She nods and pulls out a changing pad and bribes Ethan to stop playing by giving him a new toy. “I’ll just say this,” she says. “Divorce does funny things to some people, and Vito’s did a number on him. He’s spent five years of his adult life living with our parents. Don’t get me wrong. After I went through some shit, I moved back in with Lucia and Mario too. But he’s been there five years, and if you ask me, he’s let himself get too comfortable. Maybe he’s comfortable staying in the nest because he has no idea what direction to go if he tries to fly on his own.”
Gracie stands Ethan up and lets him go play with Juniper. She’s wadded up the diaper and wiped down the changing pad. “Where do you want this?”
I show her the way and then stay with the kids while she heads back into the powder room to wash her hands. When she comes back, she points to her wrist. She doesn’t wear a watch, but I do, and I check the time.
“You probably need to get dressed?” she asks.
I nod, reluctant to get up. I could spend the whole day here with Gracie, Ethan, and Juniper.
Maybe Vito and I aren’t that different. I’m not sure I want to leave my nest now that it’s time to go.
“Nervous?” Gracie asks. “Going back to work after being home with these sweet cheeks all day is tough,” she says. “But give Michelle a try. It’s bananas thinking that she’s now a financial adviser, but…” Gracie shrugs. “She was always good people. Vito is good people.” She grins at me, her thick red lipstick perfectly coating her full lips. “You’re good people. And it’s never too late to try something new, you know?”
I give her a smile and make sure she knows where to find everything. I tell Gracie to make herself completely at home and show her how to turn on the television.
“All I care about is getting out in the yard,” she says. “Come on, kiddos. Let’s get sweaters. We’re going to tire out some toddlers.”
I head upstairs to take a quick shower, all thoughts of making another pot of coffee long gone. I’m sure if she wants it, Gracie will help herself. After all, she’s practically family. And I intend to start treating her like it.
17
VITO
The last threedays of my life have been like so many others over the years. You’d think every one of the horrible accidents or fires might be some of the worst or hardest shit I’d ever been through—until the next one.
I’m fortunate, working in a small town. We have a lot less of this stuff than bigger cities. This stuff being the calls that you feel under your skin. The sounds that lock in your ears and you don’t know how you’ll ever stop hearing them.
And yet, time passes.
The intensity of whatever the shit was eases. A little. Then a little more. Sometimes I wake up with my heart racing after a nightmare that brings just one small detail back, and that triggers a whole lot of memories. Emotions.
But still, this is the job. I may not like what it does to me, but I love what I do on calls like the ones we had this shift. It takes guts and teamwork to survive the day. It takes training, experience, and maturity to survive the aftermath.
When you get so close to other people’s worst moments, worst days, it steals a little of the light from yours.
That’s the trade-off.
When you hold the hand of the dying, you willingly give up a little part of the wholeness that makes you alive.
I did that and more today. And I’m fucking ready to go home and let the long, slow process of dealing with it all start.
My shift is over, and I’ve changed and showered. The mood is intense. The silence among the guys in my engine company is as overpowering and dense as smoke.
I grab my bag and keys and stand on shaky knees, ready to haul ass out of there, when Chief joins us.
His eyes carry the weight of what we’re all feeling. I know he’s been filling out a ton of paperwork and working on scheduling a critical incident debriefing. That means he’s not able to pack what we saw into a tiny box until the intensity fades like the sun hiding behind a cloud. He’s had to stare right into that blinding light for longer than any of us.
“Tomorrow,” Chief says quietly. No one needs to ask what he means. “Three p.m. sharp. I’m trying to get someone out from Columbus to do a second session for anyone who needs it. This is mandatory.”
I nod and brush past the chief, ready to get the fuck out of here. The chief stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Good work today. Leadership like that made a difference.”
“Thanks.” The words feel like wool in my mouth. None of what I did today made a bit of difference to the outcome.
I did my best. We all did.
I get out to my truck, and fresh morning air hits my face. I breathe it in, the smells of the call we finished overnight still thick in my nose. I shake my head.
There’s no residue. I followed all the protocols. Wore all the gear. Washed away any traces of what happened, but there are some stains that never, ever go away.
