Page 19 of Things You Save in a Fire

Not a promotion.

“We could,” she went on, “just let this all blow over, give it a year or so, and then quietly promote you. How does that sound?”

I met her eyes. Safe to say, this was not the conversation I’d expected. “It sounds too good to be true,” I said.

“The point is not to let one bad night define the rest of your career,” she said, then added, “or your life.”

I nodded, noting the irony.

“They just need you to do one quick thing,” she said then, closing up her folder like we were almost done here.

“What’s that?”

“Apologize.”

I blinked at her. “To who? To the chief?”

She frowned, like,Hello?“To the city councilman.”

My head started shaking before my mind had formed the words. “I can’t do that.”

She gave a little sigh, like now I was being difficult. Which I suppose I was. “A formal apology. You don’t have to mean it. Just get it on the record.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” I said, just to be clear. Again.

“He and his friends on the council, they control our budget.” She gave a head shake. Then she added, “He could press charges for assault.”

But I didn’t think he would. We had too much history, and he had just as much to lose as I did. “He won’t press charges,” I said.

“You don’t know that,” she said. “And more importantly, the chief doesn’t know that. He wants full assurance that this is all over. That’s his deal: Apologize, and we all move on.”

“I can’t apologize,” I said. “And I won’t.”

She assessed me then. Was I really going to go there? Was I really going to dig in and not budge?

Apparently, yes.

“If you don’t apologize, I have to terminate your contract,” she said. “Chief’s orders.”

Terminate my contract.That was my choice. Apologize, and I got promoted; refuse to apologize, and I got fired.

“I won’t apologize.”

She leaned in a little closer and shook her head. “Just do it. Get it over with. Let’s move on. You’re a phenomenal firefighter. You deserve to do what you love. You need us and we need you. Don’t let this derail you.”

“I can’t,” I said. Anything else, but not that.

I held still.

She leaned back. Then she let out the long sigh of a woman who’d seen, and survived, far too much to mess around. She peered at me over her reading glasses, like,Fine.“You’re sure that’s what you want to do?”

I nodded.

She looked back down at her file and retreated into formalities. “Then as of this moment, you are terminated for gross insubordination and conduct unbecoming.”

Terminated.

Oh my God.Terminated.

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