Page 19 of Backdraft
Did he miss the frenzy of ER and surgery? Maybe sometimes. The adrenaline rush, the split-second decisions required with a trauma, the patients sliding in and out of his life had all become a blur.
Except one.
He adjusted himself on the chair and cleared his throat. The familiar tightening around his heart had got much better over the last year, but it was never far behind when thoughts of his sister-in-law and niece burst into his mind.
He glanced around. No one was paying him any attention. He was just another guy sitting on another porch with a beer. He was good. No one was around.
This was the part he hated most. The hypervigilance. Always on high alert to his surroundings. Double-checking the locks on the doors, going over his reports to make sure he hadn't made a mistake. He was meticulous and never found any errors.
But it was the nightmares. They played over and over in his brain.
That's why he didn't sleep.
For the millionth time, he thought of all the if-onlys. He knew it was the PM he’d done on the victims of the fatal fire that had triggered him. The mom and her kids.
It was always the kids.
His gaze followed the fluttering of a few birds that hid in the branches of the huge tree on his front lawn. They chattered away, jumping from branch to branch, living their own lives. Maybe he should get a bird feeder. He liked seeing nature in his garden.
Taylor was content sitting here. He'd been invited out to the bar after work. Back in the day, he'd be there with bells on, but not so much anymore. He did his best to avoid social gatherings now.
A car drove down the street and pulled into the driveway across the road. A family spilled out of the family van, husband, wife, and three kids. Their laughter reached him, and Taylor smiled. The man looked at him and raised a hand after wrangling the kids. Taylor returned the gesture.
The kids ran into the house, but not before their dog escaped and zoomed around the front lawn full of happiness. The kids called the dog, who bolted back in the house in a flurry of barks and excited screams from the children. The front door shut, and the sounds of family life silenced.
Taylor pressed his lips together and drew in a deep breath. Sounds he doubted he’d ever have in his life. He lifted his beer and stared at the label.
"Ah, fuck it." He guzzled the rest, fished out another icy bottle and popped it open.
Taylor stretched out on the chair, resting his head.
He liked this street. It was more family oriented than what he'd expected though, with kids on their bikes playing on the street. There was always laughter and shouts. He liked that the street was busy. Maybe the kids were a bit too young for devices and social media. Either way, it was great to see them outside.
He lifted the bottle and took a swig, gazing at the neat, older homes. Most had been nicely renovated, as far as he could tell from the outside. The street was shady, with large lots and privacy. A perfect retreat at the end of the day. He'd snapped this place up when his agent showed him the listing. Buying it sight unseen hadn't bothered him.
The change from ER doc to medical examiner hadn't bothered him either, but it did necessitate a move. A move that Taylor refused to admit was running. Running from his failure. If he put it behind him, he could start fresh. At least that's what he continued to tell himself.
About six months after Denver, there’d been an incident that had changed his life. Well everyone’s life for that matter. The world had shut down because of the pandemic. He’d watched so many people die, colleagues, friends, family and strangers. But when it touched his family and he could do nothing about it except watch his sister-in-law struggle and ultimately lose her battle in his care. He blamed himself.
How could anyone overcome that? Her loss was devastating for him professionally and personally. He’d accepted it, through therapy, that he wasn’t to blame. But the underlying guilt never seemed to go away.
Taylor had lost his light. Confidence. He’d begun to hesitate when victims arrived in the ER. Unable to treat them, he'd stepped back, taken a leave, and made decisions.
He loved medicine, but he just couldn't do the ER anymore. It had taken one death too many, and the pandemic had made it all just too much. Once things returned to the new normal, he had to make a change.
The dead couldn't die, but he could still help them. Help the family find a sense of closure. So he became a medical examiner.
Finding the whys of the death fit with him much better than finding the ways to prevent death. In order to keep himself in the medical field, this was where he needed to be.
He hadn't made the switch lightly. It wasn't like Taylor to make a hasty decision. He'd thought about it from every angle until he was satisfied with his decision.
A bunch of boys on bikes raced past his house on the road, their shouts and laughter proof of a good time. He was grateful to see they all wore helmets.
Taylor sighed and rested back on the porch chair. Yep, this would do.
His thoughts drifted to Drea. It was an understatement to say he'd been shocked when he saw her at the scene. Her zest for life and passion had left a very distinct mark on his soul. Their time together in Denver had been the most amazing few days of his life. He thought about her every so often after their fling.
What was she doing right now? Likely not sitting on the porch like he was, probably out having a good time. Was she out partying? Possibly at Beatniks.
