we were in and the roof instantly caught. We were on the top floor.”
My eyes grew at the news and I swallowed my fear. I knew fighting fires were d
angerous but to hear they were at the mouth of death made it real.
Paul paused to take a deep breath. He squirmed in his seat but still wouldn’t look at me. “My chief advised us that the fire had spread to our building and we needed to hurry up and get anyone we can out. We were just about done with the top floor when the roof collapsed in one apartment. One of my guys, Vargas, went into the apartment by himself, before I could catch up to him.”
Paul’s eyes finally found mine. His brows furrowed and his voice took on a slight edge to it, as he explained, “You see, he knows we don’t go anywhere by ourselves like that. But he said he heard someone in an apartment that had already been swept. It turned out he was right. There was a young man and his four-month-old baby lying on the floor. I grabbed the baby and Vargas helped the guy. We handed them off to another team who was about to move to the next floor. I had turned to Vargas and specifically told him to wait for me before he went back into that apartment, but again he didn’t listen. He started searching rooms without me and before I could get to him, more of the roof collapsed and fell on top of him.”
I gasped, my hands cupping my mouth. My heart plummeted to my toes and I could feel my eyes burning with unshed tears. I had known that what he was about to tell me was going to be bad, but this… I shook my head as he grew silent. I poured him more of the Cognac and he took it. I wanted to ask the hanging question but I didn’t. If this ended badly for Vargas, I didn’t want to bring it up again. I waited patiently for him to tell me more, praying for his fallen brother and his family.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he continued, “I’ve been at the hospital for hours wondering if he will make it or not. That stupid son of a…” he shook his head. “He should’ve let me go instead.”