A House Divided – Chet's Cataclysm
Chapter 15
"Chet, it sounds like you're making some assumptions here. Don't think the worst until you ask the questions."
Chet looked up at Roy and felt his ears begin to burn. "Well exactly how would you recommend I go about broaching the subject, huh?"
Marco frowned as he listened to the harshness in Chet's response. "Why not talk to your Dad about what you know; then just ask him what happened?"
Chet shook his head swiftly from side to side. "No way, nuh-uh…not him. I'd…," he gulped at the thought of carrying out what he was about to say. "I'd rather ask Mom. But…what if she won't tell me or…or what if it's too…painful for her…damn, why can't things just work out for me, just once in my life," he groaned.
"I know life seems really shitty right now, Kelly but…well, ya talked to us 'bout it and…and we didn't blow you out or anything." Johnny feared that he might have just made his friend angry but he also wanted him to understand that he really needed to find out the truth before he accepted his assumptions as reality.
"John's right. You can't work for a few shifts anyway so…why not make a trip back to see your folks and get the answers you need?" Mike looked to the others for support and he wasn't disappointed as one by one the others agreed.
"Exactly," Roy said.
"I've got some vacation time I can take if you'd like some company…moral support, you know?" Marco offered.
Chet ran his thumb and index finger from the inside corners of his eyes pinching the bridge of his nose. Never had he imagined that his friends cared about him so much. If he'd only known, perhaps he wouldn't be in the situation he was in now. If he'd just gone to Marco or any of the guys maybe he wouldn't have lied about his foot injury and maybe, just maybe, his career wouldn't be in jeopardy. Now, he stood to lose everything including the family he thought he knew. A dark shadow settled around his face as he spoke. "No. I appreciate it, Marco, I really do but…this is something I have to do on my own."
Marco nodded, squeezing his partner on the back of his neck before standing and returning to the sofa. One by one, the others followed him until Chet was once again sitting alone at his table. "Guys…I'm sorry about being a complete jackass for the last few months." He looked up locking eyes with his favorite pigeon. "And, Johnny I'm really sorry about your, uh…," he allowed his eyes to quickly drop to Johnny's waist and then return to the paramedic's face.
Johnny slowly let his trademark grin break out followed by a hint of a chuckle. "Oh…I'll get ya back…when ya least expect it, Chester B.…I'll get ya back."
Johnny's smile was contagious and soon it had spread to the other men in the small apartment.
Chet felt a strange warmth spreading within his chest. He didn't know whether it was his shattered heart beginning to heal or if he was just enjoying the camaraderie he had been missing for so many months. Whatever it was, he felt a bit rejuvenated. "Ah, listen fellas…I can't ever repay you for coming over here and seein' about me but…I know you got other things to do today besides babysit a grown man."
"I don't," Mike snickered.
"Yea, are ya kickin' us out?" Johnny asked.
"No…but I do have a lot to think about and…I promise to be more careful about taking my medications and…," he stalled as he struggled to stand up, finding Roy quickly at his side. "Thanks, man."
"You're welcome," Roy said steading the shorter man.
"Whatever it is you need, I'll get it for you, amigo." Marco stood, ready for whatever task Chet needed him to complete.
Chet tapped his fingers lightly on the table, contemplating his next move. "Um, will you get my whiskey from the cabinet above my refrigerator?"
"Uh…anything but that," Marco retorted, seeing the disturbed looks on the faces of his shift mates.
"No…I want you to take it home with you. That way, you fellas will know I won't…you know, do anything stupid."
Marco nodded then silently walked into the kitchen to complete Chet's request. Roy stepped closer to Chet but before he could say anything, Chet gave a voice to Roy's thoughts.
"Roy…I know," he held up his hand. "Just leave me a couple of those pills for later and then…you can take the rest."
"I'll bring them back with me in the morning when I come over to change your dressing," Roy offered.
Chet's response was a slight nod as Roy passed behind him.
"Promise me you'll call if you need anything."
Chet lowered himself back down in the chair. "I will, Mike. I promise and thanks again."
"Don't mention it…you'd do the same for me."
Chet allowed a smile to show on his face. "Oh, you bet."
Johnny extended his right hand giving Chet a firm handshake. "Same goes for me too."
Chet returned the paramedic's gesture by accepting his outstretched hand. "Yea well, I don't know if I'd do it for you, Gage," he snickered; both men fully aware of the fallacy of the statement.
Johnny pointed his finger at Chet as he turned to leave. "Hey, I meant what I said, Kelly. When you least expect it."
One by one, the friends left the apartment; each one feeling better about Chet than they had felt when they found him. Half an hour later, Chet closed the door and returned to his recliner. He took a cleansing breath as he leaned back elevating his aching foot. He had several decisions to make over the coming days; he just hoped he was strong enough to do what he knew had to be done.
E!
Across town, Hank stepped out of the shower and dressed in khaki pants and a white button down shirt. He rolled the sleeves up mid-way on his forearms then sat on the bed to pull on his socks and shoes. He was determined to go over to the Carrigan house and offer his condolences to Kyle's family. He stood up too quickly from tying his shoes and staggered momentarily as the room clouded over and then brightened again a few seconds later. He knew he needed sleep and probably food too but right now, he couldn't do either. His stomach felt like he'd eaten a bowl full of burning embers for breakfast and every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Kyle Carrigan being carried out of the building by Hank's own lineman. So, he decided to stay awake and do what had to be done. He knew in his heart that he was the last person the Carrigan family wanted to see; especially the young man's parents and fiancée but he couldn't avoid it. He needed to let them know how awful he felt and how sorry he was for their loss – the department's loss. Then he planned to go to Rampart and see how Jacobs was doing.
He locked the door behind him then walked over to his car. Opening the door, he heard the familiar sound of his wife's edsel turning into their driveway. His heart leaped from his chest and danced inside his throat. He knew he owed her a huge apology so he waited for her to get out of her car but was surprised by her reaction to him.
"Honey, I'm really sorry about…"
She rushed to his side and buried her head in his shoulder. "Hank…forgive me for running out on you. I should've never…," she interrupted him but then was cut off by his lips quickly finding hers. She allowed the brief heartfelt apologetic kiss to quiet her own words of regret. When he pulled back, she saw the anguish in his hazel eyes. "Please wait just a few minutes…I want to go with you." She didn't have to ask where they were going; she already knew and couldn't let him go alone.
He lowered his head and nodded while allowing his hands to move slowly from her shoulders to her hands then grasp her fingers within his own calloused digits. The lump in his throat prevented his words from escaping. After all he'd said to her when he'd first gotten home from shift, she still wanted to go with him; it was almost more than he could comprehend. He didn't deserve her, never had, but he sure did love her.
"Let me touch up my make-up and put on a dress. I won't be but a minute," she said letting go of his finger tips and hurrying inside their home.
Hank leaned against his car and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He rarely smoked figuring he got enough of the stuff in his lungs when he was on shift but when he was under extreme duress he always fell back on the habit. This was one of those times. With each drag, he felt the burn in his throat and lungs and within a few moments felt the calming effects of the nicotine flooding his system. By the time he had finished it and stamped it out, he heard the front door close. He walked around to the passenger's side of the car and opened the door for her. "You don't have to do this, you know." He wanted to give her a way out.
"I know. But we're a team and we do things together. Whatever affects you affects me and I want to be there with you."
He watched as she pulled her slim legs inside the door and then carefully closed it. He pulled out his keys as he walked in front of the sedan then got in on the driver's side. The drive to the Carrigan home was made in silence; neither one knowing what to say to the other.
When Hank made the turn onto Thomas Avenue, he was amazed at the number of cars parked along the street. Some of the vehicles he recognized as belonging to the top brass in the department and he suddenly felt as inferior as a boot. Along the street, two houses down he saw break lights come on and waited for the other driver to pull out so that he could park in the resulting vacant spot. He shifted into park and exhaled audibly.
Rebecca reached out and grasped her husband's trembling hand. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
Hank could only nod negatively. "No, I don't want to…but I have to." I'm the reason he's dead, Hank thought to himself, but that was a thought he couldn't tell anyone, not even his precious wife.
An hour later, the two returned to their car; this time Rebecca got behind the wheel. She cranked it and pulled out into the narrow street before she reached over and held his hand. She cringed when he initially pulled back from her touch. "Don't beat yourself up over this, Hank. You didn't cause that backdraft."
He flared his nostrils willing the aching in his chest to cease. He wasn't sure what he had expected at the Carrigan home but whatever it was, it wasn't what he got. No one there was blaming him for anything that happened. He was welcomed, embraced and thanked for his support and caring. He felt overwhelmed by the undeserved affection. "Let's just go to Rampart, ok?" His voice was merely a whisper. He was relieved when she turned on the blinker to make the left turn that would take them to their next destination. He just hoped he could find the strength to make it across the parking lot and up the elevator to the ICU. Once he got there, then he'd have to face the other half of the paramedic team he felt he had destroyed.
E!
Chet spit the remnants of his toothpaste into the bathroom sink then rinsed his mouth and face. As he was patting his face dry he heard his telephone ringing and cast a glance at his watch. "Nine-thirty…right on time," he mumbled as he hobbled down the short hallway.
He picked up the black receiver on the third ring. "Hey, Gage."
"Uh…how'd you know it was me?"
Chet allowed himself to smile slightly. "Because, Roy called two hours ago to remind me he was coming over tomorrow to change my bandages. Two hours before that it was Mike calling to see I wanted him to relay any messages to Cap and about two hours before that, which would've been, oh..say…about two hours after you guys left here…it was Marco calling to see if I needed him to bring me anything from the grocery store," he said with a hint of an appreciative chuckle.
Johnny could sense the smile emanating from the other end of the telephone. "Oh…guess we're bein' kinda obvious, huh?"
"Just a little," Chet agreed. "But…I appreciate it, John. In all seriousness…which is pretty rare for me…I appreciate it."
"You, ah..you sound better."
Chet reached behind him and pulled out a chair from his small dinette set and took a seat. "I am. I'm just gettin' ready for bed and I," he hesitated. "I think I'm gonna sleep better than I have in a long time."
"Well that's good to hear, good to hear. Listen, you'll call me if you need anything right?"
"Yea, Johnny. I will. You have a good night and I'll, uh, I'll catch ya later," Chet said, his voice softening.
"Sounds good. You have a good night. 'Bye," Johnny said, hanging up the phone.
Chet sat still until he'd heard the clicking sound of his friend hanging up. He hadn't lied to Johnny, not really. He knew he was going to sleep better than he had in a long time because he'd finally made up his mind about his future. He pulled out a drawer beside his stove and retrieved a plain piece of notebook paper. He scrounged around inside the drawer until he found a blue ink pen then sat down at the table trying to collect his thoughts. He wrote the date at the top of the paper then stopped. "Do I address it to Cap or to Chief Houts?"
E!
Mike made the turn into the back parking lot of Station 51 twenty minutes early. He stopped in his usual spot beside Hank's black sedan. He walked into the bay as 'C' shift's engineer stepped out of the kitchen holding a cup of coffee.
"Morning, Mike."
"Morning, Pete. Quiet shift?"
The other engineer looked at his watch then smiled. "Ask me that in about twenty minutes or so," he grinned. His face quickly fell into a more subdued manner. "You gonna go to the funeral?"
Mike pressed his lips together. The funeral of a brother in the department was always difficult. "Yea," he nodded. It isn't until eleven tomorrow so 'B' should be on unless we get a bad run right at shift change." He watched as the other man nodded his understanding. "Have you seen Hank?"
Pete threw his blond head in a nod aimed at the captain's office. "He's in there with Cap. He, uh…he looks like hell."
Mike felt his gut tighten. "Probably hasn't slept much since last shift."
Pete took a sip of his coffee. "Mmmm hmm. Hey, how's Kelly doing?"
"He's alright. He'll miss a few shifts until his foot is healed but he'll be back in a couple of weeks." Mike allowed a brief thought to float to his injured comrade but then it quickly returned to his own captain. "Anything I need to know?" He asked referencing the engine and the previous shift.
"Nah…nothing unusual. We hadta pull a van out of a canyon. The driver was a bit intoxicated so of course he wasn't hurt. Then there was a false alarm at a nursing home. Damn I hate those."
"Get hit on by some of the old ladies?" Mike asked, winking his azure gaze at the older engineer as he remembered one of those he had gone on earlier in his career.
"Yea…they just love a man in uniform," Pete said doing his best grandmotherly impression with his voice and pretending to walk with an imaginary cane.
Mike chuckled at his counterpart. "Ok, well, I'll go change and then maybe I'll talk to Cap," he said turning toward the locker room carrying his uniforms and duffle bag over his shoulder. "Give me about 5 minutes before you go, will ya?" He shouted across the bay not waiting for an acknowledgement as he pushed open the locker room door and walked over to his locker to begin preparations for his shift.
E!
Chet folded up the letter placing it in a plain white envelope and tucking it into his shirt pocket. He looked at himself in the mirror thinking he looked very different, older maybe. It had been three days since he had cut his foot and it was healing nicely; at least he could walk by placing his weight on the outside of it and limp. Roy and Johnny had helped him the last couple of days with the bandages and finally today he was able to really get clean with a long shower. That had made him feel much better. Well, that and the fact that he had taken his future into his own hands. Now, he stood in front of his mirror wearing only his boxers and unbuttoned denim shirt. He slipped his gold chain around his neck then buttoned up the shirt before tucking it into his levi's and fastening his belt with the wide buckle. He pulled on his socks being careful not to loosen the bandage on his right foot then laced up his camel colored chukka boots. One final look in the mirror and then he picked up his keys and headed out the door, double checking the lock before he left.
Chet never saw the young woman with light brown hair peeking out from her window across the walkway from his apartment. She was completing her morning stretches and strength training; a routine that was slowly but surely giving her back some normalcy. She had only moved in a couple of months previously but it hadn't taken her long to realize that the young man's face was familiar and there was only one possibility as to why. Her suspicions were confirmed a couple of days ago when she had seen the four men leaving his apartment. Seeing the man with the auburn hair had helped her put the pieces together forming a mental picture she would remember for the rest of her life.
She noticed the limp in his strides and wondered if perhaps something had happened to him since the last time she had seen him. It had been several long painful months since that day and she couldn't believe her good fortune when she'd moved into the ground floor apartment and just happened to catch a glimpse of him walking across the lawn during one of her morning routines. Only a couple of days ago had she actually been able to verify her suspicions but after a few phone calls made while holding her fingers crossed, she had been able to confirm his identity. The kind elderly lady manning the telephones at the Los Angeles County Fire Department Headquarters had given her the address of the station. And today was the day she was finally going to make proper introductions…and deliver the freshly baked pound cake that sat cooling in her kitchen.
E!
Chet pulled his van into his usual parking spot behind the station and sat motionless behind the wheel. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest so hard that he was sure the letter he'd stuffed in his shirt pocket was twitching. He blew out his cheeks trying to force his tense muscles to relax. He was doing what had to be done but that didn't make it any easier. He glanced to his left and saw Marco's car parked beside him and just to his right was a white land rover. He ran his fingers through his curly hair leaving a few tufts standing up near the crown of his head. Finally, he knew he had stalled long enough and he reached for the door handle.
Hank was reviewing his notes for roll call while sitting at his desk. The small typed words kept growing blurry and he'd have to rub his eyes in order to see clearly again. He leaned back in his chair and felt the sharp pain from the bruise on the back of his upper arm. He'd managed to keep Emily from seeing it and for that he was grateful. At least he knew she wouldn't see it for another twenty-four hours while he was on shift. He glanced down at his watch, blinking rapidly in order to see the hands on the dial. Noting that it was five minutes until roll call, he decided he needed another cup of coffee. It would give him a chance to remind his crew to prepare for roll call as well. But, before he could stand up, there was a swift knock on the door.
His bushy eyebrows knitted together. "Come in."
Chet twisted the door knob and saw the look of confusion on his captain's face. "Uh, hey Cap. I…I uh, need to talk to ya for just a minute…please." The young man was obviously nervous.
"Oh sure…take a seat." He gestured to the chair beside his desk. "So, how's the foot?"
Chet felt his hands begin to tremble and to keep Hank from noticing he withdrew the envelope from his pocket. "Oh…much better…thanks," he said softly, his mouth forming only a half-hearted grin as he looked down at the envelope in his hands.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Kelly. So, what brings you here today? I know that isn't your medical release already."
The lineman's mouth formed a flat line. "Ah, no…no sir. I…I needed to give you this." He held the white envelope a moment longer then passed it to his captain.
Hank saw his name in blue ink on the front of the envelope. He stared at the hand written letters.
CAPTAIN HENRY STANLEY
Rarely did anyone use his formal name so he knew this was something very serious. "Chet…is something wrong?"
"Ah…no sir…not anymore," his voice lowered as he stood up. "Everything's alright now," he reached out his right hand.
Hank was taken aback by the behavior he was seeing. He dropped the envelope on his desk and quickly stood up to match his lineman's gesture when the room suddenly began to grow darker. He seemed to be staring at Chet down a long tunnel and faltered in his attempt to shake the young man's hand. Then, he felt himself floating as the tunnel vision closed in around him. Just as his world faded to black, he could hear Chet's voice calling to him from a distance.
"Cap? CAP? Ohmygod!" Chet groaned loudly, his sore foot completely forgotten as he stumbled behind the taller man reaching underneath his arms bracing him as he slowly lowered him to the floor. "CAP, can ya hear me?" When he got no response, his cries for help became shouts. "HELP! HEY FELLAS…CAP'S DOWN!"