“Just try to shoot my good side, lieutenant,” Joey says.
I can’t think of anything funny to say in this situation.
We continue poking the roof. It’s repetitive, and I love it. Joey sees me grinning and says, “Yo, Harp, something funnyabout his?”
I just smile at him.
And then my smile disappears as my heart goes right into my throat.
As I’m sinking, a single thought races through my head: I don’t want to die and leave Kailee all alone in this world.
It happens so quickly. I fall through the roof and into the fire.
3
The Cat Is Out Of The Bag
In movies,when people wake up in hospital beds, they do so slowly and with a bit of grace.
But Harper jolts awake like someone stuck a firecracker in his butt hole. He breathes heavily and sweats, and his pulse skyrockets to 124 beats per minute.
“Jax, should we call the nurse?” Manny says, his eyes darting nervously from me to Harper’s mom to Dennis.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Harper’s mom said in her thick Minnesotan accent. “I’d expect the machine does that for you nowadays, no?”
Evelyn Matthews is in her late fifties. She had Harper at a young age, and raised him as a single mother. I learned this at The Pulaski Bar one night, when Harp and I had a few too many, and proceeded to have a heart-to-heart—a rare occurrence between us, as in, that’s been the only one. Harper is just one of those guys who doesn’t like to talk about his feelings. I get it. He’s a soldier. Tough at all times. I can’t really relate to that, but I respect it, and I give the man the distance he needs.
I look over at Ms. Matthews who stands behind Kailee with her hands on the child’s shoulders. The distraught woman nods absently.
Kailee turns to look up at her grandmother. “What’s wrong with daddy?”
And that’s when Harper regains his consciousness. His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath. He has his head lifted from the pillow. His soot-stained face is stamped with panic and confusion. It’s clear he doesn’t know where he is or what the hell is going on. After a few moments, he swallows, and speaks.
“Hi everyone,” he says, immediately wincing. His voice sounds rough. Like every part of his lungs got scorched in the fire. Very well might have—the room I pulled him out of was devil’s-barbecue-hot. Seconds after I got him out of there, the whole room went up like a gasoline-soaked bale of hay. We call that a flashover. It’s a fitting name. If you’re caught in one of those, first, there’s a flash, and then, it’s over.
That’s what one of my instructors at the training academy used to say. An early taste of the dark sense of humor that this job seems to encourage.
I carried Harper five flights of stairs through one of the most intense blazes I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how we made it out to be honest, the whole place fell apart around us with each step. I’m just glad we’re both alive to tell the tale.
Harper notices that Kaylee is in the room and smiles from ear to ear.
“Welcome back, big guy,” Manny says.
“Look who’s finally awake,” I say. “You gave us quite a scare.”
Ms. Matthews says nothing. Her mouth is hanging slightly open, her eyes brimming with years.
Kailee says, “Daddy!”
I can see the love in Harper’s eyes. He looks like he might cry. “Come here, monkey,” he says, holding out his left arm. It’s got a tube in it hooked up to the IV bag. His right arm is folded against his chest, in a sling.
She goes to him, her little face lit up with glee.
“Come here, give daddy a hug. It sure is nice to wake up and see you.”
Harper squeezes his daughter with his good arm, which makes the IV pole rattle. He kisses the top of her head. Kailee holds him tight, pressing her head against this chest. “It’s all right. Daddy’s okay. I was just having this dream that I ran a marathon. Can you believe that?”
Kailee doesn’t want to let go of her dad. The poor little thing. She stops crying and hiccups like kids do after a good cry. It melts my heart. Maybe Julia and I are ready.
