by Peyton Banks
A small ‘v’ appeared between his brows as he frowned.
“Ida? Ida who?”
The question floored me. So much so, that I scooted to the edge of the couch, sitting at attention.
“What do you mean who is Ida? She’s the woman who you were married to for over fifty years!” My response came out more forcefully than I intended it to.
His watery, tired eyes stared blankly at me.
“Baby girl, I don’t know an Ida. Who-who is she?”
At a loss for words, I just shook my head.
“Lets...let’s just finish the movie. I’ll go get you a glass of water so you can take your evening round of meds.”
As I rose to my feet, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying.
Alzheimer’s was one bad mother. It crept in and completely obliterated your loved one from the inside out, sneakily erasing all their memories and everything that made them, well, them.
4
Adryen
I wish I could wipe my mind and erase certain thoughts, certain memories for good. But that would make life too easy, too…bearable.
The date January 2nd, 2019 was forever burned into my mind, my dreams, my every waking thought. Losing someone is hard, but living life after losing someone was even harder.
My girlfriend, Shaniqua, was my everything—and then some. And now she was gone. Ten months later, and I could still smell faint traces of her perfume on the pillow that had been hers.
October 3rd, 2019, was another date that would be forever seared into my memory. Today was the day that I’d decided to pull myself out of the bubble of grief I’d been inhabiting. Niqua had been vibrant, outgoing, and fearless in life. She’d want more than this pitiful, hermit crab existence for me. So, to honor her, I had to move on from her.
The thought alone was terrifying but I was going to give it my level best.
Stepping out of the shower, I wiped the condensation from the mirror and stared at my reflection. Last night I’d gotten a full night’s sleep for the first time in months, and the circles under my eyes showed it. They looked a little lighter.
Now to do something about this hair and beard. I wore my hair long already, but to my shoulders was my limit. Another few weeks and my hair would be tickling my ass crack, which was unacceptable. I’d have to hit up the barbershop tomorrow to get a cut.
Tomorrow, huh? Niqua’s smirking face flashed in my mind. She always said I was a professional procrastinator and that if I didn’t do something right when I thought about it, then it just wasn’t going to get done.
“Fine,” I muttered, replying to a figment of my imagination. “I’ll go today.”
My heartbeat accelerated at the mere thought of going out. To stall, I decided to clean up my caveman beard.
I liked it on the fuller side, but right now it was a knotty mess.
One of my favorite things about my house was the fact that I could enter and exit through the garage.
I liked the feature even more now because, while I was technically out of my house, I wasn’t quite outside…yet.
My Harley shined even in the dim lighting in the garage. Definitely due to the fact that since January I’d spent countless hours in here listening to music and polishing my baby to perfection.
Mounting her, I started the engine before gripping the handle bars. The loud vrooooooom, even while the engine was idling, was music to my ears. I gave it a little throttle and kept my feet on the ground as the bike slowly propelled forward. Once I was close to the garage door, I hit the button on the key fob, braking to give the door time to ascend.
When it was completely opened, I just sat there for a second. Blowing out a slow, shaky breath, I rode outside into the bright day. I thought I would need to take it slow, being out of the house and on my bike for the first time in a while, but as soon as I hit the pavement muscle memory kicked in and I automatically accelerated.
Speeding down the street, my eyes drifted shut. I relished the feel of being back on my baby. I’d really missed—
Beeeeeep!
The blaring of a horn forced me to quickly open my eyes.
Probably not the smartest decision to be riding a motorcycle—with no helmet, mind you—with your eyes closed. One could almost think I had a death wish or something like that. Shaniqua’s beautiful face drifted into my mind, and…for a moment, just a moment, I wondered if maybe I did.
The fall weather was just beginning to unfold here in Pittsburgh. So, while it was on the cooler side, it wasn’t super frigid yet. Actually, I was a little warm in my leather jacket. I turned onto Scales Street and spotted the traffic up ahead, then quickly made a sharp left turn down Locke Alley. It would take longer going this way, especially passing all the stores and the fire station, but at least I wouldn’t have to sit in traffic for thirty minutes.
Wisps of hair that had been knocked loose by the wind blew all over the place, impeding my vision, which was why I didn’t see it until the last second. Thanks to my quick reflexes, I was able to swerve and come to a stop in the grassy area alongside the street.
My heart beat rapidly, still startled by the sight of a car stopped smack dab in the middle of the road, while its driver—a woman—changed what appeared to be a flat tire. Did she not know how dangerous it was for other drivers and her to be out here like this? Well, I planned on telling her.
I backed up so that I was a safe distance away from the street and no oncoming cars would accidentally sideswipe my bike, then shut the engine off.
Then, for a second, I stood there and watched the woman.
She wore a form-fitting Nike jogging suit. The bright yellow color of it complimented her skin tone, which was a pretty dark brown. A ponytail hung down her back, full and curly.
I started to cross the street, but the woman suddenly turned her head to look at the line of cars whizzing by her and honking their horns in frustration.
Her side profile revealed a cute little nose that turned up at the end and full lips. I’d bet good money she was a hell of a kisser, with lips like that. The thought was jilting, as I hadn’t so much as looked at another woman since Shaniqua died.
Pulling it together, I crossed the street. I angled so that I ended up in front of the woman as opposed to behind her. I didn’t want to risk scaring her and have her get hit by a car.
The woman was so focused on loosening the lug nuts on the tire that she didn’t even notice me.
“Excuse me,” I eventually said.
Her head snapped up. A pair of intense grey eyes lasered in on me as she stood from the crouch she’d been in. For a second, my words escaped me and I was rendered useless by the woman’s beauty.
“Yeah?” she replied, curiosity clouding her voice. When I didn’t respond right away, she followed up with, “Can I help you with something, dude? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
Her sassiness snapped me out of whatever spell I’d been under and I found myself chuckling for the first time in a while. I loved me a sassy woman.
“No, but you can help yourself,” I retorted. Confusion blanketed her pretty face, so I elaborated, “It’s dangerous as hell for you to be stopped in the middle of the road like this.” I felt stupid pointing out something so obvious, but it clearly needed to be said or she wouldn’t have done it in the first place.
She rolled those pretty eyes.
“Yet here you are, standing in the road with me, right smack dab in the middle of the alleged danger.”
I briefly glanced away to keep from smiling. She was sassy all right.
“Look, woman, don’t shoot the messenger. I’d just hate to see that cute little yellow outfit get all ruined when you get run over.”
She rolled her eyes again, but I caught the smile on her face as she turned away to stare at her tire in frustration.
“Ughhhhh!” she growled. “Of course this would happen when I was on my way to the first day of a new job. Of course.”
Pointing at the flat tir
e, I asked, “Mind if I take a look at it?”
I knew a fair bit about cars, not as much as I knew about motorcycles, but still, if I could help her, then I would.
A scowl settled on her face, throwing me off. Had I done something wrong by offering to help?
“I know how to change my own flat tire, thank you very much. My uncle taught me when I was twelve.”
I held up my hands in mock surrender, wanting to show her that I was only here to help, if possible.
She sighed and swiped at the sweat dotting her forehead.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, I just can’t believe I’m going to be late for my first freaking day of work, if I don’t get this tire changed.”
I nodded in understanding and waited until she made the ‘go ahead’ motion, before kneeling down beside the tire.
“Keep an eye on incoming traffic for me, will ya? I have no interest in being roadkill.”
She snorted but didn’t reply.
Inspecting the tire, I saw that she’d run over a nail, two actually. They were lodged in two different spots on the tire. The tire was definitely done for, there would be no plugging it. She needed to put a donut on for the time being, which I saw propped against the rear car door.
“It’s the lug nuts,” she said, pointing over my shoulder. “I can’t get them out.
I tried to loosen them with the wrench and when they didn’t budge an inch, I knew what time it was.
Standing up, I shook my head.
“They’re stripped.” If she knew about cars like she said she did, then she would know that—
“Which means, only the machine they use at the auto repair shop will be able to remove them now. Shit.”
She turned and began pacing back and forth, as if it wasn’t already dangerous as hell to be out in the road like this.
“What am I going to do?” she muttered to herself. “I can’t miss work, not after everything I did to get in there.”
For a second, I enjoyed the view, watching her firm, well-rounded backside move in and out of my line of vision. She was banging. Even in my having sworn off all women state I couldn’t help but notice.
Maybe that’s why I found the words, “I’ll give you a lift,” tumbling from my mouth.
She stopped pacing and looked at me, frowning which caused a wrinkle to appear in that cute little nose of hers.
“You, give me a ride? I don’t even know your name.”
Not an outright no, I noted.
Straightening, I held out my hand. “I’m Adryen Spence.”
Hesitantly, she placed her hand in mine. Her handshake was damn firm for her to have such a dainty little hand.
“Karmena Todd.”
She pulled away.
“There. Now you know my name,” I stated matter-of-factly with a smirk. “Am I driving you or not?”
“What about my car? Isn’t it too ‘dangerous’ to leave it right here?”
I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. The woman was making this process far more difficult than it needed to be.
“The tire’s bad, but not bad enough that you can’t pull over in the emergency lane—like you should have done from the start,” I pointed out. “Then when you get to work, just call AAA and have it towed.”
She was quiet for a moment, then nodded, silently agreeing that it was a good plan.
“Okay, let me move the car, then I’ll grab my work bag and meet you at your car. Where are you parked?’ Her head whipped around, searching for something that had four wheels and doors.
I pointed to my bike. “I’m parked right there.”
Her eyes went wide and I waited for her to balk at the prospect of riding on the back of a motorcycle like most women did.
Surprisingly she didn’t. She just shrugged and stepped around me to get in the driver’s seat. I crossed the street and waited by my bike, watching as she carefully drove into the emergency lane. It took her a few minutes to roll all the windows up and fold in her mirrors. She then collected a black backpack from the backseat and jogged across the street to where I stood.
“Whoa. Nice bike.”
I watched as she admired my baby, fighting back to urge to smile with pride. This had to be how a parent felt whenever someone gushed over how cute their kid was.
Reaching into the compartment under the seat, I pulled out the first helmet my fingers touched. It wasn’t until Karmena was already putting it on, that I realized it was Shaniqua’s helmet.
A pang shot through my chest and I had no choice but to breathe through it. I couldn’t lose my cool right now.
I climbed on and started the engine.
Karmena hesitated for a second, fiddling with the straps of the helmet.
“You don’t wanna be late for your first day,” I reminded her. And that was all it took for her pull on the helmet and awkwardly mount the bike.
“Do I just…” Her words trailed off but I knew what she was asking.
“Yes, put your arms around me and hold on tight.”
She did as I instructed and I pulled off. Her body tensed when we picked up a little bit of speed, but then gradually relaxed as she came to trust my driving.
When we came to a stoplight, I turned slightly, asking, “Where’re we going, by the way?”
She angled her mouth closer to my ear so that I’d hear her over the roar of the engine. “The intersection of Hearth and Grit.”
Those street names sounded strangely familiar, but I couldn’t remember exactly why. I did, however, remember how to get there.
Ten minutes later when I pulled up outside our destination, I remembered why the street names were so familiar. This was the station that was mentioned in the newspaper article.
Karmena climbed off my bike and I followed suit, accepting Shaniqua’s helmet and stowing it back in the compartment.
“You work in there?” I jabbed a finger towards the building.
She nodded, fiddling with the strap of her backpack. I could tell she was itching to get inside, but didn’t want to be rude to the guy who had gone out of his way to give her a lift.
Both out of curiosity and to enjoy her company for a few seconds longer, I asked, “What do you do?”
“I’m a firefighter,” she replied, starting to take slow steps backward. “I’m so sorry, I need to get inside. Thank you for the ride. I really, really appreciate it!”
“No sweat. Hey, you be safe!” I called.
At that, she stopped in her tracks and just looked at me for a second. Like it was the first time she was actually seeing me or something.
“Do-do you want to take my number? Maybe let me buy you a thank-you-dinner on one of my days off?”
I quickly pulled out my phone and stored her number, promising I would text her so that she’d have mine.
Then I watched as she full on sprinted across the parking lot towards the Yellow Bridge fire station.
Humph. A firefighter. What were the odds?
5
Karmena
The morning hadn’t started out well, but I’d be damned if I was going to let it stay that way. I was winded from running across the parking lot, but I forced my breathing under control, which wasn’t hard considering I did it every day on the job. How easy it was to fall into a panic attack while staring down a fire.
I assessed my new workplace; Yellow Bridge Fire Company, Battalion #1616. The station was on the smaller side, but then again a suburb in Pittsburgh was no Amarillo. The population here was significantly smaller, as was our area of coverage. The building’s exterior was freshly painted and the patches of grass that surrounded it were well-maintained.
I took a deep breath before ringing the bell.
A few seconds later, the door opened. A larger than life man appeared, filling the doorway almost to capacity. He was extremely buff and looked like he worked out three times a day. At first glance, he looked to be in his mid to late forties, but the longer you stared at his handsome face, the more the subtle wr
inkles became noticeable. If I had to guess, he was probably pushing sixty.
“Um, h-hello,” I said, overtaken by nerves. “I’m supposed to start work here today?” It annoyed me that my statement came out more as a question.
His naturally stern face softened as he broke into a smile.
“You must be Todd!” I grinned. Calling each other by our last names was a tradition at fire stations around the country.
“Yes, sir, that’s me.”
We shook hands.
The man introduced himself. “Lieutenant Rodman Harris, but everybody calls me Hot Rod.”
I waited until he chuckled to join in, not wanting to offend him by laughing at his nickname.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir—”
He interjected, “Hot Rod!”
“Pleasure to meet you, Hot Rod.”
We shared another laugh as he stepped aside and motioned for me to come in.
“Let me give you the tour, Todd.”
Lieutenant Harris proceeded to walk me through the fire station. It had to be newly remodeled because everything was fresh and new looking.
“There are three bathrooms. One is in my quarters and is for my use only, the second is a communal unit. There’s individual stalls and what not in there, so technically you’re welcome to use it, but in the event that you’re not comfortable doing so, the third restroom is designated strictly for you and Tyrion.”
My brows furrowed.
“Who’s Tyrion?”
“Kelise Tyrion is our lead firefighter. She’s also the only other woman we have on the squad.”
It took all my willpower to keep my face impassive and not let my sheer excitement at working with another female firefighter shine through.
“I’d be happy to share one with Tyrion, sir—uh, Hot Rod. No need to disrupt the station’s status quo.” I chuckled.
“Well, you won’t have to share it for a little while. Tyrion’s out on leave for the next couple of months.”
I nodded, slightly disappointed that I wouldn’t get to meet her anytime soon.