by Theresa Alan
She and Ana returned to the couch, where they kept a silent vigil in front of the TV. When the news was over and The Tonight Show came on, Chelsey flipped through all the channels, hoping to catch more news on the fire.
“Shit! What are they doing, putting on a comedy show when people are dying?” Chelsey screamed.
“Chelse, why don’t you go back to channel nine and mute it, and then if a special report comes on, turn the volume back on.”
Chelsey kept flipping channels frantically for several more minutes before conceding to Ana’s plan.
“If he were alive he would call,” Chelsey said.
“He’s fighting a fire. He can’t get to a phone.”
“They said they’d gotten the fire out.”
“I’m sure there is clean-up stuff. Or maybe he’s with the injured firefighters at the hospital?”
“Or maybe he’s in the hospital. Or the morgue.”
Chelsey tried calling the station again. When no one answered, she held the phone in front of her and yelled, “What kind of public safety establishment are you? Why don’t you have anyone to answer the damn phone?”
She slammed the receiver down and jumped up. She began pacing furiously back and forth across the living room floor, frantic with nervous energy.
“Do you think we should go to the station? To the hospital?”
“Did the news say which hospital the injured firefighters had been taken to?”
“I don’t remember. I know! We can drive to the scene of the fire! Maybe there are firefighters there who know where Rob is.”
Chelsey was running to get her coat out of the closet before Ana could even answer her. Ana sprinted out the door behind Chelsey, grabbing her coat off the back of the kitchen chair on her way.
“I have a really good idea. Why don’t you let me drive?” Ana said.
“No, no. I’ll do it.”
Chelsey was in no shape to be driving a 2,000-pound machine around. “If I drive, that’ll let you keep your eye out in case you see anything.”
“All right, all right.”
Ana drove Chelsey’s car to the scene of the fire. A number of curious neighbors were milling about, several firefighters in partial gear were cleaning up, and a man in uniform stood barking orders into what looked like a walkie-talkie—the fire chief, Chelsey guessed.
Chelsey tried to run up to one of the men in fire gear, but was stopped by the man in uniform.
“I’m sorry, you can’t go near there,” he said.
“I just . . . I heard about the fire, and I just wanted to make sure my b—my fiancé is okay. He’s from station six.”
“I know one injured firefighter from station six was taken to St. Joseph’s.”
“Oh my god. Do you know how bad his injuries were?”
He shook his head. He appeared to be genuinely sorry he didn’t know the answer.
“Did any . . . were any of the firefighters who died from station six?”
He shook his head again.
Chelsey grabbed Ana’s hand and pulled her to the car. Chelsey got behind the wheel and tore out, tires squealing, before Ana could even get the door closed. Ana yanked her seatbelt into place and said a silent prayer.
“Injured? That’s not bad, right? Or maybe it is. Maybe he has severe burns. So his gorgeous face will be ruined—it’ll be a horrible tragedy, but everything will still be okay. We’ll still love each other and things will work out. Of course, maybe the burns are too severe and after a horrible and painful few days or weeks he’ll succumb to the injuries. Or maybe something fell on him and he’s paralyzed. It would be hard, but we could get through it together. Right?”
Chelsey kept babbling, talking so fast that soon Ana couldn’t hear what she was saying. Ana almost didn’t notice when Chelsey stopped talking and started hyperventilating.
When she became aware of Chelsey’s panicked breathing, her heart stopped. “Chelsey, pull over. Pull over. Stop. Chelsey, stop.”
Ana undid her seatbelt and slid as close to Chelsey as she could, trying to get her foot on the brake to slow them down as well as gain control of the steering wheel.
“Chelsey, put your foot on the brake or get your leg out of my way. Shit, shit.” They were about to careen right into a parked car. Instead, with the both of them trying to steer the car, they crashed into a tree.
35
Dating Debacles
Across town, Jason was finishing up his grading. The drama teacher had asked him to stay late to help her brainstorm for ideas for the set for the next play she was directing. “I know you’ve worked in theater,” she said.
“I did some plays in high school, but nothing but improv since then.”
“Still, you know the crazy world of theater,” she laughed.
The woman, Lana, was about his age, with a round face, heart-shaped lips, and thin blond hair cut in a bob. Jason had met her before, of course. She always seemed nice.
“Sure. Let me do some grading and I’ll meet you at the theater.”
“I have a better idea: why don’t I treat you to a burger? We can brainstorm over a burger and fries somewhere.”
Jason flinched. “I don’t eat meat.”
Lana giggled again. “I guess that is healthier, isn’t it? You name the place. I’ll wait in my office. You know where that is, right?”
He nodded. Lana left him and he picked up his purple pen to begin grading again. He hadn’t just been asked out on a date, had he?
Oh god. What a nightmare.
Why? You should be going out on dates. She’s cute. Who knows, maybe something will happen. You really should find somebody.
But he took as long as he possibly could to grade his papers. Finally, around nine o’clock, he met Lana in her office. She was just as bubbly as ever.
“Okay, you name the place. Am I driving, or are you?” she said.
“Um, I, I think we should both drive in case, I mean, I don’t know where you live.”
He gave her directions to a vegetarian restaurant on 13th and Grant and met her there a few minutes later.
They sat down and she looked at the menu as if she’d just noticed a bad odor but didn’t know where it was coming from. Then the smile returned to her face. “Oh, is it all vegetarian?”
He nodded.
“What’s seitan? What’s tempeh? They have an awful lot of tofu.”
“Seitan is made from wheat gluten and has a rich, meaty taste and tempeh is made from fermented soybeans.” She looked frightened. “I guess that doesn’t sound all that great, but really, they are tasty, you know, the way they are flavored in soy or barbeque sauce and so on.” Still hadn’t convinced her. “They have some pastas. Do you like pasta?”
This she could tolerate.
Well, this is going well.
“So, the play. Which production are you doing?” Jason asked.
“Our Town. I just think that play has such a good message, don’t you?”
“I’ve never actually read that one.”
“What plays did you do in high school?”
“The Outsiders, Ordinary People, Romeo and Juliet . . .”
“Oh, wow. How exciting.” Neither of them said anything for several seconds. Jason studied his hands intently. He tried to think of something school-related to talk about, but was mysteriously unable to think of a single conversation topic. With his friend Rick, the physics teacher, they never tired of conversation about the students, the administration, or the mandates handed down by the school board. Why couldn’t he think of anything now?
“Uh . . . so the sets. You wanted to talk about the sets?” He was triumphant for coming up with this.
“Oh, let’s enjoy our dinner before we talk about work.”
He nodded and waited for her to say something. She didn’t.
Dear god, please let this be over soon.
But it wasn’t. It seemed to drag on for an eternity. Finally they finished their meals and talked about some ideas for the set. But every sentence he
uttered seemed like such work.
“Do you want to go for a drink somewhere?”
“I should probably get to bed.”
“Yeah. It is a school night!” There went that giggle again. “So, I had a lot of fun tonight.”
“Um.”
“We should do it again, don’t you think?”
“I thought we got the designs worked out?”
“No, silly, I mean like, you know, a date!”
“Oh I, Lana, there’s sort of somebody else.” It wasn’t a total lie, but the look on her face made him want to say, “Ha, ha, just kidding, this was the greatest night of my life. Let’s go get married.” But he simply could not endure another evening like this.
He went home feeling depressed. God he hated this dating thing. Why couldn’t he find a woman to love and be loved by? When would Marin realize he and she were perfect for each other?
The physical attraction they shared was undeniable. The sex they had was always explosive, and he knew she felt the same way. Of course he thought she was beautiful, but it wasn’t just her looks that captivated him. The way she carried herself with such confidence—it was intoxicating. And they had so much in common: their sense of humor, their love of performing, the way they understood each other—on stage and off, they could always play off what the other said. Together, they made great comedy, great love, and great friends. Their being together just made sense.
36
Flashover
The sound of the car slamming into the tree was horrible: the thud of impact, the glass breaking, the metal crunching. Ana had hit her head on the dash. She touched her forehead and felt the slippery wet blood. Dazed, her head aching, she tried to focus her eyes and saw that the entire front end of the car was smashed up like an accordion.
The car was totaled. But as she got her head together, she realized that wasn’t even important: The important thing was Chelsey. Chelsey didn’t look injured, but if she kept hyperventilating, she would lose consciousness, possibly even slip into a coma. Ana scanned Chelsey’s car for something Chelsey could breathe into.
“Chelsey, everything is going to be okay, don’t worry. Calm down, please? Shh shh shh. Sweetie, everything is going to be fine. Rob is fine, don’t worry.”
There weren’t any paper bags to be found in Chelsey’s car. The one time when eating fast food—and leaving the empty bag in the car—might actually have been healthy.
Chelsey did have a water bottle in the cup holder on the consol. Ana tore off the top and commanded Chelsey to breathe into the empty bottle. “Make sure to seal the opening around your face. Chelsey, Chelsey, listen to me.”
Chelsey never did breathe into the water bottle. She began breathing normally on her own. “What happened?” she asked, as if coming out of a trance. “You’re bleeding.”
“We ran into a tree. I think your car is totaled, but the important thing is that we’re—”
“Rob! We have to get to Rob!”
“Chelsey. We got into an accident. We’re not going anywhere. I’m going to call the police—”
“I’ll run. I’ll run the rest of the way to the hospital. It’s only a couple of miles away.” Chelsey opened up the door and got outside. Ana ran out after her and grabbed her by the wrist.
“Chelsey, you’re not going anywhere. In the state you’re in, you’re going to get run over by a car or something. Anyway, we need to file a report with the police and get a tow truck to tow your car. That won’t take very long. I’ll call Jason or Scott or Ram to come pick us up and take us to the hospital.”
“Can’t you just wait here for the police by yourself?”
“Chelse, it’s your car. You’ll need to give them all the information. Listen, I’ll call Scott and ask him to go to the hospital and tell us what’s going on.”
Ana made a series of calls on her cell phone. She wasn’t able to get through to Jason or Ramiro, but at least Scott was home. She asked him to go to the hospital and find out what the situation was.
“Can’t I just call the hospital and see if he’s okay?” Scott asked.
“Oh. Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that. But what about confidentiality? They’ll probably think you’re a reporter trying to get the scoop.”
“And if I go to the hospital, they’ll tell me everything I want to know?”
“Tell them you’re his half brother, I don’t know. Just go!”
Ana clicked her phone off, and then she and Chelsey waited. And waited. Chelsey was beside herself. She paced up and down the street. Ana did her best to keep up with her, ready to tackle her if she tried to take off to the hospital.
At last the cops and the tow truck driver arrived, and then the paperwork began. Chelsey felt like the paperwork was lava spewing out of a volcano, and she was trying to stop it by hand. No matter what she did, more slipped through. It just kept coming and coming.
All the while, Ana and Scott kept calling each other with updates. Scott couldn’t get any news. He didn’t even know if Rob was the firefighter who’d been injured.
“They won’t tell me anything.”
“Crap. Okay, can you come pick me and Chelsey up and take us to the hospital?”
Finally Chelsey finished with the paperwork and the tow truck took her car off to wherever broken cars go to die.
Chelsey and Ana waited on the curb for Scott. Chelsey barely waited for him to come to a stop before she threw open his car door and jumped inside.
Once at the hospital, Chelsey told a nurse she was Rob Night’s fiancée, the firefighter who had been injured in the fire. Was he all right?
The nurse said she didn’t know, he was still in surgery. That’s how they learned it was in fact Rob who had been injured.
“Surgery. Jesus. Surgery.” Chelsey paced and paced. She didn’t fall asleep all night. Ana and Scott did their best to comfort her, until eventually they fell asleep at awkward angles in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.
Chelsey was still awake at six in the morning when the morning news came on.
“Oh my god!” Chelsey balanced on a chair to turn the silent television’s volume on.
“Our top story this morning is a fire that took the lives of two local firefighters and injured a third.”
The sound of the television awoke Ana. “Ahh,” she groaned. Her neck was tense with pain from sleeping sitting up. She tried to focus her groggy eyes toward the noise of the television. Scott kept sleeping.
“The fire started in a three-story home in Denver’s Capitol Hill neighborhood on Sixth near Downing when a ten-year-old and his six-year-old sister, who were home alone, tried to make popcorn on the stove. Firefighters responded to the blaze at 8:45 last night. Two didn’t make it out.
“Local fire authorities are calling Ken Lopresti, Carol Marklund, and Rob Night heroes this morning after the courageous battle that ultimately took the lives of Lopresti and Marklund and injured Night.” Chelsey gasped and reached for Ana’s hand. “Lopresti and Marklund died in the fire after the roof collapsed and they were trapped under the debris. Other firefighters were unable to get to them through the flames.
“Night was injured when he jumped out a third-story window in an effort to avoid a flashover that would have certainly killed him. Night survived the incident, suffering a broken ankle and a sprained wrist.”
“A broken ankle! A sprained wrist!” Chelsey practically cheered with joy, like it was the best news she’d ever heard.
Just then, a male doctor in his early thirties approached Ana and Chelsey. “Are you Chelsey McGuiness, Rob Night’s friend?”
“Yes.”
“Rob is going to be fine. He had a bad break to his ankle. We had to operate on it to be sure it didn’t set wrong, but he’s going to be just fine. He’ll be in a cast for six to eight weeks and he sprained his wrist, but with regular cold compresses, he should have the use of his hands in no time.”
“Can I see him?”
The doctor nodded. “He’s still a little gro
ggy from the pain medication. But you can see him.”
“When can I take him home?”
“We’ll watch him for a few hours, and if it looks like he’s doing well and there’s no risk of clotting, I’d say you can take him home this evening. Follow me.”
Chelsey followed the doctor down the hall to Rob’s room. The doctor left so they could be alone.
“What are you doing here? How did you hear?” Rob asked.
“I heard it on the news last night. I’ve been crying my eyes out for twelve hours straight and I thought you were dead and I’d lost you.” She snuggled next to him. They lay in silence for several minutes. Chelsey just held him tight. Eventually she said, “What happened? The reporter said you were running to avoid a flashover.”
“Yeah.”
“What is that?”
“A flashover—remember when I told you about a backdraft? A flashover is basically the opposite. It happens when the fire has lots of oxygen to consume. All these flammable gases pool up at the ceiling. And when they ignite, the flames roll like a ball across the ceiling but it happens in a flash, bam! Just like that, and intense heat pours down from all around. Like a building collapse, heat drops to floor level. In other words, if you’re trapped in a room when this happens, you’re gonna be one crispy critter.”
“Doesn’t your fire gear protect you?”
“Yeah, but it can only do so much. If you’re in a room that hot for too long—which is hardly any time at all in that heat—the water in your body turns to steam and you literally cook from the inside out.”
Chelsey gasped.
“So I was in the middle of the hallway when I saw the flames rolling across the ceiling toward me, and I just sprinted down the hallway and jumped out the window, and the flames followed me out and rolled out right over me.”
“Oh my god.”
“When I landed I felt this unbelievable pain in my ankle. But it could have been a lot worse.”
Neither of them said anything, thinking about how it had been much worse for Rob’s fellow firefighters.
“They were friends of yours?” Chelsey asked in a quiet voice.
“They were from another station. She’s just thirty-two. She has—had—two kids. And Ken, he was supposed to get married this spring.”