Chapter Eleven

Lessons and Lies

As a firefighter, there are times when you roll up to a call and you know you’re too late, that it’s spread too far and too fast to save anyone safely. You call for backup, declare it a five-alarm fire and you and your men vow to work tirelessly to put it out or at least contain it, so you can go inside and start the recovery process. But it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes the whole thing blows up in front of your face and all you can do is watch as it happens.

The strongest structures.

The building's man thought would stand the test of time.

They came crashing down and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it. The world mourned, and man learned a lesson.

Steel melts.

Concrete turns to ash.

People die.

Hearts break.

Life is too fucking short to spend it living a lie.

You would think as a man who lived through one of our country’s darkest days, I would’ve taken those lessons to heart. I would’ve realized I wasn’t invincible and told myself building a relationship on a foundation of lies was only setting myself up for disaster.

The moment I found out Christopher was Melissa’s fiancée I should’ve said something. I’m not even certain why I didn’t. It’s not like there was any cry of foul play on my behalf. I saved his life. If he had died that day, she would’ve never met him, and she wouldn’t have her boy.

I made that possible.

I gave her those years she spent loving him and while Chris gave her a son, I gave them both the chance to create him.

But what if she didn’t see it that way? What if Melissa looked at me and saw everything she lost? I didn’t want to be the salt on her open wounds. Here was this woman, sitting across from me at a diner—this beautifully broken woman and she wanted to move on with her life. She wanted to live for the future, not the past and she wanted to take those first steps with me.

I couldn’t tell her I knew her fiancée.

I couldn’t tell her because I was a selfish fuck who wanted her for myself.

Now, it’s been over a month since we had that conversation and Melissa is so deeply rooted in my soul, I can’t tell her the truth. I’m the man on the curb watching the flames crawl higher and higher, anticipating the moment the beams buckle on our relationship and I can’t help but wonder if it’ll happen sooner rather than later. Especially with her spending the holiday with Chris’ family.

I still have the letter Chris’ mother, Bea, wrote to me. She thanked me profusely for saving her son’s life and told me there was a special place in heaven for a hero like me. I wonder if she will think the same after she finds out I’ve been sleeping with her would be daughter-in-law.

“Yo, Casale,” Frankie calls, forcing me to shake the grim thoughts from my mind. “Are you going to cook the turkey or are we all going to just sit here and name the fucking thing? Maybe we can dress it up while we’re at it.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not your bitch,” I mutter, diverting my eyes to the bird resting in a pan, waiting for me to dress it or rather season it. The damn thing should’ve gone in the oven an hour ago but we had a call. Thanksgiving is notorious for the turkey frying rebels and gas leaks. Still, despite anticipating the heavy call volume, I offered to cook a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

I thought it would take my mind off the fact that Melissa was spending the day with Bea. Any moment the phone is going to ring, and the jig is going to be up. Melissa will confess she’s moving on, Bea will ask questions, my name will come up and boom, the truth will be exposed.

“Someone’s extra pissy today,” Frankie taunts. “Gabby giving you grief?”

“Nah, things are good with Gabby,” I tell him as I make my way towards the butcher block counter and the pathetic bird that will serve as dinner. Truth is, Gabby’s been amazing. Her first-quarter report card proved just how hard she’s been working at getting her diploma and I couldn’t be prouder.

Placing my hands on my hips, I stare mindlessly at the turkey before reaching for the paring knife.

“Ah, so that leaves the teacher,” he says as I take the knife to the bird, cutting one-inch slits over the breast. “I thought things were good.”

“Too good,” I mutter, grabbing a stick of butter. As I cut slices off and fill each slit, I recall the conversation I had with Frankie a couple of weeks ago. We had just gotten off a twenty-four-hour shift and were both wired. Gabby was sleeping at her friend’s house and Melissa couldn’t get a sitter for her son. With all the girls in my life otherwise occupied, I joined him at Broadway Joe’s for a few beers.

I don’t know if I had one too many or if I was desperate to tell another soul the lie I was harboring but in the middle of a game of pool, I shared my secret with Frankie.

“She’s visiting his parents,” I reveal, lifting my eyes to his. “Apparently she spends Thanksgiving with them every year.”

“And you’re afraid she’s going to find out the truth.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” I reply with a shrug. “Bea knows my name. All Melissa has to do is find the courage to tell the woman that she’s moving on and I’m toast.”

“Dude,” Frankie starts, swiping a hand over his face. Tearing my eyes away from him, I go back to seasoning the turkey. “You gotta tell her.”

“And what do I say when she asks why I waited so long?”

“Fuck if I know,” he replies. “I’m still not sure you know the fucking answer to that question. I’m no relationship expert but I know enough to know the longer you drag this shit out the worse it will be. I mean, think about it, you saved her baby daddy’s life. At the end of the lie that should be all that matters.”

“She’s going to hate that I lied.”

“It’s her right. You’re a fucking fool for keeping something so innocent under wraps,” he mutters. “Still, if she means anything to you, you got to grab your balls and tell her.”

Shoving the bird in the oven, I look over my shoulder at him.

“Of course, she means something to me. If she was just another broad, I wouldn’t be beating myself over this shit.”

“You meet the kid yet?”

Closing the oven, I straighten up and cross my arms against my chest, giving Frankie a quick shake of my head as my response.

That’s another thing. Melissa has been really careful with our relationship in regard to her son and I respect that. The boy hasn’t had a male figure in his life other than his two grandfathers and not a single memory of his father. I don’t fault her wanting to be sure the man she introduces to her son to is worthy of the honor and isn’t a lying sack of shit.

“No,” I answer. “In the very beginning, she brought up me meeting her son but said she wanted to make sure we were on solid ground. I was going to tell her to bring him to the Christmas party.”

Every year the firehouse throws a big Christmas party for the families. We cater food and rent those inflatable bounce houses. Santa Claus comes, and every child gets a present. I figured it would be the perfect setting to meet her son.

“Casale,” Gary calls as he pops his head into the kitchen. “Your phone has been going off for the last five minutes.”

“Shit,” I mutter, feeling my sweatpants for my phone.

“Man,” Gary calls, lifting an eyebrow. “If your phone was in your pocket do you really think I would be standing here telling you it hasn’t stopped ringing? What the hell is wrong with you?”

I don’t have a chance to answer him as he steps into the room and tosses my phone at me. Catching it on the fly, I turn it over and stare at the screen, noticing the six missed calls from Melissa.

“Gabs?” Frankie questions.

“Melissa,” I correct. Somberly, I rub a hand over my face.

“Well, are you going to call her back?”

Desperate to delay the end, I shake my head and pocket my phone.

“What for?” I say as I turn my back to him.

Grabbing the cleaver and a bunch of carrots, I begin to slice and dice vegetables, knowing it’s only a matter of time before Melissa does the same to my fucking heart.