by Kaye Kennedy
"What's wrong?"
She opened her mouth to try and speak, but instead a wail came out that slayed me.
"Oh, Allie. Come here." I scooped her out of the swing and pulled her down onto my lap, letting her cry it out in the safety of my arms. It broke my heart that she was hurting and I desperately wanted to know why so I could fix it. Realizing she needed to purge first, I tried to be patient. In an effort to calm her, I placed kisses on top of her head and whispered soothingly. Eventually, her sobs quieted and she ceased shaking.
"I'm sorry," she muttered.
"Don't be." I grasped her chin and tilted her face up to look at me. Using the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I wiped the tears from her face. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Her lip quivered. "Tyler..." Tears began to fall again.
I feared the worst. Although he was stateside at Fort Bragg in North Carolina, training accidents could happen. "What about Ty, Allie?"
She chewed on her lower lip. "He's being deployed to Iraq on Monday."
I took a relieved breath, but the feeling was fleeting because my best friend's brother—my friend—was heading for the front lines of the war on terror. "Fuck."
"I mean, we knew this was inevitable, but still..."
I kissed her head. "I know."
"I'm scared," she whispered almost imperceptibly.
"You're allowed to be."
"What if—?"
"No. You can't let yourself think that way. He's been training for over a year. We need to have faith that he'll be safe." I thought back to September 11th and how Allie had unwavering faith that my dad would be okay. This was my turn to return the favor. I brushed a few tear-soaked strands of hair off her face. "Do you trust me?"
"Without question."
I locked my eyes on hers. "Then trust me when I say Ty's going to be fine. We have to believe that."
Sadness and fear darkened her bronze eyes.
"Like when my dad was missing. You had faith for me, remember?"
She nodded.
"Say it."
She took a shaky breath. "He's going to be okay."
"Again."
"He's going to be okay."
"Again."
"He's going to be okay." Her voice was less shaky and the fear in her eyes was beginning to subside, so I made her say it several more times until she seemed to believe the words.
I smiled at her. "Better?"
"A little."
Seeing her upset like that was worse than any punch I'd ever taken. I bent my head forward and rested my forehead on hers. "We'll get through this. Promise."
Surprising me, she placed her lips on mine and kissed me softly. It was brief and innocent, but it said so much. Then she whispered, "I love you, Kyle."
My chest warmed. "I love you, too."
With her forehead still resting against mine, she sighed. "I don't know how I got so lucky to have you as my best friend, and I know I don't say it enough, but you mean everything to me."
I squeezed my eyes shut because I knew then that we couldn't risk losing that, no matter how much I wanted her to be mine. A best friend was exactly who she needed at that moment. I pulled back and kissed her forehead. "You mean everything to me, too."
We sat in the sand for a while until it got too cold and then I walked her home before heading home myself. The further away I got from her, the more my chest ached and I resolved myself to the fact that there would always be a part of me that was in love with Allie Dupree.
18
Allie
12th Grade - January
I was a walking cliche. Austin Clarke was the quarterback. I was a cheerleader. And we were dating. We hustled from the car down the driveway to Shawn's house in an attempt to escape from the January cold. It was Kyle's eighteenth birthday and since having a house party at the principal's home wasn't an option, Shawn had graciously offered his up for the celebration. I wrapped myself tightly in Austin's letterman jacket as we sprinted up the front steps and into the house. My dating Austin had been rather unexpected. Well, to me at least. Matchmaker Melissa had orchestrated it.
Melissa had joined the film club because she had the hots for the faculty advisor, Mr. Ackerman, but she ended up enjoying it. After Thanksgiving, she had been directing a short film and of course I had to star in it. Seriously. She'd made me. Conveniently, she had cast Austin in the role of my love interest. Two weeks later we had started dating.
I’d always found him attractive with his sandy-colored curly hair, much like Justin Timberlake, but once I found out how fun he could be, I’d been hooked. Prior to that, Austin and I had been friendly, but we'd never been friends. We hadn't ever had any classes together so there hadn't been an opportunity to get to know him, but we'd hit it off almost immediately once we'd started rehearsals.
I knew I had a good one when I'd told Kyle that Austin had asked me out and all he'd said was, "Hmm." It was the closest thing to an approval any of my dates had ever gotten from him. Austin was smart and he'd accepted a football scholarship to Penn State, which was the only bad part about us dating. We'd been together a month and if it continued to go well, come fall we'd be in a long-distance relationship because I'd already committed to the University of Michigan.
Austin weaved through the house in search of the keg and I followed closely behind. We found it in the kitchen along with Shawn.
He put his hand up for me to slap. "Good. You made it."
"Did you think I wasn't coming?" I asked while Austin poured me a drink.
"Kyle's been whining since he got here because you hadn't arrived yet."
I laughed. "Where is he?"
Shawn pointed toward the living room.
I handed Austin his jacket. "I'm going to find the birthday boy."
"Sure thing, babe."
I found Kyle by the fireplace chatting up some brunette who couldn't be any older than sixteen. When he spotted me, he charged my direction and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground.
"Allie," he shouted loudly enough for people to stare.
I laughed and slapped his shoulder. "Put me down, you're going to spill my beer."
Kyle had obviously had plenty of that already judging by his goofy grin. He put me down and the girl he'd been talking to glared at me before storming away.
"Hey, birthday boy."
"Hi." He took the red plastic cup from my hand and gulped my drink.
"Excuse me." I took it back. "That's my beer."
He laughed. "We always share, Al."
Austin snuck up from behind me and snaked his arm around my waist. "Happy birthday, Kyle."
Kyle lifted his chin. "Thanks, man." He looked me over. "Doesn't she look hot tonight?"
I glanced down at my outfit. I was wearing blue denim skinny jeans, a gray cropped hoodie, and my well-worn black and white Adidas sneakers. Pretty much a standard outfit for me.
Austin pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head. "She always looks hot."
"Thanks." I smiled up at him.
Kyle high-fived Austin. "Smooth."
I shook my head.
"Babe, I'm gonna go find the guys. You good?"
"Yup," I replied.
Austin kissed me like he was marking his territory, then he went in search of his friends.
Kyle gagged.
"Oh, grow up."
"Just did, babe. Eighteen, remember?" He winked at me. "All I'm saying is, watching you kiss other guys wasn't one of my birthday wishes."
I tucked the hand that wasn't holding my beer into the back pocket of my jeans. "Other guys?"
"Yeah. If a man's wishing for a birthday kiss, he should be the one doing the kissing."
I rolled my eyes and got up on my tiptoes, then planted a kiss on his cheek. "One birthday kiss delivered."
He covered his cheek with his hand. "I'm never washing this cheek again."
I slapped the back of my hand against his abs, which I’m pretty sure hurt me more than him. "You're such a
dork."
He wiggles his brows. "But I'm a sexy dork." Kyle always got flirtatious when he was drunk, but he was super fun to be around.
Melissa hollered from across the room, "Shots, bitches!"
Shawn, Reese, and Lila were behind her carrying shot glasses filled with a brown liquid. They handed some to Kyle and I, then Melissa raised hers in the air. "To the birthday boy."
We all raised our glasses then shot them back. The whiskey burned the whole way down, making me cough.
"Woo," Kyle shouted. "Now it's a party."
Shawn handed him a red plastic cup.
It was going to be a night to remember.
Or not remember...
A couple of hours later, between make out sessions with my hot boyfriend and dancing like a fool with my best friend, I was feeling great. I went outside to get some air, but immediately regretted it when I realized it was nine-degrees, so I went upstairs in search of an empty room instead. The first one I tried was...otherwise occupied, but a surprise waited for me in the next one.
Kyle was splayed out on Shawn's bed staring at the ceiling. I went in and closed the door behind me, then laid beside him.
"Whatcha doin'?" I asked.
He sighed exaggeratedly. "Staring at the stars."
I laughed. "See anything good?"
"Nah. Too cloudy."
I shook my head. "Had a good birthday, huh?"
"I'm eighteen."
"You are."
"I applied for the FDNY test today."
I flipped onto my side and stared at him. "You did?"
He nodded.
"Not wasting any time, are you?" You had to be eighteen to apply. "What happened to the hockey plan?"
He yawned. "Haven't ruled it out."
"No?"
"I got offered full scholarships to a few places."
"What! And you didn't tell me? Where?"
He shrugged. "A bunch of division twos and threes and some division ones."
"Which D1s?" I focused on those because let's be real, Kyle was D1 quality.
"Boston University, Boston College, Pelham University, Arizona State, University of Denver—"
"Holy shit, Kyle. Denver won the championship last year."
"Yup." He smiled devilishly.
"What?"
"I also got into Michigan."
My eyes widened. "University or State?"
"Both."
I squealed. "Are you freaking kidding me?"
His smile lit up his face. "Crazy, huh?"
"That's unbelievable." I laid my head on his chest and hugged him. "I'm so proud of you."
"What do you think, Al, you wanna go to college together?"
I squeezed him tight. "A million times, yes."
He laughed. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"Always."
"I want to be a pro hockey player," he whispered.
My heart smiled. Hockey was Kyle's passion and he'd worked hard at it for a decade. "Then do it."
He sighed. "But what about firefighting?"
"Is that your dream? Or is it your dad's?"
He ran his fingers through my hair. "Both. I think I'd love firefighting, but I also think I'd regret not giving hockey a go."
"Then you have your answer."
"But if I do this and I fail, I might never get on the FDNY. I need the city residency credit to rank higher on the list and even with that and taking the test this year, it will still be years before my number comes up. If I try to go pro and don't make it, then I'll be way behind in applying and my number may not get called before I age out."
I tapped my fingers on his chest. "Which would you regret more: missing out on hockey or missing out on the FDNY?"
"Hockey," he responded without hesitation.
"Then congratulations, Kyle Hogan. You're going to be a hockey player."
He laughed. "Holy shit."
"Now, for the most important question. You're picking Michigan, right?"
He kissed the top of my head. "Hell yeah I am."
I squeezed him tight. I couldn't think of anything better than going to college with my best friend.
19
Kyle
12th Grade - February
During practice, as I skated backward on the ice, I decided that was going to be the day I would man up and tell my family that I was pursuing hockey. I'd had a good talk with Allie about it the night before and she'd convinced me that my dad and my brothers wouldn't be disappointed in me for choosing hockey over the FDNY.
After practice, I drove home with Dylan and when we pulled into the drive, we were surprised to see our dad's car in the driveway.
"That's odd," Dylan said as I parked. Dad was supposed to have left for Ryan's hockey game over an hour ago.
"Very." I got one of those feelings that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and I knew that something was wrong.
While Dylan grabbed his hockey bag from my trunk, I jogged toward Dad's car. As I got closer, I noticed the soles of his boots poking out from in front of the car.
“Dad!” I sprinted.
He was laying on the cold asphalt. Unconscious. Blue.
"Dylan, call 911," I shouted as I shook my father's shoulders. "Dad! Dad!"
He didn't move. I ran through the training in my mind—Dad had made us all get CPR certified. I lowered my ear to his nose and mouth to feel and listen for breaths while I watched to see if his chest was rising.
Nothing.
Dylan ran up. "Holy shit, Dad."
"Call 911. Now," I ordered as I felt Dad's wrist for a pulse. His skin was cold—too cold—but it was February...
No pulse.
Then I felt for the artery in his neck.
Nothing.
"Fuck." Dad had developed heart disease after 9/11. A parting gift from the rubble. I pinched his nose and tilted his head back while I gripped his chin with my other hand and gave him two rescue breaths.
Then I began compressions. One and two and three and…
On the tenth one—crunch—I felt my dad's rib crack. I heard his voice in my head say, that means you're doing it right, son. My jaw clenched as I fought to keep my composure.
"An ambulance is on the way." Dylan dropped to his knees by Dad's head.
"Twenty-seven and twenty-eight and twenty-nine and thirty." I stopped compressions.
Dylan was already in place to give two breaths.
I resumed compressions.
By the time the ambulance arrived, I was drenched in sweat having done eight rounds of CPR. The medics took over, shoving us out of the way. They got the pads hooked up to his chest while they continued CPR. But they never shocked him. When they stopped mid-compressions, it confirmed what I'd already known. We'd been too late. If we hadn't fucked off with our friends after practice, we would've been home sooner. We could've saved him.
But instead, my dad was dead.
The next few days were a blur. Mom was a wreck, my brothers were devastated, and my father was gone, so I stepped up to make sure everything got done. A bunch of the guys from my dad's firehouse had helped me with the arrangements. We'd had four wakes over two days and each time slot had been packed. Pretty much my entire school had shown up along with hundreds of firefighters and of course our family and friends. It had been a whirlwind of going through motions.
Sitting on the wooden pew in the front of the church at my dad's funeral was the last of the formal ceremonies, and I was grateful for that. I sat beside my mom and kept my arm around her during the whole thing. Dylan sat on Mom's other side, then Jenna. Jesse was next to me, then Allie, then Ryan. Allie held them both through the entire thing. She'd been incredible ever since it had happened. She hadn't left my house and she'd taken care of my brothers while I'd focused on planning. The other firehouse wives had made sure my mother had never been left alone. If I'd ever doubted how much support our family had in the world, my dad's death had shattered that.
Several of the guys from Dad's fireho
use had gotten up to share stories about my father and it was comforting to hear how much he was adored as their captain. When the priest called me up to the podium to deliver the eulogy, I stood and buttoned my suit jacket. Dylan took over holding our mom while I stepped up to the altar. From the podium, I grasped the magnitude of how many people were in attendance. The church itself was large and every seat was filled, plus people stood, filling both side aisles. The number of glistening badges I saw adorning the chests of the men and women my dad had worked alongside made my eyes sting. I swallowed back the emotion though because I couldn't cry. My family needed me to be the strong one.
I removed the folded piece of paper from my inside breast pocket and smoothed it out on the podium. Then I cleared my throat. "My father was a hero. Not only because of the countless lives he's saved over the course of his career, but because he was also my hero. He was my brothers' hero. He was my mom’s hero. I've always looked up to him and I always will because the legacy he leaves behind is one that we should all be proud of." I clenched my jaw.
"No one loved harder than my dad. Because of the example that he and my mom have set, my brothers and I have had the honor of witnessing true love, and I know I'll never settle for anything less because that's what he taught me." I glanced at Allie, but quickly looked away for the sake of my composure. "When I have kids of my own, I can only hope to be half the father my dad was."
"His passion and his aptitude for his career is evident in the sea of uniforms surrounding us today. Dad had always said that the firehouse is family and I'd like to personally thank every single one of you for helping us through this loss and for being here to honor him. I can guarantee that he's looking down on us right now in awe of this display of love for a man who loved unconditionally without expecting anything in return. My father was a humble man. He was thoughtful. He was kind. He was a man of principle. He was a thousand different things, but above all, he was a family man."