Page 46 of Love Undecided
Chapter 21
Brad
I spend most of the night tossing and turning and wake up with zero motivation to do much of anything except make sure Kat is safe. Which is not easy to do when she doesn’t respond to me. I take a cup of coffee to my living room and try to decompress. Spending the night worrying about Kat did nothing to help me rest and I have to work tonight. She pisses me off when she gets like this, uncommunicative and uncooperative. It’s my job to protect her, but that’s hard to do when she won’t let me. I don’t want to text her again.
I flop on the couch and turn on SportsCenter to get caught up on what’s happening with my teams. One cup of coffee turns into a breakfast beer and I find aDie Hardmarathon while channel surfing. Fucking perfection!
I have a man-crush on John McClane, the main character in theDie Hardmovies, and I’m not afraid to admit it. I have a well-worn t-shirt that says, ‘Yippee-ki-yay, motherf**ker!’ on the front. I have all five movies on Blu-Ray. And I have a framed print of a pencil drawing of McClane crawling through the air ducts with the lighter during the “come out to the coast” scene.
Kat used to tease that she was going to get me one of those rubber bracelets with WWJMD? (What Would John McClane Do?) on it, but she never did. I can appreciate the entire franchise though, each movie has its own uniqueness and importance, evenA Good Day to Die Harddespite what everybody says. I can watch each one again and again and never tire of them.Die Hard with a Vengeanceturns into an afternoon nap, and when I wake, I’m almost late for my shift.
I pull in to the fire station, luckily only a few minutes late, race up the stairs and join the pre-shift meeting already in progress. The Chief is reviewing the schedules for the next three weeks, all of which still revolves around whether or not we are called out.
“Nice of you to join us, Matthews,” Chief says wryly.
“Sorry, Chief, lost track of time.”
I halfway listen and halfway think about how I’m going to end things with Stacy and convince Kat that she needs me back in her life, the two main things that occupy my brain of late. Plus, Stacy has been hinting that she wants to meet my dad and brother, which would take us to that next level. A level that I have no intention of going to with her.
My phone buzzes with a new text. I pull it out of my pocket to peek, hoping it’s from Kat. I’m disappointed to see that it’s from Stacy. Especially since Kat still hasn’t responded to the text I sent her last night.
Stacy: I know it’s your day off tomorrow, can I make you breakfast?
She has a string of heart emoji’s at the end of the text. I hate that my schedule is so predictable and that she knows when I’m working and when I’m off. Because she’ll just keep texting me if I don’t respond, I hit the shortcut button for an auto-response:
Me: Can’t respond right now - can I contact you later?
Stacy: Of course! Whenever you’re available is fine.
I have got to find time to end this with her. Even though I haven't had sex with her in a few weeks, the expectation is still there. And I can't have that.
The meeting concludes and I limp slightly out of the room, my body even more sore today. Ethan comes up behind me. “Were you the volunteer punching bag again?”
“It’s not like that,” I say.
“Yes, it is,” he replies, laughing.
“I worked out at the boxing gym, yes.”
“You’re moving a little gingerly, man. Want me to set you up with my masseuse?” Ethan has a masseuse that he sees regularly, both professionally and personally.
Before I have a chance to respond, we hear the familiar chimes and buzzer ring through the firehouse, spurring us all into action.
Alpha situation involving an elderly woman who can’t breathe. We classify traumas or emergency medical situations as either alpha, bravo, or charlie. With alpha being the most critical and charlie being the least critical.
Ethan and I are out the door less than thirty seconds later and in the rescue truck on the way to the residence. He gets an update from dispatch on the way. They believe the woman called 911 herself, so at least we know that she isn’t unconscious, which is good.
I always worry when we have the senior citizen calls, because it could be almost anything with them. They have a tendency toward strokes, falling, debilitating illnesses, and too many are living alone with no one to check in on them or help them throughout the day.
I get that independence is hard to give up, but at some point, they need to realize when it is time to ask for help. Then they need to allow that help to do some good.
We arrive at the home, a smaller cottage style house at the water front end of what seems to be a quiet block running perpendicular to the ocean. There is a large tree in the front yard that desperately needs trimming. The branches are far too overgrown and heavy to be that close to her roof.
I make a mental note to see if she has help, a grandson, son, male companion, or someone to trim the tree. If not, I’m coming back to do it myself. One bad wind and those branches are going through the roof. Not to mention the fire hazard they present.
I grab the medical kit and we proceed to the front door. It opens before we have a chance to knock.
There stands a small, silver haired lady with chin length hair, super short bangs, and big red glasses. She’s wearing flannel pajamas, a cotton robe that is loosely tied, and large slippers with elephant heads on the ends. Two small dogs are barking and yipping, winding themselves in and out of around her feet. She’s holding a box of tissue in one hand and the door open in the other.
