2013
Jace
A S I left for work that morning, Aubrey was in Jayden’s room, where she’d once again fallen asleep. I watched the two of them for a moment, my mind stuck between why I couldn’t have carried her into our room and said everything that needed to be said, and not knowing how to say it.
We were growing apart, and that’s a hard thing to grasp, let alone deal with. Especially when two great kids are involved.
Sighing, I left her there with them without so much as a kiss goodbye. Once I was in my truck, I got a sharp pain in my gut that told me if I should fall victim to my job today, what memory would she be left with of me?
The one of me walking away.
So much went unsaid, but I hated arguing. I didn’t see the point in it. Too many times the wrong words get said, and you’re left doing more explaining than actually communicating. Like the other night after Amelia’s birthday party. She sensed the separation between us, and I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her I saw it, too. Beg her not to give up on us, but I didn’t. She said I wasn’t doing anything to save us, and I said she was wrong. Sadly, she was right. I wasn’t.
My drive to work wasn’t far — about ten minutes, depending on traffic.
I worked ladder 1 with the Seattle Fire Department. Whenever I tell someone that, they ask me what the difference is between an engine company and a ladder company. There are a few.
Engine trucks carry water, a hose, and a pump. Ladders don’t.
Biggest difference?
Ladder trucks have a hundred-foot aerial ladder and several ground ladders. Engines only have a few ground ladders.
Truck response (ladder) is a fast search-and-rescue operation. We don’t go in with a hose, and it’s very dangerous. But we do this in a controlled and fast manner. Our primary goal is searching for victims and getting them out fast.
As I parked alongside the station, I caught sight of her shop, knowing that in a few hours I would see her in there, living her life, the one she had while I was gone all the time. I took comfort in knowing she was right there within my sight, safe.
When I walked through the door, the guys were shuffling in as the shift changes began.
“Did you break her hip?” was what I heard as soon as I walked in.
Gathered in the lounge, Logan and Axe were already talking, loud and bright-eyed. The two of them were never late to anything, and if they could have predicted a fire, I was sure they would have been right there and ready for it five minutes before it started.
“Fuck you,” Denny Harlin, our new probationary firefighter (probie), on the job four months, grumbled as they shit-talked his new girlfriend. Hell, she could have been his mom.
“Let me ask you something.” Logan leaned forward, getting serious now. “Does she go to brunch with your grandma?”
“She’s only forty-two.” He blinked his long curly black eyelashes, as if forty-two was an okay age. Whenever he’s listening to someone talk, he scrunches up his nose. It makes him look like he’s taking a shit or something.
“And you’re twenty.” Logan shook his head, his feet moving from the floor to the table. “That’s weird. Can’t your smooth-talkin’ ass find a girl your own age?”
Denny looked at Logan’s boots on the table, rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore us by finding the container of peanuts interesting.
Logan looked up the magazine he was holding. “What’s that chick’s name from Jersey Shore . . . you know the one with the big eyes?” Logan was great at diverting a conversation just to piss people off. It’s like sport to him. That, and betting.
Everyone laughed but never gave him an answer. None of us knew.
“Haven’t you ever heard of the divide by two and add seven rule?” I asked, still smiling at Logan as he tried to Google it on his phone. He hated not having the answer.
“No.” Denny looked at me funny, thrown off by my question. What’s that?”
“He’s never even
Jace
A S I left for work that morning, Aubrey was in Jayden’s room, where she’d once again fallen asleep. I watched the two of them for a moment, my mind stuck between why I couldn’t have carried her into our room and said everything that needed to be said, and not knowing how to say it.
We were growing apart, and that’s a hard thing to grasp, let alone deal with. Especially when two great kids are involved.
Sighing, I left her there with them without so much as a kiss goodbye. Once I was in my truck, I got a sharp pain in my gut that told me if I should fall victim to my job today, what memory would she be left with of me?
The one of me walking away.
So much went unsaid, but I hated arguing. I didn’t see the point in it. Too many times the wrong words get said, and you’re left doing more explaining than actually communicating. Like the other night after Amelia’s birthday party. She sensed the separation between us, and I wanted to take her in my arms and tell her I saw it, too. Beg her not to give up on us, but I didn’t. She said I wasn’t doing anything to save us, and I said she was wrong. Sadly, she was right. I wasn’t.
My drive to work wasn’t far — about ten minutes, depending on traffic.
I worked ladder 1 with the Seattle Fire Department. Whenever I tell someone that, they ask me what the difference is between an engine company and a ladder company. There are a few.
Engine trucks carry water, a hose, and a pump. Ladders don’t.
Biggest difference?
Ladder trucks have a hundred-foot aerial ladder and several ground ladders. Engines only have a few ground ladders.
Truck response (ladder) is a fast search-and-rescue operation. We don’t go in with a hose, and it’s very dangerous. But we do this in a controlled and fast manner. Our primary goal is searching for victims and getting them out fast.
As I parked alongside the station, I caught sight of her shop, knowing that in a few hours I would see her in there, living her life, the one she had while I was gone all the time. I took comfort in knowing she was right there within my sight, safe.
When I walked through the door, the guys were shuffling in as the shift changes began.
“Did you break her hip?” was what I heard as soon as I walked in.
Gathered in the lounge, Logan and Axe were already talking, loud and bright-eyed. The two of them were never late to anything, and if they could have predicted a fire, I was sure they would have been right there and ready for it five minutes before it started.
“Fuck you,” Denny Harlin, our new probationary firefighter (probie), on the job four months, grumbled as they shit-talked his new girlfriend. Hell, she could have been his mom.
“Let me ask you something.” Logan leaned forward, getting serious now. “Does she go to brunch with your grandma?”
“She’s only forty-two.” He blinked his long curly black eyelashes, as if forty-two was an okay age. Whenever he’s listening to someone talk, he scrunches up his nose. It makes him look like he’s taking a shit or something.
“And you’re twenty.” Logan shook his head, his feet moving from the floor to the table. “That’s weird. Can’t your smooth-talkin’ ass find a girl your own age?”
Denny looked at Logan’s boots on the table, rolled his eyes, and tried to ignore us by finding the container of peanuts interesting.
Logan looked up the magazine he was holding. “What’s that chick’s name from Jersey Shore . . . you know the one with the big eyes?” Logan was great at diverting a conversation just to piss people off. It’s like sport to him. That, and betting.
Everyone laughed but never gave him an answer. None of us knew.
“Haven’t you ever heard of the divide by two and add seven rule?” I asked, still smiling at Logan as he tried to Google it on his phone. He hated not having the answer.
“No.” Denny looked at me funny, thrown off by my question. What’s that?”
“He’s never even
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