There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s notsupposedto mean anything. It was an honest question. Because the last time we spoke you didn’t seem too thrilled to talk to me.”
“Janine, I—”
“And look, it’s fine if you’re getting bored with me or whatever. I just ask that you be honest about it. I’ve had enough relationships with people who weren’t particularly interested in my hanging around long-term but strung me along—”
“That’s what you think this is?”
“I don’t know, Emanuel. Is it?”
“No.”
“Are you sure because if you’re not—”
“I’m certain.”
“Are you seeing someone else?” The question comes out of nowhere but it’s one that’s been lingering on my mind for a while.
“No.” There’s no hesitation in his voice. “Are you?”
His voice sounds tight, and if I’m not mistaken, there might’ve been some anger in that question.
“No. I’m more of a monogamy kind of girl.” I swallow, hoping that I hadn’t just shown my hand.
“I’m starting to think I am, too … well, a guy not a girl.”
I crack a smile for the first time since this conversation began.
“It’s been a few days since we talked and I haven’t seen you. I was getting worried you might be done with me already,” I admit. My gaze raises to the ceiling as I tense up with embarrassment.
“What the hell would make you think that?”
“The last time we talked …”
There’s a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “That was my fuck up.”
I don’t say anything, simply remaining quiet because it feels like he’s gathering up the nerve to reveal something important. My ears perk up in anticipation of what it might be.
“That night you called, I was just leaving the hospital.”
“Oh my god. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t for me. We had a call of two young guys hanging from a scaffold. One made it off okay. The second was much worse.”
I listen as Emanuel explains what happened to the second young man and how he succumbed to his injuries.
“You know the scars on my arms and chest?” he questions.
“Yes.”
“Those are from a rescue last year. When I was still at my other stationhouse. A little boy died … and I got a fucking medal.” His voice is tinged with guilt, shame, anger, and disappointment.
“Oh, Emanuel.” I didn’t know what else to say. Not only was my heart breaking for the young people who lost their lives, but for the fact that I was so selfishly thinking of myself when he was dealing with all of this heaviness. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He pushes out another breath. “I didn’t want to put all of that shit on you. I signed up for this job. I do it proudly but you didn’t ask for this. And I didn’t want to fuck up what we have going by telling you all of my shit.”
