《YELLOWJACKET》


 FIRST STEP

    JANUARY


    Gun shots.


    The ringing in my ears is so loud, it makes me nauseous.


    Everything stinks of burnt carbon and sulfur.


    He goes down quickly, but I watch him fall to his knees in slow motion. Running to him feels like wading through quicksand.


    On the ground, the dirt turns a ruddy-red as his blood soaks into it. I¡¯m trying to stop the bleeding but it¡¯s just not enough. Now my hands are ruddy-red, too.


    He¡¯s saying something, but I can¡¯t make it out. He can¡¯t stop bleeding. The bullets are still flying around us.


    With his hands in mine, I pray to God: sorry for being a shitty Catholic; sorry for skipping church; sorry for every bad deed I ever did. I will make it up to you if you don¡¯t take him now.


    Stay with me, I tell him. Mi amigo, qu¨¦date conmigo. You can¡¯t let your mam¨¢ bury her only son.


    He looks at me like he¡¯s lost in a daydream. His mouth is moving but I can¡¯t hear him.


    I pray in Spanish. I pray in English. I pray in both because I don¡¯t know what language God even speaks.


    His hands are cold. His grip weakens.


    Take me instead, I plead. He¡¯s got too much back home to lose.


    I look into his eyes and I see nothing behind them.


    Nothing, nothing, nothing.


    ¡°And then, I wake up.¡±


    Dr. Oh nodded slowly and solemnly. ¡°Recurring nightmares are common amongst veterans,¡± she said. ¡°You aren¡¯t alone.¡±


    There was a kindness to Dr. Oh¡¯s expression, but it didn¡¯t make me feel better. It was patronizing, as if she pitied me - the line between sympathy and pity was so thin, so fine.


    ¡°Yeah, but they¡¯re constant. Inescapable. Some days, I¡¯m too afraid to go to sleep,¡± I continued. It took effort to steady my voice when the images were still so clear in my mind. ¡°¡¯Cause if I go to sleep, I¡¯ll see him, and I¡¯ll wake up hating myself all over again.¡±


    She nodded again. ¡°Remind me, Manuel¡ª how long have you been having these nightmares?¡±


    I swallowed. The dryness in my throat made it painful. ¡°God, years¡­ I go through phases where I don¡¯t have them at all, but lately, they¡¯ve been ramping back up again. It¡¯s been nearly every night for the past few months. I can¡¯t take it anymore.¡±


    ¡°And how long ago has it been since¡­¡± Dr. Oh reviewed her notes before glancing back to me. ¡°You said his name was Philip?¡±


    ¡°Felipe,¡± I corrected, ¡°but we all called him Feliz.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Dr. Oh wrote something down. ¡°How long has it been since he passed?¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Instead of maintaining eye contact with Dr. Oh, I looked down at my hands. Despite her office being designed like a living room, decorated with pale blue chairs and striped pillows, sitting on that couch felt like being on an autopsy table; a dissection of myself without anesthetic. I looked back up at her steadily.


    ¡°Nearly ten years.¡± Ten years, I echoed in my mind, but it still felt like only yesterday. ¡°In April, it¡¯ll be ten years.¡±


    ¡°Have you noticed a pattern for when these nightmares become more frequent?¡± She asked. ¡°Since you said you go through phases?¡±


    I paused for a moment. ¡°I dunno. It¡¯s not like I keep track of them; this just¡­ it feels like the longest I¡¯ve gone without a break in them since he first died.¡±


    Dr. Oh scribbled something down quickly. Whenever she took a note, I wondered if this was how chimpanzees felt around Jane Goodall. When the hairs on the back of my neck bristled, I smoothed them down nervously.


    ¡°Sometimes I feel like the only one that still misses him,¡± I sighed. ¡°Cleo was only three when he died, so she doesn¡¯t really remember him, and¡­ well, Mercy just took it better than I did, I suppose. She stopped wearing his wedding ring a couple years after he passed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s likely that they¡¯ve had more space to deal with their grief,¡± she suggested. ¡°Do you find that they give you enough support?¡±


    I frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t need them to. Mercy has enough on her plate already between raising Cleo, and her job, and she¡¯s taking care of her mom, and Cleo¡ª she¡¯s just a kid, who the fuck would expect a thirteen-year-old girl to let them cry on their shoulder?¡±


    Dr. Oh¡¯s gaze softened further. ¡°Maybe you should reach out to some of your colleagues. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ve had similar experiences; I see many emergency service personnel struggle with losses in the line of duty.¡±


    ¡°You think I want to talk about my feelings at the station?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Even if we had the time, none of them would want to sit around and watch me feel sorry for myself. They¡¯d just tell me to pack it up and keep it moving, and they¡¯d be right to do so.¡±


    She tapped her pen to her lip thoughtfully. ¡°Is there anyone you¡¯re still in contact with from your days in the service who might be willing to listen?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m still friends with Cliff, but¡ª we don¡¯t really have that kind of relationship, if that makes sense. And other than him, I¡¯ve grown distant from most of them,¡± I replied. ¡°There was someone I used to know¡­¡±


    Even after all these years, I could see him clearly in my mind: his lopsided smile, that odd little birthmark, and those dark, dark eyes.


    ¡°But that¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s not something I¡¯m really ready to talk about,¡± I finished.


    Staring at the clock was giving me a headache, and every second that passed felt like it took twice as long. As if to give me some kind of privacy, she turned her focus to her notepad and continued writing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t really feel like talking about it to most people in general,¡± I said. ¡°Talking to you already feels¡­ weird. Like I¡¯m making a bigger deal out of it than I should.¡±


    ¡°Well, while this is only your second session, I believe there¡¯s a lot of potential benefit for you if you push past the initial discomfort.¡± Dr. Oh¡¯s hands moved quickly across her paper. ¡°These visits aren¡¯t something to be ashamed of. It¡¯s the same as seeing a cardiologist for your heart, or a podiatrist for your feet.¡±


    Shifting uncomfortably, I crossed my arms and leaned back into the couch. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we can look at this from a different perspective.¡± She formed a steeple with her fingers. ¡°Are you really fit for service if you¡¯re chronically underslept? That would make your presence a hazard, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t stop myself from glaring at her. I resented that Dr. Oh had a point, which she seemed to know too, judging by the look of satisfaction on her face. She took a moment to reach over toward the laptop that sat near her chair, typing quickly into it.


    ¡°So, what I¡¯m going to do is I¡¯m going to send in a prescription¡ª¡±


    Immediately, I threw up my hands. ¡°Whoa, whoa, whoa¡ª hold on. Aren¡¯t you going to tell me to try meditation or bubble baths or something like that first? You¡¯re jumping straight to meds? Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡±


    ¡°Prescription medication, when combined with talk therapy, can make a big difference in the success of your treatment,¡± she replied. ¡°You don¡¯t need to take anything you aren¡¯t comfortable with, but I encourage you to be open minded. If you find that you struggle with side effects or it simply isn¡¯t working, we¡¯ll try other strategies.¡±


    I flattened my mouth in a line and nodded silently, unsure if she could sense the disappointment I felt with myself. When she finished typing, she turned her attention back to me.


    ¡°Our time is just about up for today. However, I think we¡¯re on the cusp of making very real progress.¡± Dr. Oh smiled. ¡°I know how eclectic scheduling can be with your line of work, so just let the girls at the front desk know what works best for you. And let them know your preferred pharmacy while you¡¯re up there, too.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± I replied flatly.


    As I neared the exit to her office, Dr. Oh joined me by the door and opened it herself to let me out. ¡°You should be proud of yourself, Manuel,¡± she said kindly. ¡°The first step is always the hardest step.¡±


    I smiled back, but it was nothing more than a mask.

 LOCUM TENENS

    The next day, as I pulled out of the Walgreens parking lot, I flipped the radio on without even looking at it. The radio barked back immediately: you¡¯re listening to 97.1 - the EAGLE.


    Rush hour traffic was always awful, but as I sat behind a banged-up Corolla being driven by an absolute psychopath, it gave me the chance to glance down at the bag my prescription sat in.


    You aren¡¯t going to take those drugs, are you? I could hear my mother say, flat yet cruel - her usual tone of voice. You really are just like your padre¡ª necesitas estar en un manicomio.


    She wouldn¡¯t get it, and thank God she¡¯d never have to try; that little yellow bottle and the contents within it were going with me to my grave.


    In the cupholder, my phone started vibrating, so I shoved the prescription bag in between the seats and reached for it. As I grabbed it, I shot a look momentarily at the screen, though I really didn¡¯t have to.


    ¡°Yo, Benz, what¡¯s good?¡± As soon as I spoke, I hit speakerphone to hear her better.


    ¡°Manny, hey, I¡¯m glad I caught you,¡± said Mercy; already, I heard the exhaustion in each word. ¡°You¡¯re not working tonight by any chance, right?¡±


    ¡°Nah, but I¡¯m on tomorrow,¡± I replied. ¡°Why? What¡¯s up?¡±


    She sighed deeply. ¡°Joey¡¯s car wouldn¡¯t start this morning, and she just texted me and said it¡¯s still not working. I don¡¯t even know where to start to see if it can make it down to the shop¡­ do you think you could come take a look at it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course. Hope it ain¡¯t something serious.¡± I flipped the sun visor down across my eyes. ¡°You want me to just head on over there?¡±


    Mercy sighed again, but this time it was in relief. ¡°Yeah, if you don¡¯t mind. Um, when you¡¯re done with Joey¡¯s car, why don¡¯t you stay for dinner, too? I can pick something up on my way home.¡±


    ¡°Aw, you spoil me,¡± I said, smiling. ¡°You know, I could always go for some Chinese, but don¡¯t be goin¡¯ out of your way for anything.¡±


    ¡°Anything for you, Manolo,¡± she said appreciatively. ¡°See you there?¡±


    ¡°Mmhm. See you in a bit.¡±


    Less than half an hour later, I¡¯d reached Mercy¡¯s house. The driveway was a tight squeeze for my Silverado, but Joanna¡¯s little red Malibu was easy to maneuver next to. I wasn¡¯t worried about blocking the way for Mercy¡¯s car; her street wasn¡¯t exactly known for militant curbside parking rules, probably because nobody would park there willingly if they didn¡¯t already live there.


    Lately, the house had begun to show its age more obviously: the off-white paint had started to peel; the front door leaned open like it was always half-drunk; and the porch steps bowed in the center. Despite numerous complaints to her landlady over the years, my interventions were the main reason the house remained livable - but even I wasn¡¯t a jack of all trades, so there was a lot left undone. If only I had more time¡­


    As I approached the porch, Joanna, Mercy¡¯s sister, ducked out of the house with a cigarette hanging from her lips and a lighter in her hand. Though she obviously saw my arrival, she didn¡¯t bother openly acknowledging my presence until after she¡¯d lit the cigarette. I knew better than to take it personally.


    ¡°Heard from Mercy that your car¡¯s not working. What¡¯s going on with it?¡± I propped a foot up on the first stair step with my thumbs curled around my belt loops. ¡°It¡¯s not your battery again, right?¡±


    ¡°Fuck if I know.¡± Joanna crossed her arms and took a drag, smoke billowing out of her nose.


    ¡°There¡¯s been some crazy-ass rattling under the hood for the last few days, but it just didn¡¯t want to start this morning. Had to get one of my coworkers to pick me up.¡±


    ¡°Woah, someone willingly drove you around for free?¡± I raised an eyebrow playfully. ¡°Wait, you just started a new job, didn¡¯t you? They haven¡¯t had the full Jojo experience yet¡­¡±


    Rolling her eyes, she flicked the ash off of her cigarette. ¡°Just shut up and go fix my car.¡±


    I whistled. ¡°You got some attitude tonight! C¨¢lmate, Jojo.¡±


    ¡°For the last fucking time, stop calling me Jojo,¡± she snapped. ¡°You think ¡®cause you hang around Mercy like a puppy dog, I have to put up with your shit, too?¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright, I get it.¡± I raised my hands in surrender. ¡°Just once, it¡¯d be nice to hear you say ¡®thank you.¡¯ Didn¡¯t your mam¨¢ raise you better than this?¡±


    With one final puff of her cigarette, Joanna squashed the remainder into a pot of dirt, scowling at me hotly. ¡°I know you aren¡¯t putting my mom¡¯s name in your mouth.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just playin¡¯ with you, Jo! Jesus! Message received!¡± I insisted. ¡°Now go on and get¡ª if I need to talk shop, I¡¯ll just wait for Mercy to come back.¡±


    As if she had truly tired of my presence, Joanna turned around to head inside, though I heard a hoarsely whispered pinche payaso under her breath as the screen door slammed shut. With that, I was left with only the rapidly waning light of the afternoon as my company.


    Shortly after I¡¯d rolled up my sleeves and fiddled around under the hood of the Malibu, Mercy finally came home, emerging from her car with two big plastic bags full of Styrofoam boxes. As she came near, I noticed the dark rings circling her eyes, and her hair - despite all of the bobby pins - had curly fly-aways sticking out everywhere.


    ¡°Hey linda,¡± I said, smiling warmly. ¡°?Qu¨¦ pasa?¡±


    ¡°Hey, you!¡± Despite her exhaustion, Mercy had enough energy to smile back. She glanced between me and the car. ¡°You think you¡¯ve figured out what¡¯s up with Joey¡¯s car?¡±


    With a nod, I shut the hood of the car with a thud. ¡°Yeah, just about.¡±


    ¡°Oh, good¡­ you can bore me with the details over dinner,¡± she replied, though she was clearly dreading the answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯m starving!¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t get lunch again? They run you ragged over there for a bunch of pencil pushers¡­¡± I gazed at her sympathetically. ¡°Here, let me get those for you.¡±


    As the final moments of the sunset eased into night, I took the takeout bags from Mercy¡¯s hands, and we headed inside together.


    Mercy¡¯s house, like her, was in a perpetual state of disarray: a basket of unfolded laundry sat on the recliner in the living room, and on top of it slept their fat orange cat Simba; on the TV, some old telenovela droned loudly on in the background; the coffee table was blanketed in an endless pile of bills, bills, bills with a few grocery ads interspersed.


    Sitting quietly on the couch sat Mercy¡¯s mother, Lupe, practically blending into it with her floral nightgown. She made no effort to speak to me, but unlike Joanna, it wasn¡¯t an attitude thing - it was Alzheimer¡¯s. Gone were the days when she would greet me with any degree of tenderness; my only hope of seeing joy on her face was when she mistook me for her husband, acting as the ghost of a man who¡¯d been dead for the last fifteen years.


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    ¡°Joey! Cleo! Dinner time¡ª come and get it!¡± Mercy called out as we piled the bags onto the kitchen table, which was challenging due to the clutter. ¡°Here, Manu¡ª you set the table. I¡¯m gonna go get Mam¨¢ from the living room.¡±


    I made quick work of Mercy¡¯s command, and soon the table was an array of mismatched plates and hot food settled at the center. All of us collected together, though Joanna was still giving me the evil eye from across the table; in contrast, Cleo gave me an excited hug before taking the seat next to me, her favorite spot.


    ¡°So, how are things going at the station?¡± Mercy took a pair of tongs and set a couple of egg rolls on my plate before passing the tongs to Cleo. ¡°I haven¡¯t heard you talk about it for a while.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, it¡¯s same old, same old.¡± I swallowed a spoonful of rice. ¡°Though we got a probie starting tomorrow, so that¡¯s gonna be interesting. Feels like we haven¡¯t had one in ages.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a probie again?¡± Cleo asked.


    ¡°Probationary firefighter.¡± In thought, I gestured with my fork. ¡°Like a rookie, basically.¡±


    Nodding, she sipped her Dr. Pepper delicately. ¡°Do you know if it¡¯s a guy or a girl?¡±


    "It¡¯s a guy, which kinda sucks. We could use more women around the station¡ª it¡¯s a complete sausage fest otherwise.¡± I sighed. ¡°Heather can only offset so much sausage.¡±


    ¡°Manny, please.¡± Mercy narrowed her eyes at me. ¡°Language.¡±


    ¡°Ah, my bad.¡± I stabbed an egg roll with my fork before lifting it up for everyone to see. ¡°Should I have said egg roll instead?¡±


    Cleo and I laughed, and Mercy mustered an exasperated smirk. Meanwhile, Joanna didn¡¯t care to acknowledge that I¡¯d said anything, focusing instead on helping Lupe keep her hands steady enough to eat with.


    The rest of dinner was uneventful: conversation was primarily had between me, Mercy and Cleo while Joanna and Lupe existed in the periphery. As soon as everyone had gotten their fill, I was the only one to stay behind with Mercy as she put the food away. From the other room, I could hear how loudly Lupe¡¯s show was blasting to make up for her hearing loss.


    ¡°¡­ So like I was saying earlier, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s gonna cost too much to fix Jo¡¯s car.¡± I plucked a few clean forks out of the dish rack to slide into the drawer. ¡°Maybe a few hundred, depending on where you go, but that¡¯s not too bad. Hey, you should go to that shop Rob¡¯s cousin runs, they won¡¯t rip you off. They¡¯re good guys.¡±


    As Mercy set several plates into the cabinet, she stopped, her hands curling against the cabinet doors. ¡°¡®Only¡¯ a few hundred,¡± she echoed. ¡°Jesus¡­¡±


    Seeing the disappointment in her face made me wince sympathetically. ¡°Well, for cars, that¡¯s really not that bad¡­¡±


    Mercy couldn¡¯t find anything else to say, turning her back toward me. She covered her face with her hands and let out a tense, shaky breath.


    ¡°Benz, it¡¯s gonna be okay.¡± I moved towards her, but she turned away further. ¡°Here. C¡¯mere.¡±


    By the time I took her shoulders to move her closer to me, Mercy¡¯s hands fell away from her face, and it hurt me to see how red and raw her eyes had become. Without hesitation, I took her into my arms.


    We stood in silence as she leaned into my shoulder; I couldn¡¯t think of anything to say. I was never good at talking, but in that moment it seemed to be all that she needed.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Manny,¡± she said as she withdrew from my arms. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ everything feels like it¡¯s coming down on me, between Jo¡¯s car, Mam¨¢¡¯s condition¡ª and you know the dentist thinks Cleo might need braces? And Elizabeta¡¯s talking about raising the rent on us again¡ª¡±


    ¡°Ay, one thing at a time.¡± I squeezed her shoulders. ¡°You know, I got a little extra money. Let me cover Jo¡¯s car.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Mercy cried. ¡°No, no, no. You already do so much around here, I think I owe you more than I owe the bank at this point!¡±


    ¡°Jo¡¯s gotta be able to go to work if you have any hope of keeping your head above water,¡± I countered. ¡°You get that, right?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll make it work,¡± she said, as if in protest.


    ¡°Let me make it work.¡± My hands fell from her shoulders and down to her hands, which I lifted up to hold gently. ¡°C¡¯mon. Don¡¯t make a guy beg. You know it¡¯s unbecoming of me.¡±


    Mercy smiled in return, but it was half-hearted. ¡°Manu¡­¡±


    Our eyes met in an unwavering stare. The weak, honey yellow wash of the ceiling light gave Mercy a halo above her head; with her delicate expression, she looked like a painting of a saint. She was always the prettiest girl in the barrio growing up, and years later, nothing had changed - not even an extra crinkle between her eyebrows or a couple of gray hairs from stress made a difference.


    I hadn¡¯t realized I had still been holding her hands, so I let them go, moving back to finish unloading the dishwasher. ¡°I¡¯ll send you the money tomorrow before work,¡± I said. ¡°If I don¡¯t remember, just text me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to harass you for money.¡± As she crossed her arms, Mercy¡¯s pout evolved into a frown. ¡°What am I, a loan shark?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not harassment if I¡¯m telling you to, is it?¡± I smirked. ¡°Think of it as my birthday present to you, even if it¡¯s six months early.¡±


    Mercy sighed, but at last, a smile had worked its way onto her face. It was a struggle to get her to smile at much these days, so by the time I got one out of her, it felt truly earned. ¡°You¡¯re too good to me,¡± she said quietly.


    As I returned the last utensils to the drawer, I glanced at her over my shoulder. ¡°Anything for you.¡±


    Another smile from Mercy, so tender and genuine it made me warm all over. We finished tidying the kitchen in a comfortable silence, interrupted only by the sounds of Simba eating kibble at his food bowl and Joanna talking to Lupe in the living room.


    As I grabbed my jacket and readied to leave, I glanced around the kitchen one last time. ¡°You need me to look at anything else before I head out?¡± I eyed the kitchen sink for a moment before looking back at Mercy. ¡°That sink ain¡¯t still misbehaving on you, is it?¡±


    ¡°No, thankfully the rest of the house is somehow standing, so you¡¯re off-duty now,¡± she replied. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t forget to take some food with you, okay?¡±


    I smiled playfully. ¡°You gotta be careful when you say that. I could eat you out of house and home easy if you let me.¡±


    ¡°Well, until you finally get yourself a girlfriend, someone¡¯s gotta feed you. Guys like you are just helpless otherwise.¡± The Styrofoam squeaked in Mercy¡¯s hands as she opened it up to fix me a plate. When she saw the look on my face, she snorted. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t look at me like that. I¡¯ve seen your fridge¡ª just condiments and eggs! Ridiculous.¡±


    Though my pride was on the line, I was never one to turn down free food, so I simply let her continue piling rice and noodles into the box until it strained to shut properly. Once it was safely in my hands, Mercy paused in front of me, and we stood there looking at each other.


    ¡°So, um¡­¡± I rubbed the back of my neck. ¡°Keep me posted about Jo¡¯s car.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± Mercy gazed at me gently. ¡°Drive safe, okay?¡± Then, she pulled me in for a quick, sweet little hug, and I left the kitchen.


    Right as I¡¯d gotten to the front door, I was stopped by Cleo, her presence announced by the sound of her gum popping loudly.


    ¡°T¨ªo!¡± She chirped, mid-chew. ¡°Can you take me to an art museum next weekend? I¡¯ve gotta do some research for a project and I already asked Mam¨¢ and she said no, she said I should just look stuff up online, but I think getting to see an exhibit in person would be really good for my paper!¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask Jo to take you?¡± I asked. ¡°You know my schedule¡¯s all over the place.¡±


    ¡°Mm¡­¡± With a pout, she shifted her weight to one foot, blowing a bubble so big it nearly touched her button nose. ¡°I tried to talk her into it, but she told me she thought it¡¯d be a big waste of time. Plus, she can¡¯t ask for any time off just yet ¡®cause she just started that new job.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing more important than your education, pecosita,¡± I said firmly. ¡°Look, I gotta check to make sure I¡¯m open, but if I am, I¡¯ll take you. Sound good?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Cleo did a little hop-dance, mouth stretching into a bright grin. I didn¡¯t know what her dentist was talking about - her teeth looked fine to me. ¡°It¡¯ll be more fun with you than T¨ªa, anyway!¡±


    ¡°Yep, can¡¯t wait to see what kind of fancy-pants crap they got hangin¡¯ around for tourists to gawk at,¡± I replied. ¡°Don¡¯t they have shop classes anymore? It¡¯d be nice to help you with schoolwork that was actually useful for once.¡±


    ¡°Gosh, not this again¡­¡± Cleo tossed her hair over the side of her shoulder, clearly preparing to give me a motivating speech about the importance of the arts, but before she could fire back another sassy one-liner, Mercy called out for her from the kitchen.


    Given that Mercy never liked to be kept waiting, Cleo simply gave me a knowing look as if she was simply putting a rain-check on her lecture before scurrying off into the kitchen. Standing alone in the hallway, I took this as my hint to leave, careful to close the squeaky screen door behind me as gently as possible.


    Back home, as I shut my car off in the parking lot of my apartment complex, I slipped the takeout box into the same plastic bag that held my prescription, pausing for a moment to read its outer label.


    While it¡¯d crossed my mind to broach the topic of medication with Mercy, deep down, I was afraid to hear what she might really think of it. In my arms she felt so fragile, so weary; would she still trust me to take care of her if she knew I couldn¡¯t take care of myself?


    Would she still believe I could catch her, if I was the one who was falling?

 FRESH MEAT

    At half past 0700, my day had already begun at the firehouse, and I¡¯d started running an equipment check to make sure everything was in working order.


    I was glad that the changeover debriefing didn¡¯t take long this morning; I wasn¡¯t going to name names, but too many people at the station were so chatty, it was less about passing vital information and more about trading gossip at the end of a long shift. I wasn¡¯t nosy enough to get much out of it, but it was an undeniable part of station culture that I did my best to navigate gracefully.


    While I went through procedure to ensure my turnout gear was up to snuff, my stomach let out a long, gurgling whine. From behind me, I was startled by a melodious laugh. ¡°Whoa, you sound hungry! Don¡¯t tell me they starve the guys here!¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like anyone I knew, so I turned around and was met with a young man I didn¡¯t recognize.


    He was several inches taller than I was, give or take with his boots, and his hair was a bronze-blond color, though it seemed a little long compared to the other guys. Across his face was a smile with teeth so pearly and straight, I knew he probably grew up in a gated community.


    As we looked at each other, he reminded me of a puppy waiting for a pat on the head, beaming and excited. When I noticed that he wore the station¡¯s uniform, I moved to face him more fully.


    ¡°Ah, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t see you there,¡± I said. ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    ¡°I sure hope so! It¡¯s my first day¡ª I don¡¯t really know where to start.¡± The young man thrust his hand towards me forcefully. ¡°Name¡¯s Garrett.¡±


    ¡°Manny.¡± As I spoke, I was taken aback by how tightly he gripped my hand during the handshake, despite how clammy his palms were. Pointing it out seemed cruel, so I kept my observations to myself. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡±


    As if he¡¯d been studying my face for any reaction, Garrett yanked his hand back and wiped it on his shirt. ¡°Oh, sorry about that. I¡¯m, uh, kind of a nervous wreck right now.¡±


    ¡°Nah, you¡¯re fine. I was nervous my first day, too. You¡¯ll be just fine.¡± I offered him a reassuring smile. ¡°As a tip, though, you wanna get to the station earlier than this. If the boys around here think you¡¯re slacking, they¡¯re gonna fuck your shit up like crazy.¡±


    ¡°Oh, um¡ª I appreciate the heads up,¡± he said earnestly. ¡°But don¡¯t feel like you have to go easy on me! I can take it!¡±


    ¡°If you say so,¡± I replied with a shrug, turning back to refocus on my inspection.


    Garrett then fell into a dutiful silence as I continued going through each piece of equipment in my locker. The longer he studied me, the more I found his presence weirdly distracting, as if I were an ant under magnifying glass. I glanced at him from over my shoulder and was met with wide, eager eyes.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go check in with the chief?¡± I motioned with my head towards the door. ¡°He¡¯ll want to get you fully boarded before you meet the rest of the crew.¡±


    ¡°Right! Right, I should go do that,¡± Garrett said. ¡°I¡¯ll see you later, then?¡±


    ¡°Mmhm,¡± I hummed. ¡°See ya on the flip side.¡±


    Garrett gave me an enthusiastic wave before marching off further into the firehouse, and when he was gone, I let out a sigh. His youthful enthusiasm seemed like it had a lot of potential to be exhausting. Hopefully he¡¯d get some of that energy out of his system after a few calls.


    The rest of the equipment checks went off without any interruptions, which I appreciated; a new probie in the station always put me a little on edge. The last probie we¡¯d gotten was DeShawn, but he was such a natural that it took him barely any time at all to learn the ropes. Really, I just hadn¡¯t been in a state where I could handle much change, but there was no choice but to push through it.


    At breakfast, everyone at the station collected around the kitchen table. I took a seat next to Rob, who gave me a nod of acknowledgment as I settled in. ¡°Heard the probie¡¯s coming in today,¡± he said curiously. ¡°You seen him yet?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Met him earlier. Seems like a nice kid.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been ages since we got a probie around here, it¡¯s got me rackin¡¯ my brain for all the pranks they played on me back when I first joined the station.¡± He paused to scratch his dark, fluffy mustache. ¡°Shit, feels like forever ago¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I bet it does,¡± interrupted DeShawn from across the table, ¡°Given that you¡¯re practically a fuckin¡¯ dinosaur!¡±


    Rob met the teasing with a broad, hoarse laugh, a sound you¡¯d expect to come out of cars on their way to the junkyard. Around the kitchen, Heather and Liam were zipping around, adding the finishing touches to breakfast before everyone could collect a plate.


    As much as I wanted to be part of the camaraderie, I was too distracted: last night, I had another dream about Feliz. These dreams always had a way of following me around for the rest of the day, and it was hard to shake off the uneasiness that settled in when I first woke up. The conversation between Rob and DeShawn proceeded to carry on without me, and I made no effort to join back in.


    The laughter died down when Chief Cormorant entered the room with Garrett in tow. Everyone took a moment to give him a leisurely examination before Chief Cormorant cleared his throat with authority, his hands clasped behind his back.


    ¡°Everyone, today we welcome our newest firefighter, Garrett Casnoff.¡± Cormorant turned his head to Garrett. ¡°Garrett, let me introduce you to your fellow firemen.¡±


    He gestured to each of us in methodical order: Heather, as she finished setting down a stack of pancakes; Liam, while he already had eaten a slice of toast; DeShawn and Rob, as DeShawn had been showing Rob a video related to the playoffs; and then, lastly, to me.


    When Garrett¡¯s gaze arrived to meet mine, his eyes crinkled and he smiled warmly. To welcome him in, I scooted out the empty chair beside me and motioned with my head for him to sit beside me. Not only did Garrett notice, but so did the Chief, who looked quite satisfied with my efforts.


    ¡°I trust you¡¯ll all do your best to make Garrett feel welcomed to the station.¡± Cormorant took his hands out from behind himself and made his way toward the door. ¡°I¡¯d love to join in for his first meal with us, but I¡¯ve got paperwork to catch up on. Eat well, everyone; I know better than to expect leftovers.¡±


    Everyone laughed, even Garrett. Before he took the chair next to me, he unzipped a little insulated bag he had slung across his shoulder. Everyone looked at him with rapt attention as out of his little bag came a tub of ice cream so big, it made me wonder how he¡¯d squeezed it into such a little space. Simultaneously, everyone oohed in approval.


    ¡°I tried to do my research before my first day, so¡­ I brought ice cream!¡± Garrett said with an almost boyish bashfulness. ¡°Y¡¯know, since doughnuts seem more like a cop thing.¡±


    ¡°Shit, is that Blue Bell? Ooh, I already like you!¡± Rob grinned. ¡°Manny, if you¡¯d brought ice cream your first day, I think we would¡¯ve gotten on better a lot sooner¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± I smirked back at him lazily. ¡°The way to a man¡¯s heart really is through his stomach, eh, gordo?¡±


    ¡°I figured I¡¯d be arriving too late to help with breakfast, so bringing dessert seemed like a safe bet.¡± Garrett kept on wearing that crisp, shining smile as Heather made room in the freezer for the new addition. He gave her a noticeable once-over and she, too, seemed to notice just how bright his teeth were, judging from the way she looked back at him.


    ¡°Yo, probie, don¡¯t you get too chummy with her,¡± said Liam, motioning to Heather. ¡°We¡¯ve all tried it and there¡¯s no getting up that skirt, ice cream or not.¡±


    Heather snorted as she shut the freezer. ¡°You guys might have an easier time competing with my husband if you weren¡¯t all beaten badly by the ugly stick.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Hey, leave me out of this,¡± I said. ¡°I''ve been nothing but a gentleman to Heather, ''cause unlike you fuckin'' dogs, I know to keep my hands to myself.¡±


    ¡°Is that right? This is the first I''ve heard of it!¡± DeShawn elbowed Liam sharply in the arm. ¡°Was that your New Year''s resolution, Manny? Taking a sabbatical from pussy?¡±


    ¡°It''s only fair, I say.¡± Rob threw an arm around my shoulder, his grin etching deep grooves into his round cheeks. ¡°He''s gotta leave some pussy for the rest of us, you know what I''m saying?¡±


    ¡°Coming from you? I''m shocked.¡± Liam''s sarcastic tone betrayed his appearance of surprise. ¡°Aren''t you on your fourth wife, Rob? Fourth one in six years?¡±


    The table fell silent before breaking out into a cacophony of laughter. While everyone continued their playful banter at the table, Garrett and I quieted down, settling into the background together. I noticed that he watched everyone very closely, as if he¡¯d been making notes in his head, which could only be a good thing; better to learn now how hard and fast the jokes hit before trying and failing to be ¡®one of the guys.¡¯


    Usually after breakfast followed chores or workout routines, but it was cut short: just as Liam had been explaining to Garrett what was up next, we were interrupted by a call over the system.


    ¡°¡­ units respond ¡­ fire in residential home¡­¡±


    We stopped what we were doing and launched into action, though I was on complete autopilot. Even the alarms seemed a little more distant than usual. Was I really that exhausted? There wasn¡¯t time to down a Red Bull before we all piled into the apparatus - I¡¯d just have to hope the adrenaline would give me a push until we came back.


    When we arrived on scene, we saw a family huddled outside in the stark, pale light of the winter sun. Chief Cormorant was quick to congregate with the police officers and do an assessment while the rest of us hit the ground running, making access and pulling lines as soon as we got word to proceed.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how closely the others were keeping an eye on Garrett, but he seemed to gravitate near me by second nature. He was practically my shadow, following my lead where possible and taking my orders when he needed to. Having to think about the fire and Garrett was taxing my already waning stamina, but there was no choice.


    The fire itself hadn¡¯t been anything out of the ordinary: once we¡¯d gotten the water flowing from the hydrant and into the heart of the house, it was over quickly. Just a simple accident involving a Christmas tree that had overstayed its welcome. The family, thankfully, had managed to completely evacuate before anyone needed medical attention.


    When the flames had died down completely, we did whatever cleanup that was necessary before it was time to head back to the station and leave the rest of it to the EMTs. On the way back, the comedown was clear on Garrett¡¯s face, drained of its pep.


    ¡°You okay?¡± I kept my eyes focused out the window as the streets rolled by, as I didn¡¯t want to put Garrett on the spot by staring at him.


    ¡°Yeah! Yeah,¡± Garrett replied. ¡°Just kinda¡­ woo! First real call. My heart¡¯s still going crazy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll feel like that for the first few times,¡± I said. ¡°But it¡¯ll wear off eventually.¡±


    He nodded. ¡°So, uh, what do we do when we¡¯re back at the station?¡±


    ¡°We should hit the gym!¡± said DeShawn. ¡°¡¯Cause one, we¡¯re already revved up from the call, and two, we could already use showers. Especially you, Liam, I can smell your ass from over here. Whew!¡±


    ¡°You sure that isn¡¯t your ass, man?¡± Liam sneered. ¡°I¡¯ve seen your underwear and it looks like you could go muddin¡¯ down there. Nasty!¡±


    The laughter continued, but I said nothing else, fading into the background as I always did. The drive back to the station was a slurry of colors outside of the window, and I tried my best not to fall asleep on the way back by accident.


    ? ? ?


    Having returned to the station, Liam, DeShawn and Garrett split off to the gym while Rob went to a quieter part of the station to catch up on some training materials. It left me with Heather to do a deep clean of the living area.


    As Heather vacuumed the floor behind me, I displaced the couch cushions to get out all of the flakes, crumbs and dust out of the crevices. It was a miracle the cushions hadn¡¯t fused together by now.


    Suddenly, Heather shut off the vacuum, eyes darting around as if to determine how many ears were listening before she spoke up in a loud whisper. ¡°Hey! Manny! Thoughts on the probie so far?¡±


    As I ran leather wipes into the corners of the couch, I shrugged. ¡°Seems like a good kid. He knows his shit and doesn¡¯t act like he owns the place, so that¡¯s good.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I like him!¡± A big smile formed on her face. ¡°It¡¯s nice to have a guy around that has some manners¡ª like actually holding the door open. Usually Liam just lets it close in my face and then says some crap about ¡®gender equality.¡¯¡±


    I raised an eyebrow playfully. ¡°Thought you wanted to be treated like one of the boys.¡±


    ¡°How come being treated like ¡®one of the boys¡¯ translates to acting like animals?¡± She said with a snort. ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s funny or sad that y¡¯all think courteousness towards one another is unmanly or gay or something like that.¡±


    ¡°You spend a few years working at this station and you think you¡¯ve got all men figured out. Tsk, tsk.¡± I shook my head, amused. ¡°You¡¯re a walking Title IX suit waiting to happen, ain¡¯t ya?¡±


    She rolled her eyes and continued sweeping. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that Garrett seems like a good kid, so if you guys make him start acting like a dumb asshole to fit in, I¡¯ll be pissed off.¡±


    ¡°If there¡¯s dumb asshole potential in him, then it¡¯ll come out naturally. As for me, I vow to do as little as possible to encourage it.¡± I thought for a moment before adding, ¡°I can¡¯t be held responsible for the guys, though, so good luck convincing them.¡±


    Another eyeroll from Heather, but this time she smiled, too. ¡°I appreciate that, Manny. I do.¡±


    The rest of the day was uneventful, though only by our own metrics; we still had several calls we headed out to, but it was little more than false alarms, lift assists and minor fires hardly worth gearing up for.


    Throughout the day, I checked my phone whenever I had a moment by myself to see if I¡¯d missed anything important, but all that sat in my notifications was a text from a woman I¡¯d been seeing telling me that she couldn¡¯t see things working out longterm with my ¡®issues.¡¯ Harsh, but fair, though the prospect of going home to an empty bed only made sleeping more intimidating.


    Into the evening, as I settled into the privacy of my dorm, I glanced over to my jacket hanging from the back of the door. The corner of a little white paper bag stuck out from its pocket like a dog''s ear, and after a brief internal debate, I pulled it out and tore it open to examine the bottle and its directions.


    So much hesitance over one little pill. I thought of my mother, whose idea of healthcare was old school: things like depression or anxiety - or whatever the fuck was wrong with me - didn¡¯t exist. You just weren¡¯t going to church enough, so clearly you¡¯d attracted the attention of demons. She always told me how my father¡¯s problems came from his faithlessness. Or maybe it was his unfaithfulness. I couldn¡¯t remember which one.


    As I examined the instructions, scanning but not really reading, I heard a knock from the doorway. Immediately, I scrambled to jam my medication back into the pocket of my jacket. When I whipped around, Garrett looked genuinely surprised in the doorway, holding a bowl of ice cream in his hands.


    ¡°What?¡± I tried to restrain any tone of accusation.


    Audibly, Garrett swallowed. ¡°Oh, sorry¡ª is this a bad time?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± I barked. Instantly, a pang of guilt followed. ¡°No¡ª I mean¡­ it¡¯s nothing. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± He presented the ice cream more obviously as he entered further into the room. ¡°¡­ Is it something ice cream can fix?¡±


    ¡°¡­ Sure,¡± I sighed, defeated by his aggressive friendliness.


    I scooted so that Garrett could set the bowl down without bumping into me, but instead of simply leaving the bowl, he took a seat on the bed adjacent to my desk. Sensing he wanted a chance to talk, I took a deep breath and tried to switch my focus to him.


    ¡°How¡¯s your first shift going so far?¡± I asked. ¡°Feeling pretty good about it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s, uh¡­¡± Garrett laced his fingers together and put them behind his head, leaning back and exhaling. ¡°It¡¯s been¡­ something. Kinda what I expected, kinda not what I expected.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not what it¡¯s like on TV, that¡¯s for sure.¡± I watched the ice cream melt sluggishly around the walls of the bowl, untouched. ¡°Or even what they tell you at the academy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t see anyone die today, but¡­¡± He moved his arms to cross his chest. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting to lift so many fat people off the floor. I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be on a first name basis with them, either.¡±


    ¡°What, you think we work out on the job just so we can show off at the beach?¡± I smiled. ¡°No point in bench presses if we don¡¯t use it for the people who need it.¡±


    His mouth flattened into a discontented little frown, though he said nothing. An awkwardness began to fill the space between his words and mine, and I wasn¡¯t particularly in the mood to do anything to defuse it, so I pushed the bowl of ice cream - now more closely related to soup than solid - in his direction.


    ¡°Actually, I think I¡¯m good on the ice cream after all,¡± I said quietly. ¡°I¡¯m just about to wind down for bed, and I don¡¯t feel like brushing my teeth again, so¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh¡ª oh, yeah, of course. No problem.¡± Standing from the bed, Garrett took the bowl back. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna go wrap up some last minute things real quick before I sleep, too, so¡­ I¡¯ll see you around, I guess?¡±


    ¡°Mmhm.¡± I turned back to the training material that had sat before me, untouched for what seemed like ages. ¡°Holler if you need me.¡±


    Quietly, Garrett made his exit. Once I felt secure in his absence, I gently shut the door behind him and sat back down in my seat.


    Taking the bottle back out of my jacket, I rotated it carefully, rereading my name across it again and again. With an audible pop, I twisted the cap loose, revealing the half green, half tan pills stacked at the bottom.


    I encourage you to be open minded.


    I breathed deeply and closed the bottle.

 CLAMDIGGER

    ¡°Manny, I¡¯m telling you, we gotta get together sometime. Drink some beers, shoot the shit¡ª it¡¯s been too long,¡± said Cliff, his voice made fuzzy from the phone¡¯s speakers. ¡°And I could really use some time away from Niecey¡ª love her to death, but these pregnancy hormones got her actin¡¯ up something fierce!¡±


    ¡°I hear you, man. Sometime soon, for sure.¡± I flipped the turn signal on as I made a right at the intersection. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s been great catching up, but I gotta go. Cleo¡¯s making me take her to some dumb fuckin¡¯ art museum for one of her school projects. Tried to get out of it, but no one else will take her, so obviously, it falls on me, right?¡±


    Cliff let out a sympathetic ¡®woof¡¯. ¡°I¡¯ll keep you in my prayers, buddy. Oh¡ª you outta take her to that, er, that sculpture center¡ª Nasher? I wanna say it¡¯s the Nasher Center. We took Savannah there a while back on a free day, and honest to God, Manny, I never laughed so hard in my life! The things people get paid to make! Makes me wonder why I ever joined the force.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡± I tapped the screen of my phone and pulled up the GPS, typing until something that sounded like it came up. ¡°Who knows, maybe she¡¯ll find something worth writing about there.¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s hoping,¡± he said. ¡°Y¡¯all have fun, now.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, man. See ya.¡± I tapped the End Call button and swiveled back to the GPS before sliding my truck up to the sidewalk beside Mercy¡¯s house.


    It was a cool, sunny Saturday morning, cold in a way you didn¡¯t see often in Texas. Squatting on the steps of the porch outside was Cleo, bundled up in a puffer jacket so dense it made her look like a marshmallow on toothpicks. Her beanie rounded out her head until it formed a near perfect circle, and she huddled tightly against herself.


    Rolling down my window, I shouted for her. ¡°Cleo! Let¡¯s roll!¡±


    In a flash, Cleo perked up. She wiped her face on her sleeve quickly and bounded up to my car in seconds. Once she locked herself into the passenger¡¯s side, I noticed that her freckled cheeks seemed very wet.


    ¡°Everything good, pecosita?¡± I put my hand on her head, which pulled her hat back just a little to reveal her eyes, red and shiny. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s all this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing¡­¡± She wiped her cheeks on her sleeve again. ¡°Just Mam¨¢ and T¨ªa fighting again. Feels like they fight all the time these days.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? What¡¯s it about this time?¡± I swiveled the wheel to get back out onto the road again. ¡°Jo spending all your money on Hennessey and tattoos?¡±


    Cleo let out a brief giggle, but her amusement was short lived. ¡°Just the same stuff as usual. Money, the state of the house, who¡¯s looking after Abuela¡­ blah, blah, blah. Feels like every day¡¯s the same with them¡­¡±


    I frowned sympathetically. Mercy and Joanna had always been at each other¡¯s throats, but I resented that they had to do so in front of Cleo, as it reminded me of my own youth: lots of yelling and lots of uncertainty, yet nowhere to go. Admittedly, I was at a loss for words, knowing nothing I¡¯d say would¡¯ve made me feel better at Cleo¡¯s age, either.


    ¡°Eh, forget all about that,¡± I said encouragingly. ¡°Let¡¯s go out and find your perfect project.¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± She pumped her fists in the air, revitalized. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be great!¡±


    During the drive to the museum, Cleo cycled through what seemed like every radio station offered in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. By the third go-around, I tapped her hand off of the controls, changing it back to 97.1 where it belonged. From the corner of my eye, I saw her pout, but she made no attempt to change it again.


    Once I parked my truck in the San Jacinto garage, I took Cleo¡¯s hand into mine to guide her through the streets. As we walked, she droned on aimlessly about her school project: something to do with ¡®expanding horizons¡¯ and ¡®arguing interpretations¡¯ and other kinds of vague, artsy stuff. It surprised me that her school even tried to encourage kids to think so deeply given that it wasn¡¯t exactly St. Mark¡¯s, but if she was excited about it, I tried to be excited for her.


    Sitting near the corner of the upcoming crosswalk was a figure slumped over, sporting a grizzled denim jacket and well-worn sneakers. He had a little tin can beside him, and his dog - some gray-black mixed breed - rested its head on his leg. Upon closer inspection, his left sleeve hung empty at his side, and his black hat had bright yellow military embroidery woven into the brim.


    As we drew nearer, Cleo stopped in her tracks to pry open her little pink wallet. All she had in there was a single ten dollar bill, which, upon arriving in front of the man, she handed to him in earnest. ¡°It¡¯s so cold out today, you should go get something warm to drink!¡± She smiled. broadly. ¡°And get something for your dog, too!¡±


    The man, humbled, shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t take that from you, little lady. You go on and keep it for yourself, now.¡±


    ¡°Cleo, keep your money.¡± I rested my hand on her shoulder and nodded toward the man. ¡°Here, man. I got you.¡±


    I pulled my wallet out from my back pocket and split it open to dig through the cash, offering twice what she had tried to give. Though Cleo seemed a little frustrated to be overruled, I felt that the man and I had an understanding, as he accepted my money in place of hers.


    ¡°God bless both y¡¯all,¡± said the man. As he put his hand on his dog, it lifted its head and yawned sleepily. ¡°You stay warm, too.¡±


    With a friendly wave goodbye, I guided Cleo back to the crosswalk and took her further into the city toward the museum.


    ¡°You got a good heart in you, pecosita,¡± I said as we moved quickly through the streets. ¡°How do you fit all of it in you when you¡¯re so damn short?¡±


    Cleo giggled. ¡°You know, Mam¨¢ has this little wallet she keeps with her just in case we see homeless people. Whenever we get change, she puts some of it in there so we¡¯ll always have a little something. I was thinking of getting one, too! What do you think?¡±


    Such a good kid. Her sunny demeanor was so infectious that as we passed over a crosswalk, I had a smile I couldn¡¯t contain. ¡°Well, maybe we¡¯ll see something cool at the gift shop you can use.¡±


    When we finally got to the museum, it had countless people flowing in and out through the entrance. Inside, my stomach lurched; crowds had a way of making me feel anxious and exposed even on days I didn¡¯t feel chewed up by a wood chipper. As if detecting a growing tension within me, Cleo squeezed my hand and gazed up at me sweetly. I tried not to feel pathetic for needing a thirteen-year-old to comfort me, but it was a lost cause.


    Throughout the building, we approached a variety of different pieces, though usually prompted by Cleo¡¯s interest and not mine. She guided me over to an exhibit that reminded me of a refrigerator decorated with kid¡¯s doodles, pointing enthusiastically at the display before letting go of me to examine it.


    Cliff was right - the lack of talent it took to have your shit propped up for a ten dollar admission fee was shocking. In thinly-veiled confusion, I watched an animation that featured little cut-out garbage characters wiggling to bad punk music. ¡°Jesus,¡± I uttered. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell me you like this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not really my thing,¡± Cleo said after studying the exhibit, ¡°But I think it has style! What do you think, T¨ªo?¡±


    I tilted my head to the side. ¡°Looks like the kind of stuff you¡¯d let Simba rip up for his kitty litter.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Staring flatly, she raised an eyebrow. ¡°You don¡¯t have anything to say beyond that?¡±


    I drummed my fingers along my chin. ¡°Well, I think the guy should be honored to hear that, actually. Simba¡¯s pretty picky about his litter, which is ironic for a former street cat.¡±


    With obvious frustration, Cleo frowned and pulled my sleeve to lead us away from the exhibit.


    Weaving through the rest of the museum, our trip essentially turned into a string of arguments about art, her annoyance at me growing with each exhibit. She was so smart for her age, it made me wonder if I¡¯d actually been dumber as a kid than I thought I¡¯d been. Growing up, I cared less about the impact of art and more about customizing my bike, R-rated movies and impressing older girls, so trying to see things from Cleo¡¯s perspective was a challenge - one I was clearly losing.


    One of the worst traits Cleo had inherited from Mercy and Joanna was her absolute stubbornness: she couldn¡¯t simply agree to disagree; it was always a debate, like if she¡¯d framed things in just the right way, my mind would change completely. By the time we¡¯d gotten halfway through, I was practically begging her to pick a piece to write about just so that we could leave already.


    Eventually, we came across one of the most bizarre pieces of art in the whole place standing tall in the garden. It resembled some kind of monster made of tarmac, gross and deformed. I couldn¡¯t even see its merit as a coat rack, much less something you¡¯d want to show the world.


    ¡°Oh! T¨ªo, T¨ªo!¡± Cleo bounced, ecstatic. ¡°Look at this! Wow!¡±


    ¡°Ugh, I am looking at it,¡± I groaned. ¡°Jesus, this has to be the worst one yet.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Tuning out my reply, she remained in awe. ¡°This is so crazy looking¡­ Do you think it¡¯s, like, a commentary on self image? Something like that?¡±


    I was truly impressed by her ability to craft such bullshit out of nowhere. ¡°I think you¡¯re giving the guy more credit than he deserves, chiquita¡­¡±


    ¡°Ugh! Of course you¡¯d say that!¡± Cleo glared at me. ¡°Honestly, you just can¡¯t appreciate art!¡±


    ¡°Ay, you watch yourself. That ain¡¯t fair.¡± I took a more serious tone with her. ¡°I like plenty of artsy stuff just fine. You just don¡¯t care about the stuff I do like.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on, nobody thinks Die Hard counts as art!¡± She snapped. ¡°Like¡ª I don¡¯t care about Big Trouble in Little China or Roadhouse! I wanna know what you think about stuff that actually means something!¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t I spent this whole time telling you what I think?¡± I scoffed. ¡°You just don¡¯t like what I think.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re just making fun of stuff, and that¡¯s not the same thing.¡± With a great big sigh, Cleo turned away from me and stared soulfully upward at the misshapen sculpture. ¡°Sometimes it feels like¡­ like you¡¯re afraid to say if something makes you feel things, so you¡¯d rather just make jokes instead. Like you¡¯re afraid of feeling things in the first place.¡±


    ¡°Wait, are you saying secondhand embarrassment isn¡¯t a feeling?¡± I smiled. ¡°¡¯Cause I¡¯ve been feeling that for the last hour and a half.¡±


    Clearly that wasn¡¯t the tack Cleo wanted me to take, because if she was still paying any attention to me, she made no show of it, turning away like she was prepared to give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. With an exasperated sigh, I glanced back at this tall, looming figure that now seemed to represent something more than just a difference in our aesthetics.


    As the daylight shined above us in the garden, the statue¡¯s blue shadow stretched between us like a stark, yawning scar in the earth. On one side I stood, and on the other side was Cleo, her back turned toward me, saying nothing. I opened my mouth to speak, but I knew I had nothing worthwhile to say.


    All I wanted was to make Cleo happy, but I had to wonder if that was something I could even do; she was such a sensitive little thing, heart worn on her sleeve and still tender enough to feel every poke and prod. She made it easy to feel like a bull in a china shop, even if it was completely by accident.


    Gently, I set my hand on Cleo¡¯s shoulder, and when she tore her eyes away from the statue to look up at me, the genuine hurt in her features made my heart sink in my chest.


    ¡°You know what? This should be your piece,¡± I said softly. ¡°I mean, the whole point of your little paper¡¯s to make a case for something you believe in, right?¡±


    Cleo nodded. ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°And you gotta stand up for what you believe in, even if nobody else gets it,¡± I continued. ¡°You see what I¡¯m saying?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. Her demeanor shifted, as if becoming more confident. ¡°Yeah!¡±


    ¡°And¡­¡± I tried not to get too sentimental, so I went back and forth between looking at Cleo and looking at the statue. ¡°And it¡¯s okay if I don¡¯t get it, ¡®cause there¡¯s gonna be lots of stuff I don¡¯t get, and as long as you¡¯re happy, that¡¯s what matters, okay?¡±


    Finally, a smile worked its way onto Cleo¡¯s face, her freckled cheeks rounding out. Pulling out her phone from her little purse, she stepped away from me, snapping pictures at all kinds of angles before coming back to hold my hand. Her fingers interlaced warmly with mine, like she hoped to never let me go.


    ¡°Alright, enough with the paparazzi stuff¡ª let¡¯s get going,¡± I said, hoping to clear the air further. ¡°Don¡¯t know about you, but all this thinking¡¯s worked me up an appetite.¡±


    ¡°Oh, there¡¯s this new little place that opened up a few blocks from here!¡± Cleo beamed. ¡°Can we go there? I see it on Instagram all the time!¡±


    I pursed my lips. ¡°I dunno, you already spent all my money on bums and parking. I might not have money for anything better than fish heads out of a sushi joint¡¯s dumpster.¡±


    ¡°Fish heads? Not again!¡± She giggled - one of the most contagious things on the planet. ¡°Okay, maybe we can get burgers instead?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Fish heads are my final offer. Take it or starve.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve changed my mind about what I¡¯ll write my paper on,¡± she said with an air of authority. ¡°I¡¯ll write about child starvation instead.¡±


    ¡°You wanna write about artists, you gotta live like an artist,¡± I replied, offering my hand to her. ¡°They¡¯re called ¡®starving¡¯ for a reason.¡±


    As Cleo took my hand into hers and we began to walk away, I glanced over my shoulder one last time at the funny little sculpture.


    When Cleo caught me looking back, her eyes twinkled.


    ? ? ?


    After lunch, we loaded up into my truck to head back home, and the first thing Cleo did when we¡¯d begun driving was take out the journal I bought for her at the gift shop. It practically gave me a hernia to spend twenty-six dollars on a notebook, but when I saw how happy it made her, it was a no-brainer.


    In the middle of the traffic heading towards her house, Cleo shut off the radio, filling the air with only the sound of my truck¡¯s heater working overtime. ¡°Hey! I like that song,¡± I said, my brows flattening.


    ¡°Sorry, T¨ªo, but¡­¡± Cleo pursed her lips. ¡°I wanted to talk to you about something I¡¯ve been thinking about lately.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s about boys, your mam¨¢ said no boys ¡®til you¡¯re 30.¡± I took the sunglasses that hung off of my visor and set them over my eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t you go getting teen pregnant on me now.¡±


    ¡°Ugh, you¡¯re so gross! Stop it!¡± She huffed. ¡°I¡¯m being serious!¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright, okay,¡± I replied. ¡°What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    At first, Cleo¡¯s silence was measured, hesitant. Then, she finally asked softly: ¡°What was my dad like?¡±


    In an instant, a heaviness cloaked itself across my body. Out of instinct, my hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly.


    ¡°Your mam¨¢¡¯s told you all there is to know about him, hasn¡¯t she?¡± As I spoke, I wondered if she¡¯d notice my nervousness. ¡°That one time with the Mentos volcano sums him up pretty well, if you ask me.¡±


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ve heard funny stories here and there, but¡­¡± Cleo fiddled with the bookmark on her notebook. ¡°I still don¡¯t feel like I really know him. Not like I should. All my friends know about their dads, but I¡¯m the odd one out. I always have been.¡±


    I nodded, staring blankly ahead at the road. My throat burned.


    ¡°Sometimes I get the sense that, like, nobody wants to talk about him. And the people who could talk about him don¡¯t talk to us anymore.¡± A disappointment - a sense of rejection, even - clouded her features. ¡°So I¡¯m just left with this memory¡ª this shape of him, but with none of the details filled in.¡±


    When I breathed in, I held it in my lungs for longer than I should¡¯ve. We never spoke of it explicitly with Cleo, but Feliz¡¯s family had always thought poorly of Mercy when we were growing up. To them, she was a barrio bike who wasn¡¯t good enough for their son. Even when Feliz did the honorable thing and married her, they weren¡¯t happy: she was about eight months too pregnant in her wedding dress for them to find anything but shame when she walked down that aisle.


    In the wake of Feliz¡¯s death, they washed their hands of Cleo and Mercy completely. I¡¯d also lost touch with them, but that was my choice, not theirs - if they felt too good for either of them, then they were clearly too good for me, too. I¡¯d have it no other way.


    ¡°T¨ªo?¡± Cleo¡¯s tender little voice interrupted. ¡°Do you think my dad would¡¯ve liked the museum?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± I hummed, trying to buy time to think of an answer that wasn¡¯t a resounding ¡®no.¡¯ ¡°He would¡¯ve liked taking you, but he didn¡¯t like this sorta stuff in general.¡±


    She put her journal back into the shopping bag. ¡°What did he like?¡±


    ¡°Anything that involved a lot of people,¡± I said. ¡°Your pap¨¢ was the life of the party. He was always smiling, laughing, making jokes. That¡¯s why we called him Feliz¨C but he actually hated it as a name.¡±


    Cleo blinked curiously. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with it? I like it better than Felipe!¡±


    ¡°Well, he thought it sounded too girly.¡± I smiled even though it hurt. ¡°Then when he met your mam¨¢, she thought it was the cutest thing in the world, so he never went by anything else ever again. Coming from her, it was perfect.¡±


    The longer I dwelled on his memory, the harder it was to speak. My throat tightened painfully.


    ¡°And he loved music¡ª he¡¯d play, like, System of a Down so loud, his boombox would make tables shake. There were times I thought he was gonna make me go deaf.¡±


    The ringing in my ears is so loud¡­


    ¡°And he was a real motormouth, he could go on a tangent about anything. His mam¨¢ was always telling him to shut up, and he¡¯d just keep going and going and going¡­¡±


    His mouth is moving but I


    can¡¯t


    hear


    him.


    ¡°But she loved him anyway. God, he was such a mama¡¯s boy. She¡¯s the one that started calling him Feliz in the first place. When we were overseas, he called her all the time, saved every letter she ever wrote. He worshiped the ground she walked on.¡±


    You can¡¯t let your mam¨¢ bury her only son.


    ¡°Actually, to be honest with you¡­ I think it was hard for your abuela to visit after he passed ¡¯cause you take after him a lot. Your laugh, the way you smile¡­ you¡¯re the spittin¡¯ image of him. I see it in your eyes.¡±


    I look into his eyes


    and I see nothing behind them.


    Nothing,


    nothing¨C


    ¡°T¨ªo?¡±


    My hands were sweaty on the steering wheel. I hadn¡¯t even realized how hard I¡¯d been breathing. When I looked at Cleo in the passenger¡¯s seat, her brows were pressed together in worry.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it your turn to go?¡± She pointed to the stoplight. ¡°The light¡¯s green, and everyone¡¯s honking behind us.¡±


    In my rearview mirror, I saw several cars from behind maneuver past me, various drivers responding with colorful insults and gestures as they left me in the dust. I shook my head to clear my mind, pressing the pedal and refocusing on the road.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, ashamed. ¡°Um, look, you should ask your mam¨¢ more about him when you get home, okay? She¡¯s got all kinds of pictures and videos of him. She¡¯s, uh, she¡¯s better to talk to about him.¡±


    She flattened her mouth into a thin, awkward line. ¡°¡­ Okay.¡±


    With that, a silence fell between us, and I couldn¡¯t shake just how trapped I felt in the car; it was suffocating like a freshly closed tomb, the oxygen inside draining quickly.


    Everything was so fucked up. It shouldn¡¯t be like this. I wasn¡¯t the one who should be taking Cleo to museums, or paying for her braces, or giving her guidance on her life. Feliz should¡¯ve been sitting where I sat, watching Cleo grow up to become a smart, beautiful young woman who had a big enough heart to change the world - and instead, I let him bleed out in Afghanistan.


    With a trembling lip, I looked at Cleo in the passenger¡¯s seat.


    Take me instead.

 ANCHOR

    At the curb that sat right in front of Mercy¡¯s house, I gave Cleo¡¯s hair another quick ruffle, nearly getting my hand ensnared in the tangled curls her hat left behind.


    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m lettin¡¯ you loose¡ª now you go on in there and get right to work on your homework,¡± I said. ¡°I didn¡¯t spend my whole afternoon staring at junk so you can half-ass your little story about your new best friend, Molten Lava Man.¡±


    Cleo unbuckled her seatbelt. ¡°Maybe if you read my paper, you¡¯ll be a little more cultured.¡±


    The arrogance of this kid, I thought, but I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. She was lucky she had big eyes like a goldfish and that Mercy didn¡¯t believe in using la chancla on her - that had to be why she was so mouthy all the time.


    ¡°Okay, mocosa, we can argue about art another time. Maybe after I read your paper.¡± With the press of a button, I unlocked the car door. ¡°You¡¯ll have to forgive me if I take a while to read it, though, since I¡¯ve just learned from you that I¡¯m borderline illiterate.¡±


    Her eyes glistened hopefully. ¡°¡­ Would you actually read it though? Like, seriously?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­ sure. You write it, I¡¯ll read it,¡± I lied. ¡°And if you work hard and get a good grade on it, I¡¯ll take you shopping. My treat.¡±


    ¡°What?! Really?!¡± With a squeal, Cleo bounced up and gave me a hug from the passenger¡¯s side. ¡°You¡¯re the best! I love you, T¨ªo! I¡¯ll make you proud!¡±


    ¡°Love you too,¡± I replied, coughing from the tightness of her hug. ¡°Be good.¡±


    As Cleo bounded out of the truck, Mercy had been on her way out to the mailbox. When she saw us, she came right up and gave Cleo a kiss on her forehead, waving to me afterward. Stepping softly on the sidewalk, she leaned herself against the door and I rolled the window open for her.


    ¡°Hey, you!¡± Mercy said, eyes crinkling at the sight of me. ¡°Did you two have fun?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ she did,¡± I replied, rubbing my nose. When I looked a little closer at Mercy, I couldn¡¯t help but raise an eyebrow.


    Though it was chilly outside, all Mercy had on was a fluffy bathrobe, a pink nightgown older than Cleo, and raggedy slippers. Her nameplate necklace sparkled against her collarbone as it always did, but what caught my eye was that her face was unusually made up. I was so used to seeing her with only lip balm that when her under-eye circles mysteriously disappeared and her eyelashes seemed to grow a few inches, it was almost a little jarring.


    ¡°You sure look dolled up for an afternoon at home,¡± I said curiously. ¡°Did I miss something?¡±


    Mercy glanced away a little bashfully, but if she was blushing, her makeup concealed it.


    ¡°Wow, look at you!¡± Cleo chirped, looking over Mercy herself. ¡°Does this mean you¡¯re gonna go see Luke tonight after all?¡±


    Clearing her throat, Mercy cupped Cleo¡¯s cheek and gave it a pinch, her bracelets clinking against one another. ¡°Nenita, why don¡¯t you go show Abuela what you got at the museum, mm? Her next show won¡¯t be on for another hour¡­¡±


    Cleo had no time to make an objection; with a guiding little push on her back, Mercy motioned for Cleo to go inside, and it sent her scurrying off into the house straight away to avoid a possible lecture. After the front door shut, Mercy turned back to me and folded her arms against the car door.


    ¡°So¡­¡± I flipped my sunglasses up onto my head. ¡°I guess I did miss something?¡±


    ¡°No, not really, it¡¯s, um¡­ Luke, he¡¯s just¡­¡± Mercy sighed, waving her hand in the air. ¡°Just some guy I met at the office Christmas party a few weeks back. We hit it off, but it¡¯s not like it¡¯s something serious. We¡¯ve only been on a couple of dates.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been a while since you¡¯ve brought any guys around, though,¡± I remarked. ¡°I was starting to think maybe you¡¯d given up on men completely¡­ or that you¡¯d hit menopause super early.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Mercy¡¯s face scrunched up in a cross between a frown and a grin. ¡°Look, unlike some people, I have more important things in my life to prioritize than getting laid.¡±


    ¡°Well, hopefully breaking that dry spell goes well for you,¡± I said; I wondered if my voice sounded as flat as it felt. ¡°Make him take you someplace real nice, okay?¡±


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    ¡°As long as it¡¯s fancier than Whataburger, I¡¯ll be fine.¡± As if to prove something to herself, she flexed her fingers in front of herself, her short, pink nails shining back at her. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly high maintenance.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what chicks always say.¡± I reached up toward the sunglasses resting atop my head and brought them back down over my eyes. ¡°Then when we take you to a food truck where you gotta eat with your hands, suddenly we¡¯re getting that ¡®it¡¯s not you, it¡¯s me¡¯ conversation. I been down this road before, Benz¡­ don¡¯t let him make the same mistakes I¡¯ve made.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, Manny,¡± she said emphatically, rolling her eyes as she pushed herself off of the car door. Then she smiled, lips shimmering from their gloss. ¡°Drive safe.¡±


    Once Mercy had gotten off of my truck, I locked the doors behind her and waved at her one last time before taking off back towards my apartment complex. After a few more miles down the road, the warmth inside the cab had all but vanished, leaving behind a lonesome chill.


    In an effort to escape it, I flipped on the radio, but it made no difference.


    ? ? ?


    That night, I struggled not to toss and turn in bed.


    Every time I closed my eyes, my heart hammered fiercely in my chest, like it was trying to break free of my body completely. Something about the darkness of my room only worsened that sense of foreboding within me, but even though I lived alone, I was too proud to leave the light in the hallway on, ashamed to admit that a fear of the dark could¡¯ve lived on as long as it had. Somehow it felt better to lie in my sweat, pulse racing, stomach twisting.


    When it seemed that my fear outweighed my fatigue, I patted my nightstand to find my phone, and the fluorescence of its screen made my eyes burn until they adjusted. Just over half past 0300¡­ so I¡¯d already wasted four hours tossing and turning, and for what?


    Reaching for the chain of my lamp, I gave it a tug and bathed the room in a warm yellow light. The first thing I noticed was my medication, but it had continued to remain untouched; I kept telling myself I¡¯ll take it tomorrow, but it¡¯d been nearly three weeks now. The uneasiness of seeing it was enough to propel me out of my bed and out of my room completely.


    Like a sack of bricks, I sank into the cushions of my couch, staring dead-eyed ahead at the TV screen in front of me. My search for something to watch was half-hearted: watching something new felt like an intimidating investment, but watching reruns felt like circling the drain. And truthfully, I was tired of living things over and over again, suffering from my own personal Groundhog Day every time I went to bed.


    At least with Feliz, there was a grim finality in his death. I felt his blood on my hands, watched the light leave his eyes. But I wasn¡¯t granted that same kind of closure with¡ª


    Gun shots.


    Bending forward on the couch, I dragged my hands from the back of my head to down my face, covering my eyes. I didn¡¯t want to think of him or Feliz, but as soon as he crossed my mind, a switch in my mind flipped.


    Like a mirage¡ª


    Worse than reliving it in my sleep was reliving it when I was awake. Sweat began to trickle down my forehead, and my stomach churned painfully. What was that thing Dr. Oh had talked about at one point? Breathing exercises? I wasn¡¯t sure how breathing in a rhythm was supposed to help, but I had to try, right?


    Breathe in.


    He hits the dirt with a scream.


    Breathe out.


    Eyes, wet with tears.


    Breathe in.


    Leave me¡­


    Breathe out.


    Ten years I¡¯d spent hurting over him, but it was different from the scars that Feliz had left behind: it was a lonesome, hopeful hurt that led right to my core. The uncertainty of his fate made it impossible to feel as if I could ever truly close the door behind me.


    But like digging through flesh to tear out a splinter, it was something that had to be done. No pain, no gain, right?


    Moving my body off the couch took concentrated effort, but I pushed myself until I got to the closet in the hallway. After a few minutes of rooting around in the dark, I pulled out a guitar case that had been buried back there for ages, jerking it out from underneath boxes of junk. I hadn¡¯t looked at it in so long, a fine layer of dust had accumulated on top of it.


    The more grounded I became in the world around me, the easier it was to get back to the couch with the guitar in tow. When I unlocked the case, the sight of the guitar steadied my breath in only a second.


    Despite the ravages of time, the guitar was still in great condition - probably because I never used it. Even when I thought to, I held a strange fear of it, as if it would act as a time machine and teleport me back to Afghanistan. I could still see his hands on it, birthmark twitching across his knuckles as he plucked each string.


    In my chest, my heart weighed heavily, but it was good to see it. Bittersweet. I hadn¡¯t even looked at it in who knows how long because it always made me think of him, and thinking of him always made me think of Feliz. But this time, I wanted to.


    My eyes roved across the grain of the wood until landing on the bottom half of it. His initials were still engraved clearly upon it, but the little wear and tear it had made the edges of the letters sharp and hostile. Still, it didn¡¯t stop me from running my fingers along them, unafraid of cuts or splinters.


    The pad of my thumb looped around the curve of the R, pausing along the lower swoop of the S before trailing back up the guitar¡¯s neck. With one last breath, I strummed my fingers across the strings, and just the way it resonated brought me back.


    And for once, I decided, this was going to be a good thing.

 FRATERNITY

    FEBRUARY


    With a wobbling clunk, I set the water bucket onto the concrete floor of the bay and started scrubbing down the rig. The bright overhead lights of the bay made it obvious just how badly the truck was due for a deep clean, even moreso when contrasted against the darkness of the oncoming nighttime outside.


    Out of everyone on my crew, I was the only one that cared much to clean the apparatus properly to keep the paint free of scuffs and chips: as far as Heather was concerned, hosing it off was enough of a job well done, and the guys, of course, were more than happy to let me take on dirty work if it meant they didn¡¯t have to do it. Cormorant, however, was simply considered far too above such a task.


    Just as I¡¯d wrung out the water from my towel, the sound of boots came stampeding into the bay. When I turned to see who it was, Garrett stood before me, looking both lost and flustered with wide eyes and pink cheeks.


    ¡°Yo,¡± I said, craning my neck towards him. ¡°You okay? Need something?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, actually¡­¡± Garrett came closer, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. ¡°Do you know where we keep the, uh, water hammer? I can¡¯t find it anywhere¡ª Rob said I could call one of the other stations to borrow one if I had to, but I don¡¯t want to bother them just ¡®cause I don¡¯t know where everything is yet¡­ you think you can help me?¡±


    ¡°The water hammer¡­¡± It took a moment for it to click, but once it did, I snorted. ¡°Oh¡ª ain¡¯t no such thing, man, he¡¯s just playin¡¯ with you. Next he¡¯s gonna have you looking around for a hose puller or some shit.¡±


    Smacking his forehead, Garrett put on a self-deprecating smile. ¡°Of course! I should know that, jeez¡­¡±


    ¡°Eh, don¡¯t sweat it, it¡¯s one of the oldest tricks in the book. But since you got all this free time to go on bullshit errands¡­¡± As I stood up from my squat, I pointed to the buckets at my feet. ¡°Why don¡¯t you make yourself useful and help me finish cleaning the rig instead?¡±


    Sheepishly, he blinked, looking from my face to the bucket. ¡°Oh¡ª um, yeah, I can do that.¡±


    ¡°Good. All you need to know is this bucket¡¯s for clean water and this one¡¯s for dirty. Simple stuff.¡± For emphasis, I pointed to him directly. ¡°And you best be gentle with the paint¡ª if I catch you scuffin¡¯ shit, I¡¯ll whoop your ass myself.¡±


    ¡°Wow, the way you said that sounded just like my dad,¡± Garrett laughed, taking the cloth from my hands. ¡°Trust me, if I know anything, I know how to wash a car. I remember the minute I turned eight, I had to wash his car every Saturday morning if I wanted my allowance¡­ sometimes if he didn¡¯t like how I did it, he¡¯d make me do it all over again. Can you believe that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sounds like he was a real slave driver,¡± I replied sarcastically. ¡°But hey, at least you can look back on it and laugh, right?¡±


    He shrugged one shoulder. ¡°That¡¯s one way of looking at it, sure.¡±


    With nothing else to be said, a silence fell over us in the apparatus bay; once Garrett saw how I worked, he didn¡¯t need to ask a single question - he simply followed my lead. Now that there were two of us, the cleaning went by much faster, and when we were finished we basked in the glow of a job well done.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s it,¡± I said, nodding in Garrett¡¯s direction. ¡°You¡¯re free to go.¡±


    ¡°Cool, cool.¡± He leaned his shoulder against the now-shining side of the rig, looking down at his hands before tucking them into his pockets. ¡°So¡­ what now?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®what now¡¯?¡± I asked in return.


    ¡°Well¡­ what do you do around here when you¡¯re not doing stuff like¡­¡± He motioned outward with his arm. ¡°Like this?¡±


    ¡°Looking for ways to goof off already? That was fast.¡± I smiled. ¡°Surely you got enough chores to keep the devil from playin¡¯ with those idle hands.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean it like that, I mean¡­¡± He paused thoughtfully before returning his gaze to mine. ¡°I see the other guys doing stuff together all the time between calls, but I was thinking about it as we were fixing up the rig that I don¡¯t really know what you get up to. Sorta feels like I only ever see you on calls or when we eat.¡±


    With my thumbnail, I scraped at a stubborn little spot of dirt on one of the side mirrors. ¡°Sometimes if the rec room¡¯s empty, I¡¯ll put on a movie or a show. I don¡¯t really like watching shit with the crew ¡®cause they talk through everything and I hate having to use subtitles. It¡¯s easier to wait ¡®til everyone else is busy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Garrett brightened. ¡°What kind of movies do you like? You like superhero movies?¡±


    ¡°I saw The Punisher once, but that was years ago.¡± After a few seconds of vigorous scrubbing, I finally got that mark on the mirror to disappear. ¡°And I think I saw the first Spider-Man when it came out in theaters, but it was on a date, so I didn¡¯t really pay attention to it.¡±


    ¡°What?! That¡¯s my favorite one!¡± He beamed. ¡°Okay, not my favorite-favorite, but it¡¯s in the top five. Batman Forever is my number one, if I had to pick.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that the one where they put nipples on Batman?¡± I gestured to my chest. ¡°Did they ever explain why the fuck they did that, or was everyone supposed to just pretend not to see them?¡±


    Garrett laughed, but before he could give me an actual answer, Rob and DeShawn appeared in the doorway. When his eyes landed on Garrett, Rob leaned an arm against the doorway, his other hand on his hip.


    ¡°Hey! G¨¹ero!¡± Rob called out. ¡°I asked for that water hammer thirty minutes ago¡ª what¡¯s the hold up?¡±


    Hesitantly, Garrett turned to me, then back to Rob, as if caught between a rock and a hard place. ¡°Um¡­¡±


    ¡°D¨¦jalo ya, Rob¡ª nobody¡¯s falling for that,¡± I said, waving my hand at him. ¡°Since you seemed to think Garrett had enough time to play games with you, I thought I¡¯d put him to work doing something actually useful. Is that a problem?¡±


    From behind Rob, DeShawn frowned. ¡°Aw, Manny, we were just messing around. Why you gotta be such a buzzkill?¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± said Rob, frowning as well. ¡°You¡¯re gonna take all the fun out of having a probie!¡±


    ¡°Okay, so why¡¯s this gotta be your idea of fun?¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°Calling up the other stations? It just makes him look like a dumbass to the other crews.¡±


    ¡°Who are we talking about looking like a dumbass?¡± Liam chimed in, appearing out of nowhere from the opposite side of the hallway. He took a peek in and snorted. ¡°Oh¡ª Manny. Should¡¯ve known we were talking about this walking Zoloft ad.¡±


    Out of all of them, only Garrett was polite enough not to crack a smile, but I was used to being subjected to Liam¡¯s bullshit comedy routine so it didn¡¯t bother me. Rather than acknowledge what he¡¯d said, I looked back at Garrett, who straightened his posture immediately at my attention.


    ¡°Hey, you were just talking about those Batman movies, right?¡± I asked. ¡°Why don¡¯t you go see if they¡¯re on Netflix or Hulu? Maybe instead of pulling pranks on each other, we could settle in for a movie night.¡±


    Given what I¡¯d just said about movies only moments before, Garrett swallowed, eyes darting back to the guys standing in the doorway. ¡°Um¡ª well, I mean¡­ I¡¯m game if you guys are¡­?¡±


    ¡°Sure, why not?¡± Rob brightened at the suggestion. ¡°You guys think we got enough popcorn for all of us?¡±


    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t be having any,¡± Liam replied. ¡°Last time I had popcorn, I had a kernel stuck ¡®tween my teeth for fuckin¡¯¡ª I dunno, two weeks?¡±


    ¡°Think that¡¯s a you problem, man,¡± said DeShawn. ¡°Like, since you got those tiny little Chicklet teeth¡­¡±


    As Liam and DeShawn continued their banter down the hallway, Rob trailed off along with them, leaving me and Garrett to ourselves in the bay. From the corner of his eye, Garrett gave me an unexpectedly smug little smile.


    ¡°I thought you said you didn¡¯t like watching movies with other people,¡± he said, lips quirking a little bit further.


    ¡°I don¡¯t, but it got them off your back, didn¡¯t it?¡± I countered. ¡°Now you can see for yourself firsthand why I keep a low profile around here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but, like¡­ are you actually gonna join us?¡± His tone seemed almost hopeful. ¡°Or was that some sort of decoy thing you just did there?¡±


    ¡°Oh, no, you made a great case for yourself,¡± I replied. ¡°In fact, it was so great that I wanna see the guys¡¯ faces when you¡¯re telling them that Nipple Batman is the best Batman of all time.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s got nothing to do with the nipples!¡± He exclaimed, hopping up the steps to the doorway. ¡°First of all, the cast is amazing: Jim Carrey¡¯s great as the Riddler, and I think Val Kilmer¡¯s the best of all the Batmans¡­¡±


    Garrett didn¡¯t seem to notice when I¡¯d started tuning him out - or if he did, he didn¡¯t call any attention to it. By the time we made it to the rec room, the rest of the guys were ready to go with two bowls of popcorn and fresh Cokes for everyone, and we all settled in to watch the movie together.


    And out of every seat in the rec room, Garrett chose the seat next to mine.

 TETHERED

    After hours of lying helplessly in the dark, the time had finally come to try my medication.


    From my pillow, I shot a glance at the bottle from the corner of my eye. If I¡¯d been obedient, I¡¯d be due for a refill about now, but I just kept putting it off with every excuse imaginable: I didn¡¯t want to worry about the side effects, I didn¡¯t remember to take it with me to the station, and - most honestly - I didn¡¯t want to admit that it could actually help me. That I actually did need it.


    Just like seeing a cardiologist for your heart, Dr. Oh had said. Funny how a cardiologist couldn¡¯t fix a broken one, though.


    I glanced at the clock on my phone. It was late into the night, far too late to still be debating this, but I was in such a pitiful state I yearned for company.


    Each second that passed before Mercy answered the phone was drawn out and tormenting. My eyes darted from each corner of the ceiling until refocusing back on the capsule in my hand. When she finally answered, I breathed out a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Hey, you.¡± I could tell by Mercy¡¯s voice that she was sleepy, a fact of which I was envious. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d still be up by now.¡±


    ¡°Well, you know me¡ª I¡¯ve always been kind of a night owl.¡± I set the pill back on the end table. ¡°Um¡­ this isn¡¯t a bad time, is it?¡±


    She made a neutral little noise. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine, I¡¯m just moving money around to pay off some of these cards. Why? Did you need something?¡±


    My heart rate sped up, which made the room feel like it was closing in. When I wiped my forehead, it was sticky with sweat. Why the fuck was this stressing me out so much?


    ¡°Manny?¡± Mercy prompted.


    ¡°Sorry, I¡­¡± I trailed off for a moment, holding my head in my hands. ¡°I wanted to talk to you about something.¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Her tone stiffened. ¡°Manny, what¡¯s going on?¡±


    Inhale, exhale. ¡°I¡¯m seeing a therapist. And she wants me to take stuff. Medication.¡±


    Mercy said nothing, her silence making my stomach tighten. Still, I pushed forward.


    ¡°And¡­ I¡¯m having a hard time making myself take it,¡± I stammered. ¡°I just thought maybe you could¡­ I dunno, give me some reassurance or something.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Wait, is that it?¡± She asked.


    Reflexively, I scowled. ¡°The hell do you mean ¡®is that it¡¯?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a pill, it¡¯s not a lobotomy.¡± I could see her rolling her eyes. ¡°From how you sounded, I thought you killed a guy or something.¡±


    ¡°Seriously?¡± I tried not to make it obvious, but I had to admit, I was hurt. ¡°I¡¯ve been sitting here having fuckin¡¯¡ª palpitations or whatever over this shit for weeks. You know I almost skipped out on my first appointment? It took everything in me to go in, and I could still barely talk to her. I was hoping you¡¯d be a little nicer about this.¡±


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°Oh, Manny¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but I¡¯ve wanted you to go to therapy for years. If anything, this is probably the best news I¡¯ve heard all week.¡±


    ¡°The fuck are you saying?¡± My face grew hot with embarrassment. ¡°So you think I¡¯m weak? Weak and crazy?¡±


    ¡°Oh for God¡¯s sake, no, but let¡¯s be honest with ourselves here¡ª you¡¯ve got a lot going on. More than you can handle by yourself.¡± There was an unexpected tenderness in Mercy¡¯s tone. ¡°I can tell how hard it¡¯s been for you since Feliz died. And I think it¡¯s been hard on you in a way that it hasn¡¯t been on me, so¡­¡±


    ¡°How?¡± I spat harshly - harsher than I¡¯d meant. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t watch him die,¡± she replied simply. ¡°The last time I saw him, he was alive and happy.¡±


    He can¡¯t


    stop


    bleeding.


    ¡°He kissed me, and said he couldn¡¯t wait to be home for the holidays.¡±


    His mouth is moving


    but I can¡¯t hear him.


    ¡°And the next thing I know, two men in uniform were at my doorstep, and they gave me his belongings.¡±


    I tear the dog tags off of his neck.


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t like talking about it, but¡­¡± She paused. ¡°It hurts to see you this way when it wasn¡¯t even your fault. To see the pain in your face when you hear his name.¡±


    I look into his eyes


    and I see nothing behind them.


    Nothing,


    nothing¡ª


    ¡°¡­ Manny? Are you still there?¡±


    Silently, I blinked, having been staring at the wall until my eyes burned. On the end table, the little pill sat precariously close to the edge. I picked it up with my fingers, rotating it.


    ¡°I just wish I was stronger than this,¡± I said quietly, folding the capsule into my palm.


    ¡°You know what makes you strong?¡± The exhausted huskiness of Mercy¡¯s words made me guilty for keeping her up so late. ¡°Knowing when to get help. There¡¯s nothing noble about suffering. You get that, right?¡±


    I didn¡¯t say anything. It felt so patronizing, so embarrassing, that I wished I¡¯d never called at all.


    ¡°You gotta take care of yourself, Manu. We can¡¯t have you falling apart on us,¡± she continued. ¡°We need you. I need you.¡±


    Still, I felt too humiliated to reply in anything other than a quiet, affirmative hum. Then, Mercy let out a yawn so big, I nearly felt it through the phone.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ve got some other stuff to take care of before I head to bed,¡± she said. ¡°Try to get some rest, okay? For me?¡±


    I closed my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    And with a click of a button, I was alone again, as I always was.


    With eyes shut tight and eight ounces of water washing down the pill, I shut off the light, determined now more than ever to give it a shot.


    When I finally fell asleep that night, for the first time in months, I didn¡¯t dream of Feliz.


    I dreamt, instead, of Raja.

 MIRAGE

    On that chilly morning, the fire was already well underway by the time we rolled up to the scene.


    Right before breakfast, we¡¯d gotten a call that a fire was tearing through a nearby homeless encampment. These types of fires were always brutal; the flammability of their tents and the clustering of them made short work for a persistent blaze to power through, and left only devastation in its wake.


    The second the apparatus was parked, we all exploded into action. As a probie, Garrett had adapted well to the process, though he still took direction from me more than anyone - a fact which clearly chafed against Liam, as one of the more senior firemen on the crew. But there wasn¡¯t any time to fight about it, as the plumes of smoke and violent crackling of the fire meant there wasn¡¯t time for anything except water, and lots of it.


    Though it had been raining on and off all night, it hadn¡¯t been enough to put a dent in the fire. We took our lines from the truck and moved quickly to spray the flames down as police officers and EMTs had spilled onto the scene. At the sight of a news van, I glared; I resented the presence of journalists during a call because they really never knew when to keep out of the damn way. All of them were just a bunch of glorified rubberneckers.


    While soaking down the remaining embers, I glanced at one of the reporters on scene. I wasn¡¯t really paying attention to her perfectly rehearsed speech, but her voice came across clearly and powerfully even over all of the calamity. The longer I watched her, the more I was impressed by how fluidly she moved throughout the scene with her long, straight legs. She was, admittedly, a little hypnotizing.


    ¡°Look how short her skirt is,¡± said Liam as we switched to cleanup. ¡°It¡¯s like thirty degrees out here!¡±


    DeShawn elbowed Garrett in the ribs. ¡°Hey, Gooch¡ª you should go try your luck with her. Girls can¡¯t get enough of a guy in uniform! Bet you¡¯ll get her number in five seconds flat.¡±


    ¡°I mean¡­ she¡¯s at work, and so am I.¡± Garrett¡¯s discomfort was palpable. ¡°I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    ¡°What are you, gay?¡± Liam interjected. ¡°¡¯Cause you sound fucking gay right now. Should we call you Gayrett instead?¡±


    DeShawn cackled, as did Rob, who¡¯d come by just recently enough to overhear the conversation. Garrett, however, wasn¡¯t remotely amused; rather than laughing along as he usually did, he glowered. Heather and I shared an uneasy look towards one another, but neither of us said a thing.


    After exchanging words with both the police officers and Chief Cormorant, the reporter carried on towards a group of homeless people who¡¯d been barred from the scene for their safety. She angled the microphone toward a man in a Dallas Cowboys hoodie, his face obscured by shaggy hair and a thick beard. I turned my attention back to cleanup, but was immediately drawn back in when I heard yelling.


    ¡°Leave me the fuck alone!¡± The man shouted, a mighty roar against the commotion of everyone else¡¯s presence. ¡°I lose everything¡ª everything I have that isn¡¯t strapped to my back¡ª and you want to put my pain on TV? Just another sob story for your newsreel? Fuck you!¡±


    The reporter swiveled back, but she was clearly unfazed. ¡°Sir, we¡¯re just covering the story¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fuck you! All you motherfuckers watching this¡ª you¡¯re gonna watch this, talk about how oh, it¡¯s such a damn shame, and it¡¯s so fucking sad, and then you¡¯re gonna turn right back around into your cozy fuckin¡¯ homes and pretend we don¡¯t exist the second these cameras are off!¡± He shouted again. ¡°Fucking assholes! Do something useful for once in your lives and fuck off!¡±


    Sensing a potential escalation, I headed over closer to try and intervene, but within a few feet of them I stopped dead in my tracks.


    I pulled off my helmet and looked at the man. When his gaze met mine, he did an actual double-take, staring like he¡¯d been shocked by a live wire.


    His eyes. Such dark, dark eyes.


    Immediately, the man bolted away and got lost in the crowd, escaping so quickly that there was no way I could hope to catch up to him. Even if I¡¯d followed my instinct to run after him, I couldn¡¯t; my limbs felt heavy and leaden, made worse by my turnout gear weighing me down.


    The reporter was quick to convince the police not to do anything, especially since he¡¯d left without hurting anyone. By now, Cormorant had sent Garrett over to break me from my trance, and I simply followed him back to the truck without explaining myself. What could I even say?


    For the rest of the ride back to the station, I was on autopilot, thoroughly and completely unraveled. I knew that around me, the guys were joking and laughing about the call, the reporter, Garrett, the Chief - but it was like I wasn¡¯t even there. Truthfully, I wasn¡¯t.


    I was back in Afghanistan again, all those years ago.


    ? ? ?


    I reach up to wipe away my tears, but my hands are still wet with his blood.


    I tear the dog tags off of his neck. They''re still warm.


    Suddenly, from the distance, I hear a shout: ¡°Manny!¡±


    I follow the voice and see that Raja is running back to me.


    He''s so far away, he seems like a mirage: hazy, quivering, unreal. Before he reaches us, a bullet strikes through his knee like an act of God.


    He hits the dirt with a scream. My body moves faster than my mind does.


    On the ground, Raja chokes out a sob. His knee is a mess of red flesh; there¡¯s no way he can walk on it. When I look at him, his eyes are wet with tears.


    ¡°Go,¡± he says. His breath is shaky on the exhale. ¡°Manny, please, leave me¡­¡±


    I can''t bear to have more blood on my hands.


    With all my strength, I haul Raja onto my shoulders and pray that my feet don¡¯t fail me now.


    ? ? ?


    Throughout the rest of the day, I shambled around the station in a zombie-like daze. I wasn¡¯t incoherent, but I felt torn in two, divided by my past and my present.


    It couldn¡¯t have been him; I was never big on math, but the odds had to have been a million to one. I racked my mind for the scraps I remembered about him, the painful little details I¡¯d left to rot in the corners of my brain, all to convince myself I¡¯d seen a ghost and nothing more.


    Yet I couldn¡¯t stop returning to the most pressing question of all: if it wasn¡¯t Raja, why did he run?


    In an effort to make myself too tired to even dream, I made a late night visit to the gym, a time when no one else thought to use it. I preferred being alone in there whenever possible; I just wasn¡¯t in a mood to deal with Liam¡¯s competitions, Rob¡¯s betting or DeShawn being swept up in both of these activities. In a way, I was grateful for Garrett¡¯s presence at the station because it meant that the guys finally had someone else to drag into this shit.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    When I¡¯d finished a few miles on the treadmill, the station had fallen into an eerie lull. My insomnia had become such common knowledge that no one questioned why I didn¡¯t retire around the same time that everyone else did. Rather than draw further attention to myself, I let them assume it was simply how I was wired - it seemed like a more dignified answer than the truth.


    Careful to keep my footsteps light and quiet, I slipped through the dark halls, flipping off unnecessary lights wherever I went. When I reached the kitchen, I stumbled upon Garrett, sitting at the table with a training manual cracked open mid-chapter. Rather than studying, he was winding and unwinding a blue yo-yo like he was in a completely different world. Just as he yawned, I spoke up.


    ¡°Getting some study time in before bed?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh, shit!¡± Garrett jostled violently in his seat before turning to face me. ¡°Manny! Hey! Wow, I did not see you there.¡±


    ¡°Sorry¡­ my mam¨¢ always said I walked too quiet, like a cat.¡± I came into the kitchen and took a seat beside him at the table. ¡°You seem tired.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I am.¡± Once the shock had worn off, he yawned again. ¡°Well, not just tired, but that¡¯s mostly it.¡±


    Sensing there was more to the story, I tilted my head, curious. ¡°Everything good with you, man?¡±


    The longer I looked at him, the more I noticed just how worn out Garrett seemed. His skin was paler than usual, more sallow than its typical pink, and his lips were dry and cracked. Across his eyes, his hair fell forward like he¡¯d just rolled out of bed.


    After he was quiet for a while, Garrett took in a deep breath, then let it escape slowly. He took his hand, which had been clutching his yo-yo tightly, and rested it on the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m just tired of all the constant bullshit,¡± he said. ¡°I get it, you know, I¡¯m the probie so I¡¯m lowest on the food chain, but¡­ shit, it¡¯s nonstop around here. Feels like there isn¡¯t even time to work, they¡¯re always fucking with me.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°The guys been hazing you that bad?¡±


    ¡°Well, just this last week, they dumped half a pound of flour on my head, they fed me mayonnaise filled donuts, they put shaving cream in my boots¡ª which screwed them up so bad I had to waste a hundred dollars on new ones¡ª¡± Garrett¡¯s cheeks reddened as he raised his voice. ¡°God, they even dumped all my socks in Vaseline, put Googly eyes on them and chased me around calling them my ¡®girlfriends¡¯! Does it ever fucking stop?¡±


    ¡°Jesus¡­¡± All I could do was cringe on his behalf. ¡°Yeah, I had my fair share of that when I first started out, too. Try not to take it too personally.¡±


    ¡°Hard not to take it personally when I¡¯m the only one getting my ass whipped by towels all the time.¡± He sighed again, an indescribable look of disappointment on his face. ¡°This isn¡¯t really what I thought it¡¯d be, you know?¡±


    Under the weight of my sympathetic gaze, the frustration in Garrett¡¯s features softened, as if he were lowering his defenses. He leaned back against his chair until it made a pained squeak, his arms crossed tightly against his chest.


    ¡°I thought there¡¯d be more to being a firefighter than just being fucked with relentlessly.¡± As he spoke, his anger turned to bitterness. ¡°Today was one of the few days where it actually felt like the job I thought it would be, and I was still being pushed around all day. Nothing but joke after joke, and I¡¯m always the punchline. Always. Nothing ever changes.¡±


    I scratched my chin thoughtfully. ¡°You can always change stations¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just gonna be the same shit everywhere I go! No matter where I work, no matter who I¡¯m with, it¡¯s always just¡ª always the same fucking shit!¡± He interrupted. Noticing my surprise, he seemed embarrassed by his own outburst and sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Manny, it¡¯s just¡­¡±


    In his pause, Garrett looked as if he were at confession, like whatever storm was brewing in his mind was a shameful one. Finally, he let out another sigh.


    ¡°Ever since I was in middle school, I¡¯ve gotten bullied¡ª a lot. And any time I tried to talk to my teachers or my parents about it, nobody took me seriously. Nobody believed me, ¡®cause ¡®boys will be boys.¡¯¡± His sarcastic air quotes held a deep seated resentment - more than he likely intended to let on. ¡°And the other kids treated me like a snitch, so they¡¯d give me more shit. It got so bad that for the last three years of high school, I¡¯d throw up every day before school, I was so anxious.¡±


    Though I kept my expression in a compassionate stillness, I had to admit that it didn¡¯t surprise me. Goody two-shoes like Garrett were always first to be chewed up and spat out, though I was proud of him for not letting it ruin him. In a way, he reminded me of dandelions in sidewalks, sprouting rebelliously in spite of their circumstances.


    ¡°I remember when I graduated, I was so excited to never deal with that stuff again, ¡®cause everyone said that people didn¡¯t do that in ¡®the real world,¡¯¡± he continued. ¡°Maybe it was stupid of me, but I thought people would be even less likely to do it in a job like this where actual lives are on the line.¡±


    I truly couldn¡¯t figure out what to say; I was never very good with words. ¡°That sucks. Like for real, man, it does. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    His frown deepened, but it didn¡¯t seem directed at me. ¡°When I got into the academy, I thought we¡¯d really be making a difference in people¡¯s lives. But no¡ª instead, I¡¯m going to house calls ¡®cause some kid made his microwave explode or a guy took too much Viagra and got stuck in his wife. And then when we¡¯re done, I¡¯m right back here where they¡¯re hot gluing the legs of my pants shut and calling me Gooch.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t say that¡¯s their best work,¡± I said. ¡°Honestly, me and Heather aren¡¯t really big on all that stuff. They¡¯ve tried to rope her into it, but she just isn¡¯t that kind of gal, you know? Not really ¡®one of the guys¡¯ so to speak.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, even Heather joins in sometimes.¡± His jaw clenched in frustration. ¡°I thought she was cool at first, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah, give her some time, you¡¯ll be fine.¡± I took a moment to crack a few joints in my arms as I stretched. ¡°The guys are hopeless, though. You¡¯ll be better off giving up on them now.¡±


    Another sigh from Garrett. He leaned forward on the table and put his face in his hands, pulling them back through his hair and hanging his head. When he lifted up his face to look at me, he looked so tired, I expected him to fall asleep if he sat still long enough.


    ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± Garrett asked. ¡°Why did you become a firefighter?¡±


    I crossed my arms, leaning them against the table. ¡°Just seemed like a natural extension of my time in the military.¡±


    He took his yo-yo back into his hand and began unwinding and rewinding it rhythmically at the side of his seat. ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°Well, for starters, the hazing culture is pretty much the same,¡± I said. ¡°But I joined the military ¡®cause at the time, I was just like you: I thought I¡¯d be doing cool stuff and making a difference. In retrospect, I was a stupid kid with no idea of the gravity of what I was signing up for.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± His tone grew softer, and he stopped unreeling his yo-yo. ¡°You mean ¡®cause the Iraq war was kinda fucked up?¡±


    ¡°All wars are fucked up.¡± I shut my eyes, trying to will myself not to think of the dreams I was doomed to meet the second that I slept. ¡°I don¡¯t really want to talk about it too much, but my point is that you have this idea of what you¡¯re going to do, and the reality can be pretty sobering. And I think the same is true for working in the service.¡±


    Garrett kept quiet as he listened to me. In his hands, he had continued to play with his yo-yo, the gears in his head shifting.


    ¡°You just need to remind yourself why you wanted to do this,¡± I continued. ¡°Don¡¯t think about stupid pranks or what the guys are saying about you. You are making a difference. You¡¯re saving lives and you¡¯re making the world a better, safer place every day. And in the end, that¡¯s what matters¡ª it¡¯s the only thing that matters.¡±


    By now, Garrett had been so quiet, it was less like a conversation and more like I was giving a motivational speech. I wasn¡¯t sure what would make him feel better, so I retreated back within myself, letting silence fill the air to give him space to say his piece.


    When he had seemingly nothing else to say, I moved to stand up from the table. Then, Garrett finally broke the silence. ¡°If you could start all over,¡± he said quietly, ¡°would you do it again?¡±


    I paused. His eyes were so soulful; I felt as if I held his future in the balance, a sign to guide him down a certain path. I tried not to overstate the importance I played in the lives of others, but there was something in his face that struck a chord in me.


    But I didn¡¯t know what answer he was looking for. My job defined me, but it came at a cost: I¡¯d seen enough awful things throughout the years that even when I avoided dreaming of Feliz, other gruesome scenes would worm their way into my head. There were times where I felt that all I was good for was soaking up atrocities, and I was getting close to my limit.


    And yet I couldn¡¯t bring myself to be so honest with Garrett, even if it might change his mind about firefighting and save him grief down the road. It was a battle of his dreams versus my nightmares, and I didn¡¯t want to be the one to snuff out his candle, that yearning little light.


    ¡°In a heartbeat,¡± I lied.


    Judging by Garrett¡¯s face, it was exactly what he needed to hear. His relief was clear, and he smiled hopefully at me. I smiled back, but it felt so flat on my face, it couldn¡¯t have possibly come across as sincere.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give up,¡± I said firmly. ¡°And don¡¯t let these pendejos bother you, alright? They¡¯re all stunted, anyway.¡±


    Swinging my towel back across my shoulders, I stood from the table and gave Garrett a pat on the shoulder. As I did, his gaze fell upon my hand before slowly trailing up to my face, his eyes glinting with inspiration.


    Letting out a yawn of my own, I motioned my head towards the clock. ¡°I think you¡¯re in the clear to go to bed by now, probie.¡±


    ¡°I sure hope so.¡± He rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. ¡°Bet they¡¯ll find other ways to mess me up before morning¡­¡±


    ¡°Guaranteed,¡± I sighed in agreement. ¡°But at least if you wake up early enough, you¡¯ll catch them before they put scorpions in your boots.¡±


    Garrett froze in the middle of stacking a couple of books together. ¡°¡­ They wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, they wouldn¡¯t.¡± I waved a hand, smirking. ¡°They already know you¡¯re gonna check your boots every time after the shaving cream thing.¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± He wrinkled his nose in irritation as he finished collecting his materials. ¡°Well, anyway¡­ sleep well, Manny.¡±


    As he passed me through the doorway, I nodded at him. ¡°You too, man.¡±


    And then there I was, alone in the kitchen, with only the ceiling light acting as a beacon in the center of darkness. When I glanced back down at the table, all that was left behind was that little blue yo-yo, unwound.

 AVISO

    I hated waiting rooms.


    It was innately humiliating to be sitting there waiting for Dr. Oh, but it was hard to put my finger on why. Something about checking in with the receptionist and everyone knowing exactly why you¡¯re there. You can¡¯t make up excuses for your presence, no way to say ¡®I¡¯m not like everyone else here - I¡¯m normal.¡¯ You can only sit there, grossly aware of yourself and everyone around you.


    Today was a little different, though, as I wasn¡¯t really thinking of myself or the world around me. I thought only of one thing.


    ¡°Mr. Herrera?¡± Dr. Oh¡¯s gentle voice interrupted my train of thought. She stood in the doorway, a perfect image of neutrality. So cool, so calm, so measured. I wonder what that¡¯s like, I thought enviously.


    Once escorted into her office, Dr. Oh sat before me in her sleek leather chair. Without a word, I plunked down onto the couch and tried my best to seem more open than I¡¯d had in the past.


    ¡°So, Manuel,¡± Dr. Oh began; though she said my name with a smile, it wasn¡¯t a genuine one - it was born more out of obligation. ¡°It¡¯s been about¡­ three weeks, hasn¡¯t it? Four?¡±


    ¡°Around that,¡± I replied with a similarly inauthentic smile. ¡°I haven¡¯t had the time, sorry.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. How have things been?¡± She pulled her hair into her hand and then tied it into a low ponytail, pulling it back over her shoulder.


    I fought back against my tight-lipped instinct as hard as I could. ¡°I¡¯ve had a lot on my mind lately.¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± And thus, the judgment was underway. ¡°Well, where would you like to begin?¡±


    ¡°Uh, let¡¯s see¡­¡± I took a breath in. ¡°We got a probie¡ª uh, a new firefighter at the station. He started right after our last session.¡±


    ¡°Tell me more about him.¡± Dr. Oh took out her notebook in a way that made it clear she wanted to be inconspicuous, but still made me feel like an animal under observation.


    ¡°His name is Garrett,¡± I said. ¡°He¡¯s your typical bright-eyed kid. Always turned up to eleven, everything is exciting, bouncing off the walls, that type. He¡¯s the youngest firefighter I¡¯ve ever worked with, around twenty-two, I think.¡±


    The corner of Dr. Oh¡¯s mouth twitched, but I had no clue what it meant. ¡°Are you two getting along well?¡±


    ¡°More or less,¡± I replied. ¡°He¡¯s basically stuck to me like glue ¡®cause I¡¯ve been nicest to him out of everybody. I don¡¯t know what to do about it, ¡®cause I don¡¯t really want to like, you know, get too close to him, but¡­ doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯ve got a choice.¡±


    She finished a line of writing with a flick of her wrist. Then, she glanced up at me. ¡°This could be a good opportunity for you to build more relationships. You seem to have a very narrow social circle, and it might benefit you to expand it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m not exactly looking to become a social butterfly.¡± I cast my eyes to the ground; I didn¡¯t like talking to her when she watched me so steadily. ¡°It¡¯s hard for me to get close to people, especially after Feliz.¡±


    I paused. I knew that wasn¡¯t the end of my sentence, and from the way she looked at me, Dr. Oh knew it, too. I steadied myself before I met her stare.


    ¡°And after Raja,¡± I said firmly.


    ¡°Raja?¡± Dr. Oh echoed, her pen ready to dash across the page at a moment¡¯s notice.


    ¡°He was in the same squad as me, Feliz and Cliff. We met when we were in basic,¡± I explained. ¡°He and I were¡­ really close.¡±


    I remembered him so clearly: his goofy mouth; his eyelashes, far too long for a guy to have any use for; his laugh, so stupid, so contagious. Imagining his face was a punch in the gut. Imagining him back at the camp was ten times worse.


    ¡°You speak of him in the past tense,¡± said Dr. Oh. ¡°Did he pass away as well?¡±


    ¡°No¡ª I mean, I don¡¯t know for sure,¡± I replied, swallowing thickly. ¡°He was there when Feliz died. He, uh¡­ when he was running back to us, he got shot in the knee. The last time I saw him was in the military hospital. I think he got discharged ¡®cause he couldn¡¯t run anymore.¡±


    Quickly, she wrote something down in her notebook. ¡°Is there a reason you haven¡¯t kept in contact with him?¡±


    The more we talked about it, the heavier my body felt. Every organ in my chest seemed dragged down, as if they¡¯d sink through to the ocean floor if I took them out of my body.


    ¡°He disappeared on me,¡± I said. I sounded so pitiful, I hated it. ¡°The next time I tried to visit him, he was gone without a trace. No one could tell me where he went, so¡­ I¡¯ve never seen him since.¡±


    I tried not to dwell on it, but it was impossible. Laid up in that hospital bed, gaunt and weak in that papery gown, he¡¯d looked more dead than alive. Thank God he didn¡¯t die, I¡¯d thought, but he didn¡¯t seem to agree. On my lap, my hands tensed into fists.


    ¡°As much as it hurt to lose Feliz, losing Raja was different.¡± My throat tightened. ¡°You know, like, I grew up with Feliz. Losing him was like losing a brother. And I¡­ I watched him die.¡±


    I swallowed again. Dr. Oh watched me without a shred of sympathy.


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t see Raja die¡ª he just¡­ vanished.¡± I squeezed my eyes shut. ¡°Feliz had a tombstone, but¡­ Raja didn¡¯t. All these years, he¡¯s been like a Schr?dinger''s cat, you know? Both dead and alive at the same time. And I¡¯ve had no way of knowing which.¡±


    I had to stop talking or else I was going to cry. On principle, I refused to cry. As I spoke, Dr. Oh remained poised like a mannequin except for the busy pen dancing across her notebook.


    ¡°And for all these years, I¡¯ve dealt with it. It sucks, but I dealt with it.¡± Then, like a spark ignited, I felt a rise in my chest. ¡°But I¡ª I know this is going to sound crazy, but I swear, Doc, I swear to God I saw him. Just a few days ago, I saw him.¡±


    ¡°And this wasn¡¯t in a dream of yours?¡± Her tone took a skeptical bend. ¡°Though it¡¯s an extremely rare side effects, hallucinations¡ª¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t a hallucination!¡± I shouted, lurching forward. ¡°He was real! He was real and he was alive. ¡±


    As hard as I was trying to convince Dr. Oh, I was also trying to convince myself, desperate to assure myself that I wasn¡¯t crazy - that there was a light at the end of this tunnel, and Raja was standing there.


    Dr. Oh, though she was taken aback by my outburst, kept her composure neatly. ¡°And how did this¡­ ¡®reunion¡¯ of yours go?¡±


    My mind filled with images of tents on fire and the stink of burning nylon and polyester; of that reporter, pretty and fox-like, prying apart the hearts of the homeless to blast on local TV; of Raja, or his ghostly lookalike, a time capsule broken open.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t really a reunion,¡± I said, lowering my voice. ¡°I saw him at that homeless camp that caught fire a few weeks ago. I think maybe one of the tents was his.¡±


    ¡°I saw that on the news¡­¡± She replied. ¡°That must¡¯ve been difficult for you.¡±


    ¡°I just wish he¡¯d stayed long enough to talk to me.¡± Again, I was choking up, as if the longer I imagined him, the more an invisible noose tightened around my neck. ¡°But he left as soon as he saw me. Gone without a trace, just like last time.¡±


    Thoughtfully, Dr. Oh hummed. ¡°If it was him, it may have been humiliating for him to be seen in that kind of a state.¡±


    ¡°Shit, I wouldn¡¯t care even if he was some kind of wildman living out in the Rockies!¡± I returned. ¡°I¡­ I need to see him again. If it¡¯s him¡ª fuck, Doc, I know it¡¯s him¡ª I just don¡¯t know how to find him.¡±


    She didn¡¯t look entirely supportive. ¡°It may be better for you to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were.¡±


    I stared at her, puzzled. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s imagine that this man was, indeed, Raja. You don¡¯t know if he¡ª Raja¡ª is the same person he was when you knew him in the service. You could be setting yourself up for disappointment, if you¡¯ve had this vision of him in your mind for so long.¡± Dr. Oh steepled her fingers carefully. ¡°Rather than let yourself continue obsessing over the past, it may be better for you to seek closure and move on.¡±


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°The fuck? No. No!¡± Without even realizing it, I was shaking my head. ¡°If he¡¯s out there¡ª if he¡¯s here in Dallas¡ª then I¡¯m going to find him. Fuck closure! Closure¡¯s just a bullshit word people use to mean ¡®when the pain finally goes away,¡¯ and guess what? It never, ever goes away. You just get better at walking around with a hole in your heart. Why would I do that if I have an option not to?¡±


    ¡°Manuel, that¡¯s not what closure means, and you know that.¡± Her mouth, ordinarily a neutral line, curled downward. ¡°I think, perhaps, you wait too long between sessions. Right now, you struggle with bottling up your emotions until you hit a breaking point, and then¡ª¡±


    Though Dr. Oh had continued talking, I tuned her out completely. Instead, I was desperately racking my brain for ways to find Raja, trying to remember which street the camp had been on and how I would even go about finding him. If it was him - how could it not be? - then how had I never seen him walking around Dallas this whole time? How had we been so close to each other, yet so far apart?


    ¡°¡­ think you should consider adding an antidepressant¡­¡±


    Of everyone I knew, Cliff would probably know how to find him. His boys on the beat were always way too familiar with the homeless, and he might even have other connections as a detective. I¡¯d been meaning to touch base with him anyway. It was worth a try.


    ¡°¡­ common in people with PTSD¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hey, Doc, listen,¡± I interrupted. ¡°I gotta cut this session short, sorry. I just remembered I have something I need to do. Urgent.¡±


    Dr. Oh raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. She clearly didn¡¯t believe me, but didn¡¯t seem to care enough to object.


    ¡°I understand,¡± she said without understanding. ¡°Manuel, I want to see you back here next week. I feel we¡¯re on track to get to the heart of your issues, and that revelation could be the key to your healing. But we need to be more persistent. You need to invest more effort into this.¡±


    ¡°Sure, right, you got it,¡± I nodded, pulling my jacket back over myself. ¡°I¡¯ll call after I look at my schedule.¡±


    Though she was clearly displeased with how abruptly I was leaving, Dr. Oh made no protest. She simply watched me as I zipped up my jacket and headed out, barely even stopping to wave at her receptionist.


    When I exited her office, the sun was bright and high in the sky. I slid my sunglasses over my eyes and pulled out my phone, texting as I walked back to my truck with a spring in my step.


    Cliff my man when are you free? We should talk.


    ? ? ?


    For once, luck was on my side: just a week later, the stars aligned, and Cliff actually had time off to see me.


    When I rolled into the parking lot of the little Tex-Mex joint, Cliff had already been there waiting, puffing away at a cigarette as he leaned against his off-white Outback. He¡¯d been reading something off of his phone, but as soon as I approached, he tucked it away.


    ¡°Sorry that took forever, traffic sucked,¡± I said. ¡°You been here long?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it was traffic, was it?¡± Checking his watch, Cliff clamped his cigarette between his lips in a grin. ¡°I figured you were probably having trouble deciding what to wear, so I didn¡¯t want to holler at you. I know you can¡¯t leave the house without gettin¡¯ yourself all done up.¡±


    ¡°Ay, you¡¯re such a slob, you think anybody who ain¡¯t rolling ¡®round in pig shit¡¯s a sissy,¡± I laughed. As people filtered in and out of the restaurant around us, I craned my neck upward to read the sign. ¡°Ugh, why do you always take me to these busted ass Tex-Mex places? Too white for real Mexican food, gringo?¡±


    He took one final puff off of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and squashing it with his shoe, smoke billowing out of his nose as he chuckled. ¡°Ain¡¯t enough cheese and sour cream at those ¡®real¡¯ Mexican places. Cheese and sour cream¡ª God¡¯s gifts to the culinary arts. I¡¯m the same way about those Asian places! Not enough cheese.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think cheese and sushi go together.¡± I gagged at the thought of it. ¡°But I respect your lifestyle, even if I disagree with it.¡±


    At this, Cliff laughed again, and we escaped from the cool, February air into the sticky atmosphere of the crowded restaurant. A young woman escorted us from the front to a table close to the bar, taking our drink orders and fetching us a bowl of chips and salsa.


    I felt guilty for summoning Cliff out here with a hidden agenda, but it was good to see him again anyway, since I hadn¡¯t seen him since Christmas. Our schedules frequently failed to align, though ironically, I saw him more often during calls than off-duty. He scooped a large helping of salsa onto a chip, watching the people around our table with lazy curiosity.


    ¡°So everything been going good lately?¡± Cliff asked. ¡°Work been keeping you busy?¡±


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s been okay,¡± I said, after a sip of beer. ¡°We got that new probie I was telling you about, but otherwise it¡¯s been pretty level.¡±


    ¡°What about Mercy? She and Cleo doing alright?¡± He took a drink off his own beer. ¡°She and Niecy had some little tiff, so I haven¡¯t heard from her lately. I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll get over it soon, though.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, more or less,¡± I nodded. ¡°Cleo¡¯s been on a tear about artsy fartsy crap. I¡¯m doing what I can to, you know, support her, even though I have no idea what she¡¯s talking about half the time.¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, she¡¯s a great kid otherwise. You¡¯ve put a lot of effort into raising her right.¡± He lifted his beer, as if for a toast. ¡°I admire that, you know.¡±


    The beer in my hands grew rapidly warmer as my hands, clammy and hot, gripped it tighter. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like it¡¯s just anyone¡¯s kid¡ª I¡¯m not running a charity here.¡±


    A somber shadow cast itself over Cliff¡¯s face. He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, but didn¡¯t bother to drink from it for what seemed like an eternity. Rather than take a sip, he set the bottle back down and reached for a chip instead.


    The waitress interrupted us to take our orders, and once she was done, she slipped away like a little phantom back into the crowd that was forming in the bar. Now felt like the time to broach the subject.


    Nervously, I rubbed my thumb along the neck of the beer bottle as I watched Cliff. ¡°Hey, so¡­ you know who I¡¯ve been thinking about lately?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± Expectantly, Cliff crunched on a chip as he waited for me to continue.


    ¡°Raj.¡± I braced for impact, knowing I was about to purposefully step on a landmine. ¡°You remember? Raja Singh?¡±


    Immediately, the smile was wiped clean off of Cliff¡¯s face. ¡°Manny, I have to deal with bastards at work every day. Don¡¯t make me think of bastards when I¡¯m off the clock.¡±


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s just¡ª I¡ª I saw him,¡± I continued, despite Cliff¡¯s rapidly souring demeanor. ¡°When we were putting out a fire at that homeless camp. There was this guy there and, Cliff, I tell you, he looked so much like Raj¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± he interrupted. ¡°You know how many scrawny, ugly Indian guys are in the DFW area? It wasn¡¯t him.¡±


    ¡°No, listen to me.¡± I sat forward. ¡°It was him. He had that¡ª that birthmark on his hand, Cliff, I know it was him¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care!¡± He shouted. When it was clearly attracting attention, he quieted down. ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned, he¡¯s dead, whether he¡¯s got a toe tag or not. Frankly, that you blame yourself for Feliz dying and not him still shocks me, but you¡¯ve always been a bleeding heart.¡±


    I cast my gaze to the floor, lifting it only when I took another drink. ¡°You don¡¯t get it¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Cliff slammed the beer bottle down on the edge of the table. Now the other customers were watching us with rapt attention, which made my neck slimy with sweat.


    ¡°Cliff, calm down,¡± I whispered hoarsely. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to start a fucking argument, okay?¡±


    ¡°Sure, alright, whatever¡ª but why would you bring him up unless you wanted to piss me off?¡± Cliff didn¡¯t whisper, but he was more careful now not to raise his voice. ¡°Why the fuck do you even want to talk about him in the first place?¡±


    ¡°I need your help.¡± I looked at him as seriously as I could. ¡°¡¯Cause¡­ I want to find him.¡±


    Cliff stared at me. ¡°You want to find him,¡± he echoed.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± My gaze did not waver. ¡°I do.¡±


    Once he¡¯d had his fill of blinking in confusion, Cliff asked as simply as he could: ¡°Why?¡±


    I knew drinking the beer was a mistake. My heart was a rock in my chest, nausea burgeoning in my stomach. With all these people in here, I felt exposed, projected on a silver screen for all to see.


    ¡°¡¯Cause Feliz isn¡¯t the only ghost haunting me,¡± I said grimly. ¡°I didn¡¯t even think Raja could be in Dallas until I saw him. And now¡­ I can¡¯t explain why, but I need to talk to him. I haven¡¯t spoken to him since Feliz died.¡±


    ¡°Herrera, what you need is to go to therapy,¡± Cliff snorted dismissively. ¡°Who knows? They might make a pill for whatever your problem is.¡±


    I withheld the primal urge to reach across the table and beat him. ¡°Look, I just want your help, that¡¯s all. You don¡¯t have to talk to him, just help me find him. And if it¡¯s not him, then¡­ you know, I can move on. I can move past it. I¡­ I need this closure, Cliff.¡±


    When the waitress came with our food, Cliff ordered another round of beer without even asking. Then the steeliness in his demeanor melted into a softness, and once again, he gave me that horrible look that everyone bestowed upon me: pity. But I was willing to tolerate it if it meant seeing Raja again.


    ¡°Tell you what, since you¡¯re a fuckin¡¯ stubborn mule,¡± he said, sawing into his steak, ¡°I¡¯ve got some guys who usually work the beat near that camp. If they see a guy like that, I¡¯ll let you know. But that¡¯s it¡ª I¡¯m not doing anything else. And I don¡¯t want to hear another word about it, got it?¡±


    The gratitude on my face must¡¯ve been clear, because Cliff softened further at the sight of it. He may have had his reservations, but Cliff was a stand-up guy. That he was willing to put aside his feelings to help me meant more than he could¡¯ve known.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll make it worth your while¡ª I¡¯ll buy you a new watch,¡± I smiled widely. ¡°Even though you shouldn¡¯t even need one these days. That one from a few years back still holding up?¡±


    Cliff twisted his wrist around to show me his current watch, beaming with satisfaction. ¡°I love this thing, Manny. Everyone talks all this shit about it, but I tell you, it makes me feel like a badass P.I.¡±


    I finally began to scoop up the refried beans on my plate into a corn tortilla. ¡°Then I¡¯ll get you an even nicer one. Some real fuckin¡¯ fancy-ass shit¡ª maybe even a Rolex.¡±


    ¡°Ah, the time honored tradition of bribing cops!¡± He grinned through a bite of steak. ¡°It¡¯s great to finally be part of it!¡±


    Together, we laughed, and then we moved on. As our conversation drifted to other topics, an unexpected weight was easing off of my shoulders. I didn¡¯t imagine that seeing Raja was going to go well, but it was going to go somewhere.


    And this whole time, I¡¯d been looking to be anywhere else.

 KINGSLAKE

    MARCH


    By now, we all welcomed Garrett¡¯s presence at the station with open arms. He fell solidly into his place among the crew, though not in the way he¡¯d likely hoped for: as a probie, he was the bottom rung of the ladder and thus was responsible for the most menial, and sometimes disgusting, tasks. If there was a job none of us wanted to do, he was first to be volunteered - whether he was willing or not.


    ¡°How¡¯s the spelunking going over there?¡± I asked, as I leaned on the doorway to watch.


    Garrett was elbow deep - thankfully, not literally - in the process of unclogging a toilet, surrounded by puddles on the floor. He turned to me, sweaty from exertion, and half-smiled. There wasn¡¯t an ounce of amusement in it.


    ¡°Next time we do those presentations for kids, I think we outta mention fishing shit out of toilets.¡± As he turned back to continue, the smile fell off of his face. ¡°Just to be more realistic about the job, you know? Don¡¯t think it¡¯s very nice to lie to children.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t work, sadly. Kids aren¡¯t thwarted by gross stuff,¡± I said. ¡°My niece, when she was maybe¡­ four or five? She was obsessed with the local garbage guy. Bought him a Christmas present and everything. It was cute.¡±


    ¡°Meanwhile¡ª¡± With a final grunt, Garrett yanked the plunger out from the water and flushed the toilet again. The water slid easily down the drain, free of its clog at last. ¡°My sister¡¯s kids freak out and get asthma attacks just driving by certain neighborhoods.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Like they have allergies to certain zip codes?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she gets them all bent out of shape about shit like hobos and feral dogs. As if they¡¯ve even got time to be mauled or mugged!¡± He went over to the sink to wash up, soaping himself up to the elbow. ¡°She¡¯s always dragging them to bullshit ¡®enrichment activities¡¯¡­ what are they, zoo animals? It¡¯s not like learning to play the piano and tennis made me more interesting.¡±


    ¡°Damn, that all sounds like some rich kid shit.¡± I smiled playfully. ¡°You sure were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, huh, chico?¡±


    Garrett dried his hands off vigorously, his brow crinkling in confusion. ¡°Huh? What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°I''m just saying that as a piece of advice, you should keep that kind of shit to yourself, or else the guys''ll never let you live that down. Unless you wanna buy lunch for them every day with that big ol¡¯ wallet of yours.¡± I gestured down to his pockets. ¡°But don¡¯t worry, your secret¡¯s safe with me.¡±


    ¡°Man, whatever. Screw those guys,¡± he grumbled. ¡°I couldn''t care less what they think of me.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I raised an eyebrow in surprise. ¡°Not so eager to please anymore?¡±


    Garrett frowned flatly. ¡°It''s pretty hard to give a fuck about them when they Super Glue your boots to the floor¡ª or give you a candy bar with crickets in it.¡±


    ¡°Jesus, you gotta learn to stop eating things they give you.¡± I couldn''t stop the smile from forming on my face. ¡°What about Heather? You still think she¡¯s cool?¡±


    ¡°Screw her, too.¡± There no hesitation when he said it. ¡°She called me Commander Flat-Ass yesterday in the gym ¡®cause of how I squat. Sure, she can joke about my ass, but if I joked about her ass, I¡¯d get reported for sexual harassment. That¡¯s a fucking load.¡±


    Now didn''t seem an appropriate time to mention her history as a personal trainer, so I simply smirked in his direction, amused by the mental image of Heather¡¯s running commentary on his form. As Garrett continued grumbling, I pushed off of the door frame and crossed my arms, standing in front of him in the doorway.


    ¡°What about me?¡± I tilted my head up toward him. ¡°You still care what I think?¡±


    Garrett paused, but there was no time for him to respond. Over the loudspeaker a call was announced, and from the sounds of it, it wasn¡¯t going to be routine.


    Within minutes, we were loaded up in the apparatus and on our way. By now, much of Garrett¡¯s enthusiasm had been stamped out; when he sat beside me, rather than rambling a mile a minute about the upcoming call, he stayed quiet, unless one of the guys made a crack at him - which he then met with a forced smile or a clipped laugh. For the most part, I kept to myself, thinking passively instead of moving money around to pay for Cleo¡¯s braces.


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    The impassioned debate around us about department budget cuts were interrupted as soon as we came up to the facility. We all fell into a sharpened silence when we recognized the building.


    It was a storage warehouse connected to a research lab, the kind financed by bored venture capitalists wanting ways to sink their money beyond yachts and mistresses - but unlike yachts and mistresses, funding research is a lot better for PR. Progressing humanity¡¯s knowledge was just an afterthought.


    A dense column of smoke filled the sky above us right near the back of the lab. EMTs were already flooding in to support the injured staff members sitting around in varying levels of consciousness and pain.


    We weren¡¯t the first crew on the scene, but more crews from other stations were joining us quickly. Without wasting any time, we raced to the back of the building to locate the source of the fire. It wasn¡¯t hard to find: when we got there, we were met with plumes of smoke pouring out from a large tank, fire bursting forth from a split in the side of it.


    I¡¯d never seen smoke quite like it in my entire career. It took a strange yellow hue as it came from the flames before turning black upon reaching the sky. As mysterious as it was, speculation about it was going to have to wait.


    Around us, the fire advanced to the other tanks nearby, threatening to create more explosions. The whole place stank to high heaven, but it wasn¡¯t a smell I could easily describe. It brought bile to the back of my throat the way the smell of burning bodies did, but as far as I could tell, everyone present at the lab had been evacuated.


    The more we suppressed the fire¡¯s spread, the more nauseated I got. I was in the lead and thus closest to the tanks, but even with my PPE, the smoke was hitting me in a way that didn¡¯t seem to be happening to anyone else. What the hell were they doing at this lab? I held steady the best that I could, but as time went on, it became a struggle to walk in a straight line.


    Even with backup crews supporting us, the flames were stubborn. I looked around to find Garrett beside me like my little shadow, but what scared me most was that upon looking at him, my vision changed. It was as if I were viewing the world through a kaleidoscope, fractured and multiplied, dizzying in its complexity.


    Garrett¡¯s face, though mostly obscured by his mask, was clear in its concern. As he called out to me, it was impossible to hear him over the sudden, violent buzzing in my ears. I froze in place, my head painfully swollen with the fluttering of thousands of wings, trying and failing to gain my composure.


    Convulsing all over, my hands fell slack on the line and it dropped to the ground. There were no signs of the other firemen being affected, but for some reason I was falling apart. In my vertigo, my gaze traveled to my arms, which were overtaken by an agonizing itch. My gloves were too thick for my nails to reach my skin, so I tore them off, and I was close to ripping my jacket off before Garrett stopped me.


    ¡°Manny!¡± He shouted, this time loud enough for me to hear. There was such fear in his eyes - all fourteen of them. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    When I opened my mouth to speak, instead of words, vomit gushed out. In spite of the fire still raging, I tore the mask off of my face to let the puke fall to the dirt below. First, everything that came out was brown; then, it ran clear, until it finally turned a sickly yellow-green.


    Determined, Garrett reached for me, and I reached for him back. He stumbled when he bore the weight of me against him, so he wrapped his arm around me securely to keep me from falling to the ground. I didn¡¯t even try to speak; I was too certain I¡¯d never stop throwing up if I opened my mouth again. Though I tried my best to walk with him, my legs felt hollow all the way down to my bones, the throbbing in my head rendering me too weak to move.


    He guided me to the ambulances, speaking so quickly to the paramedics that I couldn¡¯t keep up. While he described what was happening, the world around me began to fade to black. All I could hear was the beating of my heart, beating in time with the wings in my head.


    The last thing I remember before I blacked out was Garrett holding on to my hand, and the words that he said:


    ¡°Stay with me.¡±

 LIFELINES

    When I woke up, I was laid up in a hospital bed, having traded my station uniform for a hospital gown.


    The nurse who¡¯d been in my room as I came to was so shocked, she brought in the on-call doctor immediately. Though I¡¯d come into the ER practically on death¡¯s door, they were stunned by the fact that in only a couple of hours, I¡¯d completely stabilized like nothing had happened.


    I¡¯d asked if any other firefighters had gotten sick from the exposure, but apparently I was the only one afflicted. Upon closer inspection of my gear, there¡¯d been ventilation issues in my mask, so I¡¯d been much more heavily inundated than just about anyone else on the scene. Just my luck, I thought bitterly.


    The doctors were apprehensive about discharging me, so I got to look forward to a restless night at the hospital on top of everything else. I dreaded trying to sleep anywhere that wasn¡¯t my place; it just felt unsafe in ways I couldn¡¯t describe.


    When the puke pills they¡¯d given me finally took effect, I made it a priority to send a text to Mercy. She was an obsessive news watcher, and rather than catch my hospitalization on TV, I wanted her to have heard it from me first. Unfortunately, my phone was back at the station, so I had to call her from the hospital bed.


    Despite my best efforts, my voice felt gravelly and pained, so I know the message I left had to have sounded at least a little unnerving. Still, when I didn¡¯t get an immediate call back, I figured I¡¯d see Mercy tomorrow.


    However, only forty-five minutes later, Mercy came whirling into my room like a tornado. The second her gaze fell upon me, she burst into tears. ¡°Manny!¡± She cried. ¡°Oh my god¡ª Manny!¡±


    I can¡¯t imagine just how awful I was to look at. I was hooked up to several machines, each one beeping tirelessly to alert the nurses of whichever part of my body was failing that second. Judging from my hands, my skin had taken on the telltale pallor of illness, and my lips were dryer than a desert. Immediately, she rushed to the side of the bed, hands flying up to my face.


    ¡°Jesus, you look terrible,¡± she said. The longer she stared, the more upset she became. ¡°Are you okay? What on Earth happened?¡±


    ¡°Damn, Benz, at least tell me I¡¯m pretty.¡± I smiled weakly. ¡°You¡¯re gonna make me all self conscious.¡±


    ¡°How can you even make jokes at a time like this?¡± She pulled her hands back, and I felt a pang of disappointment. ¡°I guess I should be glad you¡¯re able to talk at all¡­ did they tell you how long you¡¯ll be in for?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Well, I know they¡¯re gonna keep me overnight for observation, but they¡¯re all confused as hell. When I got here, some of the docs thought I was gonna die, but now they¡¯re saying I¡¯m pretty much fine.¡±


    ¡°Die?!¡± She gasped. ¡°Oh, Manny¡­¡±


    God, I hated making Mercy cry. More tears came streaming down as she anxiously twisted a tissue back and forth in her lap, cheeks reddening as she wept.


    Though it felt like a Herculean task, I moved my arm just so that I could hold her hand; when the IV needle pierced further into my skin, I forced myself not to wince. ¡°Hey, hey. No more tears.¡± I squeezed her hand. ¡°Please?¡±


    In reply, Mercy sniffed and dabbed her face with her tissue. It was clear by the crooked name tag on her chest and her branded cardigan that she¡¯d just gotten off of work, and when I saw what time it was on the clock, I can only imagine how anxiously she¡¯d waited in rush hour traffic before she got to my room.


    ¡°So you¡¯re going to be okay, right?¡± Mercy¡¯s mouth formed a flat, nervous line. ¡°Like, no long-term damage?¡±


    ¡°Great question¡ª they don¡¯t know what really happened to me,¡± I said. ¡°They think I got poisoned by the lab chemicals, but for now, I¡¯m stable. As for the future¡­ who knows?¡±


    ¡°But¡­ what actually happened while you were out there?¡± She asked. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was afraid to actually find out. ¡°What went wrong?¡±


    As I opened my mouth, a nurse came in to check on me. She¡¯d mentioned something about the doctor, mentioned something again about if I was hungry, mentioned something else about visiting hours. I wasn¡¯t paying much attention to her, to be honest; I was more focused on the warmth of Mercy¡¯s hand in mine.


    Once the nurse had left, it was just me and Mercy. Between the sound of her sniffles and the chorus of beeping devices, it was like being in a hospital drama. Already, it felt like this was all making a big deal out of nothing.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯ll tell you more about it later, okay?¡± I squeezed her hand once more. ¡°I don¡¯t really want to talk about it right now, honestly. I feel like fucking shit.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay, Manu.¡± She gave my hand a simple pat. ¡°Just focus on getting better.¡±


    Even if it was hard for her to be here, I was just glad that Mercy was here at all. It didn¡¯t matter how smudged her cheeks were from her running mascara or how the lighting in the room washed her out - it was good to see her. To feel her touch, soothing and sweet, was healing in its own right.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯d hug you, but I don¡¯t wanna disturb all these¡­¡± She gestured to the lines connecting me to the machines nearby. ¡°These things.¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No, it¡¯s alright¡ª I¡¯d probably barf all over you, anyway. If I even have anything left to barf.¡±


    For the first time in her visit, she smiled, though it was obvious that she was trying to put on a brave face. ¡°So what time do you think you¡¯ll be out tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°Depends on if they find anything else freaky, but probably in the morning,¡± I replied. ¡°At any rate, fingers crossed that the Chief¡¯ll let me have the rest of the week off to recover. We should do something fun.¡±


    ¡°Are you insane?¡± Mercy narrowed her eyes at me. ¡°It¡¯s not a vacation! You need to rest. Don¡¯t even think about it.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll get a new tattoo.¡± I smiled, thinking out loud. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking a neck piece would look pretty sweet, but some of the scripture on my sleeve could use some touching up¡­¡±


    ¡°Stay your ass at home, Manny.¡± She stared at me with the seriousness only a mother could muster. ¡°I mean it.¡±


    ¡°?Eres mi jefa now, Benz?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but razz her; it was the only way I knew to alleviate the tension. ¡°Since when did I take orders from you?¡±


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    Unamused, Mercy¡¯s gaze traveled down my chest and all the way to my feet before circling back to my face again. Tears ran down her cheeks once more. ¡°Why can¡¯t you work a normal job where you don¡¯t get hurt?¡± She asked quietly. ¡°Where I don¡¯t have to worry about this kind of stuff?¡±


    In shock, I blinked. She¡¯d never objected to firefighting before - in fact, she¡¯d always been proud of me for it. Dozens of times over the years, she bought me t-shirts about it so embarrassing that I only ever wore them when I did chores that would ruin clothes that I actually liked, so this was a new development.


    ¡°Aw, come on¡ª you know how bored I¡¯d get doing a desk job?¡± I tried to laugh, but my abs ached from vomiting earlier. ¡°I¡¯m an adrenaline junkie¡ª I¡¯m hooked on the excitement.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, one of these days it¡¯s gonna kill you,¡± she whispered, voice wobbling. ¡°And losing you is gonna kill me.¡±


    My heart splintered in my chest. Our hands had never parted, so I squeezed hers one last time, but it didn¡¯t make a difference. She pulled away from me and stood up, wiping her face clean.


    ¡°Benz¡­¡± I began.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t try to joke with me, I¡¯m serious.¡± Mercy crossed her arms across her chest. ¡°Every day I think I¡¯m gonna get ¡®the call¡¯, or I¡¯m gonna see your name on the news, or¡­ or I don¡¯t know, maybe it¡¯ll be just like Feliz, where they send men in uniform to my house. Probably won¡¯t even get that much, actually. I don¡¯t know if I count as any kind of next-of-kin for you.¡±


    ¡°Can you just drop it, please?¡± I pleaded. ¡°I¡¯m not really up for an argument right now.¡±


    She dabbed the tissue against her nose and sniffed forcefully to clear it. ¡°You don¡¯t know how hard this is on me, Manny. I just want you to be safe.¡±


    Frustrated, I sighed. ¡°Everything else I do in life is for you, so can you let me have this one thing? Or is that asking too much?¡±


    My words came out crueler than I intended for them to, and regret immediately washed over me. Tears welled up in Mercy¡¯s eyes again, but rather than seek comfort in my arms, she shot up to her feet and made her way to the exit.


    ¡°Call me when you¡¯re getting out,¡± she said, each word like an icicle. ¡°Joey¡¯s car is back to normal, so she can come get you if I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I replied weakly. ¡°See you tomorrow, Benz.¡±


    She didn¡¯t bother looking back.


    ? ? ?


    Once I¡¯d earned myself a clean bill of health, I was finally discharged from the hospital.


    At some point before my paperwork had been finalized, someone from the crew - probably Heather or DeShawn, if I had to guess - had dropped off my phone, wallet and my keys, which were all waiting for me at the front desk with the nurses. As I waited for Mercy by the hospital entrance, I checked the various messages on my phone.


    I scrolled through my notifications: some kind of glittery sticker of a Get Well Soon bear from Cleo; a missed call from Mercy; a voicemail from Chief Cormorant ordering me to take the rest of the week off before coming back in (damn, I wasn¡¯t even getting a full five days off?)¡­


    But most interesting of all was the message I got from Cliff.


    You¡¯re in luck. I got some info for you, it began. Shelter near S St. Paul St by the art academy. 3 of my boys have seen a guy matching his desc hanging around there recently. If I were you I¡¯d start there.


    My heart beat so wildly that if I had a pulse reader on, they¡¯d yank me right back into that hospital bed. While the EMTs had fought for my life in the back of the ambulance, the only thing that kept me tethered to consciousness was how badly I wanted to see Raja again one last time. If there was a chance, I had to take it.


    That excitement was swiftly snuffed out when, instead of Mercy, Joanna came wheeling up to the pickup area in her little red Malibu. She unlocked the doors and then stared at me blankly until I came inside. ¡°Buenas, Jojo.¡± I smiled warmly as I buckled my seat belt. ¡°?Qu¨¦ pasa?¡±


    ¡°Get in,¡± Joanna snapped. As usual, friendliness was always wasted on her. ¡°Need to make any stops?¡±


    My stomach gurgled like an unfixed septic tank. ¡°You up for some food?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± she said dismissively, ¡°but I can take you through a drive-thru or something.¡±


    After thinking about it, I didn¡¯t want to spend more time with Joanna than was absolutely necessary, so I waved my hand and dropped the subject. I could always order takeout if I really wanted to.


    As we sped off from the hospital, Joanna rolled down the window and lit a cigarette. I was normally rather unaffected by cigarette smoke - I mean, I kind of had to be - but today I found it harder to take than usual. Maybe she was smoking a new brand, I don¡¯t know. It was just sort of making me sick, and I was really sick of being sick.


    ¡°Hey, could you¡­¡± I pointed to her cigarette.


    ¡°You don¡¯t like it, get an Uber next time,¡± she replied sharply. Out of some sort of compromise, she unrolled my window for me, but it didn¡¯t help nearly as much as she was acting like it would.


    I didn¡¯t feel like fighting with Joanna today, so I didn¡¯t bother to say anything else. Instead, I stared out the window, thinking of Raja. I honestly wasn¡¯t sure how I was going to go about finding him, even with Cliff¡¯s help. What were the odds that out of a city with millions of people, I¡¯d luck into running into him twice?


    During the drive, Joanna¡¯s phone went off when we made a turn out of an intersection. When she picked up, I hadn¡¯t heard her voice so light and sprightly in ages. ¡°Hey, baby,¡± she sang. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    I didn¡¯t really care to hear her talk to one of her boyfriends; I knew that at certain points, she broke up with them, but she would also get back together with them, so trying to keep up with them was a pointless endeavor. I tuned it out immediately.


    The call was surprisingly brief, and when it was over, I looked at Joanna and tried to seem interested. ¡°Who was that, Jojo? You got yourself a new man?¡±


    ¡°None of your business,¡± she replied.


    ¡°Ah, why bother asking when I already know the answer?¡± I teased. ¡°Got yourself a carousel of guys at this point, don¡¯t ya?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s rich coming from you, mujeriego.¡± Joanna let out a cross between a scoff and a hiss. ¡°Or did you finally run out of girls in Dallas that can put up with your shitty Terminator jokes?¡±


    Her words hit closer to home than they had any right to, and I¡¯d winced without even thinking about it. The last relationship I¡¯d had was laid to waste by night terrors, panic attacks and the fact that whatever was wrong with me just couldn¡¯t be loved away by the right person. I was too much, and she was better off without me. We both knew that.


    Since then, I¡¯d resorted to one night stands and flings, but as of late, they¡¯d left me hollow in a way that felt worse than just being alone, so I¡¯d let my bed stay empty instead. Didn¡¯t mean I liked it, but my options weren¡¯t great. Just thinking about it was sorely depressing.


    ¡°Damn, girl,¡± I said, staring out through the window. I tried not to seem as wounded as I felt. ¡°That¡¯s harsh.¡±


    Casually, Joanna snorted, flipping her turn signal on with a fluid motion. ¡°Not my fault that the best you have to offer these days is los papeles.¡±


    In spite of the urge to spit fire right back to her, I said nothing else. After we sank into another long stretch of silence, I couldn¡¯t have been more grateful when she finally pulled up to my complex and unlocked the doors. We didn¡¯t waste our breath to exchange any other words.


    Now that Joanna sped off out of my line of vision, I pulled out my phone and found myself returning to Cliff¡¯s message. Near South St. Paul street¡­ art academy¡­ I was making mental notes to look up a map as soon as I got inside, just to figure out where to start the search.


    While in the middle of unlocking my front door, I noticed that a wasp¡¯s nest was forming beside the overhead lamp. It was a bad idea to just leave it up there to grow bigger, so I made an additional mental note to bring out some hornet spray next time I left.

 SAVIOR

    Now that I was cleared to return to work, I was at the station with the rest of the crew, back to business. While I tried to resume my normal routine, throughout my day I was repeatedly interrupted by everyone checking in on me.


    ¡°Gotta say, Herrera, you¡¯re made of tougher stuff than I thought,¡± said Liam as I was inspecting the apparatus. ¡°Me and the guys were taking bets to see if you¡¯d croak¡ª now guess who¡¯s out twenty bucks?¡±


    On the way to a call, Rob later clarified that this never happened. ¡°Liam¡¯s just being an asshole. He¡¯s only saying that to sound like he wasn¡¯t worried. We¡¯re all glad to see you back, ese.¡±


    ¡°That really was some scary shit back there,¡± DeShawn mentioned when we were in the gym. ¡°Try and take it easy, man. Not too easy, though¡ª you know Chief hates slackers!¡±


    When I was in the middle of mopping the hallway, Heather came up from behind and ruffled my hair. ¡°You¡¯re finally back! Thank God¡ª now the collective IQ of the station can be higher than room temperature again.¡±


    Even Chief Cormorant appreciated my return, flashing a rare smile when he¡¯d caught me passing by. ¡°Good to see you back, Herrera. But you¡¯ll be more careful next time, won¡¯t you?¡±


    In reply, all I did was smile, simply grateful that my absence was missed more than it was enjoyed. I might not have been close to anyone in particular, but I appreciated that they cared at all.


    Lastly, there was Garrett. All day, he and I had kept our distance, unable to talk for long because there was always somebody else around. I didn¡¯t take it personally, since I figured he just didn¡¯t know what to say. I certainly wasn¡¯t going to force him.


    I wasn¡¯t sure if anyone else had stopped to talk to Garrett about it while I was gone, but the job was simply too fast paced to spend time rehashing what happened on calls. It made me wonder how many of us walked around half-fixed, Frankensteining ourselves back together just to keep it moving, even when we fell apart the second we stood still.


    At the very least, I owed Garrett my gratitude, so I waited until everyone else had gone to bed to seek him out. In the rec room, I found him sitting in one of the recliners, watching TV as he stitched over a hole in his shirt. When I came around, his face lit up, all of his focus now on me.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Garrett said, his tone oddly gentle and restrained.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I echoed. I took a seat on the couch next to his chair. ¡°What¡¯re you up to?¡±


    ¡°Oh, just¡­¡± He lifted the shirt and showed me the half-closed hole, his thumb sticking out. ¡°Cormorant got on my case about my uniform in front of everyone yesterday. I asked him why I couldn¡¯t just buy a new shirt and he reamed me about ¡®work ethic¡¯ and ¡®laziness¡¯, so¡­ here I am, even though it looks like shit.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like Cormorant.¡± I frowned on his behalf. ¡°He¡¯s honestly an asshole to everyone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m used to it at this point.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Just the same old, same old.¡±


    There wasn¡¯t anything I could say that seemed reassuring enough, so I held my tongue. For the next few minutes, we sat in silence as Garrett continued his needlework; then, after we¡¯d traded several awkward glances, he cleared his throat like he had an announcement.


    ¡°So¡­ um¡­¡± He looked at me a bit nervously. ¡°I was gonna ask how you were feeling since you just got back, but that¡¯s so¡ª I don¡¯t know, casual? It feels stupid. Is that stupid?¡±


    ¡°Nah, man, it¡¯s all good.¡± I waved my hand. ¡°I¡¯m fine now. You don¡¯t need to worry anymore.¡±


    ¡°Good. Good.¡± He swallowed tightly. ¡°It was kind of hard not to while you were gone.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    I rubbed the back of my neck. ¡°I¡¯ve honestly never had that happen on a call before. Just goes to show the importance of keeping an eye on your gear, so hopefully you learned a valuable lesson from that. Don¡¯t be a dumbass like me, got it?¡±


    Though Garrett laughed, it was a weak, forced little half-laugh. I laughed in return, until I realized how stupid we looked, faking our laughter at each other, and stopped.


    For what felt like ages, we sat there, staring at the TV but not really watching it. In his lap, Garrett had stopped his sewing completely, but held on to it as if he was going to start back up again any second now. He bunched up the fabric in his fists, making the veins along his knuckles pop out more noticeably. With a deep breath, his gaze laser-focused on my face.


    ¡°You know,¡± he began, ¡°When I was carrying you to the paramedics¡­¡±


    The world


    through a


    kaleidoscope.


    ¡°You looked really bad, Manny.¡±


    My head, painfully


    swollen.


    ¡°¡­ Can I be honest with you?¡±


    An agonizing itch.


    ¡°I¡ª I really thought that you might actually¡­ die on me.¡±


    Stay


    with


    me.


    ¡°Actually, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± I interrupted, ¡°I don¡¯t really want to get into it.¡±


    Sheepishly, he blinked. ¡°¡­ Oh. Yeah, I get that. My bad, sorry.¡±


    An awkward tension filled the room. Garrett¡¯s expression became something more retracted than I¡¯d ever seen on him, and I felt guilty for snapping at him. It was hard to process what happened when the memories came flooding back to me at a moment¡¯s notice, which wasn¡¯t his fault. Just recalling the smell of the fire itself brought bile to the back of my throat and a tingling to my skin.


    ¡°All I really wanted was to say thanks,¡± I said, trying to focus on the room around us instead. ¡°Even if ¡®thanks¡¯ doesn¡¯t feel like enough.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to say anything,¡± he replied earnestly. ¡°It¡¯s part of the job, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°What, inhaling toxic chemicals?¡± I scratched my chin. ¡°Now that you mention it, yeah, it is. There¡¯s a reason firefighters have insanely high cancer rates.¡±


    ¡°No, I meant¡­ you know¡­¡± That sweet little puppy-dog look brightened his face once more. ¡°Saving people. From danger.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah.¡± I nodded, my pulse racing. ¡°And, uh¡­ well¡­¡±


    In my pause, Garrett looked at me like time stood still. It only made my heart beat harder, which I couldn¡¯t understand; this wasn¡¯t an embarrassing conversation, this wasn¡¯t an embarrassing thing to say, but I still felt embarrassed all the same. With a deep breath, I returned the intensity of his gaze.


    ¡°You saved me,¡± I said quietly. ¡°So thanks, Garrett. You really made me proud.¡±


    I reached over and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. Garrett glanced to my hand, then to my face, the TV¡¯s reflection making his green eyes nearly sparkle. I didn¡¯t think he would take it so seriously, but he was genuinely moved, smiling at me so warmly it was like sitting in a ray of sunshine.


    Right then, I knew that I held the weight of Garrett¡¯s self image in my hands, and it seemed such a delicate thing. He¡¯d mentioned in passing the kind of household he¡¯d grown up in, the youngest child living in the shadows of siblings with bigger dreams and better grades than he had. In the back of my mind, it occurred to me that he probably hadn¡¯t heard those words in a long, long time.


    The longer we looked at each other, the more awkward I felt, not sure of what else there was to say. Swiftly, I stood up from the couch, embarrassed to have been so vulnerable. ¡°I should go get ready for bed. It¡¯s getting pretty late.¡±


    ¡°Oh. You¡¯re right.¡± His face carried just the slightest disappointment. ¡°Yeah, I bet you¡¯re pretty tired, huh?¡±


    ¡°Definitely,¡± I replied. ¡°But um, good talk. I¡¯ll see you in the morning?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, duh,¡± he laughed, a little nervous. ¡°Sleep well, Manny.¡±


    As I left through the doorway, I gave him a wave.


    Instead of waving back, Garrett simply smiled.

 DOWNPOUR

    With the chemical accident behind me, all I could think about now was finding Raja.


    I never really considered myself prone to obsession, but since I¡¯d recovered, it was as if a switch was flipped within me. I didn¡¯t care how unrealistic it was to hope that lightning might strike me twice; if there was any possibility that he was in Dallas, I had to try. I¡¯d never forgive myself if I didn¡¯t.


    What made things worse was that despite the fact that I was now taking every pill Dr. Oh pushed on me, I was still plagued by nightmares. Now I was learning the hard way that there was no relief to be found at the bottom of bottles - even non-alcoholic ones.


    There¡¯s nothing those doctors can give that can fix what¡¯s wrong with you, mijo, I heard my mother say. You¡¯re simply too weak.


    As much as I resented it, she had a point. Maybe I was more like my dad than I thought, a wild card meant to live on the fringes of society. Would I eventually join him in disappearing into the Chihuahuan desert, gone forever without so much as a single goodbye? Some days, it seemed like the right idea.


    That evening, rain came down in violent sheets as I parked my truck near South St. Paul street. By now, the sun was setting later and later, so there was still enough light for me to see the people around me as they navigated the rainy sidewalks. The headlights and street lamps lit up the puddles on the road so brightly, they hurt to look at.


    Unbuckling my seat belt, I settled in for a long night of waiting. Though I¡¯d given up on God a long time ago, I found myself praying to Him anyway: Padre nuestro, que est¨¢s en el cielo¡­ please, let me find him. Or at least grant me the serenity to move on.


    While mindlessly scanning radio stations, I couldn¡¯t shake how crazy I felt. Had I really seen Raja that day, or had I only seen what I wanted to see? Since then, wherever I went, he was in everyone I saw: funny little birthmarks; the light in people¡¯s eyes; smiles so contagious that you couldn¡¯t help but smile, too.


    Strange as it might¡¯ve been, I hoped, for his sake, that it was a case of mistaken identity. The idea of him being lost to the streets of Dallas was sorely depressing, especially when I¡¯d been living in Dallas since I left the service. I¡¯d be kicking myself for years if I knew he was here this whole time, struggling out here when he didn¡¯t have to.


    The coffee I¡¯d ordered from Dunkin¡¯ Donuts sat in the cup holder for so long, it had cooled off into undrinkable sludge. Rather than drink it, I poured it out of my window and watched the rain wash it away in just a few seconds. By the time I was done staring absentmindedly at it, I looked up and saw a trio of men walking down the street towards my truck. Without any care for the weather, they stopped to talk amongst themselves.


    One of the men was short and fat like a brick, and the other man appeared quite sick, creepy and thin like a cellar spider. The third man, the tallest man, had caught my attention the most.


    I leaned forward in my seat. My heart revved like an engine.


    Rather than take off after him, I got out of my truck as inconspicuous as possible; though my intentions were good, approaching them like this made me feel sinister. But I just had to know, had to see if it was him, had to be sure.


    If it¡¯s not him, I¡¯ll just keep it moving, I told myself. If it¡¯s not him, he¡¯s not in Dallas. If it¡¯s not him, he¡¯s gone. For good.


    My heart beat so loudly, I could hardly hear the rain hitting the pavement or the cars splashing through the water on the road. As I drew closer, their conversation became more hushed, as if they thought I was eavesdropping.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how I was even going to do this, but I had no time to figure it out: when I got within just a few feet of them, they all turned to acknowledge me. From under a curtain of shaggy hair, I saw those dark, dark, eyes. My breath caught in my throat.


    I felt just as I had at the camp fire, too stunned to speak, but this time it wasn¡¯t simply shock that paralyzed me - it was also relief.


    When Raja¡¯s gaze met mine, that same panic from before flashed across his face, but rather than bolt off immediately, he stood frozen in fear. I couldn¡¯t bear to botch it this time, so I took a deep breath, trying to play it cool.


    ¡°Evening, gentlemen,¡± I said, waving amicably to hopefully disarm the tension. ¡°How y¡¯all doing?¡±


    The sickly man had more holes in his shirt than teeth in his head, but despite looking like a corpse, he moved protectively to put space between me and Raja. ¡°The fuck you want?¡± Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke. ¡°You some kind of cop?¡±


    Hoping to avoid being shanked by a junkie, I shook my head quickly. ¡°No! I¡¯m not a cop! Really!¡±


    ¡°You hearing this guy?¡± He turned to look at Raja, who was trying not to look at me. ¡°Like we haven¡¯t seen him sitting around in that big ass truck watching us? Fuckin¡¯ hate you plainclothes assholes the most.¡±


    ¡°Piss off, douchebag,¡± said the short man. ¡°We ain¡¯t loitering, so get lost. You don¡¯t got a thing on us.¡±


    I sighed in frustration. ¡°I just said I¡¯m not¡ª¡±


    ¡°You deaf, too?¡± The sickly man lurched at me threateningly. ¡°Go!¡±


    ¡°Guys, stop it!¡± Raja growled suddenly. ¡°He¡¯s not a cop, okay? I know he isn¡¯t.¡±


    The short man gawked. ¡°Wait, Raj, you know him?¡±


    Heaving a sigh, Raja finally mustered up the courage to look me in the eye. ¡°I do.¡±


    The other men turned to face me; to show that I meant peace, I raised my hands in an act of surrender. They glanced at one another uneasily, but they made no further threats in my direction, so it was progress.


    Now that I was finally getting a chance to look at Raja more closely, it hurt to see him in such a state. Even in the rain, I could tell that his hair was slick with grease, and his dense beard obscured the angles of his cheekbones. He wore the same Dallas Cowboys hoodie I¡¯d seen him in before, mottled with stains along the sleeves, and his shoes were only a few steps away from falling apart completely.


    But his eyes were the same. Even after his hardships, there was just the slightest light left in them.


    No idea how my silence came across to the other men, but it definitely made Raja uncomfortable. I cleared my throat to apologize, but before I could, Raja cleared his own.


    ¡°What are you doing here, Manny?¡± He looked down at me coldly. Somehow, I¡¯d forgotten just how tall he was.


    ¡°This is that Manny guy?¡± said the short man. His focus swiveled from Raja to me, his gaze oddly intrusive. ¡°Huh¡­ goofy lookin¡¯ fuck, ain¡¯t you? You sure got a hell of a nose on you.¡±


    ¡°Nice friends you got there,¡± I said to Raja flatly. ¡°Look, I just want to talk. That¡¯s all. Can we? Please?¡±


    Raja¡¯s hesitance was obvious, making his friends resistant to giving us privacy. But he nodded, and the two men - trading another uneasy look between each other - skulked off further down the sidewalk. That they didn¡¯t let us out of their sight as they departed was strangely nerve-wracking.


    Once they were far enough away, I turned back to Raja. He crossed his arms against his chest, chewing on his thumbnail as if trying to distract himself from my stare.


    ¡°Raj, what¡¯s with you?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t see or hear from you for¡ª for years and years, and the first time we see each other again, you freak out like I¡¯m hunting you! What gives?¡±


    Raja said nothing.


    ¡°I¡ª I just can¡¯t believe you¡¯ve been in Dallas this whole time, right under my nose!¡± My hands turned to fists in my rage and confusion. ¡°All this time you¡¯ve been here¡ª you knew I was here too, didn¡¯t you? You knew I was going back to Dallas once my contract was up¡ª there¡¯s no way you didn¡¯t know how to find me, and you just¡­ you didn¡¯t. Why?¡±


    Still, he said nothing. Instead, he kept chewing on his thumbnail.


    ¡°Fucking shit, I spent years wondering what happened to you! Years of never knowing if you were dead, or alive, or¡ª whatever might¡¯ve happened, I don¡¯t know!¡± I couldn¡¯t contain myself, my throat tightening. ¡°First I lost Feliz and, and this whole time, I thought I lost you, too. Why? Why didn¡¯t you look for me?¡±


    Raja¡¯s shoulders slumped forward. I wondered if he¡¯d bite his nails to the point where he¡¯d start bleeding. I wanted to tear his hands away and make him answer me, but though his silence pissed me off, I couldn¡¯t shake just how glad I was to see him, even underneath the anger. I swallowed thickly, trying to steady myself.


    ¡°Do you know how much I¡¯ve missed you?¡± I whispered.


    When he finally stopped avoiding my eyes, it was clear that Raja regretted letting me stay and say my piece. I didn¡¯t think this was going to go well, but seeing how shitty it was turning out made me feel even dumber than I¡¯d felt before. I was just a big fucking idiot, getting soaked to the bone trying to reason with a ghost from my past that wanted nothing to do with me. No wonder I was in therapy.


    Please, just say something, I begged in my mind, but he simply stared. Anything at all. Please.


    The rain around us continued to beat down on our heads. At last, breathing in deeply, Raja¡¯s brows slanted downward. He drew his nails away from his face to cross his arms against his chest and glared at me bitterly. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you?¡±


    I stared at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You missed me? How could you possibly miss me? Are you fucking insane?!¡± He exploded. His hands seized into fists as his arms flew away from his chest. ¡°How could you want anything to do with me?! After what I did to Feliz?¡±


    ¡°Wh¡ª¡± My head felt like it was spinning. ¡°Raj, what the hell are you talking about?¡±


    Raja grabbed his face, arms shaking as he dragged his fingers down his cheeks. When he pulled them back, his eyes were wide with pain. ¡°Why don¡¯t you fucking hate me?!¡± He shouted. ¡°Why?! After everything, why?!¡±


    As I stared at him in confusion, Raja¡¯s anger simmered down as he brushed his wet, dirty hair back over his forehead. The center of his brows wrinkled as deep remorse overtook his features. ¡°Everyone else hates me for what happened, and they should,¡± he said solemnly. ¡°So I don¡¯t know why you don¡¯t. If anything¡­ you of all people should hate me the most.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª no, I¡ª I don¡¯t hate you.¡± My heart crawled up into my throat; keeping my voice steady was a lost cause. ¡°I could never hate you.¡±


    In shock, Raja¡¯s lip quivered. The rain continued hitting the pavement with a pitter-patter, soaking through my jacket and into my shirt. I couldn¡¯t have cared less.


    ¡°When I saw you at that camp fire¡­ I wanted to say something, but¡ª you left before I could, and for these past few weeks, I¡¯ve been looking all over for you,¡± I continued, even as my lungs shook in my chest. ¡°All these years, man¡­ all I wanted was to know you were still out there.¡±


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    Raja could barely stand to return my gaze, turning away to look out at the street as the sun began to set. If he was crying, I couldn¡¯t tell, the rain had soaked him so completely. When I stepped forward, he retracted inward, like he was infected with something he didn¡¯t want to spread.


    ¡°Raj,¡± I said. ¡°Why did you run from me?¡±


    ¡°¡¯Cause it¡¯s hard just to fucking look at you,¡± he replied, his voice weak. ¡°Just¡ª seeing you after all this time¡­ everything came flooding back.¡±


    Gun shots.


    ¡°And I couldn¡¯t handle it.¡±


    Like a mirage¡­


    ¡°So I¡ª I had to run away, like I always fucking do.¡±


    Leave me.


    ¡°Like I¡¯ve been doing for the past ten years.¡±


    Humiliated, Raja covered his face, moving to turn his back to me. Without thinking, I grabbed his shoulders and turned him back around, taking him into my arms. Holding on to him in that moment felt like catching on to a life raft after years of being adrift at sea.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t run from me anymore,¡± I pleaded, resting my head against him. ¡°Please.¡±


    It was as if a dam had burst. The tension in Raja¡¯s body gave way, and he wrapped his arms around me in return. We likely looked insane to the passerby, but it didn¡¯t matter. None of them knew a damn thing. I wrapped my arms around him so tightly, I expected him to complain, but he didn¡¯t.


    Instead, his body began to shake. There was an unsteadiness in the knee he¡¯d been shot in, as if he wasn¡¯t used to standing on it for so long. Against my shoulder, he began to cry.


    ¡°Manny¡­ I¡¯m so fucking sorry,¡± he said softly. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t even be here.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯m right where I need to be.¡±


    ? ? ?


    It took a lot of convincing, but when faced with the prospect of spending a night sleeping in the rain, Raja let me take him home - if only for tonight. I knew it was asking a lot of him, but I couldn¡¯t stand the idea of him languishing in the rain for another night. Not if I had any say in it.


    I couldn¡¯t get past how much it reminded me of capturing a stray animal - in fact, I still had scars from rescuing a cat for Cleo when she was little - but unlike a cat, Raja could be reasoned with and didn¡¯t seem interested in scratching my eyes out.


    The drive over was like a dream sequence, it felt so unreal. I didn¡¯t want to overwhelm Raja by talking to him like we were just casually catching up, so I decided to let him take the lead if he had questions to ask; yet he kept so quiet, there were moments where I thought he fell asleep.


    Upon entering my apartment, Raja squinted at the bright lights overhead, and his eyes roamed skittishly across my floors. Before he could step any further, I pointed to his muddy sneakers, gesturing for him to take them off. Bashfully, he took them off without argument and tucked them as close to the door as he could.


    ¡°Mi casa es tu casa.¡± I swept my arm in front of myself to welcome him in. ¡°You still know what that one means, right?¡±


    Raja rubbed his nose thoughtfully. ¡°Your house is my house?¡±


    ¡°Very good.¡± I patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Or should I say muy bien?¡±


    For the first time, Raja smiled, but it was hard to read much of his face when his hair was still slick to his skin from the rain. Under the light, it was obvious how dirty he was, so I pointed to a door off to the side. ¡°Over there¡¯s the bathroom,¡± I said. ¡°Go wash up, all that rain got you lookin¡¯ like a wet dog. Smelling like one, too.¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t really have any other clothes¡­¡± He clutched his backpack to the front of him. ¡°All I¡¯ve got in here is, like, a shirt and some boxers. These are my only pants.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a load of clean clothes already in a hamper, I just haven¡¯t put them away yet.¡± I pointed further in through the doorway. ¡°You can borrow some, though I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t borrow my underwear. No offense.¡±


    Raja seemed grateful, guilty and suspicious all at the same time, staring like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. ¡°Why are you being so nice to me?¡±


    ¡°¡¯Cause even after all these years, you¡¯re still my friend,¡± I replied sincerely. ¡°Now, before you start thinking of me as a charity, I don¡¯t really make a habit of bringing bums home, so I¡¯m afraid the offer of clothes and a spot on my couch applies only to you and not your¡­ friends.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not really my friends.¡± He stopped to wiggle out of his hoodie, which was nearly painted on at this point. ¡°Well, Oscar¡¯s kind of a friend, but only because he just got back out of rehab. The second he gets back on the fent, he¡¯ll be a real asshole again. Zeke can fuck off, though¡ª I only hang out with him ¡®cause I shared a tent with him and his girlfriend for a while.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Wow. It¡¯s a hobo soap opera out there, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yep.¡± Raja let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°You don¡¯t know the half of it.¡±


    ¡°You can tell me later. Now go on and get, you ain¡¯t smellin¡¯ any better.¡± I pushed him towards the bathroom. ¡°While you do that, I¡¯m gonna order some food.¡±


    Though somewhat insulted, Raja didn¡¯t complain, probably still wondering when the tide would turn. As he shut the bathroom door, I clutched my stomach as nausea rose within me. Though I didn¡¯t know why, I decided to pick something leftover friendly so I¡¯d at least have something to eat when I was feeling better.


    Raja took a shower so long, I actually thought he might¡¯ve slipped and died in there, but it didn¡¯t feel appropriate to go in and check. He didn¡¯t emerge from the bathroom until the pizza had been waiting on the counter for ten minutes, and when he did, he looked completely different.


    His hair was swept back from his forehead, though a little curl had wiggled free and hung loosely over his brow. He was taller than I was, yet also skinnier, so my shirt was both too short and too loose to fit him properly, and he had to tie his sweatpants so tightly that the string resembled a vise. Really, what was amazing was how a shower and a clean set of clothes could make a guy look so much more alive.


    Sitting on the bar stool by the counter, I motioned my hand toward the opened pizza box. Figuring he might feel awkward if he ate alone, I put a slice of pizza on a plate in front of me, though I hadn¡¯t touched it yet.


    When Raja approached, it was with so much caution I had to force a plate into his hands from the cabinet myself - though I had to admit, extreme awkwardness was a step up from the crying breakdown we¡¯d shared earlier.


    ¡°Man, this looks good.¡± He stared, clearly taken aback. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you bought me dinner, too.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no big deal.¡± I waved a hand dismissively. ¡°I pride myself on not starving my guests, as a general rule. Plus, I don¡¯t feel like cooking, so¡­¡±


    Another smile, sincere, sweet. Still, Raja seemed a little uneasy, and it took me eating the pizza first before he felt he could join me. Then, he pulled not one, but two eager slices from the cardboard box.


    ¡°So¡­ you must make pretty good money as a fireman, right?¡± Raja asked, glancing around the kitchen a little more carefully. ¡°Shit, sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have said that. That¡¯s pretty presumptuous.¡±


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s cool,¡± I shrugged. ¡°They could stand to pay me more, honestly. They¡¯ve been slashing bonuses and ignoring requests for raises ¡®cause of the ¡®equipment budget,¡¯ which pisses me off.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s stupid.¡± Raja frowned with a mouthful of pizza tucked into his cheek. ¡°Not that it really matters to you, but for what it¡¯s worth, when I saw you at the camp¡­ as hard as it was to see you after all these years¡­¡±


    He paused. I watched him with rapt attention.


    ¡°I was really proud of you,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I thought about it, and I was like¡­ of course he¡¯s a fireman. That¡¯s absolutely the kind of job he¡¯d have. It just made sense.¡±


    I smiled warmly. ¡°Eh, I always think it would¡¯ve been fun to have made movies. Makin¡¯ shit like John Carpenter, you know?¡±


    ¡°The arts pay like shit, though¡ª that¡¯s what my parents always said. That¡¯s why I never went pro with the music.¡± He peeled a pepperoni off the top of his slice. ¡°Still would¡¯ve been fun, though.¡±


    Right after Raja had said it, it was like I¡¯d been zapped by lightning. ¡°Actually, speaking of that¡ª¡±


    Immediately, I bounded off the bar stool and made my way over to the closet. I didn¡¯t have to dig deep this time, and I could hardly contain my excitement when I brought it out for Raja to see. It needed no introduction: upon seeing it, his mouth dropped open.


    ¡°No fucking way! Is that my old guitar?¡± He asked, stunned. ¡°You actually kept it?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah?¡± I raised an eyebrow, perplexed. ¡°Why would I get rid of it?¡±


    ¡°¡¯Cause¡­¡± He paused, and a sadness took over his face. He put his slice back down on the plate. ¡°I guess I didn¡¯t think you cared about it that much. Honestly, I figured you¡¯d have pawned it off by now. Not that it¡¯d have gotten you much, but still.¡±


    The idea of getting rid of Raja¡¯s guitar had never once occurred to me. I¡¯d brought it with me to several different apartments, and even though I¡¯d play it once in a while, its home was in my closet with other sentimental pieces I hadn¡¯t had the heart to throw away just yet. Aside from photos that were too painful to look at, the guitar was all I¡¯d had left of him. As awkward as it was to admit, I cherished it.


    ¡°Nah, this thing¡¯s too cool to pawn off.¡± Once I¡¯d hauled the guitar over to the couch, I undid the clasps of the case. ¡°You remember that afternoon when you tried to teach me Somewhere Over the Rainbow? Not the Wizard of Oz version, the one by the fat Hawaiian guy?¡±


    His eyes crinkling, Raja let out that goofy little laugh of his. ¡°Yeah¡ª oh man, you were so pissed after like, an hour.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, it¡¯s a lot harder than you made it look.¡± I flipped the guitar case wide open and dug around to make sure I still had the guitar pick. ¡°My fingers still hurt just thinking about it.¡±


    ¡°But you learned how to play a little of it!¡± He grinned. ¡°If you¡¯d actually kept up at it, you¡¯d have gotten somewhere. Maybe even¡­ somewhere over the rainbow.¡±


    I laughed gracelessly, and once he¡¯d finished his pizza slice, Raja wiped his hands off on his pants and came over to join me by the couch.


    ¡°Wow, it¡¯s still in really nice condition.¡± He ran his fingers along his initials at the bottom of the guitar. ¡°You never use it, do you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have the time. I¡¯d really like to learn a song or two¡­¡± I let out a wistful sigh. ¡°Hey, you think you¡¯re still any good?¡±


    He blinked. ¡°Oh, um¡­ well, I¡¯m probably a little rusty, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon.¡± I looked up at him hopefully. ¡°Give it a whirl.¡±


    Raja cast his eyes away, a bit embarrassed. ¡°Alright, alright¡­ what should I play?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you have some little song you used to play? Goes something like this¡ª¡± I tried to hum the tune, but it¡¯d been so long, I wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d still recognize it. ¡°You know, that one?¡±


    To my surprise, he did, tapping his foot as I hummed. ¡°Okay, yeah, that one. Move over, let¡¯s see if muscle memory can work its magic.¡±


    We moved the guitar out of the way, and as Raja sat on the couch, I set the guitar on his lap. His hands fell into place naturally on the body of the guitar, and I couldn¡¯t help but watch the birthmark that stained his knuckles ripple as he played out the tune with ease. As the song carried throughout the air, the tension that had hung around us melted away, and it was like we¡¯d never been apart in the first place.


    When the melody concluded, I smiled in approval. ¡°What are you talking about? You¡¯re still great!¡± I beamed.


    Raja smiled sweetly. ¡°I haven¡¯t been out of practice for that long. I had another guitar that I used to busk for money, but Zeke sold it so he could get shit for his dopesick girlfriend. Fucking asshole.¡±


    I stared at him, puzzled. ¡°Why do you still talk to him if he steals your stuff?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ not to sound pathetic, but people don¡¯t really talk to you when you live on the streets.¡± A somber expression formed on Raja¡¯s face. ¡°You kind of end up talking to anyone just to talk to someone at all, ¡®cause otherwise you just kind of¡­ wander around like you¡¯re invisible. It can get pretty lonely.¡±


    As he stared off into the distance, Raja rested his hands aimlessly on the guitar. While I¡¯d gone through my own share of heartache, I knew that life for him couldn¡¯t have been easy these past ten years. It never had to be this way, I thought. Then, holding my breath, I shot a nervous glance at Raja, who was still staring off into space.


    ¡°Raj,¡± I began. ¡°Question.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± He focused back on me.


    ¡°Would you be open to staying here? With me?¡± I eyed him closely. ¡°Just to help you get back on your feet.¡±


    ¡°Are you joking?¡± In shock, his hands curled roughly around the guitar. ¡°Manny, I¡ª I could never ask that of you. After everything¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not asking, I¡¯m offering,¡± I corrected.


    As guilt began to erupt inside of him, Raja stammered hopelessly. ¡°I-I¡­ I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Before he could continue, I placed my hand over his, covering his birthmark with my palm. We both looked at our hands, then back at one another. Under the warmth of my gaze, I sensed Raja¡¯s hesitance begin to melt. He pulled his hand away, but seemed unhappy to do so.


    ¡°Let me think about it.¡± He said it so quietly, it was nearly a whisper. ¡°If that¡¯s cool with you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°Think about it for as long as you¡¯d like.¡±


    Considering the ringer I¡¯d put Raja through today, after that, I dropped the issue for the rest of the night. There was the chance that he would leave in the early morning hours and disappear without a trace, but I trusted him not to. Maybe I was stupid to still trust him after all this time, but I did.


    Later that night, when I¡¯d finally been able to wind down enough to sleep, I had nightmares as I usually did. In the pitch black dark, I launched upright in my bed, heart racing and head filled with a relentless buzzing, trying not to throw up from the sudden motion of being startled awake.


    When I became more cognizant of my surroundings, instead of being met with an isolating silence, I heard Raja in the living room, plucking away at the guitar as the storm outside continued to rage. The sound of Somewhere Over the Rainbow flowed through the hall and into my room, where it turned the four walls of my bedroom from claustrophobic to comforting.


    I fell back asleep within a minute.

 SENSE OF A SPARK

    APRIL


    In my entire career, I had never seen so many fires in such a short amount of time.


    It started off slow: first, a fire in a condemned trailer, then a blaze in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but that was nothing unusual given my line of work. On average, most of our calls involved traffic collisions, lift assists or even people stuck in malfunctioning elevators.


    And yet just this week alone, we¡¯d been getting fires larger than your typical kitchen accident nonstop - and they were getting progressively more intense. That morning, we were called to a fire in an office building, which was one of the bigger fires we¡¯d dealt with since my accident. Unlike that one, nobody died or got seriously injured, and I was very thankful for this; we were used to seeing some pretty grisly things on calls, and I had to admit, the chemical fire had spooked me badly.


    Of course, nobody had noticed my newfound caution except for Garrett. Since my return from the hospital, he¡¯d been the only one checking in on me regularly, though I tried not to let my weakness show. It didn¡¯t seem fair to burden him with my problems, especially when he was still struggling to accept his place in the food chain at the fire station.


    But rather than talk to Garrett at length about the warehouse call, what ate up my attention instead was the impassioned debate the crew was having about this latest string of fires.


    ¡°It¡¯s fucking nuts,¡± said Liam, slapping a playing card down on the kitchen table. ¡°What, do we live in Chicago Fire now? We¡¯re past the holidays and not even close to fireworks season, so what the hell?¡±


    ¡°Just wait til we get to July!¡± Rob reshuffled his cards. ¡°If this keeps up, we won¡¯t even have time to wipe our asses.¡±


    DeShawn popped a bubble of gum before scanning the cards in his hand. ¡°You think at this rate we¡¯ll see our own 9/11 in Dallas?¡±


    ¡°First of all, nobody cares enough about Dallas to try that,¡± Heather interjected as she read absentmindedly through her training manual. ¡°Second of all, we know by now that 9/11 was an inside job, and I doubt they¡¯re stupid enough to try that twice now that we¡¯re all aware of it.¡±


    ¡°Aw fuck, Heather, not this again.¡± Rob¡¯s lip curled in disapproval. ¡°You and your fucking conspiracy theories¡­¡±


    Away from the rest of them, I¡¯d been splitting my attention between their conversation and my phone call with Cleo. When evenings were slow, I would work on her homework over the phone with her, but it wasn¡¯t always easy. She was learning some tough stuff in her classes, and I wasn¡¯t much of a student when I was her age, so I often wondered if I was actually helping.


    Once the conspiracy theory debate had started for the umpteenth time, I¡¯d had enough of eavesdropping on them. I focused instead on Cleo as she struggled her way through math.


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not the right answer. You should have that PEMDAS shit memorized by now,¡± I whispered. ¡°Sorry. Don¡¯t swear.¡±


    Cleo giggled, but her amusement went away quickly. ¡°Ugh¡­ I¡¯m tired of working on this, T¨ªo. I¡¯m never gonna get the hang of it!¡±


    ¡°No, no. You¡¯re a smart girl. You just need the right teacher.¡± I peered over my shoulder every once in a while to make sure the guys weren¡¯t listening in. ¡°Your t¨ªa¡¯s really good with numbers. If your mam¨¢¡¯s too busy, you should ask Jojo for help. I know she can have an attitude, but still.¡±


    A mysterious silence fell between us. Cleo let out a little gulp. ¡°Um¡­ actually¡­ I wanna talk to you about something.¡±


    I strayed further down the hallway, keeping watch over my shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s going on, pecosita?¡±


    A nervous hum. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ it¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, my whole life is nonstop weirdness at this point.¡± I tried to be supportive, but her anxiety was spreading to me now. ¡°You know you can tell me anything, right?¡±


    ¡°Okay, well, this is gonna sound so crazy, but I think something¡¯s going on with T¨ªa and Luke,¡± she said in a harsh whisper.


    ¡°Luke?¡± It took me a minute to remember that Luke had graduated from ¡®some guy Mercy is seeing¡¯ to ¡®Mercy¡¯s boyfriend¡¯, since I had yet to actually meet him. ¡°Wait, what kind of something?¡±


    ¡°I dunno¡­¡± Cleo¡¯s tone grew increasingly uneasy. ¡°Something weird. I heard them talking on the phone together last night, but like, super quietly.¡±


    My mouth flattened. ¡°I thought you said they didn¡¯t get along very well.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought at first!¡± She chirped. ¡°But then why are they talking to each other behind Mam¨¢¡¯s back? It¡¯s like they¡¯re hiding something¡­¡±


    That strange, itchy sensation began to spread throughout my arms. To dispel it, I rubbed at my hands and knuckles until the skin was raw. Then, it was gone as soon as it¡¯d arrived, and my breathing steadied.


    ¡°Come on, that¡¯s some telenovela stuff.¡± I waved my hand to relax the joints. ¡°She was probably talking to some guy that just sounds like him. But if you want, I can talk to her for you¡ª see what I can find out.¡±


    ¡°No¡­ maybe? I dunno.¡± She didn¡¯t seem convinced. ¡°If she thinks I¡¯m spying on her, she¡¯ll get really mad at me.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like you shouldn¡¯t worry too much about it, then.¡± I could only hope I sounded reassuring - Cleo was a worrier, just like Mercy. ¡°I¡¯m sure it was just a misunderstanding.¡±


    From behind me, I heard footsteps. I whipped around to see Garrett, blinking in surprise when he saw how quickly I turned.


    ¡°Whoa, sorry, are you busy?¡± Garrett pointed to my phone. ¡°I just¡ª¡±


    I made a ¡®one moment¡¯ gesture at him before turning my attention back to Cleo. ¡°Hey, I have to go. We¡¯ll talk more about this later, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she said softly. ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°Love you, too,¡± I replied. ¡°Be good.¡±


    Once the call was over, I turned to face Garrett, who had waited for me patiently. ¡°Sorry about that. What¡¯s up?¡±


    Garrett motioned for me to follow him. ¡°I¡¯ll explain in a sec.¡±


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    As we walked through the station, he debriefed me quickly: apparently, he¡¯d caught someone nosing around outside of the station. Unsure of what to do - but assuming she was a reporter - he summoned all of us to meet her.


    When I walked into the apparatus bay, I saw that everyone had crowded around the reporter. I kept toward the back near Garrett and Heather to let Rob, DeShawn and Liam take the lead. I didn¡¯t want to risk being quoted on something when I was already on edge.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you fetch Cormorant?¡± I asked Garrett quietly.


    In return, he simply shrugged. ¡°I asked if we should, but Liam said he¡¯d handle it.¡±


    I rolled my eyes. Typical Liam, the Starscream of the firehouse. The second Chief Cormorant wasn¡¯t present, he threw his weight around whenever possible. To get a better look at the reporter for myself, I squeezed past DeShawn and Liam to the front.


    The reporter was fox-like in appearance, with high cheekbones and a sharp arch to her eyebrows. She was the shortest out of all of us, standing at no more than five foot four at best thanks to her razor-thin heels. She had a magnetic energy about her that commanded attention, and when her eyes flickered to mine, her red lips quirked into a smile. She seemed remarkably familiar, but where had I seen her before?


    ¡°What did you say your name was?¡± Heather tilted her head.


    ¡°Dahlia Song,¡± said the reporter, in a voice that sounded heavily practiced to be as free of an accent as possible.


    Liam made no attempt to hide the way his eyes trailed up and down Dahlia¡¯s figure. ¡°Anyone ever call you Dolly?¡±


    ¡°I prefer Dahlia, thank you!¡± She answered cheerfully. ¡°Professionalism is vital to my work, I find.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t I seen you on TV?¡± Rob scratched his mustache and joined Liam in looking at her from head to toe.


    ¡°You¡¯re surely thinking of my sister, Dannica. We¡¯re twins, you see,¡± Dahlia corrected. ¡°She¡¯s also a reporter, but I¡¯m more of a freelance journalist.¡±


    ¡°Twins, huh?¡± Rob smirked devilishly. ¡°Are either of you single, by any chance?¡±


    ¡°Wait, Rob¡ª what about your wife?¡± said Garrett innocently. ¡°Or are you looking for a fifth one already?¡±


    DeShawn, Liam and Heather broke out into an uproar of laughter; in contrast, Rob soured immediately. He smacked Garrett upside the head as the crew continued ribbing him, which Dahlia quite clearly found both immature and off putting. Despite my reservations, I moved forward to address her.


    ¡°Ms. Song, what¡¯s your reason for stopping by?¡± I asked. ¡°We don¡¯t usually allow for visitors after hours like this. Is this important?¡±


    ¡°So glad you asked!¡± She smiled a picture perfect grin that reminded me of Garrett. ¡°I run a blog and podcast where I investigate local happenings that newspapers aren¡¯t covering in enough depth. I¡¯m hoping you guys might be able to help me out with my current project.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Okay, what can we help you with?¡±


    As I spoke with Dahlia, I glanced back at the rest of the crew and felt it too important to leave them out. I made a gesture for them to settle down, and once they did, Dahlia prepared her pitch.


    ¡°I was wondering if any of you noticed anything strange about all these fires lately,¡± she said, clapping her hands together and motioning with them. ¡°I¡¯ve been going around to all of the fire stations in the area, and so far, nobody seems to know anything. But I have a feeling that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, jeez,¡± Liam scoffed. ¡°Hate to burst your bubble, lady, but not all fires are because of some crazy arsonist, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re getting at.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t put words in my mouth,¡± Dahlia replied sharply. ¡°Local papers have barely been reporting on them, and I¡¯m curious to see if there¡¯s more to the story, that¡¯s all. There¡¯s no need to be rude.¡±


    As we all focused our attention on Dahlia, Chief Cormorant¡¯s booming voice came through the doorway. When he found nobody inside, he came out to join us, and the sight of us dawdling around with Dahlia brought an angry redness to his forehead and cheeks.


    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this?¡± Cormorant asked accusingly. ¡°Who is this woman, and more importantly, why is she in our station?¡±


    ¡°Relax, Chief, she¡¯s¡­ some kind of journalist?¡± DeShawn said. ¡°She¡¯s just here about a possible story.¡±


    Cormorant calmed down immediately, smoothing out his hair to appear more presentable. ¡°What story are you hoping to cover, Miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°Dahlia Song,¡± Dahlia replied, her name coming out of her mouth like a recording. ¡°I was just telling these guys that I think there might be a pattern to the fires. I don¡¯t know anything yet, but I wanted to see if there was something you might¡¯ve picked up on that could¡ª¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, if you¡¯re hoping to be the first to break a story, you¡¯re going to be out of luck,¡± Cormorant sighed. ¡°If we have concerns, we bring them up to our arson investigators, and by the time they start looking into things, we can¡¯t control who tells the story next.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± she nodded patiently, ¡°but I would still appreciate¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not even a real reporter, Chief!¡± Liam bellowed. ¡°She¡¯s just some wannabe! Don¡¯t bother.¡±


    Dahlia¡¯s face, perfectly poised, grew increasingly annoyed. If she were a snake, her tail would have been rattling by now. When I looked at Garrett, he was silent, like he didn¡¯t seem too sure whose side to take.


    Now that we¡¯d wasted so much time, Chief Cormorant shared Dahlia¡¯s annoyance. He straightened the tie around his neck and cleared his throat before offering his hand to Dahlia.


    ¡°I wish we could be of more assistance to you, but regardless, thank you for stopping by. Good luck on your future endeavors, Ms. Song¡ª though I do ask that you call ahead of time if there¡¯s something you¡¯d like to talk to us about, rather than loitering around the premises.¡± He shook her hand swiftly before turning back to the rest of us. ¡°Now stop goofing around and get back to work!¡±


    As the crew began to file back into the station with Chief Cormorant in the lead, I was the only one to hang behind. With nobody around to observe her, Dahlia¡¯s well-managed reactions gave way to authentic frustration, cursing under her breath when she thought she was alone.


    ¡°Ms. Song?¡± I called out as I came back over to her.


    Immediately, Dahlia¡¯s eyes brightened and she corrected her posture. ¡°Oh! Yes?¡±


    ¡°Okay, can you knock it off with that voice? It¡¯s creepy.¡± I shuddered. ¡°Look, I just wanted to say that¡­ you definitely aren¡¯t the only one that thinks these fires are kind of weird.¡±


    ¡°Thank God!¡± Dahlia¡¯s shoulders slumped as she exhaled. ¡°I¡¯ve talked to several different stations in the area, and they¡¯ve all blown me off so far. You¡¯re probably the first firefighter I¡¯ve talked to who¡¯s given me the time of day.¡±


    Unsurprising. It was hard not to get sick of seeing reporters when they wanted to poke around playing detective or film heavily edited feel-good stories for PR. Still, it did strike me as unusual enough to be worth the effort.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t noticed anything that connected them to each other yet, but if I do¡­¡± I trailed off, my gaze roaming around the bay before settling back onto Dahlia. ¡°What do you need from me?¡±


    ¡°Everything! Spare no detail!¡± She said energetically. ¡°Here, let me give you my number. If you see anything, no matter how small, we¡¯ll talk more.¡±


    Without stopping for a second, Dahlia pulled her phone out of the little purse that hung from her shoulder. She¡¯d left me no time to object, so I went ahead and got my phone out, too.


    ¡°What should I save your name under?¡± She asked, her thumb hovering over the plus button on her contacts page.


    ¡°Oh, jeez, I didn¡¯t even introduce myself.¡± I smacked my forehead. ¡°Manny Herrera.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± She tapped her phone definitively. ¡°Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Herrera. It really means a lot to me.¡±


    Without an audience, Dahlia glowed with such sincerity that I couldn¡¯t stop myself from smiling back at her. She tucked her phone back into her purse and took a second to readjust her clothes and hair.


    ¡°No problem. Good luck with your story,¡± I said. ¡°Oh, and you don¡¯t need to do that Mr. Herrera stuff. You can just call me Manny.¡±


    Nodding affirmatively, she twisted the necklace around her neck so that its pendant lay flat against her collar bone. After a quick check of her reflection in her phone¡¯s selfie camera, she prepared to leave. As she began to walk away, Dahlia stopped to glance at me from over her shoulder.


    ¡°And you can call me Dolly,¡± she said with a wink.


    The way she looked at me was electrifying; she clearly knew how to use her looks to her advantage. To keep things professional, I made no further comment. She then made her exit, heels clacking loudly on the way out.


    Now that I was alone, I turned to rejoin the rest of the crew inside the firehouse only to find Garrett standing in the doorway. ¡°Yo, chico¡ª you waiting for me?¡± I asked, smiling.


    Strangely, he simply ducked back inside without a word.

 QUéDATE CONMIGO

    Mornings at home were a lot different now that Raja was staying with me.


    Since Raja slept on the couch in the living room, now I had to sneak through my apartment more quietly, careful not to disturb him. Inevitably, he would stir as soon as I got in the shower, which I could tell because he always made sure there was coffee waiting for me once I was done. I¡¯d never once asked him to, but after he¡¯d done it a couple of times, I wasn¡¯t going to make him stop.


    Once I¡¯d gotten dressed, I came into the kitchen and was greeted with the strong, sharp smell of coffee brewing. At the stove, Raja cracked an egg open into a frying pan, and the egg hit the buttered surface with an audible sizzle.


    With consistent meals and regular showers, Raja had cleaned up pretty well. He kept his beard, but now it was trimmed close to his face, and his hair had gone from stringy and greasy to full and smooth. He even looked a little less scrawny in his clothes, though the bones of his wrists and elbows still jutted out pointedly.


    ¡°Coffee and eggs?¡± I came up beside him to take a peek as he ground black pepper across the yolk. ¡°You¡¯re this close to serving continental breakfast, you know that?¡±


    Raja smiled. ¡°Well, I know you usually aren¡¯t hungry in the morning, but if you won¡¯t eat it, I will, so I figure it¡¯s worth making something for you just in case.¡±


    My stomach twisted, having started the day off a little unsettled already. As much as I wanted to show Raja that his efforts were worth something, I didn¡¯t want his efforts splattered across the tarmac in the parking lot right as I was about to head out to the station.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stick with coffee for now,¡± I said, claiming a mug from the cabinet. ¡°If you really wanna get me to eat, you outta make some chilaquiles.¡±


    ¡°As soon as I learn what that is,¡± he replied, spreading butter across a slice of toast, ¡°I¡¯ll get right on it.¡±


    With a hum, Raja tilted the sunny-side egg onto the toast and sat beside me at the counter. As I poured enough milk into my coffee to turn it from near black to medium brown, Raja took a colossal bite into his egg, yolk bleeding all over the plate.


    ¡°My God, you still eat like that?¡± I snorted.


    ¡°Like what?¡± His words were muffled by the food in his cheeks.


    ¡°Like a snake unhinging its jaw to devour a rat?¡± I pointed at his mouth. ¡°Crazy shit. I bet you could fit a tennis ball in there.¡±


    ¡°You rude motherfucker,¡± he chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ve always eaten like this.¡±


    ¡°Well, good to see that some things never change.¡± I took a solid gulp of coffee before adding more milk to it.


    After he swallowed, Raja gestured to the tattoos along my arms. ¡°Speaking of changes, you look like a coloring book now. They let you have all of that as a fireman? Nobody writes you up or thinks you¡¯re a felon?¡±


    ¡°It depends on the station, but yeah, as long as it¡¯s covered up when appropriate. But then again, none of my tattoos are considered offensive, ¡®cause people don¡¯t mind the Catholic stuff.¡± I tapped on the large cross surrounded by roses on my bicep. ¡°Now, if it were naked girls or racist shit, I¡¯d probably be in trouble.¡±


    ¡°Cool,¡± he nodded. His gaze lingered on my arms, running along my tattoos before settling on my hands. ¡°They suit you.¡±


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    My cheeks felt a little hot, so I drank another gulp of coffee, which only made my insides feel more mixed up. When I checked the time, I chugged the rest of my coffee without stopping and hopped off the stool. ¡°Uh, I should get ready to head out.¡±


    As I made my way to my closet to pull out my overshirt, Raja abandoned his plate to follow me, standing in the doorway as I made sure I was clean-shaven and presentable. It made me a little self-conscious to have him watch me sometimes, but I said nothing; ultimately, I was a hypocrite, as I was constantly sneaking chances to watch him in return.


    While I ran a brush through my hair to smooth it out, I heard Raja clear his throat from behind me. ¡°So, um¡­¡±


    As I buttoned up my shirt to the collar, I glanced back to him, prompting him to continue.


    ¡°Seeing as it¡¯s been a couple of weeks already¡­¡± He started to peel at his hangnail, avoiding eye contact. ¡°When do you think you¡¯ll want me out?¡±


    ¡°What? I don¡¯t want you to go,¡± I replied, hoping that it didn¡¯t sound as weird as it felt to say. ¡°I mean, unless you¡¯re saying you¡¯d like to leave, in which case I¡¯m not gonna keep you here against your will.¡±


    He blinked in disbelief. ¡°What? Manny¡ª you can¡¯t possibly want me here much longer. Guests are one thing, I¡¯m¡­ shit, I don¡¯t know what you¡¯d call me. ¡®Leech¡¯ feels more appropriate.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a leech.¡± I frowned. ¡°Leeches don¡¯t usually do chores like dishes, sweeping and folding laundry. Which, by the way, that last one really isn¡¯t necessary, but I do appreciate it, so thanks.¡±


    Raja¡¯s stare nearly burned a hole in me with its intensity. ¡°I don¡¯t want to wear out my welcome¡ª¡±


    ¡°Raj!¡± I interrupted, exasperated. I turned away fully from the mirror to stand before him, craning my neck upwards so that I could see his face.


    I really wasn¡¯t sure what the issue was. Back in basic, I spent practically every waking minute with Raja, and that trend continued when we were in the same squad, so I couldn¡¯t see how I¡¯d be sick of him after only two weeks. He still skulked around my apartment as if navigating around land mines, like one wrong move would send him right back out on the streets. Despite what the last ten years had done to him, I wasn¡¯t going to let him think it made him unworthy.


    Though I wanted to reach for Raja more fully, I hesitated, settling instead on giving him a friendly pat on the arm.


    ¡°Maybe this is hard for you to believe, but¡­¡± I paused, suddenly feeling a little nervous. ¡°I meant what I said. You know. That night?¡±


    Raja¡¯s eyes went from tense to tender. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    I nodded silently. Then that big, contagious smile stretched across Raja¡¯s face.


    ¡°I guess I just¡­ I can¡¯t believe anyone would, um, have me around. Willingly, I mean.¡± His smile slowly progressed from joy to pain. ¡°God, it sounds pathetic, but¡ª I¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t push Raja to finish his sentence. Instead I drew closer to him, careful not to make him nervous. Those dark, dark eyes of his grew shiny with tears.


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember the last time someone actually gave a shit about me,¡± he whimpered, voice trembling. He turned away and covered his face. ¡°Like¡­ actually gave a shit, not just¡­ using me for something, or, or¡­ I don¡¯t fucking know.¡±


    ¡°Well, I care,¡± I said. Such words felt too sincere, too soft, so I scrambled to say something else. ¡°Now quit crying, you fuckin¡¯ pussy.¡±


    ¡°Christ¡ª still as sensitive as always, huh?¡± As his tears gave way to laughter, Raja smacked me upside the head. ¡°Get out of here already before I kick your ass.¡±


    ¡°Wait, so I let you stay at my place, and now you¡¯re gonna hit me? Where¡¯s the appreciation?¡± I made my way to the coat rack by my door and pulled my jacket from the hook. ¡°Besides, you don¡¯t wanna challenge me, you know I¡¯ll win.¡±


    Raja followed me over, leaning against the wall with a sniffle and a smirk as I zipped up. ¡°Most people can win fights against cripples, Manny. It¡¯s not exactly something to be proud of.¡±


    We shared one last laugh together as I sorted through my pockets for my keys, wallet and phone. Just as I was about to step out, I glanced back at Raja one last time.


    My stomach fluttered at the sight of him, moved by the way the sun cast its shadows along the curve of his cheek and made his eyes glisten like little beads. His smile was so warm, so welcoming, I hadn¡¯t even thought of how much I¡¯d missed it until then. Under the weight of my stare, Raja cocked his head to the side.


    ¡°Hm? Is something up?¡± He asked.


    Embarrassed, I coughed to clear my throat and turned around.


    ¡°No,¡± I replied, annoyed at how slimy my palms were as I twisted the door knob to leave.

 DIAMETRIC

    Ever since that reporter had stopped by the station, work began to put me more on edge.


    Though the number of fires continued to rise steadily, I wasn¡¯t able to identify a link between them yet; all I had was a deep seated sense of wrongness about them, though I did consider that I was being swayed by the power of suggestion. Unfortunately, that level of self awareness couldn¡¯t stop the fires from bleeding into my dreams, worsening the awful nightmares I already struggled with.


    Another sleepless night had come and gone, so I gave up that morning and decided to wash up before Cliff¡¯s cookout later that afternoon. According to the clock, it was 0700, which was around the time I should¡¯ve been out of bed anyway.


    As I lathered up my face and neck with shaving cream, I saw in the mirror¡¯s reflection that Raja was observing me from the doorway. The first couple of times he¡¯d stood there watching, it startled the hell out of me, but now I¡¯d grown accustomed to his presence. When our eyes met, I simply smiled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have work today, so you don¡¯t need to be up to make me anything,¡± I said, wetting the razor in the sink.


    ¡°Mm, I know, but I feel kinda lazy if I¡¯m asleep all day¡­¡± Raja yawned as he scratched his armpit. ¡°You got plans for today?¡±


    ¡°Cliff¡¯s having a cookout later,¡± I replied. ¡°I never get to go to these things with my schedule like it is, so I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡±


    Raja bristled at the mention of Cliff¡¯s name. ¡°You still talk to Cliff?¡±


    ¡°Mmhm,¡± I hummed as I swept the razor over my upper lip. ¡°You know he¡¯s a detective now? And he and his wife are about to have their second kid.¡±


    Dismissively, Raja grunted. ¡°Of course he¡¯s a cop¡­¡±


    I turned around to look at him. ¡°What, not a fan of the fuzz?¡±


    ¡°Hell no,¡± he spat immediately. ¡°Cops are always accusing you of loitering, or writing bullshit tickets, or¡ª oh, this one they do all the time¡ª they¡¯ll harass you on purpose so that they can arrest you for ¡®threatening an officer¡¯ when you tell them to fuck off. I can¡¯t remember the last time I saw one actually do his job. Fuck every last one of ¡®em, especially Cliff.¡±


    As he spoke, I slathered more shaving cream down my neck. Aside from catching heat from them once in a while as a young boy in the barrio, I¡¯d never really gotten too much trouble from the police. I considered it more based on luck than anything, though - I¡¯d had plenty of friends growing up who were picked on enough to consider a squad car their second home.


    ¡°Well, I know you guys never liked each other, but he¡¯s not that kind of cop.¡± I grazed the razor along the underside of my chin. ¡°He¡¯s one of the good ones.¡±


    Rolling his eyes, Raja scoffed. ¡°Doubt it. He probably joined up just so he¡¯d get to bully everyone like he always did.¡±


    ¡°Man, you hold grudges like a motherfucker,¡± I shook my head, laughing. ¡°Remind me not to piss you off.¡±


    ¡°He always had it out for me!¡± His eyebrows formed an angry line across his forehead. ¡°Always calling me weak, a pussy, a coward...¡±


    He paused, his face growing increasingly remorseful. He didn¡¯t need to say what he was thinking, because I already knew. From the mirror, I glanced back at him tenderly.


    ¡°There are plenty of things Cliff is wrong about,¡± I said quietly, ¡°so I wouldn¡¯t let it bother you.¡±


    When my face was smooth enough for my liking, I splashed myself with hot water. Usually I¡¯d use cool water, but for some reason I¡¯d gotten pretty sensitive to the cold. In fact, even though the weather was going to be in the seventies, I considered taking a jacket just to be on the safe side.


    As I toweled off, Raja stepped forward into the bathroom, which wasn¡¯t exactly a comfortable fit for two grown men to stand in. His eyes traveled across my cheeks and chin before flickering to mine. ¡°You missed a spot.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I swiveled my head to see my reflection before swiveling back to face him. ¡°Where?¡±


    Slowly, Raja raised his hand and brushed the pad of his finger to the part of my face where my jaw met my neck. He moved his finger in a tiny, circular motion and located a near microscopic patch of stubble, as if he¡¯d had a sixth sense for it. ¡°Right here.¡±


    We were standing so close, my head was swimming. With his fingers right along my jugular, I was sure he must¡¯ve felt how fast my heart was racing.


    ¡°You, uh, got a good eye there,¡± I replied with a laugh; my voice came out breathier than I meant it to. ¡°I¡¯ll get on that.¡±


    At this, Raja nodded. With a quick swipe of my razor on the offending patch, I called myself done. Then, I nudged past him to the closet and dug around through the laundry hamper for a shirt to throw on. ¡°You need anything while I¡¯m out?¡± I asked to change the subject.


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m good,¡± Raja replied. ¡°Oh, wait, can I use your laptop while you¡¯re gone?¡±


    ¡°What, so you can watch porn?¡± I raised an eyebrow, amused. ¡°You can watch all the porn you want when you¡¯ve bought yourself your own laptop, but until then¡­¡±


    ¡°So I can look for a job, dumbass,¡± Raja laughed. ¡°Just feel like¡­ maybe it¡¯s time for me to actually get on my feet. I wanna pull my weight around here, you know?¡±


    Rather than cracking another joke, my face softened. ¡°Well, keep me updated¡ª wait, how are you going to apply for jobs without a phone?¡±


    ¡°I have a phone,¡± he replied. ¡°It¡¯s just beat to hell and back and can¡¯t hold a charge for long. I also can¡¯t really use the internet on it, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking.¡±


    ¡°Huh.¡± I scratched the back of my head. ¡°Where¡¯d you get the money for a phone? Did you really make that much playing the guitar?¡±


    Raja took a deep breath and exhaled. ¡°Let¡¯s just say money wasn¡¯t involved and leave it at that.¡±


    The shame radiating off of Raja was clear, and I felt like an asshole for asking. I wasn¡¯t about to berate him about the ethics of life on the streets. With nothing smart nor sensitive to say in reply, all I did was smile at him reassuringly.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said simply. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    He smiled back.


    ? ? ?


    The cookout was already buzzing with activity by the time I showed up.


    As I passed through the fence to the backyard, I noticed there were more people there than I had expected. Some I recognized, most I didn¡¯t, but just seeing so many of them at once made me a little uneasy. While I took in the scenery, Cliff¡¯s daughter Savannah zipped by while being chased by some bony little boy.


    The moment Cliff saw me, he motioned for me to join him by the grill. Immediately, he thrust an icy beer into my hands from the cooler beside him. ¡°Manny! Glad you could make it,¡± he grinned. ¡°Niecey was just asking about you!¡±


    I looked over to see his wife, Shenice, serving a coconut rum cake by the patio. Everywhere she went, she waddled, the curve of her stomach bumping into everything by accident. She looked exhausted, but beamed happily when Savannah gave her a surprise hug from behind.


    ¡°She looks ready to burst,¡± I said. ¡°When¡¯s she due again?¡±


    ¡°End of May.¡± Cliff glanced over to her, lovestruck. ¡°Honestly, man, I can¡¯t wait. I already told you it¡¯s a boy, right?¡±


    I simply nodded in reply, drinking my beer to calm my nerves when I saw another family enter the backyard. ¡°Mercy gotten here yet?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen her so far,¡± he replied. ¡°Vanny¡¯s excited about seeing Cleo. She¡¯s crazy about her.¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡± I took another sip. ¡°Hey, so, about that¡­ you know¡­¡±


    Cliff paused before he drank his own beer. ¡°Hm?¡±


    Before I could explain any further, out of the corner of my eye I saw Mercy open up the back gate, holding some kind of dish in her arms, with Cleo and a guy behind her. I gave Cliff a brief ¡®hold on¡¯ motion and headed over to greet them.


    It was a rare sight to see Mercy out of her office clothes. She wore a patterned pink sundress, loose towards her legs and tight towards her bust, and sandals that showed off her toenails painted white. A typical outfit for her was a lot less form-fitting; I resisted the urge to settle my eyes south of her collarbone, focusing instead on the way she smiled sweetly at me.


    ¡°?Hola, linda!¡± I pulled her into a hug, careful to dodge the plate in her hands. ¡°Don¡¯t you look good? I ain¡¯t seen this dress on you in ages!¡±


    When we parted, Mercy blushed. ¡°You¡¯re so sweet, Manu. I haven¡¯t worn it in for a while¡­ I was actually surprised I fit into it! I thought it¡¯d be too tight.¡±


    ¡°I talked her into it,¡± said the man beside her, curling his arm around her waist. ¡°Just to show her off a little, you know?¡±


    I narrowed my eyes at the man but forced a smile onto my face anyway. ¡°Ah¡ª you must be Luke. I¡¯ve heard a lot about you.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Yes¡­¡± Mercy seemed a bit embarrassed. ¡°Manny, this is my boyfriend, Luke. Luke, this Manny.¡±


    Immediately, I knew this guy was from California; you just couldn¡¯t find a guy more stereotypical. His straight, light brown hair was swept back into a bun, and he had a patchy beard that extended down his neck. His hands were buried in the pockets of his jeans, which looked fresh off the rack from a store, and his upright posture reminded me of a meerkat standing watch.


    Though I had to admit, Luke wasn¡¯t like most of the other guys Mercy tended to attract: he was unusually clean-cut, for starters, and he didn¡¯t look like he had so much as a misdemeanor on his record. In fact, he looked like the kind of guy who balked at going over speed limits - and would be insufferably smug about it, too.


    Luke offered his fist to bump against mine, but I made no move to return the gesture. After a few awkward seconds crawled by, he casually tucked his hand back into his pocket. I shot a glance to Cleo, who shot a glance to Mercy, who shot a glance back to me. As we all traded glances, Luke clearly felt out of the loop, but didn¡¯t interrupt. Then, Mercy cleared her throat.


    ¡°Well, boys, I¡¯m going to go see if Niecey needs any help!¡± Turning to Cleo, Mercy motioned forward with her head. ¡°Nenita, why don¡¯t you go see what Savannah is up to? Niecey said she¡¯s been talking about you all week!¡±


    Cleo groaned, but obeyed the request anyway. As she walked off, I heard her grumble something under her breath about having to play babysitter all the time.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back!¡± Mercy said to the both of us. ¡°Don¡¯t you two start any trouble, now!¡±


    Once Cleo and Mercy were gone, I turned my eye to Luke as he made a move to go grab a beer from one of the coolers around the yard. He cracked it open and gave it a long, steady drink.


    ¡°So like, are you Mercedes¡¯ brother or a cousin or something?¡± Luke¡¯ eyes darted up and down. ¡°¡¯Cause no offense, but I do not see the family resemblance.¡±


    ¡°No¡ª we grew up on the same street. Cleo¡¯s dad was my best friend as a kid,¡± I replied. ¡°We served in the army together, along with Cliff¡ª that¡¯s the guy hosting this whole thing.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re a military guy, huh?¡± His tone trailed off as if unsure of what to make of it. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ interesting.¡±


    I smiled so flatly, it was hardly a smile at all. ¡°Got something to say about it?¡±


    ¡°No, no!¡± Luke interrupted his beer drinking to wave his hands in surrender. ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t agree with the military, but¡­ I¡¯m sure you had your reasons for joining.¡±


    Rather than interject, I stared at him expectantly. I was really mostly interested in seeing how far he could stick his foot in his mouth, which distracted me from the urge to stick my foot up his ass. But it dawned on me that Mercy deserved more in life than me sabotaging her chance at a relationship, so I decided to take the high road.


    ¡°Right, well, there¡¯s no need to talk politics,¡± I said in my most disarming voice. ¡°Anyway¡­ have you and Mercy been together long?¡±


    Though clearly still apprehensive, Luke smiled tightly. ¡°We¡¯re coming on up to three months now.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about Mercy keeping us away from each other for so long. Was she afraid that I would hate him? Because with the kind of guy he seemed to be, that was going to happen regardless of how long she kept me in the dark. The idea that she was so resistant to introducing him made me more concerned about her thoughts on me than about Luke.


    We both turned to watch Mercy as she and Shenice spoke, and at the sight of her in that sundress, I couldn¡¯t help but let out a sigh. Luke, having seemingly noticed, cleared his throat - but then his attention redirected straight to my arm.


    ¡°Eesh¡ª watch out, you got a wasp on you,¡± he said, raising his hand to smack it.


    I looked to my forearm and saw a little wasp bumbling its way down to my hand. Normally, I¡¯d have shaken my arm to get it off, but I simply stared at it. It was weird to see a wasp this time of year - usually in Texas, they were bigger pests towards the fall. While it waltzed down my arm casually, the wasp turned its little yellow face upward at me.


    ¡°Are you¡­ going to do something about it?¡± Luke swallowed audibly, hand still in mid-air.


    I shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s just minding its own business.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ alright. You do you, I guess. I¡¯m seriously allergic to those, so, I¡¯m just gonna¡­ go, I think.¡± He lowered his hand. ¡°See you around.¡±


    As Luke departed, so too did the wasp. I had a feeling Luke was from the part of California where they¡¯d pretty much stamped out any run-ins with wildlife, so it made sense that his first instinct was to dispose of it as soon as possible. Still, I¡¯d never seen a wasp behave so amicably¡­


    The rest of the cookout was relatively uneventful, though Luke had to leave early. Since Mercy and Cleo wanted to stay longer, I naturally volunteered to drive them home, which he seemed to appreciate more than I expected. A part of me felt bad for being standoffish with him, but in my defense, my social stamina was running on fumes these days.


    As the party began to wind down and people began to leave, I pulled Mercy off to the side under a tree for more privacy. During the entire party, she¡¯d been finding little ways to avoid being alone with me, but now she¡¯d run out of excuses. The second we were alone - or at least somewhat alone - Mercy made a face as if bracing for impact.


    ¡°What¡¯s that face for?¡± I asked, puzzled.


    Mercy winced preemptively. ¡°You¡¯re about to tell me that you don¡¯t like Luke.¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± I half-lied.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t give me that! He¡¯s exactly the kind of guy you don¡¯t like!¡± She crossed her arms and pouted. ¡°He¡¯s thoughtful, he¡¯s educated, he¡¯s sensitive¡ª¡±


    I blinked. ¡°What, you think I¡¯m too low-brow to get along with a guy like him?¡±


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not what I meant,¡± she groaned. ¡°I¡¯m just saying he¡¯s a really sweet guy, and he¡¯s not like any other guy I¡¯ve ever been with, and¡­ I want you two to get along, but I¡¯ve been so nervous about you meeting him ¡®cause I know you¡¯ll find a hundred things wrong with him in five seconds flat like you always do. I just wanted it to be different this time.¡±


    There was no point in pretending that Mercy wasn¡¯t right. Still, there wasn¡¯t a way to describe it to her, at least in a way that¡¯d make her understand. I just didn¡¯t like Luke, and that was that. Didn¡¯t like that stupid little laugh of his, like a donkey braying; didn¡¯t like the ¡®fun facts¡¯ he interrupted with during multiple conversations; and I especially didn¡¯t like how his hand rested so confidently on the small of Mercy¡¯s back as if it belonged there.


    But I knew better than to say anything, tired of having my motives questioned when all I wanted was for her to be taken care of. When I said nothing and simply stared at the grass beneath our feet, Mercy sighed.


    ¡°I just want what¡¯s best for you,¡± I said quietly. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    Her eyes, dark and beautiful, focused on nothing else but me. ¡°Can you trust me to know what¡¯s best for me?¡±


    As she looked at me, I felt a compulsion to bring her into my arms, but I knew that I couldn¡¯t. Not only because our friends might see and make assumptions, but also because, deep down inside, I worried that for the first time she wouldn¡¯t want me to hold her.


    In my mind swarmed everything I wanted to say, but I held my tongue. I could see how badly she wanted this, and I felt guilty for holding her back.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, nodding stiffly. ¡°Of course.¡±


    In relief, Mercy smiled warmly, but it didn¡¯t feel like a smile meant for me.


    ? ? ?


    When it was time to go home, I rounded up Mercy and Cleo into my truck and bid farewell to Cliff and his family. The drive back to their place was relatively quiet, with mostly Cleo badgering Mercy for gossip about things like weddings, divorces and other adult-oriented topics she was too young to hear about but just old enough to care about.


    The car was getting a little hot, so I wiggled the jacket off of my shoulders and rolled up my sleeves. From behind me in the back seat, Cleo made a weird little noise. ¡°Hey T¨ªo,¡± she began, ¡°Where¡¯d you get that little lump on your arm?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I glanced at her from the corner of my eye.


    ¡°Oh, jeez!¡± Mercy¡¯s hand flew up to her mouth once she¡¯d noticed it too. ¡°Where did you get that thing, Manolo?¡±


    When we pulled up to a stoplight, I took my eyes off the road to see what they were talking about. On my forearm was a little welt, rounded and protruding, though unlike a bruise it had no color to it. It couldn¡¯t have possibly been a sting from that wasp, because it didn¡¯t even try to attack - and I¡¯d had my jacket on, so its stinger wouldn¡¯t have been able to make contact.


    The longer I stayed quiet, the more uncomfortable the atmosphere got in the car. Anxiously, I let out a laugh to defuse the tension. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s¡ª it¡¯s just a bug bite,¡± I answered quickly. ¡°Nothing to worry about.¡±


    Mercy gave Cleo a critical glare from the passenger¡¯s side. ¡°You should know better than to ask people invasive questions about their bodies, Cleo.¡±


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t have asked anyone else!¡± Cleo huffed. ¡°But I can ask T¨ªo anything, right, T¨ªo?¡±


    It was hard to focus on the road now that I¡¯d seen the lump on my arm. I had a sinking feeling about it, but I couldn¡¯t explain it. Not to them, not to anyone - and at this point, not even to myself.


    ¡°Of course you can,¡± I said. ¡°Ask me anything you want, pecosita.¡±


    I yanked the sleeve down my arm quickly.


    ¡°I¡¯m an open book.¡±

 GUIDING HAND

    A couple of times a month, the guys at the station liked to head down to the bar and unwind amongst ourselves on our off time, doing what guys like us did best: get shitfaced.


    It was mostly a tradition for Liam, DeShawn and Rob, as my attendance was spotty at best; it depended on whether I¡¯d promised my time to others, which was something I allowed mostly of Mercy and Cleo.


    In contrast, Heather always had the opportunity to join, but declined. Somehow her absence always offended Liam, like he couldn¡¯t imagine why Heather didn¡¯t want to be around a bunch of drunk guys acting up in public. Every time I tried to defend her choice, it became an argument, so I gave up and just let very stupid sleeping dogs lie.


    But now Garrett had been around long enough that he¡¯d earned himself an invitation. I couldn¡¯t lie and say it was a high honor, but he did seem to appreciate a little more inclusion.


    Our typical haunt was a quiet little hole-in-the-wall owned by a friend of DeShawn''s, who gave us discounts on drinks for being first responders. I always wondered if it had more to do with us overlooking certain building code violations whenever we visited, but I wasn¡¯t going to say anything about it.


    I was the last to arrive, greeted by the sight of Liam and Rob smoking while DeShawn rambled about something to Garrett. I gave everyone a wave, and I got a nod of acknowledgment from all of them - except Garrett, who smiled widely.


    ¡°Gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting,¡± I said, stepping up onto the curb. ¡°Are we ready?¡±


    ¡°Hell yeah!¡± Liam grinned. ¡°I¡¯ve been needing a drink bad since I got off the phone with Lindsey.¡±


    ¡°Was she on you about the child support?¡± Rob shook his head in disapproval. ¡°Least she doesn¡¯t have you on the hook for alimony¡­¡±


    ¡°Every day, y¡¯all make me so glad I¡¯m with Jazmin ¡®til the day I die!¡± said DeShawn. ¡°When you two stop sticking your dicks in crazy, life will get a lot easier for you, seriously.¡±


    Liam turned to me and Garrett, who had simply been watching silently. ¡°Guys, listen: never, ever get married. Marriage is hell.¡±


    Garrett and I shot a glance at each other before I laughed. ¡°Man, shut up and let¡¯s get inside. I can only hear your voice for so long before I have to be drunk.¡±


    When we entered, the bar had a little activity inside, but not enough to scare me off. Some bored women in tight dresses were perched at the corner of the counter, and an old guy with patchy hair like a Xolo dog took up a table by himself near the bathroom doors. A few guys (who I questioned whether or not they were old enough to be in there) were already having a party loud enough to hear over the music bellowing from the speakers.


    We claimed a table towards the center so we had easy access to the bar if we needed more drinks. Rob was preparing to get everyone¡¯s orders - memorized by heart - before I raised my hand. ¡°Don¡¯t forget Garrett,¡± I said, pointing to Garrett, who sat beside me.


    Rob nodded. ¡°Right, right, right. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know,¡± Garrett replied, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°I don¡¯t really drink a lot, so¡­¡±


    ¡°Surprise him!¡± Liam interrupted. ¡°Oh, man, Rob, wait. I have an idea. You know exactly what to get him.¡±


    DeShawn shook his head. ¡°Here we go¡­¡±


    An uneasiness began to spread across Garrett¡¯s face. As much as I didn¡¯t want to seem like a knight in shining armor, the last thing I wanted was for them to make him drink something disgusting as a gag.


    ¡°Guys, just get him a beer.¡± I gave a serious glance to all of them before turning to Rob. ¡°And not that shitty beer they¡¯re always pushing, get him what I usually get.¡±


    Once Rob had gotten everyone¡¯s choices, he went over to stand at the bar, leaving me, DeShawn, Garrett and Liam to talk while he was gone.


    ¡°Yeah, Gooch? You like it when your boyfriend picks things for you?¡± Liam chuckled, punching Garrett in the shoulder. ¡°He gonna start picking out your outfits next?¡±


    I rolled my eyes. That beer can¡¯t come fast enough, I thought, pulling out my phone.


    I¡¯m sure Garrett objected in some way, but I¡¯d checked out of the conversation at that point. I scrolled aimlessly through my news feed, but it was awash with headlines and subtitles that I couldn¡¯t bring myself to really care about.


    That reporter had been right; the Dallas news outlets hadn¡¯t really given much airtime to the fires beyond saying that they¡¯d happened, which struck me as odd. Then again, every station - depending on its location - had their own uptick in incidents without every paper in the city hammering down their doors, so was it really worth the attention?


    The train of thought made me nervous, but not as nervous as the strange little lump on my arm. I purposefully chose long sleeves tonight to avoid any questions, but simply knowing that it was there was distracting enough. I kept finding myself reaching under my sleeve and touching it, as if the more I pressed on it, the sooner it¡¯d go away.


    ¡°Hey, are you there? Earth to Manny.¡±


    DeShawn¡¯s voice came out of nowhere, and I jostled in my seat before focusing my eyes on him.


    ¡°Yeah? What¡¯s up?¡± My words bubbled out of my mouth quickly.


    He pointed to the beer, and thankfully, nobody else had seemed to notice I¡¯d left it untouched. ¡°You good? Something eating you?¡±


    ¡°Ah, right, um,¡± I shrugged, taking a full swig out of the bottle just to attract less attention. ¡°Yeah, just¡­ got these fires on my mind, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them get to you,¡± DeShawn said reassuringly. ¡°If anything, it means we can actually go out and do shit instead of sitting around counting dials and washing engines.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s¡­¡± I trailed off, sighing. ¡°Something¡¯s up with it. I feel it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still having feelings?¡± Rob interjected. ¡°Gotta get another beer in you, ese. Liam, your turn to grab drinks. And get some chips, too.¡±


    I looked around the table at the other guys. It was strange to say, but I felt lonely in spite of the company; as they could drink and unwind and laugh, I was still struggling to unload the tension I always walked around with. All I could do was bury it as deeply as I could and hope that it wouldn¡¯t rise like the living dead.


    As Liam departed from the table to get another round of drinks, I glanced over at Garrett. He had lightweight written all over him, his fair skin reddening as he¡¯d already finished his second beer. At least everything was funny to him now, so maybe he could take more ribbing from the crew.


    I had no intention of drinking much - the days of getting blackout wasted were behind me, though not as far as I¡¯d like for them to be. I¡¯d decided that I needed to stay the most sober out of all of them, since I knew they were only going to egg Garrett on further into embarrassing himself.


    The idea of spending the entire evening on my phone struck me as kind of rude, so I put it back in my pocket and turned my focus back to the guys. I was just in time to watch Garrett try taking a shot of¡­ something.


    ¡°Woah, hey, aren¡¯t you going kind of fast?¡± I raised my eyebrows in concern. ¡°How many drinks have you already had?¡±


    ¡°Enough to finally get Gooch some hair on his chest!¡± Rob laughed loudly. ¡°Gonna make him a yeti at this rate!¡±


    Liam narrowed his eyes at me. ¡°Christ, Manny, quit being such a hard ass. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d think we were drinking with Cormorant.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay, Manny, really!¡± Garrett smiled, cheeks redder than they were before. ¡°Oof, that last one kinda burned, though¡­¡±


    I reached over to DeShawn and shook his shoulder. ¡°DeShawn, back me up here.¡±


    In reply, DeShawn groaned, trying to keep his eyes glued to the TV that displayed a basketball game. ¡°Let me watch the game in peace!¡±


    It was hopeless. Rob and Liam were already pushing Garrett into trying a different kind of drink, and I felt like I was the only voice of reason in some corny frat house movie. Hard to believe these were actually grown men with mortgages and bank accounts.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Hours later, everyone had gotten progressively drunker, though I¡¯d tapped out after the third beer. A part of me wished that I hadn¡¯t, because the conversations got dumber and louder as the night went on.


    The entire time, I kept a close eye on Garrett, whose whole face became flushed like he¡¯d ran a marathon. The shine in his eyes had become obscured from how heavy his lids had gotten, and he met just about every statement with a goofy giggle. It was hard to watch.


    By the time midnight came and went, the party had begun to wind down while the bar prepared to close its doors. We all filed out and stood out on the curb, where the night air was cool, but still a little sticky.


    ¡°Alright boys, I think it¡¯s time to call it,¡± said Rob as he stretched backwards.


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right,¡± DeShawn replied. He yawned, then scratched his jaw. ¡°Great fuckin¡¯ night though.¡±


    Liam patted Garrett on the back, which just about made Garrett lose balance. ¡°Got a hell of a liver on you, probie! When you took those three shots in a row, I actually thought you might die.¡±


    ¡°Nah, not me!¡± Garrett laughed woozily. ¡°I, uh, I got those, um, good ol¡¯ Irish genes.¡±


    ¡°Of course¡ª and we all know that being able to drink a lot is a useful skill,¡± I replied sarcastically. ¡°Garrett, are you sure you¡¯re okay to drive?¡±


    Garrett nodded, but when he dug around in his pocket for his keys, he lifted them up only to drop them on the ground right after. As he squatted down to grab them, he stumbled, and that was all I needed to know.


    ¡°Oh shit, you¡¯re fucking wasted!¡± Rob let out a hoarse, wheezy chuckle. ¡°I think you outta get an Uber, little man.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no¡ª I¡¯m fine¡­¡± Garrett whined, clearly not fine at all.


    ¡°And who is to blame for this?¡± I glared at the three of them and gestured to Garrett as he made his way back to his feet. ¡°C¡¯mon, man, I¡¯ll drive you home. You can get a ride to get your car back tomorrow, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll tow it, right, DeShawn?¡±


    As if sensing that I wouldn¡¯t take no for an answer, Garrett smiled, blinking slowly when he came over to stand next to me. It was debatable if he was even sober enough to walk in a straight line, let alone drive. When he wobbled, he wobbled right into me, and the guys all laughed at the sight of us.


    ¡°Aw, look at you two! Gonna settle in for a romantic evening?¡± DeShawn cooed mockingly, earning immediate laughter from Rob and Liam. ¡°Should we give you two some privacy?¡±


    ¡°If he throws up in my truck, I¡¯m sending an itemized bill to each of you so you can pay for it to be cleaned.¡± I locked eyes with them, one by one. ¡°Y¡¯all know I don¡¯t mess around with my truck.¡±


    ¡°Whatever! Have fun jerking each other off!¡± Liam shrugged, sliding a cigarette between his lips. ¡°Later, guys!¡±


    When he lit up, Liam waved to the rest of us, and everyone parted ways to return to our cars. I trusted them to drive because I knew they were aware of the hard limits where they had to stop drinking if they wanted to be safe on the road. Garrett? Not so much.


    As we walked slowly, I looped his arm across my shoulders to keep him steady as we got to my truck. He climbed in with the grace of a newborn foal and shut the door behind him violently, which I tried not to yell at him about.


    ¡°Okay, chico, where am I headed to?¡± I pulled up the map on my phone, tapping to turn my location on so the GPS could guide me.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Garrett mumbled. He pulled out his phone and brought up his address. ¡°Oh, shit¡ª I can¡¯t, uh, really read this right now¡­¡±


    With a sigh, I grabbed his phone and added his address to my route myself. As I tried to hand it back to him, it slipped, dropping to the floor with a thud. Garrett leaned down to grab it, but he bumped his head on the dashboard and let out a colorful string of curse words under his breath.


    ¡°God, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°I really shouldn¡¯t have let them get you this drunk.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a grown man, I can drink as much as I want.¡± Garrett struggled to balance his elbow on the car door, his fingers enmeshed in his hair. ¡°And¡ª and if it, you know, if it gets ¡®em to¡­ to take me seriously¡­ then¡­ good. Cool. Awesome. I can take it.¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t going to take you seriously by getting you trashed, they¡¯re going to take you seriously by giving you actual responsibilities.¡± As I rolled up to the stop, I put my turn signal on. ¡°They did this to fuck with you, like they usually do. Don¡¯t mistake it for anything else.¡±


    He let out a dizzy, mournful groan. ¡°Manny, I don¡¯t get it! What¡¯s it gonna take? I do everything they say, I, I play along with their fucking¡ª their stupid fucking jokes, I do my chores, I study n¡¯ study n¡¯ study¡­¡±


    ¡°The station¡¯s got a hierarchy to it, and respect is earned,¡± I replied. ¡°Right now, you¡¯re at the bottom of the food chain, so they¡¯re messing with you just for fun.¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡­ everywhere I go, I¡¯m always on the fuckin¡¯¡­ bottom¡­¡± His head slumped forward sadly. ¡°I¡¯m never on top of anyone¡­¡±


    What a way to put it, I thought in amusement; I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Immediately, he took offense. ¡°Don¡¯t laugh at me!¡± He cried. ¡°I¡¯m sick of people laughing at me!¡±


    ¡°I ain¡¯t laughing at you, chico,¡± I smiled. ¡°You just said it funny, that¡¯s all.¡±


    From the corner of my eye, I could see Garrett was still a little hurt, but let it pass. ¡°People¡¯ve pushed me ¡®round all my life¡­ what¡¯s it gonna take for anyone to take me seriously?¡±


    The nearer we got to Garrett¡¯s apartment, the better I felt about taking him home despite my initial hesitance. The last thing I¡¯d signed up for was to play babysitter to a drunk kid, but I owed it to him, since I let him be such a drunk kid in the first place. And though I wasn¡¯t ready to admit it, deep down, I also felt I still owed him for saving me from the chemical fire. The scales had to be balanced somehow.


    ¡°It just takes time.¡± I reached over to pat him on the shoulder. ¡°The better you get at the job, the more they¡¯ll respect you.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ I just gotta¡­ get better at fires?¡± He ended his sentence with a hiccup that sounded like a croaking frog. ¡°Oof, sorry.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Christ, you¡¯re a mess¡­¡±


    Thankfully, we got to Garrett¡¯s complex without a single incident of car sickness. I was a little surprised that he lived in the West End Historic District, since it seemed steep for him to afford on a probie¡¯s salary, but then again, the kid was driving last year¡¯s Audi. Against all the other sharp, modern cars on the street, I just barely managed to squeeze my truck in between them.


    ¡°Alright, we¡¯re here. Let¡¯s get you inside.¡± I unbuckled my seat belt and, before Garrett could come up with a reply, I was already opening the passenger¡¯s side to let him out. He nearly lost his footing on the way, tumbling against me before reeling back to give me space.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry, sorry,¡± he babbled quickly. ¡°I¡¯m on the, uh, third floor¡­ there¡¯s elevators, so we don¡¯t gotta walk¡­¡±


    Did I have to take Garrett all the way up? The thought crossed my mind to just leave him there to get back up on his own, but it seemed a better idea to beat my guilty conscience to the punch and just take him up there myself.


    Dragging Garrett by his arm, we were able to get through the lobby and to the elevators with little fanfare, since it was so late at night. It was clean and ornate, seeming more like a hotel than an apartment complex, with floors that glistened and pure white couches; really, it was so sterile it actually made me uncomfortable.


    By the time we¡¯d gotten to Garrett¡¯s door, he¡¯d sobered up just a little bit, but not nearly enough. After sorting through his key ring, he still had trouble putting the key into the deadbolt, so I took his hand into mine and aligned the key so it fit inside.


    When our hands twisted it together, he swallowed audibly. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Garrett repeated once more, glancing at me over his shoulder.


    ¡°Just get in,¡± I replied, annoyed at how long this was taking. ¡°I don¡¯t got all night to play with you.¡±


    ¡°Okay, well, I got it from here¡ª¡± He bumped into an end table that stood in his doorway. ¡°Fuck! Ow, hold on, maybe I don¡¯t¡­¡±


    Never before had I been so grateful to no longer be drunk, stupid and in my twenties. With a broad hand, I shoved Garrett on the back towards what I could only assume was his bedroom, hoping he¡¯d finally gotten tired enough to go the fuck to sleep. Thankfully, he took the hint, carefully entering his room and flopping forward onto his bed.


    Finally. I rested my hand on the door knob and gave him one last pitying look.


    ¡°Goodnight,¡± I said sternly. ¡°Try not to die, if you can help it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± Garrett mumbled as he rolled onto his back to sit up. He leaned over to start untying his boots, but by now, his dexterity was absolutely shot; watching him almost caused me actual physical pain. I pinched the bridge of my nose, heaving a heavy sigh before I went over there and smacked his hands away.


    Without any objection, Garrett moved back, allowing me to pull the knots free from his boot laces. It reminded me of the numerous times I¡¯d helped Cleo in and out of her shoes, though at least Garrett didn¡¯t make a game of smacking me on the head as I did so.


    Falling backwards onto the bed, Garrett sighed with me, but his breath came out more softly than mine. I could only hope he was trying to beat back nausea, because there was no way in hell I was going to clean up his puke on top of everything else.


    ¡°Hey, Manny?¡± Garrett asked.


    Fucking hell¡­ ¡°What is it now?¡± I grunted.


    ¡°Do¡­¡± He paused to hiccup. ¡°Do you respect me?¡±


    I glared flatly at him. ¡°Well, shit, you got me on my knees taking shoes off your drunk ass. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I mean¡­¡± Propping himself up on his elbows to look down at me, Garrett frowned in such a way that it was more of a pout. ¡°Do you?¡±


    After I¡¯d wiggled his foot out of his second boot, I got up and dusted my hands off on my jeans. Garrett gazed up at me with unexpected shyness, cheeks still red. I could only hope for his sake that he¡¯d have zero recollection of this night, because it couldn¡¯t possibly be good for his already fragile ego.


    ¡°Look, here¡¯s some advice for free: you want to earn my respect? Do your job well and quit taking shit from other people.¡± I turned to make my exit, pausing in the doorway for one last look at him. ¡°And for the love of God, don¡¯t you ever make me take your boots off for you again.¡±


    Garrett laughed, though I hadn¡¯t meant it as a joke. He stared at me with heavy lidded eyes, so heavy that he actually looked a little dreamy. ¡°Manny, you¡¯re so cool¡­ you know that?¡±


    ¡°Goodnight, Garrett,¡± I emphasized one last time. Then, I pointed toward his end table. ¡°And put that trash can by your bed. You¡¯ll be grateful for it later.¡±


    Garrett bit the corner of his lip. ¡°More than I already am?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure what he meant by that, so I simply rolled my eyes and shut the door behind me.

 DECADE

    As of today, ten years had now passed since Feliz died.


    When I woke up that morning, I could¡¯ve hardly even called it ¡®waking up¡¯; throughout the night, I simply dipped in and out of consciousness, barely keeping my eyes shut for longer than five minutes at a time.


    Now that the sun was spilling into my room, I rose from the tangled mess of bed sheets like a mummy crawling out of a tomb. For hours, there¡¯d been a persistent buzzing in my head, and not even a cup of coffee at its hottest could drown it out. Halfway through my cup, as I was staring out at the Dallas skyline in a daze, it occurred to me: I hadn¡¯t seen Raja at all this morning.


    I turned the corner to check the living room, but the couch was unoccupied, pillows carefully arranged as if nobody had ever even been there. Raja¡¯s presence had become such a comfortable fixture in my apartment that without seeing him there, an uneasiness started to take hold.


    ¡°Raj?¡± I called out, setting my cup down on the coffee table.


    No answer.


    ¡°Raj?¡± I repeated.


    Nothing.


    I started scouring the living room trying to find his backpack, his Dallas Cowboys hoodie, any sign that he was still around, but it was like he¡¯d never been there. I threw open the door to the bathroom, but it too was empty.


    ¡°Raj!¡± I said loudly. ¡°Where you at, man?¡±


    Despite forcing myself to breathe steadily, I was suddenly finding the apartment tight and claustrophobic. I couldn¡¯t explain what made Raja¡¯s absence so alarming - it just felt wrong to wander around this empty apartment. To wake up alone again made it feel as if finding him had been a dream, and now I was back in the awful reality where he was gone for good.


    When the front door opened out of nowhere, I was so on edge, I nearly jumped out of my skin.


    Standing there in the doorway was Raja, letters in one hand and keys to my mailbox in the other, wearing his Dallas Cowboys hoodie. The sight of him was like a tranquilizer to my nervous system; the thunderous pulsing in my head subsided, and I breathed a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Raj,¡± I said wearily. ¡°There you are.¡±


    Raja blinked. ¡°Sorry, were you looking for me? Did you need something?¡±


    ¡°No, no.¡± I shook my head, feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. ¡°Everything¡¯s fine.¡±


    I wiped my hand across my forehead only to find it slick with sweat. My heart rate was taking its time to settle down, so I¡¯m sure I was still rather flushed, despite feeling shaky and bloodless.


    ¡°I just¡­ um¡­¡± My tongue held my words in a choke hold, keeping them from coming out easily. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t see you around, so¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I took out the trash and got the mail¡­ it just took me a while ¡®cause of this fucking limp.¡± Raja set the letters down on the counter, approaching me cautiously. ¡°You okay? You look kind of¡ª¡±


    ¡°Well then¡ª where¡¯s your backpack?¡± I interrupted, still on edge. ¡°This place hardly looks like you¡¯ve been here.¡±


    He pointed to the door down the hall. ¡°I keep it in the closet ¡®cause I haven¡¯t been able to make it stop stinking. And since I¡¯ve been staying here, I haven¡¯t really needed to keep my stuff in it since it¡¯s not like you¡¯ll steal it, so¡­¡±


    With all of the pieces falling together, I nodded. It was embarrassing being unable to figure that out on my own, and I didn¡¯t want to admit to him that I¡¯d simply jumped to the worst case scenario without hesitating, even though it was exactly what I did. I set my hands on my hips, trying to relax, only to notice the concern cast across Raja¡¯s face.


    ¡°You okay?¡± He frowned gently. ¡°You look a little sick.¡±


    I hesitated to meet his stare. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± He came closer and pressed his hand to my forehead, his fingertips cool against my skin. ¡°Woah¡ª you¡¯re running kinda hot.¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯m fine!¡± I snapped.


    Raja whipped his hand back like he¡¯d touched a stovetop. Regretfully, I hung my head, ashamed to lash out when he was just trying to be nice.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m just¡­ on edge right now.¡± I rubbed the back of my neck, smoothing down the raised hairs. ¡°I didn¡¯t sleep well last night. Not that I ever do, but¡­ well¡­¡±


    Instead of asking for clarification, Raja stared at me, his cheeks hollowing as he bit the insides of them. It took more strength to look at him than I thought it would.


    ¡°Today¡¯s the day,¡± I said quietly. ¡°You know?¡±


    First, a moment of confusion flashed across Raja¡¯s features before a grimness settled in. As if retreating, he crossed his arms against his chest, gripping his elbows so hard his knuckles protruded. He, too, hung his head, unable to look me in the eye.


    Without a word, he bumped past me in a trance-like state to get to the couch, dropping himself gracelessly onto the cushions. When he brushed his hair past his face, I could see the tears threatening to spill over.


    I wished I hadn¡¯t said anything, even though I knew Raja would¡¯ve figured it out eventually. I followed him to the couch, displacing a pillow so that I could sit close to him, though he recoiled when our knees brushed together.


    ¡°Raj.¡± It was embarrassing just how pathetic I sounded. ¡°Say something.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s there to say, Manny? What do you want me to say?¡± His voice cracked in pain. ¡°¡¯Cause all I can think to say is that it sure sucks that a whole fucking decade can pass, and it still feels like only yesterday that I ruined everything.¡±


    I knew it was pointless to interrupt, but I tried anyway. ¡°Raj¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fuck, does it ever get better?¡± He ran his hands through his hair, clutching it tightly. ¡°Am I ever gonna move past this? Is the pain ever going to stop? Is ¡®sorry¡¯ ever going to be enough?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± I said honestly. ¡°I¡¯m the last person on Earth who could give you advice on how to let it go.¡±


    Raja¡¯s fists shook against his skull before he slammed them down onto his lap. He then lurched forward, burying his face back into his hands, trying purposefully not to look at me. It only made me feel worse.


    ¡°This is always a hard day for me too,¡± I added, my throat dry. ¡°Shit, the first year after he died¡­¡±


    I couldn¡¯t actually remember what the first anniversary of Feliz¡¯s death was like; I got so drunk, I was sick for two days. I decided it was better not to finish that sentence, choosing instead to mindlessly fidget with the bandage I now kept across the ever-present lump on my arm. Without saying anything, Raja finally turned back to me, and we shared a look that I couldn¡¯t share with anyone else.


    Losing Feliz wasn¡¯t just about having him die in my arms, but also the hole that he left behind. With each passing year, everyone else grew around his absence, until that hole was less like a cavern and more like the eye of a needle. Life moved on for everyone else and yet here I was stuck in the past, the only one living in an eternal freeze-frame.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Even though I knew it was sick of me, I was grateful that Raja knew what it was like. He got me in a way that even Mercy didn¡¯t: she remembered Feliz with a smile on his face instead of a bullet in his chest. She could look at the photos on her walls with fondness instead of nausea, could hear his voice in videos without tearing up. She¡¯d even stopped wearing his wedding ring.


    In that moment, something clicked. Luke - and every other man Mercy went out with - was a walking representation of the fact that Mercy moved on and I hadn¡¯t, proof that she hadn¡¯t been gored by the horns of grief as I had. If she could move on, what was my excuse? Or did I want her to hurt because I couldn¡¯t handle being alone with my pain?


    I was broken free of my mental spiral by the presence of Raja¡¯s hand running along my shoulder blade, urging me to sit upright. When I did so, we stared at each other in a somber, knowing silence.


    ¡°Manny¡­¡± Raja seemed too afraid to continue, leaving my name to hang in the air.


    He withdrew his hand, and my skin was cooler without it. I didn¡¯t have the guts to object, so I simply sighed.


    ¡°You know, having you here¡­¡± I swallowed thickly. ¡°It¡¯s gonna make today easier.¡±


    For a split second, he winced, though I didn¡¯t know why. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Shit, there¡¯s no way this won¡¯t come out insane, so you gotta bear with me, okay?¡± I laughed anxiously. ¡°But, um, for all of these years, on this day, obviously, I think of Feliz.¡±


    Raja simply stared at me, waiting, his mouth forming a flat, nervous line.


    ¡°But¡­¡± I paused. ¡°I thought of you, too. Every year, I thought of you.¡±


    Even though he said nothing, his eyes widened just a bit, then narrowed.


    ¡°I never knew what happened to you once you got out of the hospital, so¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t stand to keep looking at Raja, so I stared out the window behind him instead. ¡°I kind of treated today like you¡¯d both died.¡±


    To soothe the strange itching that began under my skin, I ran my hands up and down my arms, but it made no difference. It felt like a hundred years passed before Raja finally spoke up, and his voice was so soft, it was almost inaudible. ¡°I wish I did.¡± He wiped his cheek with his hand, though there was nothing to wipe away. ¡°I should¡¯ve, really.¡±


    ¡°Fuck, don¡¯t say that,¡± I stammered, heart quickening. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true, though,¡± he continued; as he spoke, the tears that settled on his waterline began to fall. ¡°I would¡¯ve deserved it. I let him die. I¡ªI¡¯m such a fucking piece of shit¡ª¡±


    Raja couldn¡¯t finish his sentence, he¡¯d gotten so choked up. His hands tightened, knuckles bulging.


    ¡°Raj, I¡¯m not doing this, okay? I¡¯m not gonna take this bullshit where you blame yourself when you couldn¡¯t have changed a damn thing.¡± I tried to be stern, but it was hard when my heart was breaking. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault. And if you had died¡­¡±


    A headache was forming as I gazed at him so intensely, my eyes burned. I knew better than to act as if I had the right words to say, like I could speak into existence a way to heal the hurt that Raja carried. I wasn¡¯t smart enough, wasn¡¯t well spoken enough. There was only one thing I could think to say.


    ¡°Thank God you didn¡¯t die,¡± I whispered.


    As soon as the words left my mouth, Raja''s face crumpled. By now, he¡¯d curled into the opposite corner of the couch, as if he felt too guilty to be near me.


    In spite of this, I scooted towards him and closed the distance between us, resting my head on his shoulder. On his lap, his hands shook with how tightly he held his fists. When I slid my hand against his knuckles to coax his hand open, I saw thin, red lines where he¡¯d dug his nails into his palm.


    Raja made no motion to resist my touch; in fact, he seemed to welcome the feeling of my arms around him. As I held his hand in mine, he brought his other hand to close around it, brushing his thumb along mine in little circles.


    Whatever else there was to say felt inappropriate, as if the time had finally come to be quiet. I still had years of things left unsaid still bubbling inside of me, but right now, silence was golden.


    ? ? ?


    When the tension had eased, I left Raja back at the apartment to spend the rest of the day with Mercy and Cleo. I didn¡¯t even raise the idea to Raja that he could come with us to Feliz¡¯s grave. Though his tears had finally dried, he wasn¡¯t really in a state to leave the house, and in all honesty, I wasn¡¯t sure if Mercy and Cleo would actually want him there, either.


    So I went on without him, unable to understand why it was harder to leave him today than it had been on any other day. At least the mournful tightening in my chest had finally softened by the time I reached Mercy¡¯s house.


    Tradition for Mercy and Cleo was to lay out flowers at Feliz¡¯ head stone and then spend the day at Turtle Creek Park, which Mercy tried her best to make happen between her work schedule and Cleo¡¯s school days. They didn¡¯t make as much of a fuss about today as they did on D¨ªa de Muertos, where they took candies to ofrendas to pay their respects to him and other departed relatives. Just some flowers and brushing debris away from his head stone; that¡¯s all.


    When I drove up to their house, I saw Mercy and Cleo already waiting outside, a big bundle of flowers in Cleo¡¯s arms. They were talking with Mercy¡¯s mother, Lupe, and another woman who couldn¡¯t have been older than her fifties, with short spiky hair dyed engine red.


    The second the woman saw me arrive, she motioned broadly to my truck, kissing Mercy and Cleo on their cheeks before sending them off on their way. Once they¡¯d piled in, the woman waved and took Lupe back into the house.


    ¡°Who was that again?¡± I asked after we¡¯d all settled in. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve seen her before.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s Yolanda. She lives a couple houses down the street.¡± Mercy unfolded the mirror from the ceiling to check her makeup. ¡°She agreed to watch Mam¨¢ while we were gone, since Joey couldn¡¯t get time off work.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d like her, T¨ªo!¡± Cleo chirped. ¡°She¡¯s covered in tattoos just like you!¡±


    ¡°That seems kind of unusual for a woman of her age,¡± I replied, only half-listening.


    From the back seat, Cleo inched towards the middle so she could duck her head between me and Mercy. ¡°She told me she used to be in a gang! Do you think she¡¯s ever been in jail?¡±


    ¡°Cleo!¡± Mercy shouted. ¡°Even if that were true, why would you go around telling people that?¡±


    ¡°Hey, I think she sounds like a badass already.¡± I waited for traffic to settle before making my turn. ¡°I always thought you were kinda soft, pecosita. Maybe Yolanda can show you how the cholas do it, eh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Cleo bounced excitedly. ¡°She showed me her switchblade once!¡±


    ¡°Is this why you let her watch after tu Abuelita?¡± I glanced at Mercy. ¡°¡¯Cause she¡¯s already strapped?¡±


    Mercy heaved a sigh that just about filled up the cab of the truck. ¡°She¡¯s a very sweet lady. She¡¯s been nothing but an absolute angel when it comes to Mam¨¢ ¡®cause she¡¯s worked at nursing homes before. Respeta a tus mayores, Cleo. I raised you better than this, you know that.¡±


    At Mercy¡¯s lecture, Cleo moved back into her seat, pouting. There had been growing difficulties between them as time had gone on, as if Cleo were an ivy growing out of control that Mercy could no longer cut back. I counted my blessings that I didn¡¯t have to settle things between them more often.


    The rest of the drive, we sat in absolute silence - even when I tried to turn the radio on, after two songs, Mercy would shut it back off. In the back seat, Cleo kept to herself, staring out the window without any kind of running commentary. They were both clearly frustrated, but didn¡¯t want to make it obvious to me. What a way to honor your memory, I thought to myself as if Feliz could hear me.


    Once we¡¯d found a place to park, the three of us made our way through the scores of gravestones that covered the cemetery, the sun beaming down on the vibrant grass beneath our feet. It was such a bright, beautiful day, it was almost its own tragedy that it was so nice out.


    Having died in the line of duty, Feliz was buried in a veteran¡¯s graveyard, so we came across dozens of miniature American flags and other patriotic trinkets as we navigated between the burial sites. Once in a while, I came across a name that seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn¡¯t put anything to it beyond a shadow of a memory.


    At Feliz¡¯s grave site, we were met with a scattering of presents, toys and even a bottle of tequila, likely left behind by his cousins. Though Feliz¡¯s family had cut Mercy and Cleo out of their lives shortly after his passing, they still suffered the same loss that we all did, and it was bittersweet to see that they still came by from time to time to see him.


    As Mercy and Cleo paid their respects, in the back of my mind I questioned if they¡¯d still do this if - or when - Mercy remarried. Would her new husband approve? Would she care if he did or not? The longer that time went on, would Cleo stop coming by, too? I couldn¡¯t bear being the last one left to carry this torch, even if it made them happier in the long term.


    Thankfully, our visit wrapped up quickly. Mercy complained of just how hot it was getting in the afternoon sun, and Cleo agreed that it¡¯d be better to cool off in the shade with some water. Truthfully, I hadn¡¯t even noticed. I was on complete autopilot to the point that I couldn¡¯t even recall what time we¡¯d reached the park; I was stuck thinking of Raja and the weight of his remorse, how heavy the burden was on his shoulders. His scars were just as grisly as mine, and he¡¯d made just as little progress at moving forward as I¡¯d had, even with time on our side.


    Maybe what we needed to get better was each other. Maybe we¡¯d be able to move past it if we worked together. Maybe all I needed to close the chapter was to close it with Raja.


    At the idea of it, my heart hummed in my chest, and I smiled without even realizing it.

 GALAHAD

    MAY


    Things had gotten a bit quieter at the station now. We were back to the routine calls we were more familiar with, but instead of putting me at ease, it made me even more suspicious.


    In the dead of the night, I poured over the reports about our latest calls, trying to find links or detect patterns, but it felt like a skill beyond my pay grade. I didn¡¯t dare try and rope anyone at the station into researching with me - even Chief Cormorant had made a passing comment that since the chemical fire, I seemed ¡®a little high strung.¡¯


    Sure, everyone always had a good time debating it over dinner, but if I had a genuine belief that there was something else going on, I might as well skip the evaluation and just put the straight jacket on. Better to keep it to myself, at least for now.


    It also struck me as the kind of thing that was inappropriate to discuss with Mercy or Raja. Mercy would just tell me to talk to the Chief, and Raja¡­ well, Raja would probably only have a shrug to offer.


    And while I debated bringing it up with Cliff, it seemed too soon for police involvement if there wasn¡¯t any evidence. Anonymous tips only work if there¡¯s something to tip off, and as far as I knew, paranoid suspicions didn¡¯t really count.


    In the middle of reading one of the reports, it clicked, and once it did, it seemed so obvious.


    That next morning on the drive to the station, I dialed in the number for that fox-like reporter and waited for an answer. I didn¡¯t expect her to pick up, but it was worth a shot. If all else failed, I¡¯d just go it alone.


    One ring, two, three¡­ My eyes darted from the road to my phone¡¯s screen every few seconds as if I was expecting to see her face when she picked up. While waiting, I took a sip from a bottle of orange juice I picked up from the gas station a few miles back. Finally, the ringing stopped.


    ¡°Dahlia Song speaking.¡± Her voice came through so clearly, it sounded like a voicemail recording.


    ¡°Hey, uh, it¡¯s Manny,¡± I stammered out. ¡°You know, that firefighter from station¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± She gasped. ¡°Oh, wow. I can¡¯t believe it! I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d actually call¡­ I was so sure you were just placating me when you gave me your number.¡±


    ¡°Why would I do that?¡± I flattened my mouth, a little insulted.


    Dahlia snorted. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe how many people act nice at first just to ice me out later on. I don¡¯t take anyone by their word anymore¡ª I go by their actions exclusively.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ alright then,¡± I replied, drumming my fingers on the side of the juice bottle. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know how you¡¯ve categorized me yet, but I wanted to let you know I hadn¡¯t forgotten about you.¡±


    ¡°How sweet.¡± She sounded almost sarcastic. ¡°Have you found out anything yet?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in the process of compiling my findings now.¡± The red light I stopped at seemed to stretch on for ages. ¡°What do you want from me? Like, what sort of stuff are you looking for?¡±


    ¡°Anything you have!¡± Her smile was evident even over the phone. ¡°Or I should say, anything you can get away with. I wouldn¡¯t want you to risk your job for me.¡±


    Dahlia¡¯s enthusiasm was a little unnerving, but for now, I tolerated it. As I listened, I finished the remainder of my orange juice, unaware of how much I¡¯d gone through until the bottle joined two others on the floor of the passenger¡¯s side.


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± The firehouse was getting closer on the horizon, so I kept things brief. ¡°Just don¡¯t put my name on anything, okay?¡±


    ¡°Not looking to get famous?¡± Dahlia said coyly.


    ¡°Oh, trust me, last thing I need in my life is more attention¡­¡± I turned into the parking lot and saw Garrett¡¯s neon blue Audi first thing, marking him as the first of our crew to have arrived. It was good to see that he was still following my advice and kept himself on time.


    At this, she laughed, which had a melodic quality. Was there anything she hadn¡¯t practiced to seem as presentable as possible?


    ¡°Listen, I¡¯m actually right about to head to work, so I gotta go.¡± I twisted my head around to back evenly into the parking space. ¡°But I just wanted to call and touch base. Just to let you know I¡¯m keeping my eye out.¡±


    Dahlia hummed, pleased. ¡°I really appreciate it, Manny. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Any time, Ms. Song.¡± I tapped the ¡®End Call¡¯ button, suddenly awash with an unexpected sense of duty.


    ? ? ?


    One call became two, then three. To keep it as private as possible, I only called Dahlia when I was driving to or from work; at first, I thought she¡¯d be annoyed by the weird hours I called her at, but I learned quickly that her hours were even weirder than mine, so it all balanced out.


    After our latest phone call, she¡¯d been insistent that we meet in person over coffee at some point. Though I was hesitant, I agreed, only on the condition that it wasn¡¯t some place bustling and hectic like a Starbucks. The coffee shop she had chosen was a reasonably sized local joint that, at its busiest, had maybe seven patrons in at a time, which made it perfect.


    Dahlia had arrived before I had, claiming a table nestled in a corner. She wore a patterned shirt with a striking V-neck, wide-legged pants and shoes that I thought were sandals, but then seemed too fancy to be sandals. She was so well-dressed I felt naked in comparison, wearing only the standard T-shirt, jeans and boots I wore everywhere I went.


    Upon seeing me, Dahlia motioned for me to join her. Since my stomach was growling like a tiger in a cage, I made her wait until I¡¯d gotten my order from the counter.


    On the table, she had her own lunch already unwrapped, a cheesy croissant with a massive iced coffee. I took a seat across from her and set my sandwich down beside my water bottle.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t you dressed up all nice?¡± I smiled, gesturing to her outfit. ¡°If I knew there¡¯d be a dress code, I¡¯d have worn the jeans I got without holes in them.¡±


    Dahlia made a little ¡®pfft¡¯ noise, waving her hand dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m not so image conscious as to make demands of your closet. I¡¯ve much more important things to consider.¡±


    ¡°If you insist.¡± Before unwrapping my sandwich, I handed off the folder I¡¯d brought with my findings.


    Immediately, Dahlia perked up. She could hardly contain her excitement when she took the folder into her hands, opening it as I started to eat. ¡°Look at all of this!¡± She beamed. ¡°And is this stuff you¡¯re allowed to show me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s mostly just summaries of reports. I took out anything that seemed incriminating.¡± With a chunk of sandwich in my mouth, I paused. ¡°Incriminating as in, would get me fired.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed.¡± The longer she sorted through the papers, the more genuinely grateful she appeared. ¡°You really came through for me on this.¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ yeah?¡± I laughed, a little embarrassed. ¡°I know nobody else at the station was listening, but I was. If it makes you feel any better, they won¡¯t listen to me, either.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Dahlia gnawed off a corner of her croissant. It was obvious now that she had dropped all pretenses of being a blank-faced professional, which I found refreshing.


    ¡°To be fair, I don¡¯t really talk about what I¡¯m thinking at work,¡± I replied. ¡°I¡¯ve been feeling pretty out of the loop with most of them lately, and I don¡¯t really want to give them the idea that I¡¯m crazy. ¡®Cause it does sound crazy, when taken out of context.¡±


    ¡°Their loss.¡± Dahlia sipped her coffee. ¡°They¡¯re gonna feel so stupid when we break this story, they¡¯ll be kicking themselves.¡±


    ¡°Why are you so invested in this story, anyway?¡± I stopped to take a bite from my sandwich but was grossed out by the lettuce tucked between the meat. After I pulled it out, I looked back at her. ¡°Or this whole reporter bullshit in general?¡±


    ¡°Well, for starters, I¡¯m nosy and I like knowing things, but to give you a serious answer: everything else I¡¯ve covered on my podcast has gotten no attention whatsoever.¡± She sighed in disappointment. ¡°I work my ass off trying to get it off the ground, and guess who gets more listeners than I do? People sitting around playing tabletop games or obsessing over criminals who¡¯ve already been caught. Like people only care once all the hard work is done.¡±


    I wiped my mouth on my wrist. ¡°If you care so much, why haven¡¯t you applied to write for websites or newspapers? Seems like the kind of stuff you¡¯d knock out of the park.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Print media is dead, and at this point most news sites are just propaganda machines.¡± Dahlia wrinkled her nose, unable to hide her contempt. ¡°And when they aren¡¯t all about propaganda, all you do is write fluff pieces and advertisements instead of covering things that actually matter. What a waste of time!¡±


    While I listened, I tried to eat more of my sandwich, but nearly bit into my finger instead, totally unaware that I¡¯d already eaten the entire thing. My appetite had been so neutralized for so long, I didn¡¯t think I could finish it, but I¡¯d eaten through it so quickly that I was already thinking about grabbing another.


    ¡°You remember that chemical fire a few months ago at Kingslake? Huge story right there.¡± Dahlia dabbed the corners of her mouth, lipstick smudging the napkin. ¡°Dozens of people died, and even more were injured. They still don¡¯t know what they were studying there, or what kind of chemicals were even involved. Guess how long it stayed in the news cycle for? Two days. Two!¡±


    I crushed the sandwich wrapping up into a ball so I could make space to lean on the table. ¡°I was actually there for it.¡±


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± She lit up like she¡¯d gotten a puppy for Christmas. ¡°Oh my God, that¡¯s insane! You need to tell me more!¡±


    This kind of behavior was exactly why I didn¡¯t speak to people in the news industry. That glimmer in their eye when you go from a person to a reference point in their story just left a sour taste in my mouth. Defensively, I narrowed my eyes - I wasn¡¯t interested in becoming one of the hit pieces on her road to fame.


    ¡°It¡¯s not really something I want to talk about,¡± I stated flatly. ¡°All you need to know is that I was there. That¡¯s all.¡±


    Dahlia nodded, looking at me with unexpected tenderness. ¡°Still, you get my point. Big stuff happens, people pay attention to it for a second, then it¡¯s business as usual. Then the next thing you know, when you check back on an article to reference it, there¡¯s edits they don¡¯t even tell you about.¡±


    ¡°Can we move on?¡± I shook my head in exasperation. ¡°Spending my time on this¡­ theory¡­ already makes me feel like a crackpot. You¡¯re not helping.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay, you¡¯re right. Enough about me. Work time.¡± She swept her dark hair back and plopped it on top of her head, flyaway hairs forming a messy crown around her. She took another hefty bite of her croissant and clapped her hands together emphatically. While she scanned over what I brought her, I tried my best to beat back the memories of the chemical fire.


    ¡°So, let¡¯s see. Warehouses, trailers, empty rentals¡­¡± Dahlia leafed through my notes with one hand and drank coffee with the other. ¡°You know, it¡¯s really interesting that they seem to be happening in uninhabited places.¡±


    ¡°Except that office fire, yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°They¡¯re mostly happening in places where nobody was really around to start something, but that means there also wasn¡¯t anyone around to see someone start something.¡±


    Dahlia made a noise in agreement, flipping through another page in my notebook. She wrote down notes of her own in a sleek black planner, and I could tell from across the table that she wrote in big, loopy shorthand. With her notes so illegible to most other people, I felt oddly more at ease.


    Once her drink was empty and only crumbs were left on the wrapper she used as a plate, Dahlia closed her planner. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m gonna go grab another coffee really quick. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    When she stood up, I reached across and closed the folder for her, a bit paranoid of what people might think if they stopped to look for too long. Moving as quickly as you¡¯d expect someone on their third coffee to be, Dahlia tossed her empty cup into a trash can as she joined the line that had begun to form for the lunch rush.


    As she waited by the counter, I turned my focus to my arm. That little lump still hadn¡¯t gone away. My tattoos barred anyone else from paying it much mind, but just underneath the surface, a deep seated itch made it impossible for me to ignore, even under the cover of a bandage.


    With my luck, it could just be a new problem brought on by the chemical fire. Even though I¡¯d cleared the tests just fine at my last doctor¡¯s appointment, my PCP had mentioned the potential of seeing long term side effects - perhaps developing disfiguring hives was just one of them. Guess it was a good thing I never had dreams of being in beauty pageants.


    To distract myself, I let my eyes roam around the other people in the coffee shop. There wasn¡¯t much of a crowd since it was both the middle of the week and the end of the day: over in the corner was a guy writing on a laptop, and by the door was an elderly woman feeding cookies to a fat-cheeked baby. My eyes eventually landed on Dahlia, standing like a model even when she was waiting in line - and then to the chatty guy next to her.


    I watched the man carefully; judging by body language, he was interested in more than just discussing the baked goods behind the glass display. In contrast, Dahlia kept to herself, barely giving him the time of day as they navigated the line. Even when Dahlia offered for him to take her place in line, he persisted.


    It was easy to see why she wasn¡¯t pushier - he towered over her even in her heeled sandals, and he was at least twice as wide as she was. The longer I watched them, the more he struck me as the kind of guy who considered ¡®no¡¯ less the end of a conversation and more so the beginning of a negotiation.


    Regardless of how obvious Dahlia¡¯s disinterest was, the man badgered her like a dog begging for scraps. Filled with a deepening anger at the sight of him, I left the table and came over to Dahlia, which was exactly when I noticed that the man was big enough to tower over me as well.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said casually as I approached her. ¡°This guy giving you trouble?¡±


    Dahlia, who wore her usual expression of perfect poise, smiled uncomfortably. ¡°Oh, everything¡¯s fine, Manny¡ª he¡¯s just making conversation.¡±


    I turned my head to give the guy a disgusted once-over. We locked eyes, and it was clear that my intervention struck a nerve, his face reddening from embarrassment. Strangely enough, I found myself enjoying it. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed,¡± I said mockingly. ¡°Move along, now.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± The man growled. ¡°You think you can just go up to people and start talking shit? What the fuck is your problem?¡±


    ¡°You are.¡± My smile straightened into a look of seriousness. ¡°Now, like I said, move along. She¡¯s clearly not interested.¡±


    He squared up his shoulders. ¡°I don¡¯t think I like your tone, asshole.¡±


    Out of instinct, I put myself between the man and Dahlia, who was using this as an opportunity to inch closer to the counter. She tugged at my sleeve for me to move back with her, but I held my ground.


    ¡°Manny, just let it go,¡± Dahlia whispered. She didn¡¯t seem afraid - really, she was more annoyed at being inconvenienced. ¡°This guy isn¡¯t worth it.¡±


    I glanced at her from the corner of my eye before looking back at the man. Common sense dictated that I call it here before things got out of hand, but the longer I looked at him, the more I honestly wanted to get into a fight; the sight of him stirred a rumbling in my bones that made my fingers tingle. Even my mind felt clouded, like a pot on the brink of boiling over. When I smiled at him, there wasn¡¯t a drop of sincerity in it.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m a nice guy, so I¡¯m gonna give you five seconds to fuck off,¡± I said. ¡°And if you don¡¯t, I¡¯m going to smash your fucking teeth in.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± He moved closer to me, eyes narrowing. ¡°I think you¡¯re all bark and no bite, little man.¡±


    From behind the counter, the baristas continued to dash around and prepare other orders, though they were keeping a close eye on the both of us. Even when the man¡¯s nostrils flared like a bull, I wasn¡¯t scared. If anything, I didn¡¯t think he was mad enough. I wanted him even madder.


    ¡°You want me to prove it?¡± I dared. ¡°Okay. Five, four, three¡ª¡±


    Before I could finish counting, the man grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and jerked me forward, teeth clenched tightly. It had crossed my mind that given the size of his fists, he could easily break my nose in one swing, but I just couldn¡¯t make myself care. The adrenaline was pumping too quickly through my body, emboldening me in ways it shouldn¡¯t have; instead of backing down, I simply stared back at him, cold and unfazed.


    The second he¡¯d laid hands on me, one of the nervous baristas summoned a manager from the back, whose straight-laced and serious demeanor was betrayed by her sloppy ponytail and giant heart-shaped earrings. The second she figured out what was going on, her brows flattened across her forehead in anger.


    ¡°What the fuck is going on out here?¡± She shouted above the commotion. ¡°If you psycho motherfuckers want to fight, I¡¯m calling the Goddamn cops! This is a coffee shop, not a fucking night club! Knock it off!¡±


    With all of the eyes on the coffee shop on us, everything stood at a standstill. Realizing that the fight was over before it ever even began, the man threw me back and shot a glob of snot at my boots before skulking out shamefully. Though I wanted to follow him and give him what he deserved, the manager¡¯s venomous glare kept me frozen until she returned to whatever business she¡¯d been torn away from.


    Now that the excitement had died down, the barista was quick to process Dahlia¡¯s order, and we returned to the table with her drink in tow.


    ¡°That was needlessly bold of you,¡± Dahlia said dryly. ¡°Are you always such a knight in shining armor, or am I just special?¡±


    I wanted to say something clever in reply, but I couldn¡¯t. The buzzing in my head was starting to give me a migraine, and my arm ached like a sore tooth beneath the bandage. No matter how hard I pressed my temple, it throbbed, and Dahlia seemed to grow more concerned the longer she looked at me.


    ¡°Hey, are you alright?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡± I took my hand away from my forehead, even though all I wanted to do was pull my brain out of my head and squeeze it until it stopped buzzing. ¡°Just got a headache coming on.¡±


    ¡°It might be in your best interest not to raise your blood pressure more than necessary,¡± Dahlia said. Sensing that her humor was misplaced, her expression turned sympathetic. ¡°I have some aspirin in my purse, if you want some.¡±


    To sell the lie, I accepted it, and she was quick to slip me a couple of pills. Cupping them in my hand, I tossed them back into my mouth, nose wrinkling as I washed them down with room temperature water.


    ¡°For the record, don¡¯t feel like you need to risk getting your face realigned by random guys on my account,¡± Dahlia remarked, sipping on her freshly made coffee. ¡°While I appreciate the gesture, sometimes it¡¯s better not to make a scene.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get that,¡± I laughed weakly, still feeling the full force of the fluttering against my skull. ¡°I just¡ª I have a low tolerance for that kind of stuff, you know? Fuckin¡¯¡ª those assholes that walk around like they own the place and everyone in it. Shit makes me sick.¡±


    Dahlia smiled as if she were flattered. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you chivalrous?¡±


    Unsure of whether she was being sarcastic or genuine, I said nothing, allowing her to take full control of the conversation for the rest of the conversation. She didn¡¯t seem to mind, and it was only after I hadn¡¯t spoken a word for ten minutes straight where I realized that her podcast likely made her very experienced with essentially talking to herself nonstop.


    Once we¡¯d concluded our meeting, I escorted Dahlia out to her car as a show of goodwill. The pavement in the parking area was uneven, so she wobbled a little when she stepped over parts of it in her heels.


    Before she could open the door to her car, Dahlia nearly fell, but I caught her and held her steady. In any other circumstance, I would¡¯ve felt a thrill of excitement when she touched my arm¡­ except that the one place her hand landed was on top of the strange little lump, still teetering on the borderline between itchiness and pain. Rather than let out a pitiful yelp, I simply swallowed it down.


    Now seated safely in her car, Dahlia rolled down the window and flashed her sparkling teeth at me. ¡°Everything else aside, you were super helpful today, Manny. Keep me posted on anything else you see, okay?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Will do, Ms. Song. And, um, sorry about making a scene earlier.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal,¡± she replied. ¡°Personally, I¡¯ve always liked a man with a backbone.¡±


    With that, Dahlia winked, revving up her engine and backing out of the narrow little parking lot. Instead of hopping into my truck and taking off, I stood there watching as her little blue Mazda disappeared over the horizon.


    Once she was gone, the buzzing in my head finally subsided.

 THICKER THAN WATER

    Somehow, Mother¡¯s Day had rolled around without me even realizing it - if I hadn¡¯t been trying to book my next visit with Dr. Oh, I wouldn¡¯t have even noticed.


    Aside from helping Cleo get things for Mercy, it wasn¡¯t a holiday I paid much attention to; when it came to my own mother, an intense fight before Christmas meant I¡¯d been dodging her attempts to reach out for the last six months. Though this was practically unheard of among Mexicans, our relationship had always seemed unusually tense.


    It crossed my mind to pay her a visit, but just the idea of it filled me with dread. I didn¡¯t drive out to see her often because she lived three hours west in Abilene, where she¡¯d moved after I¡¯d left Fort Worth and was shipped off overseas. Calling her was preferable, if just because they made the conversation easier to escape. The older I got, the more I understood why my father up and left her, even if it meant he left me behind, too.


    On the drive over to Mercy¡¯s house, it was more overcast than I expected it to be, the sky losing its vibrant blue in favor of a cool, pale gray. The air itself was humid and sticky, but even though it was in the eighties, I hadn¡¯t been able to bring myself to shed the long sleeves just yet.


    With a modest little bouquet in hand, I hopped up the steps of Mercy¡¯s house, where Cleo and her grandma, Lupe, sat together on the porch. They both stopped eating their paletas as I approached, and even the fuzzy little orange circle on Cleo¡¯s lap shifted to see what was going on.


    ¡°Well, well, well, if it ain¡¯t the prettiest ladies in the neighborhood?¡± I smiled. ¡°Those look good, chiquita. You got enough to share?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! We made these yesterday, and¡ª¡± Cleo stopped, blinking as she pointed up at my face. ¡°Wow, you look really rough today. Are you not sleeping again?¡±


    Beside her, Lupe¡¯s gaze followed where Cleo pointed, raising a curious eyebrow. I was so used to running on fumes that I hadn¡¯t even noticed if my eyes were more darkly ringed than usual, but now I felt a little self conscious. Before I could correct her, Lupe intervened by smacking Cleo upside the head with her free hand. The force made Cleo drop her paleta to the ground, which was the swiftest delivery of karma I¡¯d seen in a long time.


    ¡°?Eres tan grosera!¡± Lupe frowned harshly. ¡°?D¨®nde est¨¢n tus modales?¡±


    ¡°Disc¨²lpame, Abuelita¡­¡± Cleo frowned, too, though she was more upset about the wasted paleta than about insulting me.


    ¡°We are sorry, sir,¡± Lupe¡¯s English came out slowly and carefully. ¡°Mi nieta¡­ she doesn¡¯t know anything¡­ forgive her, por favor.¡±


    I tried to restrain a snort of laughter so that Lupe wouldn¡¯t find me disrespectful as well. Whenever I visited, I could never predict whether she¡¯d recognize me or not, so I tried to treat her with the same respect I¡¯d treat any elder I barely knew.


    ¡°Est¨¢ bien, Se?ora,¡± I said, plucking a flower from the bundle and handing it to Lupe. ¡°Hey, pecosita, is your mam¨ª home today? I wanted to give her a little something for the occasion.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh!¡± Cleo poured Simba off of her lap before picking up the tainted paleta to pluck debris off of it. ¡°We¡¯re gonna have a big party later today, so she¡¯s making stuff for it right now. Are you gonna stay to see everybody?¡±


    The last thing I felt like doing was spending time around Mercy¡¯s extended family. They were warm and friendly, but it was clear that I was still an outsider looking in. I even got the impression from some of them that my presence was intrusive, haunting around like a useless ghost that simply wouldn¡¯t leave. It was too complicated to explain to Cleo, so I always had an excuse on hand. ¡°I don¡¯t think so. I¡¯ve got things to do.¡±


    ¡°Please?¡± Cleo pouted. ¡°It¡¯s been forever since you came over for more than a few minutes¡­¡±


    Yeah, I wasn¡¯t about to have this conversation right now. I gave her a gentle little pat on the head before I turned to enter the house, which was right when Joanna¡¯s Malibu came rolling into the driveway, groaning and chugging the entire time. The second that she exited the car, Joanna tossed her freshly finished cigarette to the ground; the remaining smoke escaped out of her nose in a way that reminded me of a dragon, even when she wore her stupid little pizza joint uniform.


    Of the two of them, Lupe was more pleased to see Joanna than Cleo was; in fact, oddly enough, Cleo took Joanna¡¯s arrival as an opportunity to sneak into the house behind me. I knew that Joanna and Cleo were never close, but it was strange to see Cleo retreat so readily.


    I waved to greet her, but as usual, Joanna gave me a glance rather than any real acknowledgment of my presence. As she came up to give Lupe a hug, her eyes flickered between my face and the flowers.


    ¡°Cute,¡± she remarked flatly, gesturing to the bouquet. ¡°Luke already beat you to the punch on that, though. Sorry.¡±


    It took all my willpower not to scowl. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve always considered Mercy the kind of woman who deserves a few rounds of flowers, so¡­¡±


    Instead of wasting her valuable time talking to me, Joanna rolled her eyes and nudged past to get through the front door. Immediately, I couldn¡¯t help but be taken aback by how she smelled - and not in a good way. It wasn¡¯t the smell of cigarettes and pizza grease as I¡¯d expected, it was something else. Something¡­ musky.


    ¡°Woah, Jojo¡ª¡± I sniffed the air, curling my lip. ¡°That¡¯s, uh, an interesting new perfume you have¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Joanna whipped her head around. ¡°The fuck are you talking about?¡±


    I cocked my head to the side. ¡°Your¡­ perfume? Actually, it kind of smells like¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop smelling me, you fucking creep,¡± she spat harshly. ¡°Jesus, do you always have to be fucking weird?¡±


    Always had to be zero to sixty with Joanna, didn¡¯t it? It was amazing that she and Mercy shared any genetics given that they were such opposites in behavior. I wasn¡¯t in the mood to keep sticking my hand in the hornet¡¯s nest, so I simply let her go inside without argument, slipping in behind her with plenty of room between us.


    Mercy¡¯s house was just as disastrous as it always was, but now I could see little signs of Luke¡¯ presence here and there, like an iPhone charging dock at the front door and a raincoat hanging from the wall. I tried not to let it bother me, but it gave me an eerie feeling of being replaced, which was compounded by another little bouquet sitting right on the coffee table.


    In the kitchen I found Mercy, who was bouncing rapidly between making a mess and then cleaning it up. Every time she cooked, it was like a tornado had whipped through the room, leaving pots and pans in its wake. It was no wonder that she opted for takeout as often as she did.


    ¡°Benz!¡± I said, presenting the bouquet from behind my back. ¡°Feliz d¨ªa de las madres, linda.¡±


    At the sound of my voice, Mercy turned, beaming sweetly. Even in the dingy little apron she had tied tightly around her waist, her cluster of curls pinned back messily, she was always just nice to look at. It crossed my mind whether or not Luke had ever seen her like this; she was very particular about who could see her bare-faced and ¡®sloppy¡¯, as she would put it. Secretly, I hoped he hadn¡¯t.


    As I handed the bouquet to her, she looked as if she were being presented with an award. ¡°Oh, look at these!¡± She grinned. ¡°You didn¡¯t have to get me anything, Manu¡­¡±


    ¡°I figured that little mocosa of yours didn¡¯t remember to do something for you, so consider it a gift from both of us,¡± I said. ¡°Mm¡­ that stuff smells great. What are you making?¡±


    Glancing back to the stove, Mercy motioned for me to join her, scooping a helping of stew into the ladle. ¡°I¡¯m trying a new recipe I found online.¡± She lifted the ladle up higher. ¡°Tell me what you think!¡±


    When I drank from the ladle, I reeled back, mouth burning. I had to cough a few times to stabilize myself because it was so hot, it was like I¡¯d deep throated a cattle iron. Mercy couldn¡¯t even stop herself from laughing at me, which would¡¯ve been insulting from anyone else. ¡°Hot enough for you?¡± She asked, clearly a little smug.


    I wheezed in pain. ¡°It¡¯s¡ª it¡¯s good¡­¡±


    Proudly, Mercy took the ladle back and stirred the pot. Then, she grabbed a plastic cup from the cabinet and filled it with tap water, handing it off to me.


    ¡°You know¡­ feels like I haven¡¯t gotten to see you in a while,¡± I said in between quick little sips. ¡°What with everything going on.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, my time is a hot commodity right now,¡± Mercy sighed. ¡°I got Cleo pestering me to look at her little projects, Joey¡¯s always complaining that we never go out and do anything fun anymore¡ª at least Mam¨¢¡¯s so forgetful now that she can¡¯t tell how often I¡¯m gone, which¡­ ugh, okay, not thinking about that right now.¡±


    Collecting a handful of spices in her palm, Mercy tossed them into the stew and gave it a smooth stir. I had no interest in trying it again; my tongue was still scalded.


    ¡°But it¡¯s good to see you, Manny,¡± she continued. ¡°It always is.¡±


    Inside, I felt a fluttering, a lightness. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it, so - like Mercy - I chose not to think about it, either.


    ¡°Cleo told me you¡¯re gonna have a party here this afternoon,¡± I said. ¡°I hope it won¡¯t be too big, it looks like it¡¯s gonna rain outside.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ll be able to fit everyone indoors if we need to.¡± Mercy switched from the soup to chopping up a mess of vegetables. ¡°I wanted to invite everyone over for Mam¨¢, you know? I can tell she gets lonely, and I want her to be the star of the show today. You think you¡¯ll stick around for it?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°Nah, I got, uh, other plans for today.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Mercy raised an eyebrow, skeptical, before lighting up.¡°Oh! Does this mean you¡¯ve finally¨C¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m still pissed at her, actually. Haven¡¯t answered a call from her in months.¡±


    ¡°Oh, lord, please don¡¯t let me be the reason you stop talking to her!¡± She had a pleading look to her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not worth the trouble.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are!¡± I said firmly. ¡°Look, she can say whatever she wants about me, but I draw the line at you and Cleo.¡±


    ¡°But she¡¯s your mother. You only ever get one of those.¡± She paused her chopping for a moment to think. ¡°Unless you¡¯re raised by lesbians, but still, only one of them birthed you. Well¡­ I guess not, if you were adopted, then¡­ oh, you get my point. Just talk to your mother. Please.¡±


    My cheeks burned hotly at the lecture. ¡°Why should I? She thinks I waste my time being here, she thinks¡ª¡±


    ¡°That I¡¯m holding you back, I know.¡± Mercy sighed. ¡°In case you didn¡¯t know, I¡¯m well practiced in disappointing the mothers of men. But I do not want to be responsible for this falling out between you two! I can¡¯t handle that kind of thing on my conscience.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t responsible for it, she is. I put up with her talking all this shit for years, and I can¡¯t take it anymore. Even if I cut you out, I¡¯d still never be good enough for her.¡± I ran a hand through my hair. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m tired of being reminded of how shitty I am as a son every time I call. I¡¯ll never be enough. Why should I even bother?¡±


    As I spoke, it was hard not to sound a little choked up. Mercy paused her food prep to gaze at me sympathetically, but it came across more as pity; now I wished I hadn¡¯t said anything, embarrassed to be seen in such a pathetic state. In shame, I looked away from her.


    ¡°She just wants you to be happy.¡± She slid the chopped vegetables off the blade of her knife and into a giant mixing bowl. ¡°If she thinks I¡¯m getting in the way of you settling down, you have to look at it from her perspective: to her, being a perma-bachelor is a fate worse than death. You know how those old school types are! They think being married to crummy people is better than being alone ¡®cause of how they were raised.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just that!¡± I crossed my arms against my chest. ¡°She doesn¡¯t think I make enough money, she hates that I live in Dallas, she doesn¡¯t think I speak enough Spanish¡ª oh, but then when I do, she says I sound too white! And that¡¯s fine, it¡¯s whatever, I¡¯m used to hearing all of that, but¡­ I can¡¯t take her saying I¡¯m better off without you. It¡¯s the last straw.¡±


    After a loud slam of her knife through a pepper, Mercy paused. There was genuine hurt behind her eyes, like she¡¯d truly taken to heart my mother¡¯s disapproval of her. A thrumming kicked up from the crown of my skull and led down past my shoulder blades, and I wasn¡¯t sure who I hated more in that moment: my mother, for making Mercy feel like a burden to me, or myself, for even telling Mercy in the first place. I cast my eyes down to the floor.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me shit about how she¡¯s my mother,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s the only reason I haven¡¯t given up on her completely. And even then¡­¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother finishing my sentence because, honestly, what else was there for me to say? It wasn¡¯t something we¡¯d ever see eye to eye on. Before dementia had wormed its way through Lupe¡¯s brain, she and Mercy were inseparable. There was no way Mercy could understand a world where your mother hurt you instead of healed you. I was grateful that she never would, even if it put a rift between us.


    Turning away from the cutting board, Mercy wiped her hands off on her apron before she gingerly placed them along my bicep. The humming throughout my spine traveled down my limbs, intensifying along my knuckles and fingertips. As she stroked my arm reassuringly, it only made things worse, like her touch was all it took to summon a swarm beneath my skin.


    ¡°She¡¯s all you¡¯ve got left, Manny,¡± Mercy said softly. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that count for anything?¡±


    I glanced from her hand to her face. ¡°I¡¯ve got you, don¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Of course, but¡ª¡±


    Before Mercy could finish her sentence, Cleo came into the kitchen, slinking around like she was trying to avoid something. When she saw the two of us, Cleo threw caution to the wind, skipping over to throw her arms around me with a big, shiny grin. ¡°You¡¯re still here!¡± She beamed. ¡°I thought you¡¯d probably left already!¡±


    For a split second, I saw a flash of something in Mercy¡¯s expression. It seemed almost¡­ sentimental, or maybe it was something conflicted. Whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as it came. She turned away to lift the curtains above the kitchen sink, peering out the window at the darkening sky. Meanwhile, Cleo squeezed me like she was hoping I¡¯d pop.


    ¡°Oh, oh, do you have time to look at my paper?¡± Cleo asked. ¡°I don¡¯t need help with it, I¡¯m just really proud of it! It¡¯s about a book, so I know you won¡¯t really get it, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, pecosita, I was actually just about to head out,¡± I said sadly. ¡°I¡¯ve got so much sh¡­ st¡­ stuff to get done. I¡¯ve already hung around here longer than I should¡¯ve.¡±


    Cleo¡¯s smile slipped off her face instantly. ¡°Oh. Okay.¡±


    Seeing her so unhappy made my heart ache. On any other day, I would¡¯ve stuck around, but I just didn¡¯t have it in me right now. I didn¡¯t want to leave Cleo with a frown, so I straightened my back and struck a pose. ¡°Don¡¯t pout, chiquita. You know that I¡¯ll be back,¡± I said, in my best impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger. ¡°¡¯Cause I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, no, no,¡± Cleo shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t say it¡ª¡±


    With my hands on my hips, I prepared to shout. ¡°The T¡ª¡±


    ¡°The T¨ªonator, I know!¡± She interrupted, covering her forehead with her hands in embarrassment. ¡°Ugh! You¡¯re so stupid! Mam¨¢, make him stop!¡±


    ¡°Come with me if you want to live!¡± I scooped Cleo into a headlock as she squirmed to resist, but she was ultimately powerless.


    ¡°Let me go!¡± She cried. ¡°You¡¯ll ruin my hair!¡±


    Pulling out some Tupperware from the cabinet, Mercy laughed. ¡°Hey, T¨ªonator, if you¡¯re not going to stay, let me at least send you off with some food. I mean, if cyborgs even need to eat.¡±


    ¡°Hell yeah!¡± With a smile, I released Cleo, who neatened herself up quickly as she glared at me from the corner of her eye. ¡°I ain¡¯t ever gonna pass up free food from you, Benz.¡±


    Nodding knowingly, Mercy scooped a couple of cups into a little plastic container and snapped the lid shut, the stew still hot enough to cloud the plastic with steam.


    When she placed the container into my hands, it just about stopped me in my tracks, because she gazed at me with such warmth I could¡¯ve sworn that she was giving me a part of her heart instead.


    ? ? ?Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    I¡¯d gotten back into my truck just in the nick of time: the second I was on the road, the storm that threatened to appear made its grand entrance. Soon, the streets were wet and shimmering, and I couldn¡¯t even play the radio with how loudly the rain battered my truck.


    Over and over, I rolled Mercy¡¯s words around in my mind.


    She¡¯s all you¡¯ve got left.


    It stung, but only because it was true: unlike Mercy, I didn¡¯t have a family tree that sprawled like a maze. Fertility was a generational struggle on my mother¡¯s side, and the small family we did have lived all the way in El Paso, so I¡¯d barely seen them in the last few years. On my father¡¯s side, I hadn¡¯t really been in contact with them after he disappeared, like they were afraid that whatever was wrong with him, they¡¯d contract it from me, too.


    And with that, I was all alone, and she really was all I had. I suppose I did owe it to her to try again.


    As I dialed my mother¡¯s number, that creeping dread from earlier settled fully into my chest, each passing ring making me hope it¡¯d go straight to voicemail. On the last ring, all hope was lost.


    ¡°?Bueno?¡± My mother sounded a little sleepy, like I¡¯d woken her up from a nap.


    ¡°Hola, Madre.¡± I forced a smile even though she couldn¡¯t see it. ¡°I was, uh, just calling to wish you a happy Mother¡¯s Day, see how you been doing.¡±


    ¡°Ah, el hijo pr¨®digo¡­¡± She shut off a radio that¡¯d been playing in the background. ¡°It¡¯s been so long since you¡¯ve called¡­¡±


    ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry¡ª I¡¯ve just been really busy at work.¡± I rolled to a stoplight, staring up at it as if I could turn it green myself. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t actually have a lot of time to talk, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°What, so you call me up but can¡¯t even make time for me to talk? Even when it¡¯s been so long?¡± She asked sharply. ¡°I¡¯m getting up in the years, Manolito - what if, one day, you call and I don¡¯t answer? You¡¯d regret not making time for me then, wouldn¡¯t you? Of course you would¡­¡±


    ¡°Ay, don¡¯t talk like that.¡± I clutched the steering wheel without even thinking. ¡°Didn¡¯t you used to say your T¨ªa Dolores lived to a hundred? You got good genes, then.¡±


    ¡°What good is a long life when you¡¯re all alone like I am?¡± She sighed deeply. ¡°But listen to me, I go on and on. It¡¯s so good to hear from you, mijo. How have you been?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I replied. ¡°Just¡­ fine, really.¡±


    ¡°Anything new? You¡¯re still working at the fire station?¡± She made a sniffling noise like she was blowing her nose. ¡°Have you been seeing anyone lately?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°No. I haven¡¯t really had the time.¡±


    ¡°Mm¡­ it¡¯s been a while since you¡¯ve had someone in your life, hasn¡¯t it? You need to stop putting it off. ¡± She clicked her tongue in disapproval. ¡°Find yourself a nice girl before it¡¯s too late. Someone strong, who can handle your¡­ tendencies.¡±


    I winced. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°All of the ladies at church, they keep asking me: when is that son of yours getting married? When is he going to settle down, have a family, give you grandchildren? And I tell them you¡¯re simply waiting for the right girl, and they look at me with such pity. I¡¯m sure they must talk about me behind my back, and I couldn¡¯t blame them¡­¡±


    The longer my mother went on, the easier it was to tune her out. Over the line, I heard the skittering of paws and several excited woofs, which meant she was getting ready to feed her dogs. Sometimes I was convinced that the dogs had a better relationship with her than I did, which would¡¯ve been funny if it weren¡¯t depressing.


    ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I tried to interrupt her as politely as I could. ¡°Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I really have to go¡ª¡±


    ¡°Interrupting me? Just to say you¡¯re hanging up already?¡± It wasn¡¯t a question as much as it was an accusation. ¡°You don¡¯t even have five minutes to spare for me, is that what you mean? Who made you so important all of a sudden?¡±


    ¡°No, no, no¡ª I¡¯m sorry, I just¡ª I don¡¯t really have a lot to tell you about in the first place.¡± I settled my hand on my forehead, smoothing out the frustrated pinch in the center of it. ¡°And what I do have¡­ well, I don¡¯t want to make you worry more than you already do.¡±


    ¡°Oh, mi cari?o, I¡¯ll always worry for you,¡± she said softly. ¡°I was worried for you the moment I heard your voice. You sound just terrible. Nothing has changed, has it? With your fits?¡±


    At the stop light, I rolled the truck to a stop, but in my mind, I was a million miles away. The headlights and street lamps made the puddles shine all throughout the streets, and my windshield wipers squealed in their struggle to keep up with the rain.


    ¡°You know, I wish you would give the church another try. It might even help you find a wife,¡± she continued. ¡°Really, you do all of this dangerous work, and you say it¡¯s what you want, but is it? It doesn¡¯t seem to fill that hole in your heart that I know He could. You act like you know better than me now, but you¡¯ll see in due time.¡±


    As my mother spoke, I glanced up at the rearview mirror. Cleo was right; my eyes were dark. Every time I blinked, it burned. At the intersection, I took a moment simply to shut my eyes completely, and when I opened them, my face ached from how much tension every muscle in it held.


    Inhale, exhale, I told myself.


    Inhale¡­


    ¡°A man without family, a man without God¡­¡±


    Exhale.


    ¡°I worry so much for you, mijo.¡± Her tone was less concerned and more dissatisfied. ¡°I worry every day.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t explain it, but after that, something inside of me snapped. I swiveled the wheel during my turn so sharply, my tires screeched against the wet road.


    ¡°How come you never worry about how shitty you make me feel all the time?¡± I asked. ¡°Or do you think I deserve it, ¡®cause I¡¯m not the son you think I should be?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± She snarled. ¡°What are you trying to say?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m saying you don¡¯t care about me as a person!¡± I shouted. ¡°You only care about me as¡ª I don¡¯t know, a reflection of you, or something like that! You only care about what I make you look like to other people, and I¡¯m tired of it!¡±


    Talking back to her was like spitting in the General¡¯s face, and a nauseating spike of adrenaline coursed through my system. Immediately, my mother exploded.


    ¡°How dare you!¡± She screamed so loudly, the mic cut off, fragmenting the rapid Spanish cursing that followed. ¡°Manuel, do you know who you¡¯re speaking to like this?!¡±


    ¡°You started it!¡± I shouted over her. ¡°Every single time we talk, all you do is tell me I¡¯m a worthless fuck-up! Stop it, okay? I can¡¯t take it anymore! If you¡¯re wondering why I don¡¯t call anymore, that¡¯s why!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about!¡± She shot back. ¡°When did I say this? When? Name a single time that I ever said this!¡±


    I laughed in disbelief. ¡°What, you want a notarized copy of every time you¡¯ve made it clear that I¡¯m not good enough for you? Do you want me to take it from the top, or should I just go with your Greatest Hits?¡±


    ¡°All I¡¯ve ever done is give you my unconditional love¡ª and all you¡¯ve ever done is throw it back in my face!¡± Her words were like bitter little knives. ¡°What did I do to deserve this from my only son?¡±


    ¡°Oh, please, you think I can¡¯t see through the passive aggressive bullshit you¡¯re spewing all the time?¡± I spat. ¡°You¡¯re pissed that I¡¯m not this¡ª this perfect son who¡¯s a faithful little church-goer with ten kids that can come back from war zones without a single fucking problem! I¡¯m never going to be this, so when are you going to let it go?¡±


    ¡°So I should just give up on you, then? Have no expectations for you at all? Is that what you¡¯re saying?¡± She hissed. ¡°After everything I went through to have you, you¡¯re telling me this is the best you¡¯re ever going to be? That you were just a waste of my time?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just asking you to be fucking nice for once!¡± I slammed my hands against the steering wheel. ¡°When was the last time you were proud of me? Have you ever been? Will you ever be?¡±


    The silence on her end indicated that I¡¯d tapped into a level of fury that rendered her speechless. If I were standing right beside her now, she¡¯d be rearing up for some corporal punishment, but over the phone, she was powerless. Her primary weapons - shame and guilt - were clearly not working, so there were no other tactics left to deploy.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have called,¡± my mother said quietly. ¡°You¡¯re clearly in the middle of another one of your fits. My Manolito would know to never speak to me this way.¡±


    In my head was that violent, painful thrumming, like something was threatening to break free of my skull. On the last turn of my drive, I was ready to rip the steering wheel from the console and bash it into my face just to make everything stop.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d raised you better than this.¡± She spoke without an ounce of emotion. ¡°It¡¯s such a shame you¡¯ve turned out just like him.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that.¡± I sounded so fucking weak, it disgusted me. ¡°Madre, no digas eso. Por favor.¡±


    ¡°Rezar¨¦ por t¨ª, mijo,¡± she replied. ¡°Te amo. Be good.¡±


    Just as I opened my mouth, the call disconnected. Once I realized she¡¯d hung up on me, I let out a rattled breath.


    By now, I was in the parking lot of my apartment complex, simply listening to the rain hit the roof of my car. I straightened up only to stare blankly out at the bushes that lined the concrete half-wall bordering the parking spaces. Now that the dust had settled, I couldn¡¯t shake the sickness the call had left me with, nor the heartache that followed it.


    Every time we fought, no matter how ugly it would get, I knew I¡¯d come back to her eventually. I just couldn¡¯t stand to leave her by herself without any other lifelines, but my loyalty was never met with anything but contempt. What was I doing it all for? Why did I even try?


    As I climbed out of my truck with the Tupperware in hand, I paused for a moment outside to lean against the car window as the rain came down. I wasn¡¯t sure how long I was out there, but it was long enough for the rain to soak through every layer of clothes. I knew that taking this off would be like peeling off my own skin, but I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to care.


    By the time I¡¯d made it to my front door, each step took monumental effort like I was wearing cement shoes. Even turning the key in the knob was more challenging than it should¡¯ve been, and I was grateful there was nobody there to see me like this.


    Upon unlocking my apartment, Raja appeared immediately from around the corner, skin shiny with sweat and his hair twisted up into a knot on the back of his head.


    ¡°Manny! There you are. Did you get that beef like I¡ª¡± Raja interrupted himself, thrusting his hand forward. ¡°Ah, fuck, you¡¯re all wet! Stop where you are, I just finished mopping!¡±


    My leftover nerves meant that when he raised his voice, I jumped, which was when I noticed how brightly the floors were gleaming. I don¡¯t think I ever mopped outside of times where I¡¯d spilled something sticky, so it was a little jarring to see how nice they could get with some TLC. In fact, they were so nice that I thought maybe I¡¯d get my deposit back after all.


    Still, I wasn¡¯t about to strip naked at the front door, so I was just going to have to make a mess. Once I wiggled my muddy boots off, I joined Raja in the kitchen, leaving little puddles wherever I went.


    ¡°What is wrong with you?¡± Raja¡¯s eyebrows formed a line across his forehead as he glared at me. ¡°And where¡¯s that beef? Didn¡¯t you say you were gonna go to the carniceria?¡±


    ¡°Some other stuff came up, sorry,¡± I said apathetically, looking around the rest of the apartment. ¡°Shit, Raj, this place looks great¡ª didn¡¯t think dragging your ass off the streets was basically signing up for a housewife, but I¡¯m not complaining.¡±


    ¡°Housewife?¡± As he crossed his arms, he scoffed. ¡°Well, if you expect me to start vacuuming in heels and pearls, you¡¯re gonna have to pony up a lot of money.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you¡¯re willing to do it for money?¡± I walked past him to put the plastic container of stew away in the fridge, glancing at the pile of mail on the counter along the way. ¡°That means it¡¯s up for negotiation.¡±


    Raja stared at me flatly. ¡°That¡¯s not what I said.¡±


    ¡°Mmhm¡­¡± Taking one of the envelopes in hand, I got my pocket knife out of my jeans to tear it open. ¡°If you want my opinion, you¡¯re too tall for heels, but you have a skinny enough neck to make a pearl necklace work.¡±


    ¡°Jesus Christ.¡± He rolled his eyes, though the ghost of a smile still haunted his mouth. ¡°Has anyone ever told you how fucking annoying you are?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I got you around for, amigo,¡± I smirked. ¡°Need you to keep me humble.¡±


    Once I¡¯d determined all of the mail was junk, I tossed it into the trash without another thought. When I looked up, Raja was watching me, his gaze oddly fixed. Since I was still feeling self conscious over Cleo¡¯s comments, I glared at him. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Huh? Oh!¡± Raja¡¯s eyes darted away to the floor like he was embarrassed. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡±


    ¡°No, what is it?¡± I pressed. ¡°What, do I look funny today or something?¡±


    ¡°I said it was nothing. Shit, would you chill out?¡± He frowned defensively. ¡°What¡¯s your damage?¡±


    My instinct was to snap at Raja so he¡¯d leave me alone, but I thought back to Dr. Oh and how she encouraged me to open up instead of letting things fester inside. Aside from Mercy, Raja was probably one of the best people to start with, because if I couldn¡¯t be honest with him, could I be honest with anyone?


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said quietly. ¡°I just got off a really shitty phone call and¡­ it just feels like one more thing on top of the shit sundae my life¡¯s been lately.¡±


    ¡°Oh. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Raja¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Anything I can do to make you feel better?¡±


    I wandered away from the kitchen to the living room, sitting down on the couch. The storm brewing outside had darkened the sky so much, I could see my reflection in the windows, and I really did look as tired as I felt.


    ¡°Just listen,¡± I replied, motioning for Raja to sit beside me. ¡°If that¡¯s not too much to ask.¡±


    Whatever frustration that had been on Raja¡¯s face gave way to something much more tender. He sat at the other end of the couch and leaned into the pillows, watching me like he was ready to hang on to my every word.


    Truthfully, I wasn¡¯t sure where to start. Talking about the investigation struck me as a sure-fire way to sound batshit crazy, and mentioning anything related to Mercy always put Raja in a weird mood. I could¡¯ve talked about my mother, but that wound still felt too fresh, so there was only one topic I could really get into - and it was arguably the one thing that stressed me out the most.


    ¡°So,¡± I began hesitantly, ¡°There¡¯s, uh, something I haven¡¯t really talked about with you and¡­ I kind of owe it to you, I think. Just so you don¡¯t blame yourself for my¡­ my fits, or whatever you¡¯d call them.¡±


    Raja released his hair from the bun, shaking his head to let it fall freely. ¡°Let me guess: you¡¯re living a double life, vigilante-style?¡±


    ¡°Hardy har har. Wish it was that cool, but no.¡± I rubbed the back of my neck, and as I traced my fingers along my hairline, I sensed a phantom tingling that led all the way down my spine. ¡°Uh, you remember that call at the camp? When we saw each other?¡±


    At this, he cringed, as if he didn¡¯t want to remember it. ¡°Yeah? What about it?¡±


    ¡°Well, a couple weeks after that, I was, um¡­¡± I paused to breathe deeply. ¡°I was hospitalized.¡±


    ¡°Holy shit.¡± He sat forward. ¡°For what? Like, a car wreck or something? Wait, it¡¯s not something like cancer, right?¡±


    ¡°Wh¡ª no. If it was cancer, you¡¯d have known that by now, don¡¯t you think?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Anyway, it was¡­¡±


    In the months that had passed, I¡¯d buried the chemical fire deeply into the back of my mind. Recalling it made the flood gates in my mind open wide, taking me right back to the scene; even just the brief, fractured memory of Garrett¡¯s face felt so real, it made me nauseous.


    ¡°Did you hear about that fire at the uh, chemical warehouse?¡± I asked, mouth dry. ¡°There was an explosion of some kind.¡±


    ¡°Shit, are you talking about the Kingslake Labs fire?¡± Raja¡¯s mouth fell open. ¡°Oh, shit¡­ they¡¯re always doing some weird shit, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Apparently, I lived under a rock compared to everyone else around me. ¡°Uh, I don¡¯t really know anything about them, to be honest with you.¡±


    ¡°I used to share a tent with a guy who¡¯d been a janitor there.¡± He nodded knowingly. ¡°He told me they were working on all sorts of crazy stuff, and ¡®cause he was a janitor, he got to hear about it since everyone acted like he wasn¡¯t there. That place is a hundred lawsuits waiting to happen.¡±


    I stared at him skeptically. ¡°Okay, but you¡¯ve also talked about sharing a tent with a girl who claimed to be a long-lost English princess, so I don¡¯t know if your ¡®sources¡¯ are trustworthy.¡±


    ¡°She was fresh out of a psych ward, so that¡¯s different.¡± Raja frowned. ¡°Okay, but like, what about it? The fire, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Right, right.¡± Leaning forward, I balanced my elbows on my knees, lacing my fingers together. ¡°Well¡­ my station was one of the ones called to the scene, so¡­ I was there for it.¡±


    At this, Raja¡¯s face paled, all humor drained away. He stopped sitting casually and sat upright, his hands curling inward anxiously as he waited for me to speak.


    ¡°There was a problem with my mask¡ª which was my own damn fault, I didn¡¯t look at it closely enough ¡®cause I¡¯m an idiot.¡± I laughed uneasily. ¡°But it meant that¡­ I, uh, inhaled whatever was coming out of the fire. And I got really sick.¡±


    Just remembering the smell of the smoke was enough to make me scowl in disgust; what was strange, though, was that nobody else remembered the smell of it like I did.


    ¡°Sick enough to get you hospitalized?¡± Raja¡¯s eyes were wide and nervous. ¡°Woah.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Thankfully, I wasn¡¯t there for long, but since then, I¡¯ve¡­ well, I¡¯ve been okay, like I can still work, but¡­ you know.¡±


    Something¡¯s changed, I finished mentally. Rather than verbalize it, I looked to Raja, hoping that he would understand without me going into detail.


    ¡°That¡¯s awful, man.¡± Raja looked to his hands, where he was peeling hangnails from the sides of his fingers. ¡°I¡ª I can¡¯t even imagine.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± I flattened my mouth. ¡°And I¡¯ve just been feeling, um, kind of weird lately, so it¡¯s been on my mind a lot. I don¡¯t feel very good most days, which puts me in a bad mood, but¡­ I shouldn¡¯t be taking it out on you. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°No, no, I get it. Sorry for looking at you funny.¡± He glanced back up at me. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean anything by it.¡±


    Even though I wanted it desperately, Raja¡¯s sympathy left me embarrassed at my own fragility. I¡¯d fought so hard to push the incident into the back of my mind, to prove that I was tough enough to walk it off, but it kept coming back to the surface whenever there was an opportunity.


    There was still so much I had suppressed, like how I¡¯d thought of Raja in those hazy, split-seconds of consciousness I had in the ambulance ride, or how the very first thing I wanted to do once I¡¯d gotten out was find him. I¡¯d come so close to dying without ever seeing him again, and now that he was sitting in front of me, it became that much more devastating a concept. With that thought in mind, I couldn¡¯t stand looking at him, turning away to face the TV.


    From the corner of my eye, I saw Raja reach for me, but the feeling of his touch never came. Instead, he brought his hand back to himself, as if he¡¯d thought better of it. It¡¯s for the best, I thought, in spite of my own disappointment.


    Swiftly, I stood up from the couch and stretched backwards, groaning when my spine released a series of pops and cracks. ¡°Anyway, so who knows what the fuck is wrong with me?¡± I shrugged, fighting back the knot in my stomach. ¡°Probably gonna grow another arm any minute now.¡±


    ¡°Well, if it makes you feel any better, I¡¯ll still like you even if you become a jacked up little mutant.¡± Raja smiled reassuringly. ¡°Middle-aged mutant ninja turtle, Mannyangelo.¡±


    I let out a snort. ¡°I think I¡¯m more likely to get a new disease named after me than become a mutant, but thanks.¡±


    ¡°Diseases get named after the people that discover them, not the people who suffer from them. Sucks, right? You¡¯ll have to find a different claim to fame.¡± He motioned towards my body. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re in decent shape¡ª there¡¯s always those um, what are they? Those firefighter calendars, right?¡±


    ¡°Oh God, no. Been there, done that.¡± I shook my head in shame. ¡°Shit, if anyone ever takes another picture of me again, it¡¯ll be too soon.¡±


    Raja didn¡¯t have a snappy comeback, at least not immediately. He gave me a look I couldn¡¯t quite figure out, like he was resisting the urge to say something. My cheeks reddened, already embarrassed at whatever joke he was right about to make.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you even start,¡± I said flatly to cut him off. ¡°It was for charity, alright?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Raja swallowed. ¡°Uh¡ª I mean¡ª yeah? Now who¡¯s willing to do weird shit for money?¡±


    ¡°Man, fuck you, those proceeds went to places like shelters!¡± I laughed, pointing to my stomach. ¡°If you think about it, there¡¯s a chance that these abs helped feed you at some point. Give ¡®em some credit!¡±


    Raja¡¯s eyes trailed up and down, and for a moment, I could¡¯ve sworn his eyelashes fluttered as his big, goofy trademark smile stretched across his face. ¡°Um, well¡­ if there¡¯s, uh, anything I can do to pay you back¡­¡± He smiled, looking down at his hands sheepishly.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I began to unzip the wet jacket I¡¯d still been wearing. ¡°I think there is.¡±


    Raja blinked rapidly, like he wasn¡¯t sure of where this was going. Once I¡¯d finally peeled the jacket off my arms, I bundled it up and threw it at his head. Clearly, I¡¯d caught him off guard, because he had no time to dodge it before it hit him square in the face. I couldn¡¯t stop myself from grinning.


    ¡°You can start by making me dinner!¡±

 THEOREM

    When my eyes fell on the prices, I stared in shock. ¡°The fuck? Twelve dollars for an Irish coffee? Why would you pay this much for a drink? You might as well set your wallet on fire.¡±


    Dahlia chuckled as she scanned the menu. ¡°You think these prices are bad? You¡¯ve never seen how much it costs just to breathe in New York City¡ª or even Seattle.¡±


    Completely baffled, all I could do was shake my head.


    That day, Dahlia had dragged me to some kind of up-scale bistro - a word so snobby, I felt spat upon just saying it - and, because I didn¡¯t have a better idea, I let her. The second I¡¯d stepped into the building, I already knew I was out of place, my faded shirt and work boots pegging me as an alien life form among the button-ups and blazers of the other diners.


    Dahlia, however, blended in perfectly. So perfectly that when the waitress was leading us to a table, she first assumed we weren¡¯t eating together. When we clarified that we were, she shot Dahlia a look of pity.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why we always have to go out to eat when we meet up,¡± I said as I closed the menu. ¡°Why don¡¯t we go anywhere else?¡±


    ¡°Name a place to meet with tables, air conditioning and permission to be there as long as we¡¯d like.¡± As she spoke, Dahlia counted on her fingers. ¡°It¡¯s harder to find than you¡¯d think.¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°I dunno, what about your place?¡±


    Dahlia, too, raised an eyebrow. When I realized the implications, I straightened up in my seat and cleared my throat. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cool your jets, hot shot, I didn¡¯t take offense.¡± She smirked. ¡°Since we live in a democracy, I¡¯ll let you pick the next place we go, alright?¡±


    It was strange to think that there¡¯d be a next time, but I knew that there would be. As long as I still held the hunch that there may be an arsonist running around, I¡¯d be tied up with Dahlia; in passing, I wondered what would become of us if - or when - we¡¯d caught someone.


    The prices were so outrageous, all I ordered was a side of fries and a glass of water, earning an eyeroll from the waitress. Dahlia, however, was willing to shell out for a salad and a mimosa, so at least we wouldn¡¯t get kicked out for seeming cheap.


    With our orders sent to the kitchen, we fell into our ¡®routine¡¯: I traded what I had to offer, she reviewed it and took notes for her own reference while we picked over our food. What must we have looked like to the other people there? Even the waitress was obviously curious when she refilled our drinks, but she was polite enough to keep to herself.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Dahlia said, once she¡¯d finished. ¡°These all seem really random. And these are just the ones that didn¡¯t have an obvious cause, right?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°And they¡¯re all reported by people who definitely couldn¡¯t have been involved in it. Like people who were out walking their dogs, or they were driving home from work, so it just¡­ couldn¡¯t have been them. It¡¯s a different person each time, so unless they¡¯re all in on it¡­ shit, who knows.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d probably be more suspicious if it was the same person reporting it every time, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± She bobbed her straw in her drink, then sighed. ¡°I just wish we had more to go off of¡­ I¡¯m dying out here, Manny.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe this is all in our heads.¡± I leaned back, running a hand over my face. ¡°The more connections I look for, the dumber I feel.¡±


    Dahlia hummed thoughtfully. ¡°Let¡¯s take it from the top, then: what was the first fire that made you think something was going on?¡±


    In my mind, I rewound all of the calls from over the last month. Then, one of them stuck out to me.


    ¡°It was a fire at an office building,¡± I said. ¡°It was weird because¡­ a lot of these fires were happening at abandoned buildings, right? Like condemned trailers or empty warehouses, which I thought was kind of strange already, but I didn¡¯t really think anything of it.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Those could easily be just some dumb kids smoking and trespassing.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. So this office was under renovation, and since the construction workers had gone home, it should¡¯ve been empty. But one of the guys had gotten trapped in the building. He turned out okay, but he did pass out from the smoke, so¡­ he needed medical attention.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure he¡¯s not our guy?¡± She had a little sparkle in her eye. ¡°I mean, he was the only one there, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but the footage ruled him out,¡± I replied. ¡°Anyway, it just gave me a weird feeling, right? ¡®Cause these fires were so¡­ sequential, and the buildings were always empty. And right after that, boom: they¡¯re back in empty buildings again.¡±


    Dahlia said nothing, simply listening as she ate. She held her gaze on me so steadily, it was like I was giving a presentation, which I found a little flattering. I sat closer and looked around us before I continued.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°I know we live in Texas, but our infrastructure isn¡¯t so fucked that fires just spontaneously happen this often,¡± I continued. ¡°It almost always involves a fallen cigarette, or a space heater¡ª something involving people being there. And with these calls, no one¡¯s there, and no one has any reason to be there.¡±


    ¡°That is interesting.¡± She took a quick, dainty sip of her water. ¡°Why would you set fire to a bunch of empty places, though?¡±


    ¡°Maybe someone wants to set buildings on fire without setting people on fire?¡± I shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s my only guess.¡±


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡± With a pout, Dahlia rubbed her temples. ¡°If we could puzzle out a motive, then we might have an idea of where he¡¯d go next. Like if he was after insurance, or something¡­¡±


    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°Why are you so certain it¡¯s a guy?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that,¡± she scoffed. ¡°The majority of arson cases are committed by young, white males in late adolescence to early adulthood with troubled backgrounds. It¡¯s not an indictment of your sex, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re getting at.¡±


    ¡°Someone¡¯s been doing her homework.¡± I paused to accept another glass of water from the waitress, who was clearly annoyed that I hadn¡¯t ordered anything else. ¡°How many papers have you read to spout that line off?¡±


    ¡°Too many, that¡¯s for sure.¡± She sighed, gazing down at her empty drink. ¡°I¡¯ve been reading about it as much as I can. Since you¡¯re pretty much my only source, I have to wait to see what you¡¯ve got for me to build up this particular story¡­ and I can¡¯t do a lot of investigating without looking like a suspect to the police.¡±


    ¡°Mmhm.¡± I chewed the tip of my straw in thought. ¡°Question. Why shouldn''t I suspect you?¡±


    In the middle of eating the last bite of her salad, Dahlia blinked, then let out a sharp cackle. ¡°Good point! I suppose you have no reason not to, right?¡±


    ¡°Right, you think you¡¯re off the hook ¡®cause you¡¯re an old Asian lady?¡± I gestured at her with my glass. ¡°It¡¯s always the ones you least suspect.¡±


    ¡°Excuse you!¡± She wrinkled her nose in offense. ¡°Thirty-eight isn¡¯t old, little boy.¡±


    ¡°Shit, are you more offended at being called old than being called a suspected criminal?¡± My smile split into a grin. ¡°Seems a little vain.¡±


    ¡°Of course I am!¡± Her fork made a tinging noise as she dropped it into the empty bowl. ¡°Nobody takes old women seriously. Now, bad girls on the other hand¡­¡±


    I raised an eyebrow playfully. ¡°Is this your way of telling me you¡¯re bad?¡±


    ¡°No, but I refuse to let anyone stop me from what I want in life.¡± For a moment, she paused, looking unexpectedly resigned. ¡°And to a lot of people, that¡¯s essentially the same thing.¡±


    Sensing that I was about to tread into waters deeper than I¡¯d meant to, I said nothing and left it at that, wiping my hands clean now that I¡¯d finished my plate.


    There was something about Dahlia that I couldn¡¯t quite put my finger on. She was so measured, so put together, but there was something brewing underneath it all. I didn¡¯t think she actually cared as much about journalistic integrity as she claimed to; in fact, I was starting to believe she was trying to prove something, but it felt disrespectful to pry.


    After she¡¯d dabbed her face with a napkin, Dahlia reached down into her bag and fished out a tube of lip gloss. While she checked her reflection in her phone, my gaze ran down from her cheeks to her mouth right as she pressed the brush along her bottom lip. Even though the gloss¡¯ shade suited her, I found myself wishing she¡¯d leave her lips bare; seeing their natural color felt like a peek underneath her skirt, a little thrill I hadn¡¯t expected.


    In a split second, Dahlia¡¯s eyes flickered from her reflection to me. Just as she was about to speak, her Apple watch let out a chorus of beeps, and when she glanced down at it, a revulsion overtook her features out of nowhere. She swiped the notification away with such irritation, I was a little surprised.


    ¡°Woah, what¡¯s that all about?¡± I asked.


    At first, Dahlia said nothing, resuming the application of her makeup. With a firm twist, she closed the lip gloss and threw it into her bag, turning to face me like she was at confession.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ my husband.¡± Dahlia sighed, looking as if she regretted having to tell me. ¡°Soon to be ex-husband, to be precise.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡ª shit.¡± I blinked stupidly. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t realize.¡±


    Awkwardly, I scooted my chair back from the table to give us space. At my reaction, Dahlia frowned apologetically.


    ¡°The bastard doesn¡¯t seem to realize we¡¯re in a no-fault state, so he thinks he can stop the divorce from happening if he pesters me enough.¡± She collected a couple bobby pins out of her bag and tucked the flyaways away from her face. ¡°I really should just block his number and let him talk to the lawyer, but¡­ well, as shocking as it may seem, even I have a heart¨C though it¡¯s mostly to get my dog back.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ sucks.¡± I flattened my mouth, annoyed that I lacked anything smarter or more sensitive to say.


    She flattened her mouth, too. ¡°Yes, it does.¡±


    An air of tension hung over us now. Whatever the story between her and her husband was, it dampened Dahlia¡¯s mood completely, and I wasn¡¯t sure how to break the ice without being accidentally inappropriate, so I stayed quiet. There was hardly any conversation as we had the waitress collect our checks separately, and when a few agonizing minutes of silence had passed, it was clear that we¡¯d finished our business. Frustrated, Dahlia let out a long, weary sigh.


    ¡°Okay, well, I should probably get going,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve got lots of things to do.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah, me too,¡± I stammered as I closed the folder I brought for her. ¡°Uh, did you need anything else?¡±


    ¡°No! Everything you brought was great.¡± She began to collect her things from her side of the table and crammed them into her bag, which was nearly big enough to hold half of Alaska. ¡°I¡¯ll call you soon, okay?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I repeated. ¡°Sounds good.¡±


    Dahlia stood from her seat, and so did I, and we left the bistro. On our way out, when I held open the door for her, the scent of her perfume lingered after her.


    I tried not to think anything of it.

 GOT YOUR SIX

    The next day I was back at work, and after the rest of the crew had gone to bed, I was still wide awake. By now, I had resigned myself to sleeplessness, and made use of the spare time it gave me to go over the case file.


    As I finished my last note, the station¡¯s alarm system broke apart the silence I¡¯d been sitting in. Jumping up from my seat, I ducked out of my room to join the rest of the crew, who shambled with a sluggishness that proved I really was the only one still awake at this hour. We didn¡¯t bother speaking amongst ourselves - there¡¯d be plenty of time to talk when we were on our way to the scene.


    Suited up and headed out, once we were in the apparatus, everyone was still yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes as Chief Cormorant got the low-down on the details of the call. From the sounds of it, it was almost certainly a drunk driving accident, given that it was a Saturday night.


    ¡°Ugh, what do you bet it¡¯s some dumb kids?¡± Liam tilted his head back against his seat. ¡°I swear, half the time if it¡¯s a car crash past midnight, kids are involved. Doesn¡¯t anybody try to actually raise their kids right anymore?¡±


    ¡°When I was younger, my mom would read me the riot act if I got home five minutes late! Past midnight, though?¡± Heather let out a disapproving hum. ¡°Trust me, they¡¯d have never found my body.¡±


    The crew began to debate child-raising techniques, which was precisely the moment I checked out. I had nothing worthwhile to add, since I didn¡¯t have any kids, and the last time I¡¯d mentioned Cleo, they made it clear that she didn¡¯t count. It was better just to keep to myself.


    When we finally arrived, it was a grisly sight: a sedan had smashed into the side of an SUV so powerfully that it resembled a broken down pi?ata. It was the kind of wreck that needed another crew of firefighters to help out, accompanied by two ambulances and some police officers to survey the damage and redirect traffic.


    Chief Cormorant had a quick debriefing with the other firefighters on site, and a game plan was created quickly. Our team was assigned to the sedan while the other crew tended to the SUV, and now that the responsibilities had been divided, we sprang into action.


    As Rob and Heather worked the Jaws through the sedan¡¯s roof, DeShawn and Liam tied a couple of ropes to the doors on the opposing side to make access for the patients inside. Garrett and I stood at the sidelines, preparing to assist the patients once we had enough room to get in. It wasn¡¯t going to take long, since the car was utterly FUBAR already.


    The second the roof had been pulled back, the world around me quieted. I heard Rob and Heather reassuring the young man on the passenger¡¯s side, but I couldn¡¯t really make out what they were saying.


    The inside was worse than the outside, with shattered glass stained in the blood of the passengers. The young man - really more of a boy than a man - was barely able to string along a few words, while the girl in the driver¡¯s seat was completely out cold. Immediately, I zoned in on her.


    Even in the dark of the night, with only the flashing lights of the trucks to provide clarity, I could see just how young and fragile she was; she couldn¡¯t have possibly been older than sixteen. The curls that framed her sweet little face were matted with blood from the cut on her cheek, and her dark brown eyes were half-lidded and empty.


    Once we¡¯d made access, I crawled into the car to perform CPR while Rob and Heather took care of the boy. Though he was clearly under the influence of something, when he saw me climb into the car beside the girl, he started screaming and wrestling against Rob¡¯s grip.


    ¡°Araceli!¡± He cried, his voice cracking. ¡°Oh my God!¡±


    ¡°Honey, we¡¯ve got it from here, okay?¡± said Heather calmly. ¡°We¡¯re gonna make sure she¡¯s okay. Hey¡ª sweetie, listen to me. Listen to me. Let¡¯s get you to the paramedics¡ª¡±


    ¡°Let me go! Please!¡± The boy¡¯s face became wet with tears. ¡°I need to see her¡ª let me fucking go! She¡¯s bleeding! Araceli!¡±


    ¡°Mijo, look at yourself. You¡¯re bleeding, too.¡± Rob kept his grip firm and steady. ¡°Tiene que venir con nosotros a la ambulancia¡­¡±


    Beside me, Liam motioned with his head for me to enter. ¡°Manny, get on it. She isn¡¯t looking so hot.¡±


    Silently, I nodded. The pain in the boy¡¯s voice reverberated in my head as I placed my hands atop the girl¡¯s chest and began pushing rhythmically. Underneath me, her ribs crunched and cracked as each violent press into her sternum became more pointless than the last, yet I kept going, even when the sweat dripped down my forehead.


    The girl¡¯s skin was pale and ashen, and a familiar, distant glassiness clouded her eyes. The harder I pressed into her, the more crazed and desperate I felt, as if I were prying her away from death itself. That was when the awful, itchy tingling rose up through my chest and flowed down my arms, and my arms burned like my muscles had torn.


    ¡°Let''s get her up here,¡± said one of the paramedics as he brought over the stretcher. Liam and DeShawn assisted him in hoisting the girl onto the stretcher while I chased after her pulse, the buzzing throughout my body powering me to go on for what felt like forever. I¡¯d never been able to perform CPR for so long before, and it took Liam¡¯s hand against my back for me to snap out of my focus.


    ¡°Manny,¡± he said quietly, ¡°I think you can stop now.¡±


    It killed me to admit it, but he was right. Despite my hesitance, I lifted my arms away from her.


    Without speaking, I moved so that Liam and the paramedics could bring her to the stretcher. The second that I¡¯d stopped, Liam overtook the CPR, bouncing relentlessly into the girl¡¯s chest as she was wheeled away to the ambulance.


    While we¡¯d been fighting for the girl¡¯s life, the boy had been nearly inconsolable, arguing loudly with everyone who came near him. From several feet away, I saw Garrett go over to check on him, only for the boy to leap forward and attack him. The paramedics restrained him immediately after, but the boy¡¯s pain was so infectious, I had a hard time holding such an outburst against him.


    By the SUV, firefighters from the other crew had successfully extracted the other patient, who was in a much less dire state. It was an elderly man, and from the fragments of conversation that I caught, the sedan had come plummeting into the side of his car without any warning at the intersection. All he came away with was mild whiplash and some bruising, a stark contrast to the gory mess in the sedan.


    I glanced over at the ambulance where they¡¯d taken the girl, and through its doors I watched as they strapped her to the gurney to prepare for their trip to the hospital.


    It was a hopeless endeavor, but on the off chance that God was taking requests tonight, I prayed for her to make it.


    ? ? ?


    While we drove back to the station, the rest of the crew resumed their usual chatter while I lost myself in thought.


    ¡°¡­ anyone else notice¡­¡±


    The sharp shock I¡¯d felt at the girl¡¯s face had now become a general sense of grief. For the most part, I could compartmentalize my emotions when I was on call, but something about that girl stuck with me. When I closed my eyes, I could still see hers, and I realized she was now doomed to join the collection of ghosts I carried with me from past calls. How many I could carry before I split apart at the seams?


    ¡°¡­ big-ass ¡­ nest ¡­ outside¡­¡±


    With these images running through my mind, the idea of trying to sleep when we returned struck me as a joke, but it wasn¡¯t as if there was anything better to do. At times, I felt punished by my insomnia beyond just the pain of exhaustion.


    ¡°¡­ just use¡­¡±This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Though I hadn¡¯t been the most compliant patient, weren¡¯t therapy and medication supposed to make me better, not worse? Maybe the time was at hand to try heavier-hitting stuff, but that would mean being forthright with Chief Cormorant about what was going on, unless there was stuff that worked that didn¡¯t show up on drug tests. Knowing my luck, the only medication to help me would be shit like horse tranquilizers.


    ¡°¡­ Manny?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± I blinked, my eyes never having felt this dry before.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± said Heather, who had been in the middle of taking off her gear. ¡°You wanna come out of the truck, or do you find it cozy in there?¡±


    I blinked again, stunned that I¡¯d been so checked out, I hadn¡¯t noticed we¡¯d even stopped. Smiling uneasily, I followed Heather out, eager to escape the crushing weight of my gear. While we all got undressed, Rob and DeShawn talked sports while Liam and Heather were going on about a TV show I¡¯d never even heard of.


    Garrett, like me, stayed quiet, likely because of the massive punch he took to the face. He was the first to undress completely, slipping away from the crew right after. Judging from everyone else, I was the only one to notice.


    Once we¡¯d all gotten our gear stored away, we split up, with most of the crew deciding to catch up on what little sleep there was left to grab. I wasn¡¯t even going to pretend like that was a realistic option, so I dug around for an energy drink in the fridge to compensate.


    Just as I took a sip, I noticed a shadow coming from under the door that led to the dumpsters outside. Stepping forward towards it, I listened closely to see if it was anything suspicious. When I heard nothing, I opened it anyway just to satisfy my curiosity, only for Garrett to tumble backwards from behind it. His head slammed against the kitchen tile, and he dropped something he¡¯d been holding.


    ¡°Fuck!¡± He barked, eyes squeezed shut. ¡°Ugh¡ª God damn it¡­¡±


    ¡°What the¡ª¡± I jumped back, a little startled. ¡°The hell are you doing out here?¡±


    ¡°Would you just leave me alone for five fucking¡ª¡± Upon seeing me, Garrett went quiet. I could feel him lower his defenses, and the white-hot anger on his face gave way to a tired frustration. He snapped back into an upright position and then he sighed, pressing the ice pack back up to his face.


    ¡°Hey, man, I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said gently. ¡°Everything good with you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. I just wanted to be alone,¡± he replied. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    At the sight of his frown, I couldn¡¯t help but soften. ¡°I get it. That was a pretty rough call. You, um¡­ you want to talk about it?¡±


    Garrett flattened his mouth as if he wanted to turn me away, but then scooted off to the side to make a place for me beside him.


    Once I¡¯d shut the door behind us, I slid down the wall to sit with him underneath the soft, honeyed glow of the flood light. After we¡¯d sat there for a couple of minutes in silence, Garrett let out another sigh, but this one came out more like a grunt.


    ¡°I¡¯m really starting to feel like no good deed goes unpunished,¡± he said grimly. ¡°I didn¡¯t even say anything to that kid, right? I was talking to the paramedics! But he got all fucking crazy at me when he saw them take that girl to the ambulance. Like, what the fuck, why was he blaming me? And¡ª God, he hit me so hard, I thought he broke my jaw!¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Here¡ª¡± I motioned for him to remove the ice. ¡°Let me see the damage, chico.¡±


    Without argument, Garrett obeyed, revealing the sizable bruise blooming on the crook of his jaw. To check the swelling, I ran the pad of my thumb over it; even though he winced, he didn¡¯t knock my hand back.


    ¡°Mm, he got you good,¡± I said. ¡°That¡¯s definitely gonna get worse before it gets better.¡±


    ¡°I know that,¡± he grumbled, his eyebrows flat across his forehead. ¡°You think this is the first time I¡¯ve been punched in the face?¡±


    ¡°Yeah? You in some kind of illegal boxing rings I should know about?¡± I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. ¡°Should I start calling you Rocky?¡±


    Clearly unamused, Garrett let out a huff and kept the ice pack to his face. While we sat together in the dead of the night, I stared up at the stars in the sky, which had no hope of competing with the ever-burning lights of the Dallas horizon. Once he repositioned his ice pack, Garrett turned to look at me.


    ¡°You know, when I was a kid, I dreamed of being a firefighter,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I thought it¡¯d be just like being a superhero.¡±


    Under the flood light, the harsh shadows gave Garrett¡¯s face a maturity it usually lacked, washing out the rosiness of his cheeks and turning his eyes to a stark, bitter green. I gazed at him in sympathy.


    ¡°When I was in middle school, I read comics all the time,¡± he continued. ¡°The X-Men, Superman, Batman¡ª I read Marvel, DC, even some indie stuff. I loved all of them. I wanted to be just like them, ¡®cause they helped people, and no one ever tried to push them around.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure the Joker wanted to push Batman around.¡± I scratched my chin. ¡°Not to be, uh¡­ what¡¯s the word?¡±


    ¡°Pedantic?¡± Garrett stared at me flatly, a single eyebrow raised.


    I pointed at him. ¡°Bingo.¡±


    He rolled his eyes. ¡°You get what I¡¯m saying, though. They did cool stuff, they saved people¡­ and¡­¡±


    Breathing deeply, Garrett trailed off. He took the ice pack away from his face, and the condensation had left his skin a little wet. He dried it off with the back of his hand and rested the ice pack to the ground as if he were defeated.


    ¡°They never had to take anyone¡¯s shit.¡± His bitterness was now sharpened to a fine point. ¡°But it feels like all I do is take people¡¯s shit. I¡¯m sick of it. I don¡¯t feel like a hero¡ª I feel like a punching bag. Literally.¡±


    ¡°Should¡¯ve read the job description more clearly,¡± I replied. ¡°Right under ¡®requirements¡¯, it says: ¡®Must be able to take an ass-whooping.¡¯ Common probie mistake is not reading the fine print.¡±


    He snorted dismissively. ¡°Guess so.¡±


    Again, things went quiet between us. Despite my efforts, I obviously wasn¡¯t making Garrett feel much better. Maybe he¡¯d had enough jokes for a lifetime, and I was only making things worse by keeping things so surface-level. I knew I should say something, but my tongue felt stiff in my mouth, bound by a limited vocabulary when it came to sensitive subjects. Still, for him, I wanted to try.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t really a hero tonight, either.¡± Closing my eyes, I bowed my head. ¡°That girl¡­ I could just see it in her eyes, when I was doing CPR. Felt the life leave her body. I knew she was gonna be a DOA, but¡­ I still feel like I failed her.¡±


    Garrett¡¯s face was a blank screen, absent of any emotion. If he hadn¡¯t swallowed a lump down so audibly, I¡¯d have thought he felt nothing at all.


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna have a lot of calls where you fail to save the day. And people will hold you responsible for it, even when it was completely out of your control.¡± I laced my fingers together in my lap. ¡°Sometimes people will even think you¡¯re the bad guy. That happens a lot if you use Narcan on people who¡¯ve overdosed. If you think that kid hit you hard, you haven¡¯t seen junkies when you wake ¡®em up from a fatal high. Liam lost a molar that way.¡±


    Garrett frowned. ¡°This isn¡¯t much of a pep talk.¡±


    I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to give you a pep talk. I¡¯m telling you that¡­¡±


    I had to pause for a moment; behind Garrett¡¯s eyes was such a burning sincerity, I felt guilty that he¡¯d chosen my footsteps to follow, but it only motivated me more to change. For a few seconds, I breathed in as deep a breath as I could.


    ¡°You¡¯re not alone.¡± After I said it, I exhaled. ¡°It¡¯s a hard job, and I don¡¯t want you to think you¡¯re the only one that has a hard time with it. I know what you¡¯re going through, Garrett. And if it helps you to hear it from someone else, then I¡¯ll be the first to admit it.¡±


    Whatever anger Garrett had been holding on to, he finally let it go. Immediately, my efforts were rewarded with the first real smile I¡¯d seen on him since we¡¯d gotten back, though it was small and tired. I couldn¡¯t help but smile in return.


    I stood up from the ground and, once I¡¯d dusted myself off, I offered a hand to Garrett. ¡°C¡¯mon, enough of the depressing shit. Everyone else went to bed, so we get the rec room to ourselves¡ª let¡¯s put a movie on.¡±


    Warmly, Garrett gazed up at me, though the swelling in his cheek made his grin a little lopsided. He took my hand, and I hoisted him up to his feet.


    ¡°Now that you mention it, I really want to watch one of the Batman movies now¡­¡± He mused, picking up the ice pack from the ground below.


    ¡°Uh-uh, it better not be that fuckin¡¯ Nipple Batman one again.¡± I shook my head as I opened the door. ¡°We¡¯re watching the OG Rocky. Have you seen it? You¡¯ll love it.¡±


    ¡°We can rock-paper-scissors for it!¡± He grinned. ¡°Best two out of three?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re on¡ª¡±


    Just as we were about to enter the building, Garrett put his hand to my chest to stop me, and then pointed up upward. Hanging right off the flood light above was a wasp¡¯s nest about the size of a basket. Because it was nighttime, there were no wasps coming or going, so the hive simply sat there in an eerie stillness.


    ¡°Ugh, gross,¡± he sneered. ¡°Hey, hold on a minute.¡±


    Garrett shoved the ice pack into my hands, and while I waited for him to come back, I stared up at the nest. With the way the wasps had built their hive around the light, it was shaped like a papery little heart, illuminated from the inside and showing all of its chambers. For some reason, it was a little hypnotizing, and I couldn¡¯t bear to look away.


    Shortly after, Garrett came back with a can of Raid. I didn¡¯t have any time to speak before he pushed me away, shaking the can violently to prepare it for use. From the doorway, he shot the spray directly into the nest, and its structure began to weaken from the chemicals bleeding into its walls.


    I knew that the wasps inside stood no chance, absorbing the poison as they lay dormant. In just a few hours, the nest would crumble, and instead of a home, it would be a tomb. I couldn¡¯t explain why, but just the thought of it made my heart sink.


    Garrett let out a triumphant bark of a laugh. ¡°That¡¯ll teach them! Right, Manny?¡±


    When he looked at me with that big, beaming smile, he was clearly seeking my approval.


    Instead, all I could do was stare.

 WALLFLOWER

    In another one of my many attempts to feel normal, I¡¯d accepted an invitation from Cliff to go to a dinner party to celebrate the birth of his son (and, of course, give Shenice a night off of cooking dinner while she was recovering). At first, I had the inclination to decline, but I realized it¡¯d give me time to talk to Cliff about the fires, so here I was, waiting for Mercy to finish getting ready out in my truck.


    While it struck me as interesting that Luke claimed he couldn¡¯t show up until later, I didn¡¯t care to look a gift horse in the mouth: it was so hard to find any time alone with Mercy that I wanted to take advantage of it whenever I could. Just the sound of her voice was soothing, and it felt as if I hadn¡¯t heard it in forever.


    Thankfully, I didn¡¯t have to wait outside for long. Only a few minutes after I¡¯d honked to let her know I was around, Mercy came right out, and when she opened the door she smiled warmly at me.


    ¡°Sorry to keep you waiting,¡± she said before blinking in surprise. ¡°Oh! Look at you! No basketball shorts?¡±


    I smirked. ¡°I thought about it, but the last pair I got has this gross stain in the back that makes me look like I shit myself. Haven¡¯t had the heart to toss them out yet, but¡­ one of these days.¡±


    ¡°Thank God for that.¡± Her eyes crinkled as her smile deepened. ¡°Looking muy guapo, Manolo. Let¡¯s get going, shall we?¡±


    Once fully in the truck, Mercy clicked her seat belt across herself. The belt cut right across her bust, emphasizing the subtle cleavage that emerged as she crossed her arms. Her yellow top a vibrant, sunny color that made her skin glow like she had a Cancun tan, and it left her shoulders exposed enough to show off the projection of her collarbones. Despite her complaints, I thought it fit her perfectly, nipping in around her soft waist like it was made for her.


    Afraid that Mercy might notice the way my eyes lingered, I glanced away, turning all my attention to the road ahead of us.


    ¡°So, how¡¯ve you been?¡± She asked, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. ¡°Everything¡¯s been good with you, right?¡±


    I shrugged. ¡°Ups and downs. But I¡¯m okay, overall. Nothing new to report, really.¡±


    ¡°Good, good,¡± she nodded. ¡°How¡¯s your stuff going?¡±


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°What stuff?¡±


    ¡°Your¡­ you know?¡± Mercy made a rolling hand motion like she expected me to finish her sentence, then sighed. ¡°Therapy?¡±


    I bristled instantly. ¡°Why are you bringing that up right now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just asking how it¡¯s going, okay?¡± She frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t need to be defensive, I¡¯m not judging you.¡±


    ¡°¡­ Sure.¡± I found that a little hard to believe, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, so I did. ¡°Haven¡¯t gone in a while.¡±


    A look of worry flashed across Mercy¡¯s features. ¡°Any particular reason, or¡­?¡±


    When we rolled up to a stop, I squeezed my eyes shut for a split second. I wasn¡¯t sure what made this so pressing a topic that we had to talk about it now. Just thinking about Dr. Oh put me in a bad mood sometimes, which was unfair since she was tasked with the miserable job of disentangling the knotted ball that was my brain. Still, that didn¡¯t mean I wanted to think of her more than I absolutely had to.


    ¡°Manny¡­¡± From anyone else, it would¡¯ve sounded scolding, but all I could hear in Mercy¡¯s voice was concern. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really like her, okay?¡± I snapped. ¡°My doctor, I mean. If you met her, you¡¯d get it.¡±


    ¡°Well, what does she do that bothers you so much?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Last session, she¡­ well, she does this every time, but it just really pissed me off this time.¡± I ran my hand through my hair, which made brushing it earlier pointless. ¡°She does this thing where it¡¯s like¡­ she acts like I¡¯m in constant denial of the truth, or she thinks I¡¯m too stupid or unaware of what I¡¯m doing to know better. You know what I mean?¡±


    ¡°What were y¡¯all talking about? Maybe it¡¯s just a misunderstanding.¡± She straightened up, clearing her throat a little awkwardly. ¡°Uh, you don¡¯t have to go into detail if you don¡¯t want to, okay? I don¡¯t know if it was something really serious, or¡ª¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t,¡± I said firmly. ¡°At least, I don¡¯t think it was. Just kinda¡­ well¡­¡±


    Now I was not only annoyed, but a little embarrassed. I didn¡¯t really want to go over it with Mercy, but when you¡¯ve known someone as long as we¡¯d known each other, very little stones were left unturned. It¡¯d be a bigger red flag to her if I tried to keep things private. With a sigh, I kept my stare tightly focused on the road, if just to escape her prying eyes.


    ¡°You know how after I broke up with Tiana, I sort of¡­ gave up on like, dating-dating, and just started going out with anybody?¡± I swallowed thickly, feeling more and more embarrassed. ¡°I¡ª I didn¡¯t want the commitment, right, just wanted to mess around, no strings attached, that kind of stuff.¡±


    Mercy nodded. ¡°I recall.¡±


    ¡°So I tell Dr. Oh about it like it¡¯s no big deal, right? ¡®Cause it isn¡¯t. But then she goes into this, this long-winded speech about how casual sex is ¡®risk-taking¡¯ behavior, and that it¡¯s common in ¡®people like me¡¯, and¡ª Benz, she was acting like I¡¯m a sex addict or something.¡± I couldn¡¯t keep my voice down. ¡°I tell her, I say, ¡®I haven¡¯t had sex in nearly nine months¡ª if I were a sex addict, how could I give it up so easy? Wouldn¡¯t I be trying to fuck anything that moves?¡¯ And she starts going into some psych eval bullshit¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± she interrupted. ¡°You¡¯re mad at her for¡­ psychoanalyzing you? That¡¯s what doctors are there for. That¡¯s what they¡¯re paid to do.¡±


    ¡°No, she¡¯s acting like I can¡¯t be trusted to be a reliable narrator for my own life!¡± I spat. ¡°Like if I say I¡¯m not mad, she insists that I am. If I say I don¡¯t have an issue with something, she says that I do. And since I said I¡¯m not a nympho, that must mean that I am, since in her world, no means yes and up means down.¡±


    My joints ached from how hard I¡¯d been clutching the steering wheel. It was a struggle to ease my grip, but I didn¡¯t want to scare Mercy, so I relaxed my hands the best that I could. ¡°I just get sick and tired of it,¡± I said, defeated. ¡°She does it constantly.¡±


    ¡°If you didn¡¯t want to talk about it, how did it come up?¡± As she spoke, she flipped the A/C vents away from herself. ¡°Did she just bring it up out of nowhere?¡±


    I flattened my mouth. If this didn¡¯t feel like a lecture before, it was right about to. ¡°¡­ I told her I stopped taking my meds.¡±


    ¡°Manny!¡± She barked.


    ¡°I know!¡± I barked back. ¡°She was on my case about that, too. She was saying, ¡®Since you don¡¯t like your meds, and you don¡¯t like therapy, how do you cope with things? What¡¯ve you used in the past?¡¯ So, like a fucking idiot, I told her. And now she wants me coming in every week, instead of as needed¡ª and on top of that, she has new meds for me to try. Which is great, because I¡¯ve always wanted to be a frequent flyer at the fucking pharmacy, right?¡±


    Once I¡¯d finished ranting, I let out a frustrated grunt as we rolled to another stop. At the light, I had a chance to take a longer look at Mercy, and I softened once I got sight of her. Across her face was a look of tenderness, her lips forming a little pout. Her eyes, sparkling from the beaming light of the afternoon sun, were fixed on me as if she were about to say something.


    ¡°Whatever you¡¯re about to say, don¡¯t say it,¡± I pleaded. ¡°Please. Not right now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying anything,¡± she sighed. ¡°I just hate seeing you so wound up all the time, and¡­ I feel powerless to do anything about it. I just wish there was something I could do to help.¡±


    I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I didn¡¯t know what to tell her; she seemed to be holding out hope that underneath it all, I was still that boy she knew from the barrio, the class clown that only ever cried when he laughed and dreamed of being just like John McClane. There wasn¡¯t a nice way to tell her that whoever I used to be, he¡¯d been laid to waste in the sands of the Middle East, just like Feliz. Whoever - or whatever - had taken his place was something far more pathetic. I let out a sigh.


    Gently, Mercy reached over the console and rested her hand on my leg. I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d gone back to gripping the wheel until I relaxed under her touch.


    The rest of the drive was still and quiet, the air heavy with an unspoken tension. I didn¡¯t dare play the radio, knowing that Mercy would shut it off quickly after, so I simply endured the silence for her sake. That she didn¡¯t even bother trying to change the subject to some kind of mindless small talk made me wonder if it all weighed heavier on her mind than she was letting on.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Finally, we got to Cliff¡¯s house, and just as I shut off the engine, Mercy turned to me. Her gaze darted all over me, from the buttons of my shirt to the cuffs of my sleeves. Then, she paused.


    ¡°Hm?¡± Mercy blinked curiously. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s that bandage for?¡±


    ¡°Just a scratch.¡± Swiftly, I unbuckled my seat belt. ¡°Nothing serious.¡±


    Her eyebrows pinched together. ¡°Seems kind of big for a scratch¡ª¡±


    I didn¡¯t bother letting Mercy finish her sentence before I swung open the door and hopped out of the truck. She followed me out right after, though it was clear by her expression that she didn¡¯t appreciate me cutting her off. I didn¡¯t regret it one bit - not when I already felt more on edge than I should¡¯ve been.


    There were more cars outside than I was expecting, which meant this wasn¡¯t the small, intimate get-together I had in mind. Why the hell did everyone I know have to love parties so much? I could feel my blood pressure spike, and just as I took in a sharp breath, it was as if Mercy could feel it, too.


    Without a word, Mercy secured my hand in hers with a firm, comforting squeeze. She smiled at me so tenderly, I couldn¡¯t help but let out my breath in a smooth exhale. Right as I was going to squeeze her hand in return, the front door swung open, and she ripped her hand away immediately.


    I tried not to let my disappointment show.


    ? ? ?


    The party wasn¡¯t more than I could handle, all things considered. Once I had a beer, it was easier to engage in monotonous small talk, though my mood soured once Luke had arrived to be a permanent fixture at Mercy¡¯s side. He¡¯d taken so long to get there, I was hoping he¡¯d be a no show, but such hopes were dashed the second he walked through the door.


    Rather than risk suffering through a conversation with Luke, I slipped past other party goers to find Cliff, happening upon him when he¡¯d just wrapped up a conversation with someone else. When he laid eyes on me, he lit up.


    ¡°Manny!¡± He grinned. ¡°Aw, it¡¯s been forever, buddy! C¡¯mere!¡±


    There was no resisting a bear hug from Cliff when he was determined to give you one, so I simply let him pull me in. He patted my back with such force I felt like a baby being made to burp, and my shoulder blades were sore when we parted.


    ¡°Great to see you, man,¡± I replied, smiling in spite of the pain. ¡°Hey, congrats on the kid. I haven¡¯t seen him yet, but Mercy said he¡¯s pretty cute for a newborn, which is its own accomplishment.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I would¡¯ve had you meet him, but he was gettin¡¯ all uppity, so Niecey put him to bed.¡± Cliff tipped his own beer bottle back. ¡°CJ¡¯s a real people person, but even he¡¯s got his limits. Just like his daddy!¡±


    ¡°Is that right?¡± I laughed. ¡°You must be pretty proud.¡±


    ¡°A hundred and ten percent, man.¡± He let out a sigh that oozed satisfaction. ¡°I gotta tell you, never thought it could ever be this good. Beautiful wife, great kids¡ª and you know I¡¯m in line for a promotion? Gonna be one of the top dogs in my department soon.¡±


    ¡°No shit?¡± I bumped my fist against his. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe a broke-ass little redneck from Glen Rose could ever get this far, but here you are, huh?¡±


    ¡°I know, right? Makes me wish my dad was still here to see me.¡± For a fraction of a second, Cliff¡¯s smile carried something somber behind it, before he perked back up. ¡°So what¡¯s up? You¡¯re impossible to get a hold of these days! Do I need to microchip you? Put a tracker on your ass?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯ve just¡­ I¡¯ve had a lot going on lately.¡± I scratched my chin, feeling a little nervous suddenly. ¡°A lot of bullshit at work, you feel me?¡±


    ¡°Tell me about it!¡± He shook his head wearily. ¡°One of these days, I¡¯ll say fuck it, take Niecey and the kids back to Montego Bay and spend the rest of our lives on those beautiful beaches¡­¡±


    ¡°Mmhm,¡± I hummed, only half-listening. ¡°Um, actually, I just remembered that I was gonna ask you something.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing,¡± Cliff said as he tucked a hand in his pocket. ¡°Fire away.¡±


    ¡°You noticed anything¡­ weird on your radar, lately?¡± I lowered my voice. ¡°Any reports you¡¯ve heard about? Seen any shit going on?¡±


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± As he watched me talk, Cliff drummed his fingers on the neck of his beer bottle. ¡°Gonna need you to be more specific than that.¡±


    Before I continued, I moved Cliff towards a quieter part of the room, where the commotion of other people would drown out our conversation to random listeners. When I felt more secure, I turned back to him. ¡°I think there might be an arsonist running around Dallas.¡±


    Cliff blinked at me. ¡°You know I work homicide and not arson, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and?¡± I frowned flatly. ¡°I¡¯m asking because¡ª well, I don¡¯t know, I thought you might¡¯ve heard something through the grapevine from the other departments you work with.¡±


    ¡°No, not lately¡­¡± He looked at me, a little suspicious. ¡°Is there a story behind all of this? Aren¡¯t y¡¯all pretty averse to declaring anything as arson?¡±


    My jaw tightened in frustration. In my head, I kept reminding myself to be less cagey, even if my instinct was to play it off as a joke and change the subject to avoid scrutiny. With an unwavering stare, I cleared my throat.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ve been working with this, uh, reporter,¡± I confessed. ¡°Um, well, she¡¯s not really a reporter, but she¡¯s got this podcast thing going and¡ª okay, that part¡¯s not important. Anyway, she stopped by my station back in April asking questions about some of the fires we¡¯ve been dealing with.¡±


    With fluid motion, Cliff took a drink of his beer, waiting for me to continue.


    ¡°At first, I didn¡¯t think anything of them, but¡­ now I think she¡¯s on to something. So together, we¡¯ve been trying to determine if there¡¯s a pattern or if it¡¯s just¡­ nothing, I guess.¡± I shrugged, suddenly self conscious about how it all sounded. ¡°I¡¯ve got a feeling about it, but nothing concrete just yet.¡±


    ¡°And so despite several months of investigation, you¡¯ve got nothing to show for it?¡± He could hardly have sounded less disbelieving.


    My cheeks burned. ¡°You know how hard arson is to catch? Stop being a dick about this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to be a dick! But¡­ I mean, instead of voicing your concerns to your higher-ups, you¡¯re working with some nosy little busybody?¡± He laughed incredulously. ¡°It just sounds¡­ shit, I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Everyone else just blows me off!¡± I gestured with my bottle. ¡°They just think I¡¯m paranoid. Honestly, ever since the accident, they treat me like I¡¯m a ticking time bomb. Like any day now, I¡¯m gonna go postal.¡±


    ¡°No offense, Manny, but out of everyone I know, you¡¯re definitely the most likely to become a mass shooter. Not to say that you would, but¡­¡± As if what he said was remotely reassuring, Cliff patted my shoulder.


    ¡°Fucking quit it!¡± I knocked his hand back. ¡°I¡¯m being serious here, Cliff.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± He raised his eyebrows, smirking. ¡°Who¡¯s saying I¡¯m not being serious, either?¡±


    With a groan, I rolled my eyes. I wasn¡¯t sure why I expected Cliff to approach this with any seriousness; ever the eternal skeptic, he wouldn¡¯t even take it at face value if you told him the sky was blue. Still, now that I brought it up, he¡¯d at least pay more attention to what he heard at work.


    ¡°Just keep me in the loop if you hear something, okay?¡± I asked. ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯m saying.¡±


    Sipping his beer again, Cliff gave me a thumbs up, but didn¡¯t dignify me with a response beyond that. If we hadn¡¯t served in the military together, I¡¯d have trouble trusting that he actually listened to me at times.


    Before we could talk about anything else, another guest summoned Cliff by name, and he left me to my own devices. Without Mercy to act as a buffer, I found myself sticking to walls of the house, unable to bring myself to say anything to anyone.


    My bottle felt too light for how many people were present, so I filtered through them to get to the kitchen, where drinks and snacks were laid out on the counters for all to see. Over by an assortment of dips and chips, I ran into Luke, who locked eyes with me like a deer staring at an oncoming truck.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s¡­¡± Luke motioned at me, pausing like he was trying to jog his memory. ¡°Marco! What¡¯s up?¡±


    I made no effort to conceal the contempt I felt towards him. ¡°Actually, it¡¯s Manny.¡±


    ¡°Right, right! Sorry about that, I¡¯m awful with names.¡± He smiled awkwardly, then finished the rest of his chip.


    Standing beside him, I scooped a chip into the saddest store-bought salsa I¡¯d ever seen in my life. ¡°So¡­ you took your sweet time getting here, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I thought I wasn¡¯t gonna make it!¡± Luke took another chip as well. ¡°I had a lot of stuff at work to wrap up.¡±


    ¡°What do you do for a living, again?¡± I asked, though I didn¡¯t actually care.


    ¡°Software development,¡± he replied. ¡°It¡¯s, uh, it¡¯s not that exciting, but it pays the bills. Plus it means I mostly work from home, so I can pick up my work whenever.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s nice.¡± The salsa tasted like shit, but I ate it anyway. ¡°So that means you get to see Mercy a lot, right?¡±


    Luke heaved an unexpectedly heavy sigh. ¡°Not as much as I¡¯d like to. She¡¯s always getting stuff thrown at her last minute by her coworkers, so it¡¯s like¡­ if she says a date¡¯s at six, it¡¯s actually at seven, right? It¡¯s hard to get enough time with her.¡±


    I narrowed my eyes at him, but for once, I understood completely. Mercy¡¯s job was the kind where she was, unfortunately, one of the most competent workers in the office, so that meant getting tasked with ensuring everything actually did get done. She¡¯d been working there long enough that I was used to it, but I could see how Luke wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Sounds about right,¡± I said. ¡°But you¡¯re over at her place pretty often anyway, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± He hummed through a mouthful of chips. ¡°What makes you say that?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I just¡­ saw your jacket there at one point.¡± I gave him a once-over. ¡°I mean, I just assumed it was your jacket, since it didn¡¯t look like it belonged to any of the girls.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yeah.¡± Luke rubbed the back of his neck, which looked a little shinier for some reason. Was he sweating? ¡°Yeah, I go over there sometimes. Just to hang out, see what¡¯s up.¡±


    ¡°Pretty brave of you just to drop by,¡± I remarked coolly. ¡°Mercy¡¯s mom doesn¡¯t usually like strangers, and Joanna doesn¡¯t usually like anyone. It¡¯s like walking into a lion¡¯s den.¡±


    ¡°Nah, Lupe and Jo aren¡¯t so bad.¡± He waved his hand. ¡°Now Cleo, she¡¯s the one to watch out for! She¡¯s got a sharp little tongue on her, doesn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± I flattened my mouth.


    ¡°She must really take after her dad, ¡®cause Mercy isn¡¯t nearly as mouthy as she is.¡± A look of momentary panic flashed across his face. ¡°Uh, don¡¯t tell Mercy I said that, though, okay?¡±


    At that moment, I would¡¯ve done anything to be able to drill a hole through him with my eyes alone. Before I could put Luke in his place, we were interrupted by the sound of Mercy calling out for him from the other room, despite how loud the party had gotten. Clearly grateful to have a chance to escape, Luke whispered a soft little ¡®excuse me¡¯ as he slid by me to grab one last chip for the road. He brushed past so quickly, I didn¡¯t even have a chance to tell him to back off.


    As he leaned in, Luke had gotten so close I could smell him, and I wrinkled my nose without even realizing it. Even though he backed off right away, his scent lingered strongly enough to give me a headache. I couldn¡¯t place what I hated so much about it, but there was just something off putting about it. Something¡­ musky.


    When it clicked, I turned to look at him, but he was already gone.

 SECOND NATURE

    JUNE


    We¡¯d only gotten about ten minutes into the walk before Raja was already complaining.


    ¡°If you¡¯re gonna lure me out to the middle of the woods to kill me, I wish you¡¯d have the decency to do it already,¡± he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. ¡°Making me walk in this heat first is just sadistic.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have to come with me, you know,¡± I replied with a shrug. ¡°Could¡¯ve stayed your ass home in the A/C.¡±


    ¡°For some reason, saying ¡®Get off your skinny ass and get some sunlight before you turn into a vampire¡¯ doesn¡¯t really make it seem like a choice.¡± As he quoted me, Raja¡¯s brow became a flat line across his forehead. ¡°You know how many times in the past I¡¯ve nearly died of heat stroke?¡±


    ¡°Keyword: nearly.¡± I patted him on the shoulder. ¡°You think today¡¯s the day it¡¯ll finally get you? Have more faith in yourself, amigo.¡±


    At first, Raja wasn¡¯t amused, pursing his lips before they split into an unwilling smile. ¡°Fuck you, too.¡±


    I usually didn¡¯t drag him out of the house with me, but I¡¯d been itching to get out of my apartment for a while now. Between being cooped up at the station and cooped up at home, I was getting claustrophobic, yearning for relief from the high rises and concrete of inner Dallas. I couldn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d been down a nature trail, but it¡¯d been too long, that was for sure.


    Even though I¡¯d invited Raja to come along, I didn¡¯t expect him to actually take me up on the offer. Comments in passing here and there made it clear that he was perfectly content to stay indoors whenever possible, which was why when he joined me, I was pretty excited.


    The trail around us was peaceful and quiet, as we were the only set of footsteps crunching the gravel beneath our shoes. The trademark Texas humidity was in full swing without even a breeze to give us any sort of relief, but I didn¡¯t mind - it was actually the first time I felt like I could comfortably get away with a muscle shirt instead of a long sleeve.


    I took a deep, full breath of fresh air and smiled on the exhale. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just stay out here forever?¡±


    ¡°Maybe if I was dead or on drugs,¡± Raja replied. ¡°I had no idea you were so outdoorsy.¡±


    ¡°Eh, usually I¡¯m not. But I can¡¯t take being stuck inside anymore. Now that I¡¯m out here, I feel better already,¡± I said. ¡°Hey, what do you think it takes to be a park ranger?¡±


    ¡°Wow, you¡¯re outside for five minutes, and you¡¯re already thinking of quitting your job and moving into the wilderness?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Starting your midlife crisis early, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°You could stand to be more supportive of my dreams.¡± As a joke, I gave him a pitiful pout. ¡°Is it so wrong to want to look at bear turds and spy on campers for a living?¡±


    Even as he limped along, Raja had enough energy to smile. ¡°You¡¯re right, I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯d probably really like it. Hell, maybe you¡¯d even get to see Bigfoot.¡±


    ¡°Wait, does Bigfoot live in Texas?¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t really know anything about him.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve come to the right guy.¡± Proudly, he pointed a thumb at himself. ¡°Shared a room at a shelter with a guy who made that kind of thing was his life¡¯s work. He was, uh, a crypto¡­ Cryptologist? Something like that, they¡¯re the guys that study urban legends and stuff. Anyway, he was disgraced from his old teaching job for mismanaging funds to use on his¡­ ¡®expeditions¡¯¡­ but he was pretty passionate about it. It was all he ever talked about, so I learned a lot, even if it was mostly against my will.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°Okay, so, since you know so much about those monsters¡­ which one do you think I¡¯d be?¡±


    For a moment, Raja paused, as if he were actually considering it. Then, a teasing smile. ¡°Skunk ape, for sure.¡±


    ¡°A skunk ape? Fuck you, you made that one up!¡± I glared at him, but it was impossible to keep a smile from forming. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m Mexican, I gotta be el chupacabra!¡±


    ¡°Good point. Now that you¡¯ve said it, it just makes sense, since you¡¯re so short and hairless¡­ oh, and you suck off goats constantly.¡± He looked even more smug now. ¡°Yeah, chupacabra fits best.¡±


    I laughed so sharply, it came out more like a cackle. ¡°You motherfucker!¡±


    In the middle of our uncontrollable laughter, I shoved Raja playfully, but my timing couldn¡¯t have been worse. Right as I pushed him, he¡¯d been mid-step, so he lost his footing and toppled to the dirt right onto his knees. Now there was no laughter, only Raja¡¯s wheezing hisses of pain.


    ¡°Shit, are you okay?¡± I knelt down to see what happened. ¡°Fuck, man, I¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine! I¡¯m¡ª I¡¯m fine. Just landed on my bad knee in a weird way.¡± He tried to stifle the frown that stretched across his face, but it was obvious. ¡°Uh, can we find a place to sit?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± I nodded. ¡°Here, let me¡­¡±


    With Raja¡¯s wrist in my hand, I guided his arm across my shoulder, and as we stood up together, the side of his body pressed close to mine. For once, he wasn¡¯t too proud to lean against me, which I took to mean that his knee probably hurt pretty bad. Immediately, I felt a pang of guilt.


    Another few minutes passed until we found a solid, sturdy log, so we decided to take a break there. The second he sat down, Raja let out a breath of relief and started massaging his knee through his pants. It was a good idea to cut the hike short if his knee was busted up already, but he had a tendency to push himself farther than he should, if only to reap the consequences later. Who knows if he¡¯d go for it?


    As Raja drank eagerly from his water bottle, I gave him a once-over just to make sure he didn¡¯t seem genuinely heat sick on top of everything else. Of course, I couldn¡¯t resist staring for just a little bit longer than I needed to.


    All the time indoors had made Raja a little paler, and the dark circles under his eyes had now all but disappeared with proper rest. He¡¯d also put on a little weight, but it mostly brought him out of ¡®scrawny¡¯ and into ¡®bony.¡¯ A few more months, and he might even graduate to ¡®slim¡¯, but even back at his fittest, he was still the skinniest guy I knew. Overall, he was looking a lot better.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    When he finished drinking, Raja leaned over to continue massaging his knee, and I felt another pang of guilt at the sight of it. ¡°Um¡­ sorry about that again,¡± I said, gesturing to his leg.


    Wiping the water away from his beard, Raja shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°Are you gonna be good to walk back?¡± I asked. ¡°Do you need me to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Manny.¡± He closed his eyes, exasperated. ¡°You don¡¯t need to baby me. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Sure, he was saying that now, but I could already envision him with a stack of pillows and a rotation of frozen foods on his knee the second we returned to my place. I wasn¡¯t going to push him on it, though, so I let it go.


    As we rested on the log, the dial had been cranked up on the humidity, so now we were both sweating. I lifted up my shirt to wipe my face dry, only to find Raja watching me when I pulled it back down. His gaze was strangely tender, and my pulse began to race once I¡¯d noticed it.


    ¡°What?¡± I asked.


    Immediately, Raja glanced away. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡±


    Not this shit again¡­ I frowned. ¡°Look, if you think you¡¯re being sneaky, you aren¡¯t. You¡¯re always looking at me like that, man, what is it?¡±


    Somehow, Raja had the nerve to look at me like I was the unreasonable one. ¡°Looking at you like what?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, it¡¯s like¡­¡± I was scrambling for a way to define it that didn¡¯t sound weirdly accusatory. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ the way you look at me.¡±


    Rubbing his temples, he sighed. ¡°Fuck, do we have to do this right now? When I¡¯m out here in the wilderness, fighting for my life?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded. ¡°Explain what¡¯s going on with your dying breath, or¡ª or I¡¯ll leave you for the panthers.¡±


    He rolled his eyes. ¡°This trail doesn¡¯t even have panthers.¡±


    ¡°Are you ready to test that theory?¡± I raised my eyebrow. ¡°Come on, just spit it out. The sooner you fess up, the sooner we can go back home.¡±


    ¡°Am I being held hostage now?¡± His tone dripped with sarcasm. ¡°I knew you dragged me out here to kill me. What was I just saying earlier?¡±


    ¡°Raj, seriously, though,¡± I said firmly, abandoning the joke. ¡°You can¡¯t possibly tell me that after everything between us, you¡¯ve still got anything to hide.¡±


    The lighthearted energy we shared now disappeared in an instant. As Raja began the process of untying and retying his hair, there was something about his expression I couldn¡¯t place, like his amusement died and left behind something more remorseful in its wake.


    ¡°It sounds stupid,¡± Raja said, turning to stare off at the trail ahead of us. ¡°¡­ No. Wait. Actually, it doesn¡¯t sound stupid, it sounds batshit crazy.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± I shrugged. ¡°Say it anyway. I guarantee it¡¯s nothing as fucked up as the shit I see at work.¡±


    Rather than fire another comeback at me, Raja pulled his hand down his face, grasping all the way down until resting his hand on his cheek. His expression had gotten so serious that when it took about a minute or two for him to answer, I was starting to get a little uneasy. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have asked, I thought nervously.


    Another breath in, another breath out, and then Raja finally started to speak.


    ¡°Back when I first came home from being discharged, I was really, really depressed,¡± he began. ¡°Which I know you know already, but God, I¡ª I was beyond fucked up. I hated myself so much for what I did to you¡ª and Feliz. And every time I thought of you, I hated myself even more. And it got to the point where¡­¡±


    Raja¡¯s pause was so measured, so tense, that my throat began to tighten, but I said nothing.


    ¡°Every picture I had of us¡ª of you¡ª I had to get rid of ¡®em. At first, I tried to throw them away, but I¡¯d always go back and dig them out of the trash, so one day, I¡­¡± His voice was so low, it was nearly a whisper. ¡°I threw them all in a fire, and watched them burn.¡±


    Raja had stopped in the middle of putting his hair back up, so it hung over his face, making his expression unreadable. I¡¯d focused on staring at him for so long, my eyes were dry and strained.


    ¡°So, for all these years, I had only your memory to go off of, but now I get to see you whenever I want. I can look at you for as long as I¡¯d like.¡± Slowly, he turned to look at me, his expression hesitant, but sweet. ¡°I don¡¯t ever want to take that for granted again.¡±


    In my chest there was a twinge, a flutter, a thrumming that led down from my heart and into my fingertips. Though I hadn¡¯t admitted it, I¡¯d caught myself stealing glimpses of Raja whenever possible for the same reason. It was an instinct, something that came so naturally, I hadn¡¯t stopped to think about it; I just wanted to look at him, to capture him in my mind¡¯s eye like he¡¯d vanish if I didn¡¯t.


    But when I tried to speak, nothing came out, which made me feel like a sputtering old junker with a bad engine. At my silence, Raja smiled, but it was hollow, like he was going through the motions instead. He heaved himself up off the log and dusted himself off, wincing a little when he stood on his bad knee.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said quietly as he returned to the trail. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make this weird.¡±


    ¡°No¡ª Raj, you didn¡¯t,¡± I replied quickly.


    From the corner of his eye, Raja¡¯s skepticism was obvious. ¡°Yeah. Right.¡±


    A swell of frustration rose in my chest and settled into my sternum. Out of instinct, I clutched Raja¡¯s wrist to keep him from walking further, holding him in place on the trail.


    ¡°Ugh!¡± He grunted as he tried to resist my grasp. ¡°You got what you wanted, Manny, let¡¯s just go already¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I snapped. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving until you apologize.¡±


    A hostility crept into Raja¡¯s features. ¡°Then I guess we really are going to die here, because I¡¯ll never be able to say sorry enough.¡±


    ¡°Not to me.¡± I breathed in until my lungs ached. Then, out. ¡°To yourself.¡±


    If not for the sound of the breeze brushing past the leaves in the trees, I would¡¯ve thought time itself stood still. My heart was racing so fast, it was making me dizzy; I was so dead set on watching Raja¡¯s face for every little movement, I wasn¡¯t even worried about how the greens and browns of the forest were starting to blur together.


    ¡°You keep blaming yourself, and¡ª and hating yourself, and punishing yourself all the time, and the worst part is you think I see you like you do,¡± I said. ¡°And I don¡¯t. I never saw you like that.¡±


    Raja¡¯s gaze felt as steady as a laser. ¡°How do you see me?¡±


    I swallowed thickly. How many nights had I spent tossing and turning in bed, wishing I could put it into words and hating that I couldn¡¯t? Just the idea of trying to describe it made me tongue-tied, words paralyzed on their way out of my mouth.


    Unfortunately, Raja took my silence as its own answer, and - clearly hurt - he clenched his jaw. ¡°Right,¡± he said simply, and he turned to make his way down the rest of the trail.


    You fucking idiot, I thought bitterly to myself as I followed after him. In spite of my guilt, I wasn¡¯t brave enough to say anything, which made my heart sink further down in my chest.


    The rest of our walk was quiet, with only the rustling of the leaves to listen to. Every once in a while, I¡¯d dart a glance over at Raja again, but his features had become stony and still. I wanted to apologize, but I knew he¡¯d simply brush it off. It was for the best if I left well enough alone.


    Right as we returned to the parking lot, I felt a sudden impulse to do something - anything. Where words were weak, actions were strong, so I did the only thing I could think of that ever made me feel better.


    I reached for Raja¡¯s hand, which had been curled into a fist, and held it tight.


    Under my touch, he softened.

 METAMORPHOSIS

    It was hard not to take this call personally.


    The sight of this small Catholic church being eaten up by flames was gut wrenching. Not that every call wasn¡¯t a tragedy in its own right, but often we¡¯d arrive at a fire in time to save at least parts of the structure. This church, however, was doomed to total collapse, as fire enclosed it from the ground up.


    Even though my faith had been shattered a long time ago, I still held a soft spot for churches, so I was more invested in this than I should¡¯ve been. It also didn¡¯t help that this church was in the heart of a neighborhood just like the kind I grew up in, the kind with small, weathered houses studded along streets that lacked sidewalks. It was oddly familiar to me, but beside that, I couldn¡¯t quite place why.


    Collected together on the sidewalk were churchgoers weeping and praying loudly in Spanish. In a nearby ambulance, the EMTs were caring for who I assumed was the priest, whose leathery face crumbled as he watched the smoke ascend into the sky.


    As we piled out of the truck, DeShawn let out a groan of frustration. ¡°God, we¡¯re out in this neighborhood all the time! I¡¯m starting to feel like I live around here!¡±


    ¡°I thought you were looking for a new place to buy!¡± Liam replied with a laugh. ¡°At least with all these fires, property taxes outta be pretty low, right?¡±


    Morbid humor was a staple across all branches of the emergency services, but I couldn¡¯t help but glare at them in contempt. ¡°Would you two just shut the fuck up?¡±


    They quieted down immediately. Then, they traded a look I couldn¡¯t describe, but neither were bold enough to continue the conversation, turning to focus on the task at hand.


    Moving in a silent unison, we made our way into the fire that bloomed forth from the doors of the church.


    Upon entering, I was glad that the smoke heavily obscured my vision; I wasn¡¯t sure if I was in a position to watch a place like this go down. Memories of sermons and communions flooded my mind as we beat back the flames. How many babies had been baptized under this roof? How many couples had their weddings here? It had even crossed my mind that the death of the church was likely the final funeral to take place where I stood.


    Since it was such a little building, barely bigger than your average trailer, it didn¡¯t take long for us to finish putting out the fire. It was so easily subdued that a solid thunderstorm could¡¯ve put it out if we hadn¡¯t been there. When everything had settled, I took the time to investigate just on the off chance this had been the work of the arsonist.


    All that the fire hadn¡¯t consumed was charred beyond salvation. The pews were dusted with a thick layer of soot, and the parts of the structure that had managed to survive looked ready to disintegrate at the slightest touch. From above, the setting sun bled through the remnants of the roof that had yet to fall, illuminating the ashes I walked through.


    As I scanned through the remains of the church, I came across what must¡¯ve been the main altar piece, judging by where I found it.


    It was a statue of the Virgin Mary, warped from the fire, yet I still knew it was her, even though much of her body had become twisted and deformed. The way that the metal had melted made it appear as if she were crying tears of gold, and in her arms, baby Jesus was all but liquefied.


    From behind me, Rob let out a whistle. ¡°I can¡¯t believe that survived!¡± He said, gesturing to it. ¡°Really shows you el poder de Dios, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Or the power of whatever this thing is made up of,¡± I replied, trying to lighten my own apprehension. ¡°That it survived in such good condition means it can¡¯t possibly be good for the environment.¡±


    Uncharacteristically, Rob didn¡¯t laugh. Instead, he stood with me as we both stared at the figurine. I wasn¡¯t sure what his reasons for his fascination were, but I knew that they couldn¡¯t possibly be anything like mine.


    ? ? ?


    ¡°My money¡¯s on wiring problems,¡± said DeShawn between scoops of mashed potatoes. ¡°We have a lot of buildings on the older side around here, and nobody gives a shit about maintenance. And for some old-ass church? In the poor part of Dallas?¡±


    ¡°Consider this: insurance fraud.¡± Liam drank his sweet tea in gross, rapid gulps. ¡°Doubt they¡¯re making enough money through the collection plate, so why not get it somewhere else? Then you could make a new church that isn¡¯t as much of a shithole.¡±


    Heather leaned back in her chair, gazing at the ceiling in thought. ¡°From what I saw, it looked like it could¡¯ve just been an accident with ceremonial candles. People don¡¯t realize just how dangerous those little things can be¡­¡±


    We were nearly done with dinner, and for the most part, I¡¯d been checked out of the conversation. Something about the statue from earlier had left me more unsettled than usual; every time I closed my eyes, I would see the Virgin Mary¡¯s face like she was staring right through me.


    ¡°¡­ messed up ¡­ church ¡­¡±


    As uneasy as the call had made me, I¡¯d finally hit on something.


    I¡¯d had a familiar feeling going to this church, and thinking back to what DeShawn said earlier, I realized why: these fires seemed to be concentrated roughly within the same part of Dallas, and that sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu was because we¡¯d been in that same area only a few days before. I hadn¡¯t noticed it because I hadn¡¯t considered that an arsonist might target a particular area, but once I put it together, I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner.


    The more I thought of it, the more sense it made. If the arsonist had his sights on a particular area, he might have some kind of connection to it, which made picking him out from a population of over a million easier. There was always the chance that he was picking an area far away from home to throw off his trail, but it was something, and something was better than nothing.


    ¡°¡­ excitement in years ¡­¡±


    But now that there was a more solid lead, I was starting to worry that I was wading too far into the deep end. My mother had always warned me about how curiosity killed the cat, and these days, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder when I¡¯d finally cashed in the last of my nine lives.


    ¡°¡­ do you think, Ma¡­¡±


    Lost in my own head, I scratched idly at the bandage on my arm before I¡¯d realized what I was doing. It was just so itchy lately, I didn¡¯t think I was doing damage until I saw that I¡¯d nearly peeled it off with my nails. Quickly, I flattened it back over my arm, hoping nobody had noticed.


    ¡°Manny!¡±


    Broken from my focus, I looked up.


    Everyone was staring at me, waiting for me to reply. At that point, I wasn¡¯t even in the mood to pretend that I¡¯d been paying any attention. ¡°Um¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± I mumbled. ¡°Honestly, guys, I wasn¡¯t really listening.¡±


    Liam¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Of course you weren¡¯t.¡±


    Around the table, Garrett - as was his duty as a probie - collected the dishes so that he could wash them. Now that he¡¯d been at the station for nearly six months, he¡¯d taken to his chores with much less frustration, which I considered a sign that he¡¯d finally, truly acclimated to the culture of the firehouse. When Garrett eventually reached my part of the table, he lifted up my plate and laughed.


    ¡°Woah, Manny, look at all the blood on here!¡± He tilted the plate until the blood formed a little half-moon in the lip of the ceramic. ¡°Do you even like your steaks cooked anymore? Should we just toss them out for you straight from the package?¡±


    I laughed uneasily. ¡°Quit playing, man. You know ¡®well done¡¯ meat ain¡¯t worth eating.¡±


    ¡°Oh, when Jazmin was pregnant, she ate nothing but well done! It was nasty!¡± said DeShawn. ¡°Thank God she came to her senses once Cameron was born!¡±


    ¡°Shit, Lindsey always made the most overcooked burgers I¡¯d ever seen. So burnt, you could use them as a hockey puck,¡± Liam added. ¡°One more reason she was basically the Devil¡­¡±


    Once the conversation had switched, I breathed a sigh of relief. Something about having my appetite so closely monitored made me anxious, so I appreciated anything that led them away from talking about me. Now that I faded to the background, I let my gaze travel across the faces of everyone at the table as they engaged with one another.


    I looked at Liam, Rob, Heather, DeShawn¡­ then when I finally glanced over at Garrett, I saw that he¡¯d already been looking at me.


    The second that we locked eyes, he looked away right after.


    ? ? ?


    Now that everyone had gone their separate ways around the firehouse, I carved out a space for myself alone in my dorm.


    The church struck me as a fire worth recording, so I took the notebook out from under my mattress and flipped it open to an empty page to start writing. I recorded everything: the time of day, the cross street it took place on, who went with me¡­


    I thought back to the Virgin Mary, and how against all odds, it¡¯d survived the fire. Though it had no relevance to the case, I couldn¡¯t help but mention it, and - though I was hardly an artist - I did my best to render what it looked like, based on my memory. The drawing was so crudely done, I knew Dahlia would probably laugh. That didn¡¯t seem like such a bad thing, though.


    The longer I spent drawing, the itchier the lump under my bandage became. I scratched at it, then scratched some more, until it was all I could think about. Frustrated, I drew back the sleeve of my shirt, revealing the little bandage that had practically become a part of me since April. By now, I¡¯d become accustomed to keeping the lump covered, and if anyone noticed that it was ever-present, they didn¡¯t say anything. Whatever had caused it, it had persisted, but lately it ached like a tooth that really needed pulling.


    To satisfy the itch, I ripped the bandage off, revealing the little lump that had grown to around twelve millimeters. Just staring at it filled my head with a frenetic buzzing, but I¡¯d accepted that my tinnitus had likely worsened due to the chemical fire. If anything, the itching drove me crazier than the tinnitus.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Shutting my eyes, I let out a sigh of relief as I scratched myself nearly to the point of bleeding. When I was finally satisfied, I opened them, and I froze immediately.


    The lump had changed shape.


    I swallowed thickly, and an anxious sweat began to form on my forehead. As I angled the desk lamp for a better look, I could¡¯ve sworn that the lump was moving around, but that couldn¡¯t possibly be true.


    As an experiment, I scratched it again. Under the pressure of my nails, it shifted.


    Only one thought ran through my mind: something was under there. And whatever it was, it was yearning to be free.


    Breathing slowly, I stared directly at the lump as I dug around for my pocket knife from my jacket, which hung over the back of my chair. In one quick motion, I flicked it open, bracing my arm against the desk to hold it steady. At the sight of the blade in such close proximity to my flesh, my arm populated with goosebumps, and the lump itself shifted once again like it knew what was coming.


    I knew something was wrong with me. I knew it. But I couldn¡¯t even feel proud or smug at having been right all along - not when there was clearly something lurking just beneath my skin.


    It¡¯s a shame


    you¡¯ve turned out


    just like him.


    She wasn¡¯t even wrong.


    Clenching my jaw shut, I drew the knife across the lump, and a thin, red line formed. Blood oozed from the cut, running down my arm and pooling onto the hard wood of the desk. When the skin split apart even further, the world around me stood still.


    Out of my flesh emerged a wasp, its black and yellow pattern becoming clearer as it crawled its way out.


    When the wasp had broken free of my arm completely, its little wings fluttered the blood away, and it turned its face upward as if it recognized me.


    Speechless, I dropped the knife and scrambled to my feet. Nausea, disgust, horror - I was trapped in a nightmare, except that everything was horribly, horribly real. Every cell in my body hit the panic button all at once; I couldn¡¯t stop myself from hyperventilating, and the world around me darkened around the edges like the closing of an aperture.


    Without realizing it, my ragged breathing attracted attention. From the hallway, I heard someone approach.


    ¡°Manny? Is that you?¡± said Garrett. ¡°Is everything okay in there?¡±


    I slammed my hand over the insect, but as my palm closed around it, it wiggled its way through my fingers and flew out the open window. In that moment, I thought my heart might jump straight out of my chest and follow it out.


    Pushing open the door, Garrett found me standing there, clutching my bleeding arm. His mouth dropped open, and he gasped. ¡°Oh shit! Manny¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine!¡± I snapped. ¡°Just¡ª just an accident! I¡¯m fine!¡±


    Garrett¡¯s eyes darted from my face to my arm to the floor where the knife had fallen. Suddenly, he raced away, the thudding of his boots announcing his every step. Please don¡¯t come back, I repeated in my mind, over and over and over.


    While he was gone, I took my hand away from my arm for just a moment, as if the wasp would still be lurking underneath. All I saw was blood, and judging from how quickly it flowed, I must¡¯ve nicked a particularly good vein by accident. Fuck, fuck, fuck.


    Only a minute or two later, Garrett returned with some bandages and antiseptic. Without saying anything, he closed the door behind him, then guided me to sit at my desk while he sat on my bed. I was still in too much shock to speak, so all I did was stare, watching us both in third person like we were in a movie.


    Once he¡¯d set the supplies down on the desk, Garrett looked at me with such tenderness that I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of it. Just having him here made the shame overwhelming, even when he clearly held no judgment.


    ¡°I¡ªI know it looks bad, but¡ª you don¡¯t have to do this,¡± I stammered. ¡°I got it from here, so¡­¡±


    ¡°Manny,¡± he said softly. ¡°Let me help.¡±


    Rather than give in to the impulse to lash out and drive him off, I took a deep breath, letting Garrett move my bloodied hand away from my arm. I couldn¡¯t bear to see the damage, so I stared at him instead, as if his face would keep me grounded in reality.


    With gentle dedication, Garrett pressed the wet cotton to my arm like he was wiping tears away from my cheek, careful to inspect the damage as thoroughly as he could. The cut wasn¡¯t big enough to merit a stitch, so once he¡¯d cleaned all of the blood off, he wound a bandage tightly around my arm. Satisfied that he¡¯d secured it properly, Garrett smiled up at me without a hint of judgment.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said weakly.


    ¡°No problem,¡± he replied. ¡°So¡­ what happened?¡±


    The blood drained from my face. How would I even begin to describe it? Even though it¡¯d all happened only minutes before, the idea of trying to explain it brought bile to the back of my throat. I glanced away from him, trying to think of what I could even say, but at my silence, he raised his hand.


    ¡°You know what? You don¡¯t have to tell me.¡± His expression shifted from curiosity to something softer. ¡°What matters is we fixed you up, right?¡±


    I sighed in relief, and I could only hope that he saw just how much I appreciated it. Once everything had calmed down, Garrett¡¯s gaze flickered from my face to the papers on my desk. ¡°What¡¯s that you¡¯re working on?¡±


    In my panic, I hadn¡¯t even realized my papers were still out in the open. It was too late to hide them now, so instead of trying to pretend it was nothing, maybe it was time to let him in on it. It couldn¡¯t hurt to have another firefighter check my evidence¡­ besides, it was better than dwelling on whatever the fuck was happening to me.


    ¡°Um¡­ shit, I don¡¯t know. I guess it¡¯s¡­ uh¡­¡± I rubbed the back of my neck. ¡°Alright, remember when that reporter came around a while back? Asking about the fires?¡±


    Garrett nodded, but looked confused. ¡°Yeah¡­? What about her?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ after she stopped by, I got to thinking, right?¡± Now that I wasn¡¯t afraid of bleeding all over the place, I pulled the papers closer. ¡°I thought maybe she was onto something. And now, I really think she might be.¡±


    While scanning the papers on my desk, Garrett¡¯s expression became strangely still. His gaze, which had been so kind, cooled off into something a little icier, a little sharper. Then, he laughed in disbelief. ¡°Wait, are you complaining about having¡­ more fires to go to?¡± He raised an eyebrow. ¡°What, do you prefer lifting fat people off the floor? Safety lessons for kids, that kind of stuff?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I stared at him. ¡°Garrett, I think something serious might be going on here.¡±


    He rolled his eyes. ¡°God forbid we have more interesting things to do than visit nursing homes¡­¡±


    ¡°What the¡ª what the fuck is wrong with you?¡± I raised my voice and gestured broadly to the desk. ¡°This isn¡¯t about having shit to do or, or making the job more exciting¡ª this is¡­¡±


    I turned away from Garrett so that I wouldn¡¯t have to see the skepticism written all over him. I clenched my teeth so tightly, the pain in my jaw radiated all the way up to my temples. Underneath the bandage, my cut throbbed. I gripped my arm to make it stop, but it was in vain.


    ¡°Manny¡­ I just don¡¯t really know what to make of all this¡­¡± He looked at me uneasily. ¡°I think you¡¯re seeing things that aren¡¯t even there.¡±


    ¡°No, look.¡± I lifted a picture with one hand and a note with the other. ¡°I have case reports, and photos, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°I was there for these calls,¡± he interrupted, pointing to the papers, ¡°And none of these were declared arson. Not even Cormorant thinks they were, and he¡¯s had to have seen a billion fires by now.¡±


    My nose wrinkled as I frowned. ¡°You know Cormorant writes tons of shit off as ¡®faulty wiring¡¯ and ¡®spontaneous ignition¡¯ ¡®cause he¡¯s too proud to admit when he doesn¡¯t know the truth, right?¡±


    The look in Garrett¡¯s eyes drove me crazy. Such pity, such confusion, like I was a schizophrenic rambling on the sidewalk. When I grimaced at him, he sighed like he was at a loss for words, smoothing his hair flat.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Manny, I just¡­ I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m kind of lost as to why you care so much, I guess,¡± he said. ¡°Like, I don¡¯t see what¡¯s wrong with having more fires to go to. Honestly, between you and me? I¡¯ve been on top of the fucking world!¡±


    His smile was so broad, so genuine, it chilled me to the bone. I stared at him in disbelief. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Look, for a while there, I thought all there was to this job was just old people falling over and kids getting stuck in things, but¡­ damn, when something¡¯s actually happening? It¡¯s like¡ª finally! I¡¯m finally doing something!¡± He squeezed his hands into passionate fists. ¡°Last week alone was crazy!¡±


    Garrett¡¯s attitude was more common in firefighting than most would want to admit to, so I tried to withhold my disgust. It wasn¡¯t necessarily something to be concerned about; he was still pretty new in terms of the service, and the thrill of putting his training to the test outweighed the grief he was eventually going to have to carry with him for the rest of his life.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get too used to it.¡± I flattened my mouth, casting a glance back at my papers. ¡°This station doesn¡¯t see a ton of action¡ª that¡¯s why I think something¡¯s up. Statistically, we shouldn¡¯t even be seeing this many fires.¡±


    This reality check did nothing to dissuade the wild excitement now overtaking Garrett¡¯s features. The longer I watched him, the more unsettled I became. Gone was any ounce of sweetness that he usually had; something darker killed it and took its place.


    ¡°Manny,¡± he said, leaning forward as he dropped his voice low, ¡°When I carried you out of that fire, I felt like I¡¯d finally done what I was trained to do. What I was meant to do.¡±


    As he laid a hand on my bandaged arm, Garrett¡¯s eyes sharpened further.


    ¡°I finally got to be a hero,¡± he whispered.


    I swallowed nervously, but laughed to offset it. ¡°Ah, chico¡­ you think you ain¡¯t been a hero this whole time? Give yourself more credit¡ª¡±


    ¡°No! I don¡¯t really consider it ¡®heroism¡¯ when people make me do CPR on fucking cats!¡± He shouted, his face growing red. ¡°I get punched, groped, slapped, puked on, pushed around¡ª even here at this fucking station, I¡¯m basically a fucking whipping boy! And for what? If I¡¯m not really helping, what the fuck was this all for?!¡±


    He spoke so quickly, so rapidly, I couldn¡¯t get a word in edgewise. ¡°Garrett¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Manny, listen, okay?¡± He clenched his jaw. ¡°These fires¡ª they make me feel like all this time, all this effort¡ª it wasn¡¯t just a pointless sacrifice! Every time someone gives me shit, I can think to myself: at least I¡¯m doing something useful¡ª not just sitting on my ass, twiddling my thumbs! I¡¯m actually making a difference! Unlike all the motherfuckers who ever put me down, I¡¯m saving people, Manny¡ª I¡¯m actually saving people!¡±


    ¡°Garrett¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shit, you know what?¡± His gritted teeth became a fiery smile. ¡°I hope they never catch the guy doing this!¡±


    I stared at Garrett as he let out a hot, ragged breath to calm himself down. His cheeks stayed flushed in anger, and his fists curled inward on his lap. Though my instinct was to offer him words of comfort, I was unable to tear my eyes away from him, paralyzed by the shiver that had gone down my spine.


    ¡°¡­ So you do think someone¡¯s doing it on purpose?¡± I asked quietly.


    Now Garrett returned my stare, fixed on me in a way he¡¯d never been bold enough to do before. Usually, he seemed almost a little bashful about looking at me, but there was no sign of that now.


    In the absence of an answer, we sat in a silence that swallowed the room. Before either of us could shatter the glass that was forming between us, Liam called out loudly for Garrett from down the hallway. As he stood up, Garrett looked down at me, the wild look on his face having completely disappeared. He looked so sweet again, like nothing had even happened.


    On his slow stroll out of my dorm, Garrett glanced down to the floor as if something had caught his eye. He bent over to pick up my pocket knife, which had skated across the floor when I¡¯d dropped it, and rotated the blade in his hands carefully.


    ¡°Hey, Manny,¡± he said. ¡°You know how you¡¯ve always got some ¡®friendly advice¡¯ for me?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± I looked at him from over my shoulder.


    Now that he had my attention, Garrett pressed the pad of his finger along the sharp edge of the knife, his flesh barely giving way to the blade. His gaze flickered to meet mine. ¡°I¡¯ve finally got some for you.¡±


    Sauntering toward my desk, Garrett dropped the opened pocket knife barely a hair¡¯s breadth away from my arm. When I reeled back to dodge the blade¡¯s point, he laughed.


    ¡°You should be more careful the next time you play with knives.¡±