by J. R. Tate
Taking in a deep breath, he buzzed up to the apartment, his heart racing when he heard an unknown voice answer. “Hello?”
“It’s Michael McGinnis.”
Nothing was said and he heard the buzz that opened the door. Instead of taking the elevator, he took the stairs in hope that it would relieve some of the stress. He got to the fifth floor and knocked. Janice opened the door, revealing a living room full of people. She smiled, but Michael could tell it was forced. She was in her mid forties and as beautiful as ever. Even in the midst of her sorrow, her features were striking.
“Mikey, it’s so good to see you.”
He pulled her in for a tight hug, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
Janice pulled away and led him to the living room where most of the other firefighters were. “Don’t be silly.” She paused and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “There’s tons of food in the kitchen, more than we could ever eat. Help yourself. We’re all just pretty much hanging out.”
Michael nodded and ducked his head. “Do you need help with anything?”
She shook her head. “All of the arrangements have been made. There’s a viewing this evening at Saint Elizabeth’s. Funeral is tomorrow at two.”
Michael tried to ignore the sudden sharp pain his stomach, like someone had punched him. “Okay. Eva said she’d be here soon. I’m pretty sure she’s on her way. You sure you don’t need me to do anything?”
Janice closed her eyes for a second, thinking about his question. “Ya know, I think you can do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Can you talk to Braden for me? I would get one of these other guys, but you have gone through this before.” She stopped in mid sentence. “If you don’t feel comfortable with it, I understand.”
Michael grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I don’t mind doing it at all.” In all honesty, he was kind of nervous about it, but he felt compelled to do it. He owed Darryl. He could’ve used the advice when he was a kid, too. Things could have possibly been different if there was someone around who had gone through the same thing.
“He’s down the hall in his room. He’s always liked you. I’m sure you won’t have a problem getting in there and hanging out.” A tear trickled down her face and she quickly wiped it away. “Thanks Mikey.”
He nodded again. “No problem.” Before heading to his room he observed everyone. There were dozens of people he didn’t recognize. He found it hard to make eye contact with the other guys in their company. They were all looking at him as if he was about to crack at any time. He saw Eva walk in the front door. She made her way through the crowd, stopping to talk to a few other paramedics, so he decided it was time to go to Braden’s room and try to have his chat with the kid. It terrified him more than going into any kind of fire.
Despite the fact that the door was open, Michael knocked. Braden was sitting on the edge of his bed holding his guitar, his fingers in place, ready to play. He wasn’t strumming, just staring down at the floor. Michael remembered when Braden took up the hobby at age four. Darryl was so excited about it. Now at eight, the kid could play anything. Braden looked up, a vacant glare on his face.
“Hey Braden, can I come in?” One thing Michael knew was to respect the kid’s space. He hated it when people would bombard him during his time of grief and lecture him over and over again. If anything, it just frustrated him more. Braden needed a friend, not someone talking down to him. Braden scooted over some and Michael took that as a sign that it was okay. “You play anything lately?”
Braden adjusted his hands on the instrument, but didn’t answer. Michael couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled his dad. He had the same eyes and everything. The only thing missing was the contagious smile. Michael looked around the room and observed the posters and decor. He still had a lot of kid’s things including Lego’s, video games, sports stuff. It was cluttered like any boy’s room would be. There were also posters of bands and sports teams, the main one being the New York Mets. At least he was cheering for the right baseball team.
“I haven’t played much on my guitar either.” Michael was right. He hadn’t picked up his guitar in months. Not many even knew that he played, and he was starting to wonder if he ever would again. It was something that he, Braden, and Darryl did together. It might be too painful now.
Braden adjusted his hands on it and strummed it before putting it down on the floor in between them. Michael stayed quiet, wondering if the kid would speak up or if they would just sit in silence. Even though they weren’t talking, he felt like he was at least reaching him.
“Why are all these people here?” Braden stared up at Michael, his brown eyes red and bloodshot. He could tell he wanted to cry but was holding it in.
Michael resisted the urge to put his arm around him. Not yet, he wasn’t ready for that. He fought for something to say and was completely speechless as his mind thought up the right thing to respond with.
“Well, uhh,” Michael rubbed the back of his head, hoping he wasn’t coming off as flustered. Braden was smart though, and he was sure he was seeing right through him. Kids were good at that. “They just want to come over and let you guys know they are here if you need anything. You’re among friends.”
Braden nodded. “When are they gonna leave?”
“I guess when you’re good and ready.” Michael finally saw a tear fall down the little guy’s cheek and his heart broke at the sight of it. He felt like he had taken the kid’s father from him. At fourteen it was hard. Braden was only eight. Michael swallowed the bile in the back of his throat and draped his arm over Braden’s shoulder. “Just remember I’m here for you, pal. I’ll do anything I can for you.”
Braden, to Michael’s surprise, leaned into his hug. “Can you bring my dad back?” His voice cracked and Michael was stung by the question. Kids, even at this age, really didn’t understand death all too much. Braden had had a few pets here and there who had died on him, but the concept of an actual human was not something they thought about. The thought of someone never coming back was unreal.
“I…” Michael stammered on his words as he felt his eyes burn. Blinking back the tears, he began again. “Your dad will always be with you, Bud, even if you can’t see him. He’s right here.” Michael pointed to Braden’s heart. “There’s no one that can pull that away from you.”
“Why did he have to go away?”
Again, another question Michael had no idea how to answer. He wasn’t really that religious, but he had grown up Catholic and believed in God, Jesus, and everything the church entailed. He hadn’t stepped into a church in years or practiced religion, suddenly feeling guilty about it.
“It was his time. God wanted him up in heaven.”
Braden looked up at Michael. “You mean he needed a hero up there to take care of everyone?”
That comment brought a smile to Michael’s face. “Yeah, that’s right. Heaven needs firefighters just like we do. Your daddy was that good that heaven needed him more.” Michael saw the irony in the discussion. So many firefighters died young. Heaven must really need them worse.
“My dad’s really gonna be here with me all the time?” Braden pulled the guitar back up on his lap.
Michael shook his head yes. “Always. My dad has always been with me. Sometimes, if I’m really needing him or wishing he was around, I can sometimes see him and feel him near me.”
“You can see him?” Braden arched his eyebrow.
“Not so much as he looked back when he was alive. When it happens to you, Braden, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. I know it sounds crazy.”
“No, it doesn’t sound crazy. I listen in church.” The kid was wise beyond his years. Braden hoisted the guitar and started playing a simple chord, over and over again. “Well, I’m gonna write him a song then, ya know, for when he comes back to visit. Something that’ll make his trip worthwhile.”
“Oh, his trip will be worthwhile.�
� Michael tousled Braden’s hair, smiling at him again. The chat felt like it was beneficial, but he knew there would be very hard, long days ahead for Braden. Once the initial shock wore off, it would really hit him. Days he had little league games. Days he just wanted to play catch. Days when he needed fatherly advice on matters he had never encountered before. Michael was still experiencing that to this day. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair. No child deserved to have their father ripped away like that, regardless of how tough they were, and Braden had proved he was as tough as they came, even at the young age of eight.
“The viewing is tonight, from six to eight.” Eva stood next to Michael in the kitchen, both of them eyeing the table of food with tons of options. He wasn’t really hungry and hadn’t been for several days. Eva was nibbling on some form of dessert. “How was Braden?”
Michael adjusted his weight as he leaned on the cabinet beside him. “I guess it went okay. I dread when it’s actually gonna hit him though.”
“Mikey, get yourself something to eat!” One of the other firefighter wives walked past them, holding out yet another dish full of some kind of casserole. “You’re gonna waste away!”
Michael held his hand up. “I might grab something in a sec.”
“You want me to get it for you?” She set the pan down and reached for a plate.
“I’m good, but thank you.” He knew she was just being nice but it was becoming annoying.
“Oh c’mon! Eva, what does this boy like?”
Eva let out a fake laugh and gripped at the back of his arm, an instant reminder that she too, was annoyed at the woman. “He’ll eat when he’s ready.”
The lady grabbed a plate and began dumping food on it. “Just let me know if you don’t like certain stuff and I won’t put it on. You like green beans? That’s hit and miss with most people.”
Michael looked at Eva, trying to hold his temper in as long as he could. He didn’t want to cause a scene in Darryl’s home. Braden and Janice were going through enough and the least he could do was compose himself.
The lady kept rambling on. “You look like a meat and potatoes type of guy. Am I right Eva, is that what he likes?”
Michael bit his bottom lip and broke in before Eva could respond. “I’ll eat when I’m ready. I told you that. Give that plate to someone else and I’ll deal with my own food later.” His tone was sterner than he intended it to be and he almost apologized, but the words just wouldn’t come out. Her eyes widened and she put the plate down on the counter.
“I’m so sorry, Michael.”
He continued to stare at her, feeling heated and out of control. She walked back into the crowd of people and he felt Eva’s hand wrap around his forearm. His phone began to buzz in his pocket and he looked down, seeing it was Casey. His heart skipped a beat. He had to take the call. There was no telling when or if he’d hear from his brother again.
Holding his phone up, he showed Eva. “I’m gonna take this outside.”
He answered before he got completely out into the hallway. “Give me a second, Casey.” He edged his way through everyone, trying to be low key so no one would stop and try to talk to him. He found the door and paced back and forth down the hallway as he began the conversation with him. “Okay, are you there?”
“Yeah, man, I’m here. Where the hell are you? I been by your apartment and the firehouse. You’re M.I.A. I’m getting worried.”
Michael rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. “I’ve had some shit happen at work. What is going on with you?”
“What happened? Are you okay?”
Michael scoffed and wanted to punch a whole in the wall. “Suddenly you are so concerned about me.” He paused, hating all of the quick anger he was feeling lately. “I had a friend die on the job the other day. Now, why are you calling?”
“Is it so hard to believe that I just wanted to talk to my big brother?”
Michael wished he could see Casey. He was almost certain that he was high on something, but literally seeing him would confirm it. “Spill it, Casey. What’s going on with Viper?”
“We gotta do something, man. He’s gone crazy. I can’t even come outta hiding. You’re gonna end up that way too.”
“What do you mean, Casey? How’s he going crazy?”
“He’s been setting fires. He’s been talking. Word gets around.” There was silence, but Michael could tell Casey was still on the other line. Michael saw Eva walking down the hallway, a concerned expression on her face. “I’m sorry, Mikey, for getting you involved. Things have gotten even worse.”
Michael switched the phone to his other ear and nodded at Eva. He didn’t care if she heard. She already knew too much. “What else have you done, Casey?”
“I uhh, I gotta go bro. They’re gonna find me. I’ll call you in a few days. Be safe.”
Michael heard a click and then dead air. “Casey! Wait, what did you do!” There was no response. He looked down at his phone and the words ‘call ended’ flashed on the screen. Resisting the urge to throw the phone, he put it in his pocket and took in a deep breath, turning back to Eva. “What time is it?”
“It’s three fifteen, why?”
“I’m gonna go down to the police station and talk to them. I’ve got time before the viewing.”
Michael never did care for the police. It was due in large part to when he was a teenager. He had quick flashbacks of when he got brought in for all the stupid things he did back in high school. The place was hectic with everyone walking in a fast pace, papers flying, people yelling, and others sitting and waiting. All police departments had the same smell too.
“Can I help you sir?” An overweight middle-aged woman leaned forward and from the stripes on her shirt, it was clear she was a desk sergeant. He didn’t answer at first and backed up; unsure if this is the route he needed to go. “Sir, either tell us what you need or move along.”
Michael stepped up to the desk. “I need to talk to a detective.”
“You want to file a complaint on someone?”
Michael couldn’t help but notice the sweat beads on her neck. “I just need to talk to a detective, it’s a bit more complex than just filing a complaint.”
The sergeant looked un-amused as she picked up the phone and dialed a number. It was as if she was offended because she couldn’t do what he needed. “I have a young man here who just needs to speak to you.” She stopped talking and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” She cupped her hand over the phone. “What’s your name?”
“Michael McGinnis.”
She repeated his name and then cupped her hand again. “The firefighter with Ladder Twenty One?”
“Yes ma’am.” Michael didn’t know if it was a good thing or not that they knew that.
“Detective Matson will see you. His office is three doors down the hall and to your left.”
Michael nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.” She flashed him another annoyed look and went back to her work. He walked down the hall, his heart pounding for some reason. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his past or what. He wondered what the chances were of one of these older cops recognizing him from his youth.
He reached the office and knocked on the doorframe. The detective looked up from his computer. He was middle aged with graying hair. At least he had some years on the job. “Come in, Fireman.” Michael walked in and stood on the opposite side of the desk, taking in the surroundings. Many plaques and medals were nailed to the wall. “Sit down. What can I do for you? I’m Detective John Matson.”
Michael stuck his hand out and shook his. “Michael McGinnis.”
“Ladder Twenty One. You’re search and rescue, correct?” From Matson’s body language, Michael assumed he was more impressed than competitive with him, which was amazing. Cops and firefighters were like cats and dogs.
Michael cleared his throat. “Yes sir.” He really didn’t want to chitchat. Time was ticking and he didn’t want to be late for Darryl’s viewing.
“That takes balls, McGinnis. Very
impressive.”
Michael leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. If this guy knew how bad he was before he became a firefighter, this conversation wouldn’t even be happening. “Detective, I mean no disrespect, but I’m in sort of a hurry and need to get this done.”
Matson let out a laugh. “Oh, of course! Go ahead!”
Michael rubbed the back of his neck and tried to find a way to explain the whole situation. “My brother is in some trouble. He’s got a bookie after him, threatening him to pay up or things will happen. My brother has been hiding and it’s brought me into it as well.”
Matson nodded and jotted notes down on his notepad. “Has he physically done anything to either of you?”
“No, nothing yet, but he has come to my house and threatened me. He’s even claimed to be responsible for the breakout of the warehouse fires in Hell’s Kitchen.”
The detective arched his eyebrow and looked up. “He said that?”
“Yes. Of course, the last one that happened killed a friend of mine on the fire department. I don’t have any proof. He’s been very sneaky and smart to dodge anything like that. I… I don’t even know his real name.”
“Has he given you a name? We might’ve heard of him from others.”
Michael let out a deep breath. “He calls himself Viper. Supposedly he’s a well-known bookie. Hell, I don’t know. My brother deals with shady characters. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s enough now to make me worry, especially when he’s claiming he’s the cause of fires that are killing friends of mine, intended for me.”
Matson adjusted his reading glasses and repeated some of the information Michael had given him. “And he goes by Viper? I don’t know about any Viper. Without solid proof, we can’t pin him for the fires. We gotta catch him making a mistake. Something that will hold up.”