Cherry (chapter 7)

***Please be sure to read the first 6 chapters or you will be lost!***

Chapter 7

It was a nice day outside, so I decided to go for a run. Just as I was getting into my rhythm, it occurred to me that everything was unusually grey for such a sunny day. Looking into the sky, I found there was a very strange cloud over me that had me stopping in my tracks to get a better look. It was perfectly stationary but seemed to blow like a flag in the wind; only it blew in all directions at the same time—as if the source of the wind was from the center of the cloud. Even more strange, this ‘cloud’ didn’t cast a shadow. Rather, it seemed to be a light source; emanating a bright, white light. As I tried to figure out what I was looking at, a voice next to me said, “That’s Momma.” Suddenly, the grey hues on everything made sense.

I looked down and Katie was once again by my side. Her sundress was no longer yellow; it was a nearly blinding white. For the first time ever, I saw Katie smile. She was heartbreakingly adorable.

I asked, “Why does your Mom appear like this instead of like you?”
Katie shrugged and said, “I don’t know what you mean. She looks to me like she always has. What does she look like to you?”
I explained what I saw and asked, “What do you think that means?”
Katie said, “I don’t know. Maybe it is just up to you to decide what it means—like the kids on the playground?”
I nodded and asked, “Did you decide what that meant?”
She said, “Yeah, I figured it out. Those were the voices of all the kids that are going to be spared—at the intersection. Some of them would have died there; others are only going to be born because their Momma or Daddy aren’t going to get hurt there.”
I asked, “Yeah? You really think so?”
Katie nodded and said, “That’s what Momma says, too.”
I responded, “Well, that certainly is a nice thought; I hope you’re right.”
She replied simply, “We are.” Then she said, “I’ll see you later, David”
I asked, “You need to go for now?”
She looked up at me and said with a smile as if I’d made a joke, “No, silly: you do!”

I woke up not more than ten seconds before my alarm clock went off. My hand smacked the beeping device, silencing it for the next 24 hours.

It was still too early to call Cherry; I knew she would still be sleeping. So I just got myself ready for the day and went in to the firehouse for the first time in what seemed like ages.

It’s funny the little things you ‘almost’ forget when you’ve been gone for a while—like the echo inside the bays where the trucks are kept or the smell of the flash gear that protects your head in a fire. I was soaking in the ambiance, glad to be back when an all too familiar voice behind me broke me out of my trance.

“Welcome back. Now get to work,” Chief said.
Turning around, I said, “Hey Chief; it’s good to be back.”
He took one look at my face and said, “You get married or something?”
I laughed and said, “No—Not yet anyway!”
He studied me for a second and said, “But you plan to. Don’t you?” The question was more of statement.
I said, “Eventually. Timing isn’t good right now—but yeah: I’m going to ask her eventually.”
“What’s her name again? Cherry?”
I confirmed with a nod and said, “Yeah; Cherry.”
He asked, “You have that talk with her yet?”
I shook my head and said, “With this girl, it won’t be necessary, Chief”
Getting really serious, he said, “David—Don’t be an idiot! You’d better tell her how hard it can be to be the wife of a fireman! Every time you are on the job and she hears a siren, she’s going to be afraid for your life and that puts a lot of strain on her—and the marriage. Few women can take that for long.”
Again I shook my head and replied, “That won’t matter, Chief.”
He said, “What: you think because you two are in love that will be enough? Trust me David, the honeymoon ends eventually. When she is constantly living in fear—not knowing what danger you might be in—that stress is going to get to her and it will end up ripping you two apart! I know because it happened to me.”

I looked at Chief a bit surprised because he never shared his personal life (as far as I knew). His advice always came in the form of what he’d seen happen to others; never to himself.

Chief said, “Yeah: that’s right—I was married before—when I was a young kid like yourself. But my wife left me because she couldn’t take the stress. Just like I’m telling you now. I got a kid that I never saw except a few times a year because my wife moved just far enough away to make sure of it. Then it’s time for college and—‘forget about it’… You want that to happen to you?”
I said, “There is no chance of that happening to me, Chief.”
“What makes you think so?” he asked.
I said, “Because: if she gets to that point, I’ll quit this line of work and find something else. And I’ll be happy to do that for her.”
He nearly choked with laughter and said, “Shit, son: you went and got your ass kicked by cupid!”
I grinned and said, “Maybe I did, Chief; maybe I did.”
Chief turned red with laughter as he walked away while saying, “Get to work, lover-boy!”

It was clear that the next few days (at a minimum) were going to be filled with jokes directed my way about my love life. And that thought didn’t bother me in the least: I knew what I had with Cherry and the jokes would be worth it. I found a few of the other guys and Brian was the first to notice me and welcome me back. They asked if I’d done anything ‘interesting’ while I was taking my time off and I kept things a bit ‘cryptic’ and said that I had kept myself busy. They smiled knowingly at me while nodding slightly and I was trying to figure out what they knew.

Garry finally said to me, “Oh, come on! We know it was you!”
“What was me?” I asked, unsure of what they could know about. The night of ‘naked capture the flag’ was all that was coming to mind and that was going to be pretty embarrassing if they found out about it.
Brian said, “In the paper! It was you, right? With the fix for the intersection?”
Shaking the night of nakedness out of my head, I said, “Oh! Yeah! Yeah, that was me.”

They teased me about taking night courses in civil engineering on the sly while trying to break into politics—generally ‘busting my balls’ to make up for lost time while I was away. After joking around for a bit, Garry switched the subject to something that had been going on at the station house.

Garry said, “There’s a guy that’s been coming around every few days looking for you.”
My brow wrinkled in puzzlement and I asked, “Looking for me? What guy?”
Brian said, “He won’t say who he is. He just keeps asking for you—showed up last Monday; asked for David.”
Garry said, “We told him you weren’t here—offered to give you a message—he just said he’d be back.”

Clueless, I just shook my head while trying to figure it out.

Brian asked, “Do you have unpaid parking tickets or something? Maybe he’s trying to serve you a summons!”
Garry offered, “Or, maybe he’s wondering why you never called him the next morning!”

Brian and Garry were busting at the gut with laughter; I just said as dry as possible, “You guys are hilarious.” Truthfully, the joke was pretty damn funny and it took all I had not to laugh with them. After a few more minutes of jokes at my expense, we all found something to do and went to work.

It was just after lunch and I was outside doing some maintenance checks on a few fire hoses when a voice came from behind me; interrupting my train of thought.

“Are you David?” he asked.
I said, “That’s me,” as I turned while standing to face the man.
He asked, “Are you David Mann?”
“That’s right; what can I do for you?” I asked. I was starting to wonder if I was about to be served to appear or arrested. But then I decided both seemed unlikely; he didn’t quite fit the part. He was a big enough guy; dressed nice, but he looked like hell—like he hadn’t slept in weeks.
He put out his hand while making his introduction, saying, “My name is Bill—Bill Phelps.”
I shook Bill’s hand and said, “Nice to meet you,” while waiting for him to get to what brought him here.
Bill was looking for the right words to explain what he wanted before he just stated talking. “The nurse said I just missed you. I was so upset that she was alone before…” his words trailed off as his eyes became glassy. “But she says she wasn’t alone: that you were with her.”
I said, “You are Katie’s Dad. I’m so sorry for your loss. I did everything I could…”
He stopped me, saying, “I know you did. Believe me: I know. I tried to find you sooner, but the nurse wouldn’t give me any information about you.”
I thought (but didn’t say) ‘she clearly gave you my name…’ I just said, “Yeah, they can’t by law, I think.”

Bill seemed to hesitate to go on but I didn’t push him to continue. I knew he was surely still grieving over the loss of his wife and daughter and perhaps just needed to talk to me to work through some of those thoughts. He was having a hard time looking me in the face and kept gazing towards the ground while shifting his weight nervously.

Finally he spoke, “You’re going to think I’m crazy; maybe I am…” He glanced at me momentarily before continuing, “She told me to come find you—that you’d be here.”
I said, “So the nurse did tell you my name and where I work? That’s ok: I actually don’t mind…”
Bill interrupted, “No; not the nurse—She wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Confused, I asked, “Who told you…?”
Bill said weakly, “Katie.”
“What?”
Bill said, “It sounds insane: I know. But my daughter has been telling me in my dreams every night to come and find you. She told me your name; that you work here.”
I was in complete disbelief and asked Bill, “What is this? Is this some kind of joke? Who are you, really?”
Bill said, “Believe me: This is no joke—It would be easier if it was! You have no idea how much I hoped that, when I showed up here the first time, the guys here would tell me they never heard of any ‘David Mann’. When they confirmed you worked here I cried all of the way home.”

My head was swimming and I felt like I needed to sit down. Bill wasn’t giving me time to process what he was telling me and continued to tell me that Katie wanted him to find me and thank me ‘in person’ on her behalf for staying with her as I had promised. He finished talking and all I could do was stare at him in silence and disbelief.

Logical explanations began to come to me. Any number of nurses or doctors at the hospital could have told him my name and where I worked. The guys here at the station could have told him about me staying with Katie—Or if he found the crew that worked the life flight, they could have told him the same thing. Then, a very logical (and probable) explanation came to mind.

I said, “I think maybe you overheard people at the hospital talking about what happened.” He shook his head and I continued, “You were overwhelmed with grief at the time and their words didn’t register to you at that time. But those words were heard; if only subconsciously. When you slept, they came out of your subconscious and that’s how you knew my name. That’s how you found me.”

Bill thought for a second and said, “No, I don’t think that’s it. I mean, it sounds good, but there is more to it than that.”
I was closing my mind to the idea and said, “That’s got to be the answer, Bill. I’m sorry: I wish it was possible, but…”
He cut me off saying, “Katie told me to tell you something if you didn’t believe me. I’m not sure I understand this, but she told me to tell you that she likes cherries? I don’t get that because her favorite flavor was always strawberry.”
I thought for a second and asked, “Do you mean Cherry—as in my girlfriend, Cherry?”
Bill said, “Maybe; I don’t know.”

I was ready to kick the ass of whoever told a stranger about my Cherry, but then Bill said, “There was one more thing she told me to tell you, but it makes no sense at all to me.”
On the verge on anger, I asked, “What’s that?”
He said, “She said to tell you that she’s glad she is alone on the playground. Does that mean anything to you?”

His question quickly became rhetorical when he saw my eyes become as glassy as his. I had told no one about the dream of Katie and me on the playground with the voices of the other kids that were not there. Only I knew what it meant (at least to Katie). A tear pooled and ran down my face and I irrationally tried to quickly wipe it away before he saw it. It was unlikely that he saw my own tear as his eyes were already flooding; he didn’t even try to hide it.

We both seemed to realize at the same time that we were two guys blubbering in front of a fire house in broad daylight and composed ourselves accordingly. After taking a deep breath, I told Bill about my dreams of Katie—specifically about the playground and what she said it meant to her. He said that he wasn’t surprised when he saw last Friday’s paper headline because Katie had told him I was working on fixing the intersection. The longer we talked, the more inescapable the implications became.

I said, “Listen…Bill… I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but can we keep this conversation between us? At least for now, anyway. This is a lot for me to process and I don’t want anyone thinking I’ve lost my mind or calling me crazy. You know?”
Bill asked, “You think I want to tell anyone about this?! I didn’t even want to talk to you about it! But she asked me to so—you know—I had to.”
I nodded in understanding and said, “Can I give you my number? If you need to talk or want to share anything that happens or have questions that I might be able to answer…”
He said, “Yeah, of course!”

Bill gave me his number also and commented that having this dialogue gave him (in a small way) part of his daughter back. Knowing that this was evidently more than just vivid dreams and that she had been able to communicate with us was not something a father could put a dollar value on. I told Bill that I would tell him any time I had a dream about Katie; no matter how insignificant it seemed to me. He appreciated the offer and said he would do the same.

We shook hands again before Bill went on his way; each of us promised to keep in touch. His number was programmed in my phone, even before I continued the maintenance on the fire hoses.

I finished my tasking and was re-stowing the gear when one of the guys asked me what Bill wanted. I told him who he was and said he only wanted to thank me for trying to help his daughter; nothing more. That explanation was apparently sufficient and the subject was never brought up again.

A few fairly uneventful days later, I got off work and found I had a package receipt in the mail. I was certainly not expecting a package, but went to pick it up all the same. In route to the post office, I called Cherry to ask her if she sent me something, but she said that she had not. The postal clerk handed me a some-what small sized box and the mystery only grew. The return address seemed a little familiar, but I didn’t give it a lot of thought. Once back at my apartment, I opened the box and was so stunned I had to call Cherry and tell her what I was looking at.

I said, “Babe! You will never guess what I just received in the mail.”
She asked, “In the package?