"The Hardest Job"
Written by
Palaytia Dream
Chet carried the small package away, past the chaotic scene where Roy and Johnny worked on a broken body lying in the street.
Arranging the bundle for comfort, he pulled his coat tight to keep out the chill. Chet could only imagine what was going through the kid’s mind.
Not ten minutes ago she was trick or treating, all dressed up in an angel costume, her hair neatly curled. Now her wings lay in the street, soiled patches of red covering the glitter and tinsel that were so carefully put together for this special occasion.
It was times like this he admired Johnny and Roy. Fighting a fire was impersonal. It was safe. It was faceless. You show up, put the water on the flames and go home. This was the hardest job he’d ever do.
His coat stirred, revealing the frightened eyes of a little girl.
“Hey there, my name’s Chet,” he started. “Have you ever seen a fire engine up close?”
She shook her head.
“Well, how about we go take a look at my fire engine?” Removing his helmet, Chet carefully placed it a top her head covering all but the long strands of her auburn hair cascading down her back.
“Hey, where’d you go?” he asked playfully. The smile he hoped for never appeared. What did he expect? The kid just saw her only living relative thrown over a car, would he smile?
As they approached the engine Chet could feel her tense up. He held her tighter, hoping some good vibes would carry over to her.
Behind them, the lonely wail of an approaching ambulance echoed through his ears, quickening his stride.
She turned her head towards the siren. Chet wished he could silence its cry, but how?
“Here we are. How about sitting in the driver’s seat?”
“No, thank you.” She asked to be put down. Chet complied and freed her from his turnout.
“I want to go back to my grandma.”
More than anything he wished he could make things all right. He wished he could turn time back for her and prevent this from happening.
He wished he could be back at the station watching TV, anywhere but here. Instead, he knelt down and faced her.
“Honey, I know you’re scared but listen,” Chet motioned behind him. “My two buddies over there? They’re taking really good care of your grandma. Believe me, they’re the best at what they do. Okay?” He stopped suddenly. Behind him, the all too familiar cry, “Clear,” cut through Chet’s turnout sending chills through his body.
“She’s going to die isn’t she?”
The steady voice broke Chet’s stare away from the scene behind him, causing him to react without thinking.
“No honey, she’s not. She’s going to be all right.” It was too late. The words were spoken and Chet had no way to take them back.
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise,” he choked out. Quickly he glanced to the sky. On behalf of the kid’s welfare and himself, he quietly pleaded to God, I hope you promise, too.
Taking her back into his arms, he shielded her from the commotion surrounding them, protecting her as best he could against the chill of the air and the squawk of the radios.
With each crackle of the Handi Talki and every flash of red and blue, she retreated further into Chet’s turnout. He covered her eyes from the eerie glow the lights cast upon the chaos before them.
No one bothered them, each man too busy with one act or another of clearing the wreckage and keeping bystanders away. It was just Chet and the little girl.
Time seemed to pass in slow motion. He hoped someone would claim her for he felt inadequate. Drunks and druggies he could handle. And, it was true he could talk a freak out of killing himself, but what do you say to a kid who’s life has just been turned upside down.
“Chet,” came his captain’s voice over the commotion, breaking into Chet’s thoughts.
“Yeah, Cap?”
“How’s she doing?”
“I think she’s in shock.” Looking down at the figured nestled in his turnout, oblivious now to the outside world, Chet asked, “How’s...?”
Captain Stanley shook his head. Behind him, Chet could see the ambulance attendants load the laiden gurney. He could see Johnny frantically doing compressions as Roy squeezed the ambu bag. He followed Marco's movements as he loaded the drug box then shut the doors and signaled for them to leave. Chet turned his attention back to Stanley.
“What about the kid?”
“Social Services has been notified. Someone will meet us at the hospital. Marco’s doing the follow-up with the squad…. Do you mind riding with her?”
Selfishly, he did. He had spent more time than he wanted to with her. As a second ambulance pulled up, Chet pulled his coat tighter around the small figure curled up inside it and reluctantly agreed to ride with her to Rampart.
“Thanks pal, we’ll pick you both up later.” Stanley quickly headed off to assist with the clean up.
“Hey, sweetie.” She lifted her head from Chet’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re going to take a ride. Okay?”
“Are we going with grandma?”
“She went in another ambulance.... This one is just for you, but we’ll see your grandma when we get to the hospital. Okay?”
With a hesitant sigh, she climbed up into the helping hands of the attendant and took a seat on the bench. Chet followed.
Before the doors shut, he took one last look around. The broken glass sparkled like diamonds on the ground amidst pieces of candy and trinkets. And, a lone, crumpled shoe lay beside an empty Trick or Treat bag.
Shaking his head, Chet took the girl’s hand and motioned to the driver to head out.
* * *
Chet headed for the shower, not stopping to converse with his crewmates. Quickly he stripped off his turnout, noticing a few stray strands of chestnut hair on the inside lining. Tossing the coat aside, he felt the ache in his arms from holding her for so long. He hadn’t realized how long they’d been on scene, but now as he relaxed, the ache spoke to him. He turned the water on high and waited.
Standing in front of the mirror, he watched the steam slowly build on the cold glass. The reflection staring back was a stranger. He looked closer at the empty gaze. Dirt and grime stained his face, the face of a fireman.
A fireman. Not a paramedic. Not a doctor. He envied the paramedics’ control during complicated runs like todays. The shouting, the sirens, nothing broke their stride. They were completely focused. They had it together.
Looking closer into the mirror, Chet wiped away the condensation. He was a fireman. He broke through roofs to vent burning houses; he sprayed foam over chemicals to assure no spark would set off a fireball. He was not a paramedic nor did he want the responsibility for another person’s life in that way. Rescuing someone from a burning building was one thing, treating them afterwards was another.
“I’m a damn fireman,” he spat at the image then headed to the shower.
There, he washed away the sweat formed during the evening’s extraction. The scalding water ran down his face washing away the stinging tears of frustration. What he wished most to wash away he couldn’t, the anger. Where did he get off promising the kid her grandma was gonna be okay. What was he thinking? How stupid he was for promising her that?
A loud slam on the shower door caught his attention. Not seeing any shadows of a crewmember he looked down noticing his own balled up fist. His thought’s returned to the scene not even an hour old....
Upon their arrival at the hospital, Diane, for he finally asked her name, quickly insisted on seeing her grandmother. Chet told her that as soon as the doctors said it was okay, she could. An awaiting nurse found her a place to sit and Chet told her he would see about finding a doctor, to which Diane agreed.
Taking a deep breath he headed toward the nurse’s station. The silence was eerie. Dr. Brackett came out of a treatment room just as Chet was ready to turn back. Relieved Chet pulled him aside.
“Hey, Doc..., about the kid’s grandmother.... How’s she doing?”
“I’m sorry Chet, she didn’t make it. She....”
“You lied to me. You said she would be Okay. You lied!”
Jolted by the screams behind him, Chet looked down to see Diane trembling.
“Hey now, Diane, I....”
Before he could stop her, Diane quickly landed angry punches on his stomach and legs. Chet made no move to stop her.
“I hate you! I hate you! I want to see my grandma!”
“It’s okay, Chet. I’ll take care of her.”
With a consoling pat on Chet’s shoulder, Dr. Brackett knelt facing Diane, taking her hands into his.
Chet watched as emotions transformed on Diane’s face while Dr. Brackett spoke to her. Anger and fear. Shock and sadness. His respect for the Doctor grew as Diane quieted. Calmly, he told her Grandma was no longer in pain.
Silently Chet left, her screams still echoing through his ears....
Turning off the shower, Chet watched as last of the suds and water swirled down the drain, washed away like Diane would be. Newly orphaned, she would become just another kid flowing through the system.
Through his career, Chet found himself in more awkward situations than he cared to deal with. At times he felt it his penance and silently prayed for Diane’s forgiveness....
* * *
After coming off a particularly exasperating run one evening, Chet wanted nothing more than to shed his turnout and delve into the folds of the couch. He watched as the crew headed off to their various destinations. No sooner did he climb down from the engine, and place his turnout on the front bumper of the engine, the Captain called him into his office.
“Chet, there’s someone here who wants to see you.”
“Cap, not right now. I’m a mess. I need a shower and I really don’t feel like visiting.”
With a grin, the Captain commented, “I don’t think she’ll mind.”
“A girl?! Oh, Cap! Come on! That’s not fair.” Looking for a Kleenex or towel to wipe his face he heard Marco saying good-bye and the familiar clicking of female shoes. Throwing the Captain an annoyed looked, Chet quickly tried to make himself presentable. A young lady appeared in the doorway. Her dark auburn hair caught Chet’s eyes. Self-consciously he ran his fingers through his own disheveled locks, not prepared for the visitor entering the office. The scrape of a chair brought Chet quickly back to the present.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” said the Captain, then he disappeared out the door.
Chet cleared his throat. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
“Would you..., uh... like to sit down?” Chet grabbed a chair from behind him. Accepting his offer she situated herself in front of the Captain’s desk while Chet leaned against it. Neither spoke.
Chet searched her face and quickly thought of every checkout girl he had asked out. Every date’s little sister he may have embarrassed. Every girlfriend Johnny dated that he wished was his. No one came to mind.
He had to say something, but what? Maybe the guys would know. With an ulterior motive he politely asked if she’d like something to drink. With a yes, he would excuse himself to the kitchen and pick at the crew’s memory for some answers.
His plot was foiled when she kindly declined.
Back to plan A, he thought uncomfortably, small talk.
“You... uh... you look nice,” fumbled Chet.
“You, too.” Realizing the state Chet was in, both nervously laughed. For the first time she smiled, “You grew a moustache.”
“Yeah I did,” he stuttered, nervously stroking the hair he’d grown many years ago. “It uh...? I...It’s been a while.”
“It looks nice.”
Uneasy with the conversation, Chet looked around for a change of subject, something where he wouldn’t have to do the talking. He wasn’t sure which made him more uncomfortable, the fact he had no clue who this chick was or the fact that she obviously knew him, from a long time ago for that matter. He noticed a book she held tightly against her.
“Watcha got there?”
Silent she brought the book to her lap. Without opening the cover she began to talk never taking her eyes from her lap.
“I remember like it was yesterday. We were almost done and I wanted to go down one more street. Grandma said ok, so I let go of her hand and started across.... I... I never saw the car.... She grabbed my wings to pull me back....”
Chet felt the need to sit as she carefully took a piece of tinsel from the book’s pages. Moving to the chair across from her, he recognized her as the frightened little girl he held many years ago.
“My wings tore but I kept running, until.... It was like slow motion you know. She went over and... I was alone. Until you.” She paused long enough to wipe her eyes
“You sat with me... I will never forget the warmth... the smell.”
Chet smiled, remembering his long forgotten shower and the odor now lingering around him. Diane continued.
“You stayed with me. I remember you rode with me to the hospital.” She paused and smiled softly, “You held my hand the whole way. I was so scared…. At the hospital, when the doctor said she died I.... I said very mean things to you.... I’m sorry.”
Emotions long buried rose to the surface as Chet struggled to maintain composure.
“You were just a kid, Diane. You had a right to be angry. I’m the one who promised you everything would be ok and that was wrong. I am sorry. I wish I could take it back.”
Taking his hands, Diane held them tight. Her skin was soft against his rough work scarred hands.
“You can’t, but there is something you can do.”
“What’s that?”
Her voice regained the child like innocence from many years ago.
“I’d like to see your fire engine now.”
With a sigh of relief, Chet discreetly wiped a tear before it escaped his eye. Together they walked through the bay.
Proudly Chet opened the driver’s door and helped her up.
“This is the best spot in the house. I can see everything from here.”
Looking down from the engineer’s seat, Diane smiled softly, “Thank you.”
Chet returned her smile and with a glance to the heavens whispered, “Thank you.”
Chet’s prayer from eight years ago was finally answered.
