Holding His Forever(2)

When I’m done I grab a shirt and a pair of panties and pull them on. I sit at the small fold-out table in my half kitchen, if you can call it that. It doesn’t even have a full refrigerator, just one of those tiny ones you find in a hotel, which is probably where it came from. There’s a small sink and microwave, and that’s about it. My exhaustion outweighs my hunger as I count my tips. A hundred dollars on a double shift for a Tuesday isn’t too bad. Every dollar counts at this point. I’m so close to being able to pay for my last semester of college. Twelve more credits and I’m done, I remind myself. I can do this.

I grab the money and place it carefully, along with yesterday’s money, between the pages of a book I keep on the table. I still need to go to the bank and deposit it. After that, I walk the few feet to my bed in the corner of the room and fall face first into the cushioned surface.

“I miss you, Mom,” I whisper into the pillow before sleep takes me.





2





Phoenix





I sit on the edge of the cot and plant my feet on the floor. I’m sleeping in the firehouse tonight, even though it’s not my turn. The department shrink would have something to say about this, but it’s the only way I can move on. To move forward. To work until I’m exhausted enough that my dreams don’t turn into nightmares and I wake up screaming.

The gold plate above my head reads, Phoenix 1st LT, Engine 20; Ladder 70 FDNY, and I reach up, tapping it for good luck. Most firefighters are superstitious, and even if I don’t believe all the things that go along with it, I respect the hell out of tradition.

I stand up and walk past the rows of cots towards the chow room. Our firehouse is big, and I’m the first lieutenant here. I supervise the daily operations, training, and lead the emergency response of our engine company. Graham, our second LT, does swing shifts with me so that we’re not both constantly on call. But I’ve been here for the past four months, regardless of whether it’s been my turn on or not.

There are ten guys sleeping in the house tonight, all trying to catch some shut-eye while Brick snores the roof off the place. Most of us have gotten used to him though. After almost ten years working here, there’s not much I can’t sleep through. Except the dreams.

“You’re up late, Phoenix,” Graham says, not looking up from his crossword puzzle.

My last name is Phoenix, and everyone calls me that. My first name is Derek, but I don’t think anyone’s called me by that name since my mom died from ovarian cancer almost five years ago. My dad, who is staying busy since she passed, usually calls me “my boy” or “sunshine.” He loves to tell everyone I had bleached blond hair as a kid and smiled all the time.

“I like to think of it as up early,” I say, reaching for a coffee mug. “You know me, glass-is-half-full kind of guy.”

He lets out a huff at my lame joke, knowing it’s the furthest thing from the truth. I pour myself some sludge from the machine. It’s probably been there for days, but I pretend it looks good.

“You know,” Graham says, but I interrupt him.

“Yes. I know I don’t have to be here. I know that I should get some sleep. I know that I should probably go back home and take some time off. And I know that I should probably be telling all of this to our shrink.” I tick off on my fingers all the things Graham is going to tell me. “Did I miss anything?”

He finally looks up at me and rolls his eyes. “You know, you can always make more coffee,” he says exasperatedly, but clearly I hit the target.

“And I could make more coffee.” I lift my mug up in cheers, and he leans back in his chair, eyeing me.

“You’re first ranking lieutenant, so I can’t tell you what to do. You’ve already talked to the captain and everyone else you’re supposed to.” He sighs, and a look of concern crosses his face. “You’re not healing, Phoenix. We all lost men that day. Marcus and Vance were our brothers, and we should mourn them, but at some point life goes on.”

I just take a sip of the coffee that tastes more like tar, not acknowledging anything he just said. How can I? Marcus and Vance were two of my closest friends. We’d gone through school together, and we became firefighters at the same time. I was promoted to lieutenant of the station, and they were both so happy for me, even though we all came in at the same time. I’d had better marks on the physical tests, so I was given the position. Four months ago, we’d gotten a routine call in the middle of the night. There was a kitchen fire in a three-story walk-up, so we jumped to. When we got to the scene, everything seemed to go as normal. We made our way into the building, all by the book. We got up to the third floor and secured the area. We made sure everyone got out, but just as we were making our way back down, Marcus said he heard something. He was in the rear with Vance, and I heard him over my headset. I’d told him we had the headcount confirmed from the truck outside, but he insisted on going back. I turned in time to watch as he kicked in a door with Vance standing at his side. Suddenly, a small child ran out, and I pulled him into my arms just as the ceiling fell in.