“You get what? You get what it’s like to walk around without a fucking leg?” he demands.
I tilt my head in concession. “No, I don’t get that, and it wasn’t my intent to imply that I did. You’re a firefighter, and from what I’ve heard you’re a damned good one.”
“Was,”he scoffs.
I shrug. “You still might be one. But it’s up to you.”
“Whatever, man. I didn’t come here for a fucking lecture.” He huffs and moves past me.
This time I let him, stepping out of his way and pivoting to watch as he limps, leaning on the crutch toward the door at the end of the hallway. I don’t fault his anger. I can’t say that I wouldn’t be half as pissed if I were in his situation.
Looking back toward the classroom I exited not too long ago, I recognize I have my own scars from this job. Mine might not be as visible as Corey’s but they’re there. Nobody walks away from this job unscathed. And most people who do what we do and see what we see on a daily basis, couldn’t find it in them to keep showing up everyday. Regardless, that’s the job and the life I signed up for.
****
Janine
“Matthew, why are you calling me?” I demand into the phone as I answer. It’s the third time he’s called me this week.
“What has you so pissed off?” he questions, sounding surprised.
“The fact that you obviously can’t take a hint couldn’t possibly be it.” The sarcasm drips from every word.
“What magazine or book on relationships have you read that is making you believe this playing hard to get thing is going to work on me?”
I pull the phone from my ear and stare at it, mouth ajar.
“Matthew, I’m going to speak really slowly as I ask you this. Have you fallen and bumped your head?” I question in the same voice I used to speak to my first graders when trying to calm them down.
He actually chuckles into the phone. His laughter used to have me all mushy inside but now I just find it annoying.Why the hell do I keep answering the phone for this man?
“That was cute, Janine. But I should be the one asking you that question.”
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose as I pace my apartment living room. “Look, there’s really nothing for us to talk about, so why don—”
“There’s plenty for us to discuss. Like, why you’re still behaving like an entitled brat and refuse to move back home? And why you refuse to answer my calls?”
“Because we aren’t together anymore. And seriously, after the day I had at work, I really don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. You’ve taken on a job that is obviously too much for you to handle in a city that you barely know. You know you want to come back to Boston, it’s just your pride has gotten in the way and—”
“Good-bye, Matthew.” I hang up the phone in the middle of his rant. I really didn’t need to hear whatever he was talking about. Like I said, I had another shitty day at work. It’s been over a week since I tried to approach Danny about my idea for the new Digita app, and since I got my ass handed to me by Zeke and his little confession about the real reason I was given my job.
The people at Digita had some type of issue come up, so they had to push back their meeting with Lux by a few weeks, giving us more time work out a campaign they would like. However, my confidence has waned so much that I can’t find it in me to bring up anymore ideas. I’ve been feeling completely inept and incompetent at work. Truth be told, Matthew’s words got under my skin more than I wish they had. It’s starting to feel like he’s right, I’m feeling way over my head.
I startle when my phone begins buzzing in my hand again. Without checking, I answer and say, “I told you not to call me again. What part of I don’t want to talk to you, do you not get?” I seethe, chest rising and falling rapidly as I pant.
“Those aren’t the exact words I remember hearing the last time we talked,” Emanuel’s voice croons through the phone.
I relax my shoulders and stop pacing, looking around my living room as if he’s there.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Thought you were someone else.”
“Someone giving you trouble?” His voice is suddenly on high alert and I get an image of him glancing around for who or what he can attack.
A feeling of comfort begins to take hold in my chest, but I clamp down on it, remembering back to the last conversation we had.
“Why would you care?” I ask.
