“Poppy, come on in,” Meara calls me in from the waiting room. Landon wanted to wait with me, but I insisted he drop me off and go work at the bar. I need to do this on my own.
“Thanks.” I stand and walk past her into the room.
“I love your new fashion accessory.” Meara points to my walking stick as I take a seat on the couch in her office.
“It’s so much better than the crutches. I almost feel human again.” We both grin at that, and Meara’s face lights up a little at how upbeat I sound today. I look across at the fish tanks behind her, and that sense of calm it brings me when I see the fish just living a peaceful life starts to filter through my body. It’s a good way to start the session.
“How are you feeling about today? It’s a pretty big day for you, and for Tessa too, I can imagine.” We agreed I would come in thirty minutes earlier than Tessa just to spend time with Meara on my own.
“Better than I was expecting. Not rushing this meeting has given me a bit of time to reflect on my past. I’ve been able to sift through all my thoughts and feelings that I’ve had over the years, as a child and even as an adult. How I always dreamed I would meet her. And if it weren’t for the fire, I would have been so excited when she reached out. So, I’m trying to lean into that feeling more.” I take a sip of water from the glass sitting on the table next to me that Meara places there for me every session. Talking about emotions always makes me dry in the mouth.
“That’s good, Poppy, great work. A perfect place to start from today. How is Landon feeling about today’s meeting? I know you said he was unhappy about not being here and was strugglingwith the whole situation. That he was now seeing someone to unpack his initial reaction to Tessa. Do you feel that’s helping?” Meara asks.
“Yeah, he’s really trying to work through that intense anger he felt, along with other things Tessa’s arrival has raised for him. But I suppose we won’t know how he’s handling it all until he sees her again,” I answer.
“Fair enough,” Meara replies. “Now, as I mentioned to you in our last session, I’m required to send a progress report to the Rochester Fire Department on your fitness to return to work. So, we need to run through some questions, but before we do, I received an email this morning that they’ve asked me to discuss with you.” Meara’s calm tone never gives anything away.
“Okay, but why didn’t they send the email directly to me?” I ask, a little apprehensive as to what it could be.
“Because they didn’t want to hinder your recovery, so the department thought it would be better to discuss the email in one of our sessions so we can work through it together. Now, it appears the fire investigators have finished their internal report on your accident, and there’s cause to believe that the roof didn’t fall on its own. There may have been assistance to pull it down.”
I immediately feel my chest tightening, but work through my breathing techniques to remain relatively calm.
“Good, Poppy, you’re doing great. Keep using your coping strategies,” Meara says as she touches my knee, patting it to let me know she’s here with me and I’m still safe. She gives me a minute and then continues.
“They aren’t saying it was deliberate, just that someone may have pulled the ceiling down, maybe by accident, rather than it actually falling on its own.”
I close my eyes, and all of a sudden, I can hear the crackle of the fire and smell smoke. The air feels thick, which isn’t unusual in a fire, but I can’t actually tell where I am right now. I justknow I’m in a fire, with an uneasy feeling that I’m surrounded by danger.
“That’s it, Poppy, let yourself slip back into that day. You’re safe here with me, no one can hurt you. Tell me what you see.” I can hear Meara talking calmly to me as I allow the memories to resurface. This is the first time I’ve even remembered anything, so I don’t want to lose it. I continue to breathe, slow and steady, just like Meara taught me.
“I can’t see anything; I can only recognize sounds and smells,” I mumble. I feel like I’m fumbling through thick smoke, desperately trying to see anything that makes sense. “The fire, it’s moving fast. I can hear the noise of it moving in the walls and ceiling. The acrid stench of smoke is strong, and I don’t have a mask on. I don’t know why my mask is off, but the smoke is so thick it’s hard to breathe.” My chest starts to feel tighter.
“Okay, Poppy, you’re not in the smoke right now, so keep taking those big deep, slow breaths for me. The air is clean here. Tell me what else you hear.” I concentrate on Meara’s reassuring voice, slowing my breathing down again and making my chest feel slightly better.
“The radio chatter’s in my ears. Wait, my helmet and breathing apparatus are back on and I’m okay. I hear Rosco calling orders. But I can’t make out everything he’s saying.” I tilt my head, trying to recall a charred memory. “Victims, something about them.” Then I hear more chatter that I can’t make out.
“Can you turn your head in the direction of where you think the voices are coming from? Do you know where you are?” Meara asks gently.
“No, it’s like I’m alone in my own little smoke bubble. I can’t see anything past my hands in front of me. Not even any orange glow. Why can’t I see the fire?” I start feeling frustrated as the memory begins to escape me.
“Don’t worry about that, Poppy, just stay calm. We’re getting through this. Tell me, do you hear anything else? I want you to focus on the noise in your ear,” Meara directs me.
“It’s still jumbled.” Then Dean’s voice is in my head saying the words, “All clear.” The sudden sound of his voice frightens me, and I gasp as my eyes pop open.
“What is it, Poppy, what did you hear?” Meara’s not stopping.
“Dean,” I mumble. “Dean’s voice.”
“What did he say?” she keeps pushing me.
“All clear, he said we were clear. I heard him, he said I was clear, but I wasn’t. Why did he say that if I wasn’t clear.” My mind is racing, trying to piece it together.
“What does ‘all clear’ mean?” Meara asks me.
“That there are no victims, that we’re clear to move away from the area. But he wouldn’t call ‘all clear’ if the room was unstable.” I shake my head, trying to evoke the memory, but it’s gone again.
“Dammit.” I drop my head back on the top of the couch. “I finally remember something and it tells me nothing. Fucking useless.” I feel like I want to cry, but I’m too frustrated.
