The First Day... Part Two

He was never so relieved to pull into the parking lot behind the fire station. Red Rock’s Station House Three was actually only the second fire station currently open, House Two having closed three years back. Located on Darby Road, the fire station served the entire community past the railroad tracks up to the city limits to the west. House One covered the area east of the tracks all the way to the shoreline bordering the Detroit River. Thanks to three industrial giants who made Red Rock, Michigan their home for manufacturing plants, the city was able to keep abreast of some of the newer firefighting technologies, although the Fire Department was still awaiting word on the latest infrared equipment. Roy wasn’t the only one in the department to hope that they would get the funding to pay for it, as infrared would make it so much easier to locate victims trapped in a heavily smoke-filled building.

Looking up at the old brick building with its ancient watchtower keeping an eye on the city, Roy allowed the comfort of his second home to wash away the chaos in his soul. He loved this place and most of the guys in it. Here was family that stood by you through thick and thin, unconditionally accepting you as part of the team. Here other guys would risk their lives for yours, and you would do the same for them. Being a member of the brotherhood of firefighters was something Roy had been looking for way before he was old enough to attend the academy.

No sooner had he walked in the door, eager to soak in the sometimes-chaotic sanity that accompanied an average shift, than the captain gestured him into his office. His insides still quivering from the trauma of facing the last place his wife had breathed her last, Roy followed his superior and sat in the chair offered to him. He couldn’t avoid confronting the cross that hung on the wall just behind Sanders’ desk. Just what he didn’t need right now, to have to see religious trappings of some god who, if he existed at all, had allowed his wife to die so horribly. But then, that was Sanders. Before he had made first lieutenant, then captain, nobody in the whole company had been crazy about his spirituality. Roy had seen him as just another Japheth Moore, a man prone to puritanism and self-righteousness to the point of “spare the rod, spoil the child,” who took over when Roy’s mother had progressed so deeply into her alcoholism that she could no longer take adequate care of him. But soon Roy found that where Japheth had been all fire and brimstone, Bill Sanders was quite the opposite, deep in his faith, yet never self-righteous. The younger guys still poked fun at Sanders’ faith behind his back (and some-- even in this day and age-- poked fun at his race), but Roy had to respect him, even if he didn’t agree with his views.

Sanders sat down at the desk, folded his dark hands in front of him. He regarded Roy for a moment, then scratched his graying head. “Are you sure you’re ready to come back, Roy?”

“I’m fine. I was getting a little sick of staying home, anyway.” Roy laughed half-heartedly, trying to lighten his mood but not succeeding. He sighed. “I need to get back into it, Captain. I need the old routine back.”

Sanders nodded, then smiled. “We’re glad to have you back, Roy. If there’s anything we can do--”

Roy waved his hand. “I know, I know.” He didn’t mean to be short tempered, but the conflicts with his daughters, especially Kelly, had set him in a bad mood he was finding hard to shake. He looked up at Sanders again, noticed the appraising look on the officer’s face. “Sorry, Captain. I had a problem with my daughters this morning. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I understand.” Sanders paused, his gray eyebrows furrowed. “How’re you doing?”

Roy hesitated, wary of where the conversation was going. “I’m doing about as well as can be expected, Captain.”

Sanders grunted, lowered his eyes. “I’m sure you are. But this is a terrible burden for any man. Have you talked to your priest about this?”

“About what? How God made Marie suffer? How He took her away from me before her time?” The words just flowed out before Roy could stop himself. “Sorry, Captain, but I’m not a religious man. I never have been.” He bit his tongue, realized he’d just made a serious mistake. The way Sanders looked, he was going to be sidelined for awhile longer.

The captain gazed at him, concern in the set of his jaw. “Will you do me a favor, then, Roy? Will you take advantage of the department’s Employee Assistance Program?”

Roy jerked his eyes away from Sanders, stared at the wood paneling that lined the walls. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think I need a shrink.”

Sanders sighed. “I wish you would, Roy. You need to talk to somebody.”

Roy set his jaw, looked back at Sanders. “I’ll consider it, but I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s all I can ask for, Roy. I’d appreciate it.” Sanders smiled at him. “We want to make sure you’re going to be okay, that’s all. Not only for your own good, but for your coworkers as well. The last thing we need is for you to freeze up while on a call. Know what I mean?”

Roy nodded, his shoulders sagging. All the anger that had reared up inside him flooded out again, leaving him beaten and dull. “Maybe I’m not quite ready to come back yet.”

“Why don’t you take today off, try to get your head together?” Sanders sat back, rubbing his fingertips together. “You can just as easily come back for your shift on Thursday.”

“Yeah.” Roy nodded, a wan smile on his face. “I think I’ll do that. I’m sorry I was so rude, Captain. It’s been hard this past week.”

“Understandable.” Sanders clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re with you, Roy. Never forget that.” He walked with Roy to the door. “Take care of yourself, and we’ll see you back here on Thursday.”

“Thanks, Captain.” Roy smiled. “I’ll make sure I’m ready this time.”

“You do that.” Sanders furrowed his eyebrows. “And please seriously consider using the program. It’s not a horrible thing to talk to a psychiatrist.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Part One

“You never know what’s going to happen.”

"You don’t, do you?”

“Let me go,” he whimpered, collapsing against the headboard.

Marie.

Roy half-lay, half-sat there for several minutes, the cold sweaty terror of the nightmare still gripping him. He blinked the tears from his eyes as he slowly came to his senses, his gaze wandering cruelly around the room she had decorated with her own hands. The patchwork quilt she had sewn by hand, the mauve and blue curtains she had bought at a yard sale and restored to almost new, the delicate perfume bottles on her dresser. Marie was everywhere here, and he couldn’t yet bring himself to pack her things away.

God, just a little over a week after her death, and already this house was driving him crazy. When the captain had called the night before, Roy was grateful to tell him that he’d be returning to work the next day. Sanders had hesitated, reminded him that he didn’t have to return to duty just yet, he still had over two weeks’ worth of leave accumulated, but Roy insisted on coming back. He didn’t know how much longer he could deal with it all otherwise.

He sighed heavily and rolled out of the bed. He listened to the silence of the house as he slipped into his navy velour robe-- a piece of clothing rarely used before Marie died but now somehow necessary in front of the twins-- then glanced at the clock. Not quite seven. He should have been able to hear one or both of the twins in the bathroom by now, getting ready for school.

He frowned.

The wood floor was cool, not cold, under his bare feet as he shuffled down the hall toward the girls’ room. The air was still unusually warm and balmy for late November, still freakish and wrong, like everything else that was happening.

He knocked on the twins’ door. “Krissy? Kelly?”

Muffled moans answered him. He smiled as he heard Krissy’s sleepy voice drift through the door. “We’re awake, Dad.”

“You gals are going to be late. Better step on it.” He turned to leave.

Krissy poked her head out the door. “Kelly says she’s sick again.”

Roy sighed, then followed her into the girls’ room. He ignored the disaster zone as he stepped carefully over discarded clothing to his other daughter’s bed, noting the way she huddled almost painfully under the covers. He carefully perched on the side of her bed. “What’s wrong, Kelly?”

“I’m sick.” Her voice was small, barely audible.

He put a hand to her forehead. No fever. “Upset stomach?”

“She’s faking it again,” Krissy said, looking through the closet. “We have a test in Hurley’s class today, and she didn’t study all that much for it.”

“I’m not faking it,” Kelly snapped, rolling over to face them. “I really am sick.”

Roy sighed again, at a loss as to what to do. Marie used to handle this little stuff. She knew when the girls really were sick and when they were just trying to avoid something at school. He studied Kelly’s face for clues, her eyes so like her mother’s it twisted the knife in his gut. “You don’t look all that sick to me, Kelly. Now get up and get dressed. You’re going to school.”

“You always believe her, don’t you?” she mumbled.

“What was that?” Roy gave her a warning look.

“Nothing.” Kelly sat up and eyed him reproachfully, then tossed the covers aside.

Roy nodded once as he headed to the door. “Hurry up. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes.”

Of course, things didn’t go that easily.

After he had showered, shaved, and dressed, Roy walked out to the kitchen to discover both girls sitting at the table, Krissy wide-eyed and sheepish, Kelly dark and defiant. He looked from one girl to the other and sighed. “Missed the bus, eh?”

Krissy nodded. “I’m sorry, Dad. If Kelly hadn’t taken so long in the bathroom--”

“Yeah, like it was all my fault.” Kelly glowered. “You could’ve gone in there earlier.”

“Girls!” Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the headache that was slowly forming between the eyes. God, he missed Marie. “Look, let’s not fight over this. Just get in the truck. I’ll be out in a minute.” He shook his head and reached for the aspirin.

It was already shaping up to be quite a day.

The trip to the high school was silent, the air in the truck heavy and still. Both girls ignored each other until they pulled up to the curb in front of the school, when Kelly accidentally-- deliberately? he couldn’t really tell-- clipped Krissy’s knee with her knapsack.

“Dad!” Krissy wailed, shoving at her sister.

“Stop it!” Roy snapped, thrusting his arm between the girls. Next time he took them anywhere, he would have to make sure that one of them sat in the back seat of the extended cab. “Kelly, apologize to your sister.”

“It was an accident.” She shrugged. “Sorry.”

Krissy pouted. “She’s not sorry.”

“Drop it, Krissy.” Roy clutched the steering wheel a little tighter. “Just drop it, okay?” He nodded toward the school, the yard empty of students. “Better hurry up and get to class. I’ve gotta get to work.”

The red pickup shook as the girls clambered out, both of them arguing about the incident as Roy pulled the door shut with a slam. He watched them stalk toward the school, Kelly’s head low between her shoulders, Krissy straight and tall as she reached for the doors. For twins, even fraternal twins like them, they were as different as night and day. It never ceased to amaze him how much conflict could occur between twin sisters.

He tried to ignore the blackened railroad trestle as he headed away from the high school. His headache now at a dull roar, Roy cursed at having to drop the girls off at school. He’d never wanted to come back this way again, through this hellish intersection, and the red light that now held him prisoner here.

The railroad trestle mocked him in the rearview mirror, the soot stain outlining where the car had struck and burst into flame.

“Damn it.” He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, swallowed hard at the lump in his throat. Pain grappled his head, the air in the pickup stifled him as he lowered the window and gulped at the moist, heavy air outside. His insides shook with agony as he tore his eyes away from the funeral wreath one of Marie’s friends had perched on the side of the road near the trestle.

When the light finally turned green, he gunned it and screeched away from the last place his wife had breathed before the semi plowed her into the trestle.