by K. C. Crowne
Always.
Big Bad Firefighter
Chelsea ripped through me like a hurricane...
Broke down my walls. And made me a better man.
Now she's a single mom in trouble...
And it's my turn to save her.
Today, I fight fires for a living.
For a welcomed distraction from the demons of my past.
Behind the smoke and ash...
I see something that has me frozen.
Those striking eyes that can't be mistaken.
That voice that's been haunting me for years.
And there's a fear in her eyes she's trying so desperately to hide.
She needs me now more than ever and I won't let her down.
Chelsea
“Oliver, sweetie, it’s time for bed,” I said, fighting the urge to yawn. It might be Oliver’s bed time, but it wasn’t mine. I would be up for several more hours, late into the night. Working the night shift sucked, especially when Oliver’s schedule meant he was up by the time I got home from work, giving me very little time to sleep.
But I made do. At least I had a job. After going without one for three months, it was a relief. Getting caught up on my bills would take a while, and I had to pray the landlord would be patient with me for a few more months. At least until I got back onto my feet.
Some days, it felt like an impossible task. My eyes were heavy, but I needed to pull myself off the couch and make sure my little boy was in bed. I got a discount on child care because he slept the entire night, giving the babysitter a chance to do homework and sleep herself. It worked out well for both of us. Lydia, the college student I paid to watch Oliver, got a place to sleep and got paid to do it, and I had someone here in case he needed something during the night.
I finally managed to push myself off the couch and walk down the hallway to the bedroom. Paint chipped along the walls, and at the far end near the bathroom, a bucket collected water that leaked from our ceiling. There was a reason our landlord was patient with us - he knew no one else would live in this shithole without reporting him for being a slumlord. I got a good price, and we at least had a roof over our heads - albeit one that leaked often. I kept telling myself it was only temporary, but we’d lived there for six months now and there seemed to be no end in sight.
I opened the bedroom door, and Oliver was already passed out on our shared bed. He was curled up with his stuffed elephant, holding it close, still dressed in his clothes from earlier. Even with the house falling apart around me and the exhaustion that went deep into my bones, my little boy always brought so much joy to my life.
I walked over to the bed, which was just a mattress on the floor, and pulled the blanket up to cover him. It was chilly in the house with all the little holes and gaps in the walls, but I had several thick blankets that would keep him warm.
His dark brown hair was getting long, and I pushed it away from his eyes. His soft, delicate features reminded him a lot of myself when I was a child. We had the same chestnut brown hair and dark brown eyes. He didn’t look like his daddy at all, and I hoped he didn’t take after his dad in other ways either.
Oliver was a good kid and I considered myself very lucky. He rarely put up a fight when it was time for bed or to brush his teeth, and he adapted to our new life pretty easily. Being young, I guess it came easier for him. He was only four years old, but sometimes, it felt like he was much older. He’d had to grow up way too fast, and I hated that. I wanted to give him the childhood he deserved, but until I could get out of New York City, that was an impossible dream.
Soon, I told myself. I’d find a way to move somewhere else as soon as I could. Somewhere with a fenced in yard so he could have a dog and a swing set. Or at least somewhere with a park nearby where he could run freely. Our neighborhood was pretty sketchy, so he didn’t get to play outside like most kids did.
He deserved so much better than the live we were living. Sometimes I wondered if I’d done the right thing by taking on custody of him. His father could give him so much more, but then I’d never get to see my son. Not as often as I’d like. His dad moved to Los Angeles, and there’s no way I could afford the flights and hotels to visit. And the mere idea of not seeing my son everyday caused me to die a little on the inside. Plus, the fact that his father moved clear across the country and didn’t fight me for custody proved that he didn’t really give a shit about our son anyway.
Even though I might not be giving him the best life right at that moment, I was still a much better parent. With his dad, he’d probably be raised by a nanny. At least with me, he knew without a doubt that his mom loved him and would do anything for him. “Hey there,” Lydia’s voice said from the doorway. “Sorry, I knocked, but no one answered so I let myself in.”
I nodded, having a hard time pulling my eyes from my little boy. “That’s fine. You practically live here anyway, no need to knock.”
Kissing Oliver’s forehead softly, I made sure he was covered up completely before standing up.
Lydia smiled at me and moved aside so I could exit the bedroom and shut the door behind us. Like me, she struggled with near homelessness. Also like me, she was trying to better herself, by going to school. One day, she’d be in a better spot. Me? Well, that was up for debate.
“He’s such a little angel,” Lydia said.
“That’s high praise coming from a teacher,” I said.
“Future teacher,” she said, sighing. “If I can ever finish school.”
“You’re so close Lydia,” I said, patting her hand. “You’ve got this.”
“Thanks, Chels. I couldn’t have done this without you,” she said.
Lydia was probably my only friend these days, and we only met because we both needed each other. She understood me and the struggles that came with being poor. It was how she’d grown up and she was no stranger to it.
It wasn’t so normal for me, but I was adjusting. Slowly, but surely, I was adjusting to my new normal.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” I said, stifling a yawn. I was only twenty-eight years old, but I felt at least twice my age. My body hurt from being on my feet constantly. I was exhausted beyond belief, and my eyes didn’t want to stay open. “Have a good night and call the bar if you need me.”
“You got it,” Lydia said.
She walked with me to the door. It was never easy leaving my son, but if I had to leave him with anyone, I trusted Lydia. He was in good hands. I truly got lucky with her - affordable childcare is nearly impossible to find and I knew he was safe with her.
I could at least go deal with the drunken assholes at the bar with a clear conscience.
Ooo000ooo
“Another long night,” my boss said to me after closing up. “Any plans when you get outta here?”
It was just him and me closing up, and I dreaded nights like that. Nights when he sent the others home right after closing, saying we could handle the cleaning ourselves. I knew, by now, what that would mean for me.
“Just sleep,” I muttered, keeping my head down as I wiped down the bar.
“You can sleep when you’re dead,” Mike said, leaning on the bar I was trying to clean. He rested his elbows right where I’d been washing, forcing me to stop. “How about you come over to my place for a beer?”
“Can’t. I have a kid, remember? I need to get home to him,” I said.
Most men would take the hint and stop asking me out, but Mike wasn’t most men. He was nothing if not persistent.
Mike was about twenty years older than me, if not more, but tried to act like he was in his twenties still. He’d managed Gilligan’s Pub since he was around my age, and somehow, he seemed to think he hadn’t aged since then.
He was as sleazy looking as you’d expect the manager of a pub in Jersey to be. His hair was greasy, and wherever he went, the stench of cheap cologne and stale cigarette smoke followed him. You couldn’t escape it if he was nearby, and it was overpowering to the point of giving me migraines. B
ut he was my boss, and I needed the job.
Gilligan’s wasn’t a classy joint by any means, but the tips were decent. Most nights, I could bring home enough to pay the bills and keep my head above water. I still had back rent and debt to catch up on, but I wasn’t getting further in the hole at least.
I was also looking for a day job, something that I could do from home. At least until Oliver was in preschool, then I could think about a second job. Lydia had class during the day, so she wasn’t around much to help out.
“You know, I could come over to your place. Your kid’s asleep, right?” Mike said, smirking at me. “We could have a drink in the living room and--”
“No, Mike.” I didn’t feel the need to defend myself, to explain that I technically had a roommate that slept in the living room. That didn’t matter. He needed to learn that no meant no, and I wasn’t interested.
I grabbed the trash from under the bar and headed toward the back door. We were almost done with cleanup, then I could get out of there. I had the next night off - unless I got called in, which was likely with Mike - but I could always turn it down. Not like I usually did turn it down. After all, I needed the money, but maybe this time, I’d let myself have a night away from my sleazy ass boss.
I pushed open the back door and hoisted the trash bag up, fighting with it as I tried to shove it over the top of the larger garbage can. It was heavy, and as I shoved it over, the bottom of the bag ripped.
I let out a disgusted screech as liquid oozed from the bag all over the front of my shirt and all over my hands. A mixture of beer and ketchup, and God knows what else was all over me. I stood there for a second, mouth wide and my hands out at my side, cursing everything about my life. It was hard to believe that I used to be in college like the rest of my peers, studying biology and preparing to be a doctor one day. I’d wanted better than this for myself. I still wanted better than this, but at that moment, it was all I had.
The back door opened.
“What’s taking you so long?”
It took everything in me not to quit on the spot. I thought of my son as I shook my hands, hoping to get as much of the gunk off them as possible. I turned around with a professional smile and went back inside, not bothering to even talk to Mike. He could see the mess all over me, no explanation was needed.
He chuckled as I walked by, and for the hundredth time that night, I thought of my son before reacting and slapping that smarmy smirk right off Mike’s face.
Finn
“How’s the wife and kid?” I asked, plopping down beside my friend on the couch in the common area. It had been a slow night, only a few hours left on the clock. Sleep was sounding pretty good, but as I glanced over at the bunks, the thought of trying to fall asleep on one of them didn’t sound appealing. Stifling a yawn, I decided to wait it out until it was time to go home to my own bed.
“Good. Maddy is already talking about wanting another,” Jax said, a crooked smile on his face.
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “How do you feel about that?”
“I love the idea,” he said. “Surprisingly, since I never really thought about being a dad before, you know?”
“You sound like an old lady, man,” Justin, one of the younger guys on our crew, interjected.
I laughed and patted my friend on the back. He didn’t have to keep coming into work these days; he had it made. His wife happened to be a multimillionaire and ran her own real estate development company. Yet, he always came into work, ready to fight fires another day.
“Maddy has asked me to consider switching careers though,” Jax said, his voice low. “Only because she worries about something happening to me on the job. Not that I blame her, it’s dangerous work.”
“That it is.”
“Seriously Jax? You’d think of quitting?” Justin asked, his eyes wide in shock? Of anyone in our whole station, Jax was the last one you’d expect to give up fighting fires.
But it wasn’t just him he had to think about anymore.
Sometimes it was hard on the other-halves of firefighters. We’d lost men and women before, more than I cared to think about. Each and every one of them had a family back home that felt their loss. Kids who lost parents, wives who lost husbands. It was something we had to think about every single day, especially considering the world we lived in. Not only did we have to think about regular fire and every day emergencies, there was always the threat of terrorism.
It was felt especially hard in a city like New York, and it was always on the back of your mind.
9/11 was one of the reasons I had come to the city to work. Sure, I could have worked as a firefighter back home in my small upstate New York town, but I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to be there in case there was another attack of the city. I was too young on 9/11, but I hated that feeling of helplessness that came from sitting back and watching the towers burn. Now, I wouldn’t have to sit back if it happened again one day.
Now, I’d be front and center, helping save lives. Of course, I’d also be risking my own, which was one reason I hesitated to settle down anytime soon. And I couldn’t blame Madeline for wanting Jax to consider switching careers, especially with a daughter and hopefully another on the way before long.
“I don’t know if I can give it up, Finn,” Jax said. “Could you?”
“Nah, never,” I said. Even as I said it, however, there was a tinge of doubt inside of me. Yes, being a firefighter had always been my dream, but in the last few years, watching my friends settle down and have kids, another dream had popped up on the horizon. One I hadn’t really talked about much.
“Not me man,” Justin said. “No matter what, I’m a truckie until I die,” he finished, using a firehouse expression for a guy who rides the truck into battle.
I wanted to have a family of my own. One day, I kept telling myself. One day, when? Hell if I knew. I knew what settling down might entail, and I wasn’t ready to give up my career for a wife and kids. Not yet, at least. Still, being raised in a large family made me want one of my own. It obviously conflicted with my reality though, and I did everything I could to avoid thinking about what life with a family might look like for me. No need to get my hopes up, after all. I wasn’t ready to face the reality of being a father and a fireman. For now, I was happy just being a fireman.
“Yeah, Maddy wasn’t too happy when I told her that, but I guess we’ll see,” he said, shrugging. “She wanted me to at least think about it.”
After everything my friend had been through - how hard he’d had to fight to keep his job, I couldn’t blame him for wanting to stick it out for as long as possible. Like me, it had always been in his blood, but for different reasons.
I couldn’t really fault Jax for not wanting to give up his career so easily. I doubt I would either. Not like I had a wife and kid to think about, much less any prospects either. I’d stopped dating after a pregnancy scare with my ex, Katie. Wanting a family and facing the reality of actually having one? Two different things.
I was also not really prepared back then and did a lot of things I regretted. Things I wouldn’t put on someone else. So I just didn’t date, period.
“Maddy has a friend, Allison,” Jax said as we walked out of the locker room. “She wants me to introduce the two of you.”
I cringed. Jax knew my stance on dating.
He smirked. “I told her you weren’t interested. Besides, Allison is a bit-- how do I put this?” he thought for a second, “High maintenance.”
“She’s the model, right?” I asked.
“Yeah, she was dating some Australian guy, but I guess they broke up, so--”
“No way,” I chuckled. “Talk to Phillip or Caleb, not me.”
“Hey, what about me?” Justin asked, with mock offense. “I like models too.”
That time, Jax cringed. “Maddy wouldn’t like you, Slick,” he said, tossing Justin’s nickname at him.
Justin shook his head and walked away from the conversation.
&nbs
p; “And she likes me?”
“Everyone likes you, Finn,” he said. “You’re a good guy.”
Several guys were around a table playing cards nearby, others were passed out in the bunks.
“You have your pick of good guys here, Jax,” I said.
“Yeah, but Maddy wanted you,” he said, chuckling.
I laughed along with Jax, but our laughter was cut short. The fire alarm rang, and we all knew what it meant. Jax and I were the first to the door, our smiles wiped away as the seriousness hit us. We had no idea what we were dealing with, what we were walking into, but we hurried toward the trucks anyway without a second thought. This is what we lived for.
The very idea of giving this up, to taking a regular 9-5 where I’d sit and stare at a computer all day, wasn’t even in my mind. Sure, it might be safer, but what good did it provide the world? Besides making some CEO richer, most “safe” jobs did little for anyone. Hell, most jobs were pretty meaningless in today’s society, and I wanted my life to have meaning.
Even if it meant coming face-to-face with death on a daily basis, at least I knew I was making a difference.
Could John Doe, data analyst, say that? Probably not.
The sirens on the truck didn’t even register to me anymore. It was background noise. We were given details of the fire as we rushed to the scene.
“Not in Manhattan,” the Chief said. “Jersey needs our help. It’s a big one.”
Jersey was where most of us lived, so thinking about our potential homes or families being in trouble caused a silence inside the truck.
Chief Tim continued, “Multiple houses and buildings, most of them condemned or should be condemned. We’re walking into a very dangerous situation, no clue what we’re working with here. Buildings that were already unstable could lead to more collapses, and it’s spreading fast because most of the materials are probably not up to code.”