Page 106 of Fight
Yawning, I slog through the parking lot of the fire station to my car after my last shift of the week. My resignation letter greets me in the passenger seat. My mind wanders as I drive to Callahan’s place from the station. I’ve chosen to turn the letter in tomorrow. I couldn’t bring myself to do it during the work week and deal with the questions and judgment of quitting a job after only a few weeks. God, I hope they let me return.
When Callahan said he met with Jonathan, my jaw practically hit the floor. I immediately peppered him with questions on what they discussed. Callahan raised his shoulders and said, “I dunno, I just asked him to reconsider, that’s all.” He spoke as innocently as if he had bumped into a college buddy and asked what they’ve been up to. Like it was no big deal. I don’t buy any of it, but Jonathan hasn’t been returning my calls either.
My biggest concern is Callahan. I worry he’s not taking this seriously. When we talk, it’s as if he’s in complete denial. He doesn’t even pretend to be upset, which is maybe what hurts the most. It takes everything in me to paste a smile on my face when we’re together. Every hour that passes is one more lost. Time iseating me alive. I can’t even bring myself to look at clocks when I’m at home.
However, Jonathan’s safety is a bigger concern. He says it’s only a year, but I’m already making plans to have that cut in half. I will have us out of there in six months. I won’t stay. I can’t.
When I arrive at the house, the door is locked. He must not be home yet from his first therapy appointment. I was grateful that he found someone specialized for first responders with complex trauma. I couldn’t be more proud of him for taking care of himself and keeping his word, but I’m also hurting for him. The road ahead will be arduous, and I won’t be here to support him. The thought of him returning to an empty house when he’s depleted after a difficult session leaves a lump in my throat. I don’t want him to be alone.
I was on a waiting list for someone with a focus in religious trauma. Apparently, there’s a lot of that going around in the Pacific Northwest. I’m not canceling it. They offer remote sessions, and if I can get out of Arkansas in six months, like I plan to, then I’ll already be established. I’ll be paying out of pocket since it’s out of network, but I’d do it anyway because The Fold can’t find out.Why have therapy when you can pray about it instead?
Toeing off my shoes, I run upstairs to fit a shower in before he gets home. It’s the fastest shower I’ve ever taken. I’m pulling on leggings and a sweatshirt when I hear his steps downstairs. Another sound I will miss. Even his footsteps bring my soul peace. I run a brush through my damp hair and fly downstairs.
He’s sifting through today’s mail on the dining room table when I pass through the slit in the thick plastic sheeting.
“Hey!” I say. “How was it?”
The smile when he notices me melts my heart. He draws me into his chest and wraps his arms around me. I do the same. Callahan presses a kiss to my hair and rests his chin on the top of my head.
“It was good. Just a get-to-know-you thing, but I like him. I think it’ll be a good fit. He thinks I might be a good candidate for EMDR—it’s this eye-movement thing. Seems interesting, I said I’d give it a try.”
With my ear against him, half of the words reverberate through his chest wall. I close my eyes and memorize the familiarity. Since we’ve returned from Quell’s Peak, I’ve been in his bed every night. Our nightly conversations while cuddling have become one of my favorite rituals. I’m soaking up every moment with him, savoring my time, trying to be present despite my thoughts reminding me that in only a couple weeks I’ll be halfway across the country, sharing my bed with a man who isn’t mine. Even though I care deeply for Jonathan, the idea tastes bitter in my mouth. I belong next to Callahan. Especially when he’s working so hard on himself.
“I’m so proud of you.”
He chuckles. “Weird, you haven’t mentioned it!” His words are dripping with sarcasm. I’ve probably been a little bit repetitive lately, but facing your demons takes a lot of courage. I have no idea what’ll happen once I start my therapy journey, but I know it will be necessary. There are a lot of beliefs I struggle to let go of, and my relationship with God is confusing. I’ll always have my faith, but it’s been a struggle to find out what that means or where I belong. I still harbor a lot of fear and guilt over leaving. And anger at The Fold. I’d like to find a new church eventually, but I’m not ready yet.
I press my fingers to his chest for balance as I rise on my toes to kiss him. His lips curve into a smile against mine, and he picks me up with one arm, sweeps the mail to the side with the other, and deposits me on the end of the dining room table. He slips his hands under the hem of my baggy sweatshirt and pushes it higher around my ribcage, skating his thumbs along the underside of my breasts.
“I’ve been thinking I should start making progress on that listof rooms to fuck you in,” he says, with a mischievous grin. “What do you think?”
My legs part for him to stand between. “I think we should get started right away.”
“Me too,” he says through a laugh, giving me a chin lift. “Lay back, baby.”
I’m reclining back just as there’s a knock at the door, and we groan in unison at the interruption.
“Don’t move,” he warns.
I fist his shirt and pull him close. “If you take too long, I’m going to get started without you.” I give him a soft shove, and he stumbles back a step.
He backs away slowly, still facing me. “You start without me, you’re going to pay for it later.”
“Promise?”
He shakes his head and turns, disappearing through the heavy plastic to answer the front door. I hear his voice briefly before a second set of footsteps echo in the room.
Next, I hear Callahan, taking a solemn tone. “I’ll get her.”
He peeks his head in the dining room, all the mischief has slid off his face. “Scottie, there’s somebody here to see you.”
I furrow my brow and scoot off the end of the table.
“I’m going to give you some privacy, if you need me, I’ll be upstairs.” Then he’s gone.
I run my hands over my hair and straighten my sweatshirt.What the hell is going on?When I squeeze through the slit in the tarp, I see Jonathan at the door and almost trip over my feet. It wasn’t the way I’d planned to tell him I moved in with Callahan. What he must be thinking right now...
Jonathan clears his throat, and my focus returns. With his hands behind his back, he peers around the room, taking in the bare floors, tools, and random boards lying around. “I like your upgrade.”