A House Divided – Chet's Cataclysm
Chapter 19
Charles Kelly lay in bed, his wife nestled closely at his side. He slowly ran his index finger from her elbow up to her shoulder thinking back to the morning so similar to this one when he was preparing to be shipped overseas. This morning was different in many ways though. Thoughts and fears that he'd been carrying with him since that terrible period in their lives seemed to have dissipated much like the morning fog. He leaned forward slightly, lightly brushing his wife's forehead with his lips, enjoying her peacefulness.
"Somebody's feeling much better this morning," she croaked out in a sleepy voice.
Charles pulled her into a firm embrace, inhaling deeply then blowing away the last remnants of sleep. "I feel so much…I don't know…lighter, I guess. I just wish I'd talked to Chet sooner."
"Well, he never questioned it until now and…we sure didn't think to bring it up," she said with a slight giggle.
Charles smiled, closing his eyes for a moment, enjoying his wife's soft skin touching his own. "Yea, but that isn't exactly what I mean. I just…I wished I'd've talked to him more…when he was growing up."
Charlene leaned up on one elbow and looked down into the face she'd loved nearly her entire life. The dark hair had that certain salt and pepper look she adored and the face had a few more wrinkles on it; but it was those shimmering green eyes that were exactly the same as they had always been and right now, they were melting her heart as they peered at her from beneath swollen lids, the kind of swelling that only comes from crying.
"Honey, don't start with the remorseful feelings. You've always been a great husband and father. You were the best friend Les ever could've dreamed of having and those aren't my words they're his."
"I just," Charles struggled to get his point across to her without becoming tearful again. "I just wish it hadn't taken me so damn long."
"Well, it doesn't matter how long it took. You both need each other and now those lines of communication are open so…so don't let them close," she said, kissing him playfully on the nose. When he didn't respond with a similar kiss back, she knew something was still bothering him. "Chuck? Talk to me…what else is wrong?"
"He…he told me something last night that…well, I'm not sure how to take it. I'm not sure it's what's best after all."
Charlene sat all the way up in the bed so that she could see her husband's entire worried face. "What'd he say?"
E!
Chet lay in bed staring at the ceiling in the bedroom he'd once shared with his younger brother. The bedspreads were different now, no longer reflecting the boyish colors of his youth, but the ceiling was still the same. He stared at the white squares with the tiny dark pin holes in them. He remembered as a child trying to count the dots as he struggled with his awkward adolescence. He'd never been big enough to play football and he'd never made the basketball team. His short stature and lack of ball handling ability kept the coaches from looking at him seriously even though he knew he could shoot with uncanny accuracy. He'd never been popular with the girls because he wasn't a jock and for some reason, girls didn't think his jokes were nearly as funny as the guys. He wondered how his father had gotten so lucky as to find a wonderful woman like his mother to marry and briefly wondered if he'd ever find a woman like that with whom to share his life. He laced his fingers behind his head, his dark curly hair in stark contrast to the white sheets, and closed his eyes. Had he become a firefighter just to prove something to his father and to everyone else who thought of him as inadequate? He had made it through the academy without a problem but he did have the slowest times out of the guys on his shift on some of the skills tests. Then he'd scored only 74th on the engineer's exam last year. He'd gone to work injured the other day and nearly hurt Roy with the hose and finally there was Kyle Carrigan. Would the young man still be alive if someone else had attempted to rescue him?
The familiar burning began again in the back of Chet's eyes as he remembered every excruciating detail of that night. He looked at the clock on his nightstand and knew that his former crew would be just getting off shift. He also knew they'd be going home to shower and put on their dress uniforms to attend Carrigan's funeral. He knew he should attend but he simply couldn't look at the faces of Carrigan's family feeling as though he had failed them. He'd allowed their loved one to die in that hellish nightmare plunging them into a nightmare from which there would be no waking. He felt the burn of the hot tears streaking from the corners of his eyes as he screwed them shut, the resulting tickle in his throat eliciting a sound between a cough and a grunt. He knew in his heart that he'd done the right thing by resigning his position. At least, he wouldn't endanger anyone else's life by pretending to be something he wasn't. Being a fireman was just one more failure to add to his growing list of inadequacies. Then he remembered that he'd have to go by the station one last time to clean out his locker. He'd been planning to do that yesterday morning but after Hank had collapsed, he'd completely forgotten about it.
He pulled up the sheets around his chin and rolled over swearing into the rolls of white cotton. "Shit!" He really didn't want to have to face the A-shift again but he did at least owe them an explanation. Then again, laying a brother to rest in a few hours might be enough to convince them that he was doing the right thing, the best thing for everyone involved, especially the citizens of Los Angeles County.
E!
"You think he'll come?"
Mike looked over at Marco, both men standing stoically as their department brothers continued to file in for Kyle Carrigan's funeral. The sea of dress uniforms was breath-taking. The flag-draped casket beneath the podium was a somber reminder of the hazards of the job. Kyle's family sat weeping for the loss of their loved one while around the immense crowd various members of LA's finest silently wiped trembling hands at the corners of their eyes.
"I don't know," Mike began not quite certain which missing shift mate the lineman meant. "Cap just got discharged home this morning so I know he won't be here and no one's heard a word from Kelly."
Marco wanted to continue talking but the service was beginning so he took a seat along with Mike; Roy and Johnny sat directly to his right.
Mike tried to focus on the service but his eyes kept roaming, searching for the woman who called herself Caroline Marks. He was certain she would be in the assembled group to pay her last respects to Carrigan. Row by row his blue eyes scanned but no one even resembled her. She simply wasn't there which led him to another even more puzzling question. If she wasn't at the funeral then she likely wasn't a friend of the Carrigan family…so who was she and why did her face seem familiar?
E!
At the Stanley residence, Hank stared into the third glass of water his wife had set before him. "Hon…I got rehydrated already. Now you're just making my eyeballs float."
She ran her neatly manicured hand down the back of his head. "I just don't want it to happen again. I'm worried about you. You've been under a lot of stress these past few days."
"Well, drinking water won't relieve the stress…in fact, it'll just create another kind of stress when I have to keep going to the bathroom," Hank said, standing up from the sofa and heading down the hallway for the second time.
Once he'd relieved himself, he stood in front of the mirror staring at the man he almost didn't recognize. The man looking back at him was at least ten years older than he had been last week. His temples were beginning to turn gray and the dark circles underneath his eyes were prominent.
He reached into his pocket and withdrew the business card Dr. Brackett had given him when they were alone. He'd urged Hank to call and make an appointment; in fact, he had refused to write out the prescription Hank wanted until he called and scheduled the first appointment which was at four o'clock on Thursday. He would work off shift that morning then planned to find an excuse to not make the appointment. All he'd needed was a few pills to help him sleep, not a psychiatrist. He tore the card into four pieces then let them flutter to the waste basket beside the sink. "To hell with that!"
He dug into his pocket retrieving the slip of paper that Dr. Brackett had written his prescription on and stared at the words. He had no idea what it said but it did include one refill. He had wanted to get it filled on the way home but since his wife was driving him, he didn't dare ask to stop. No one needed to know about his situation. Dr. Brackett had assured him that no one would reveal his secret unless he became a danger to himself, to others, or if he became incapacitated to the point that he was unfit for duty. Hank knew in his heart that he would be alright once he got a little sleep…restful, dreamless sleep.
He folded the prescription back up and slipped it into his shirt pocket. He would find an excuse to go out later in the day. Then he'd go to a pharmacy on the north side of the county just to make sure his regular pharmacist didn't know about his medication. He also needed to go by the bank beforehand. He only had a couple of dollars in his wallet and he needed to make certain that he had enough money to pay cash. He didn't want anyone to know about his weakness or to link him with the department.
E!
Chet spent most of the day resting, looking through old photo albums and sharing a few laughs with his father. The visit had been a good one but he needed to get back to Los Angeles and clean out his locker. Then he needed to try to find another job. His rent and utility bills would be due soon and he was already living paycheck to paycheck. He thought about other jobs that probably made a lot more money than he was making with the county. The only problem was that all he'd ever wanted to do was be a firefighter. All he was trained to do was be a firefighter. Most of his friends and nearly every aspect of his life were somehow connected to the Los Angeles County Fire Department. How was he going to make it if he gave all that up?
Then it occurred to him that his friends were the reason he had to give it up. He'd let Kyle Carrigan down with his failed rescue attempt. That never should've happened to a brother and if he stayed around on the job then it might not only happen again but it could happen to Marco or Mike, Roy or Johnny and could even happen to Hank…or to himself. No, he knew he couldn't do that…not to his friends, their families or even his own family. He now understood why his father had never supported him in his career choice and he was determined to make a change and do something to make his father proud.
"Chet? Dinner's ready!"
Chet closed the photo album he was reviewing and stood up making the familiar walk down the stairs to the dining room. "Smells great, Mom."
"It's spaghetti but I found a new recipe for the sauce. I hope you like it," his mother said as she placed the bread on the table.
"We eat a lot of spaghetti at the station 'cause Stoker makes this great spaghetti sau…ahem," he cleared his throat as he realized once more just what he was going to miss out on at the station.
He looked at the salad in the large bowl that his mother brought out and placed beside the sauce. He looked at the tiny pieces of vegetables she had cut up and his mind immediately went back to times when he'd helped Johnny cut up the vegetables for salads or stews, sitting around the table in the kitchen of 51's.
"Earth to Chester," his father called out in a voice reminiscent of the famed moon landing a few years earlier.
"Huh? Did you say something?"
Charles looked into the longing eyes of his son. Their usual bright blue color seemed to be as faded as an old pair of jeans. "Would you like some bread?" he repeated himself holding out the bread basket toward his son.
"Oh, yea thanks," Chet accepted the basket graciously but he no longer had an appetite. He forced himself to eat just to make his mother happy.
When the Kelly's saw that Chet was finished eating, Charles began the conversation. "Son…we'd like to discuss something with you."
Chet lifted his eyebrows toward his hairline. "Sure, what's goin' on?"
"Your father says you've resigned from the department. Is that really what you want to do?" Charlene had a feeling that Chet's answer might not be an honest one.
"Um, yea…it's dangerous and it's…uh, it's not a job for a short man like me. Plus, I don't make much money so…I'm going to find something else to do." His heart was breaking as he tried to put a good spin on the situation.
"But…it's been all you've ever wanted to do. How can you just…just give it up so easily? And…you haven't even found another job yet."
"Hmmph," Chet began, exasperation filling his voice as he looked at his concerned mother. "I'm not good at it so it's best that I give it up. I mean, I can't get promoted to engineer. I get latrine duty more than Johnny and…and that's BAD. So, why should I stay? They'll just replace me with some boot to pull a hose. I mean, it ain't like nobody else can do the job. My presence in the department has never made a positive difference in anybody's life. Never has…never will…end of story." Chet stood up looking back at his parents with compassion in his heart. "Besides, I've already caused one set of parents to have to bury their child. I'll be damned if I'm goin' to make that mistake again," he turned to walk out of the kitchen but stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "I love you both, Mom…Dad. I love you too much to put you through what the Carrigan's are going through. I'm…ah, I'm goin' to bed now. I need to leave early in the mornin' but…this really has been a great visit. Maybe the best ever," he said softly, trying to force a smile to peek out from beneath his mustache but it never made an appearance. "G'night."
Charlene watched their son walk up the stairs then rested her head against her husband's chest. "What are we supposed to do? I wish he would find a safer career but…I just wonder if I'm being selfish?"
"I believe so, dear," he said pulling back to look at her face. "And I've been more selfish than anyone. I've never stopped to think about what might make Chet happy. But I had no idea that the young man's death was having such an impact on Chet. He told me that the guy had a severe head injury so…why is he blaming himself for Carrigan's death?"
"Oh my poor baby," she moaned as she pondered her husband's words.
"We've got to try to convince him not to give this up no matter how strongly we want him to be safe." Charles hesitated then answered the question she hadn't yet asked. "Because the department's where his heart is. And a man can't be happy unless he follows his heart. The only problem is that…right now, Chet's heart is broken and I'm not sure he even realizes it."
Chet lay awake for hours thinking back over the reasons he'd given his parents for leaving the department. He couldn't remember a single time in his entire career where he'd done anything that another firefighter couldn't have done just as well. He even thought about riding with Johnny in the hose bed of the engine after he'd been bitten by a rattlesnake. If there was ever a time when he needed specialized training like the paramedic program then it was on that day. But, all he could do was use the snake bite kit to remove as much venom as possible, swab down Gage's forearm and pump up the blood pressure cuff so that the man could start his own IV. That thought led to the memory of another incident where Chet had been injured in an old building. Roy and Johnny had risked injury to themselves to go in and rescue him. Never would he ever allow another firefighter to risk his own life to save Chet's. He had to allow his resignation to stand if for no other reason than that one; he needed to save another life by making sure he never endangered it in the first place. With his decision firmly made, he drifted off into peaceful sleep. Tomorrow, he would drive back to Los Angeles. The next day he'd go to the station and provide Hank with a proper notice of his resignation, clean out his locker and say good-bye to his friends. Then he'd begin the next chapter of the rest of his life.
E!
A/N: Thank you for the PM's and reviews. I appreciate hearing what works and what doesn't in my stories. This truly helps me improve which is my ultimate goal. Thank you for helping me as I strive towards that goal.