Page 137 of Burn

Just when I thought we couldn’t possibly hurt anymore, the flag that represents freedom and reverence is carried through crossed ladders, and the casket caring my parent’s first born son, my hero and Jacey’s love, is loaded on the back of an apparatus and taken to the final resting ground.

Left holding a helmet, a badge, and triangle of material that showed his contribution and loyalty to a life that gave very little back, my mother cries, sobbing into my father’s chest. There’s a pain in this world that will never touch another.

Losing a child.

Slowly, a set of blue eyes find mine and tears spill over her cheeks.

I’m careful not to react in any way when Mila’s watching me. I don’t want her to see the fear in mine that someday this could be me and would she be the one left holding my helmet?

When they do the bell service, my chest shakes, but I don’t cry. Maybe I can’t anymore.

A bell service is the last alarm for a firefighter as they’re called home.

“We will now ring the bell for Firefighter Ryan,” Chief Davidson’s says, holding back his own emotions. “The bell recalls a time when the firefighter is called to service and then again to signal the alarm has ended. For our comrade, Firefighter Evan Jacob Ryan, last alarm. He is coming home.”

They ring the bell, the sound piercing the rush of sobs that follow and then recite the firefighter’s prayer.

“When I am called to duty, God, wherever flames may rage, give me strength to save a life, whatever be its age. Help me embrace a little child before it is too late, or save an older person from the horror of that fate. Enable me to be alert, and hear the weakest shout, quickly and efficiently to put the fire out. I want to fill my calling, to give the best in me, to guard my friend and neighbor, and protect his property. And if according to your will I must answer death’s call, bless with your protecting hand, my family one and all.”

Help me embrace a little child before it is too late.

Those words stand out to me. That’s exactly what Evan did.

My eyes shift to Heath, who’s now watching me. No words need to be said between us but I know now why I have the bond I do with him.

He saved me before it was too late.

WE’RE AT MY parents’ house and I’m drinking. No surprise there. In the distance, Mila’s talking to my mother. It’s the first they’ve met each other, and they suddenly seem inseparable. It gives me the first hint of a smile I’ve had in days.

“Life seems so different now that he’s gone. I feel bad when I smile because he can’t anymore,” Jacey says, holding a tissue to her bloody nose. She’s not wearing her glasses today. Said it was too hard to wipe away the tears. Hence the bloody nose. She ran into the goddamn wall. “How am I supposed to go on now? I get that I can—it’s not physically impossible—but I don’twantto and I want to know where he is, damn it.”

“He’s in a better place,” I tell her, trying to offer something when all I want to do is get away from her.

Don’t tell anybody this, but I hate blood. I don’t like the sight of it. It’s why I prefer fire over being a paramedic. Sure, I see a lot of blood every day, still doesn’t mean Ilikeit.

“You don’t know that,” she points out, sniffing and smearing the blood on her cheek. I resist the urge to gag. “He could be nowhere. Just gone, to where we don’t know. We think, we hope . . . but we really don’t know. I’m just not sure anymore. Everyone I love dies.”

I point at my chest offensively. “I’m still here.”

She pushes on my shoulders. “Protect yourself. I’m a death magnet.”

I’m not sure what to say to her because, in a way, I feel that way too.

Jacey glares at the distance, her stare unfocused. “You want to know what someone said to me?”

I shrug and lean against the wall. She’s going to tell me anyway, so I’m not sure why she asked. “Sure.”

Her stare moves to me, unaware, uninterested even. “That I looked sad and I’m taking it hard.”

“Who said that?” I ask, snorting. I’m not actually surprised by this. People say fucked up shit at funerals because they don’t know what else to say.

“Your grandma.”

My chest shakes as a laugh rolls through me. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Jacey.” Raising my drink to my lips, I take a drink before saying, “Grandma Lou has dementia. She thinks this funeral is for her cat that died fifteen years ago.”

Jacey laughs. She thinks I’m making a joke until Grandma Lou walks by and smiles tenderly at me, her hand on my shoulder. “Oh, Caleb, can you make sure you find Whiskers’s favorite mouse and place it on the casket before they bury him?”

Smiling at Grandma Lou, I side-eye Jacey when she bursts into laughter and has to excuse herself as I tell Grandma, “Sure.”

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