“Studying?”
“Marriage and family therapy.”
“Uh-oh.” His eyes narrow playfully. “That involves psychology. Are you psychoanalyzing me right now?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
His eyebrows lift. “Results?”
“Inconclusive.”
He nods. “I guess you’ll need more time with the patient.”
One corner of my mouth lifts in a grin. “I guess so.”
Gabriel sits back, one palm on his thigh, the other wrapped around his cup. “Second year? So you’re almost done?”
“Almost over the finish line. I’m wrapping up a research project right now.”
Gabriel sips his coffee. I like watching the bob in his throat when he swallows. “What are you researching?”
“Success in long-term relationships.”
“How do you study something like that?”
“Interviews.” I cross my legs and lean back. “I just came from one. A sweet old couple who’ve been married fifty-two years.”
Gabriel’s eyes widen. “What was their secret?”
“From what I can tell, different people need different things from their spouses. And the ones who make it long-term are the people whose spouses give them what they need, whatever that might be. But at the end of the day, I think it’s all distilled into compassion. You have to have compassion to see and meet needs.”
He nods his head slowly. “Compassion. Hmm.”
The way he says it makes me think he doesn’t believe it. “Why do you sound like you’re not convinced?”
“I’ve been a firefighter for five years, and started out with a lot of compassion. But over time, when you see awful things over and over, you lose some of that. I have to compartmentalize, so I can do my job.”
He looks pensive, so I ask, “Do you regret that? Having to compartmentalize?”
He shakes his head. “No. I don’t think a person could survive the job otherwise.”
“Do you love it? What you do?” I ask because public service jobs strike me as emotionally draining, and if you don’t love it, how else can you refill your cup every day?
“Love it?” Gabriel shifts. “Nobody’s asked me that before. I guess I love it.”
“You were frowning. Just now, when you answered.” I use one finger from each hand to draw an upside down smile on my face.
Gabriel drinks his coffee, and I see it plain on his face, him feeling like maybe I’ve noticed too much. Like he has been too vulnerable, and he’s not comfortable with that. “Maybe it bothers me, and I didn’t realize it.” He taps the rim of his cup with a finger. “Do you remember the guy who walked out from the kitchen with me at the station? The young guy?”
I nod.
“That’s Ryan. My best friend. He loves what we do. Lives for it.” A faraway look comes over Gabriel’s face. He blinks three times in rapid succession, like he’s bringing himself back to the moment. “Some aspects of the job are great. My dad is the captain, so I get to spend a lot of time with him. You met him. He was the person standing in the bay when you walked in.” Gabriel shakes his head. “But, to me, it’s a job. For Ryan, it’s more than a job. It defines him.”
He falls quiet, and I get the feeling everything he said is only skimming the surface.
“I’ve been thinking about the 9-1-1 operator,” I say, to take the spotlight off him. “How her voice could’ve been the last one I heard. And what that might have done to her. It made me wonder if she’s been in that position before.”
The air between us takes on a sad quality. I said I didn’t want to talk about the fire, and now I’ve brought it up. Gabriel opens his mouth to speak, but his gaze moves to something behind me.
