Cold Feet

A firefighter is having second-thoughts about the relationship with his girlfriend.

She held the steaming mug in her hands, the heat radiated through her fingertips, causing them to tingle slightly. She gazed dreamily over the rim into his pale blue eyes.

"Thank you for the coffee, Noah. It was a pleasant surprise to get your call. Did your schedule change? Shouldn't you be at the fire station?"

Noah breathed deeply. The aroma of dark, rich coffee calmed him but not nearly enough. "How long have we been seeing each other, Marci?"

The young woman flashed a toothy grin and placed a manicured hand atop Noah's. "We've been dating for two years, two months and three days now. We were friends long before that." She took a sip of her drink, leaving a faint imprint of lipstick on the stoneware.

"I can't do this anymore," Noah looked down at the glazed donut sitting before him and began to crumble it piece by piece with nervous fingers.

"Do what, honey?" Marci was confused.

"I can't see you anymore. You're too sweet. You don't deserve this. It's so unfair to you." He began to shred a napkin, methodically placing the strips of paper side by side on the table.

Marci's brow wrinkled and her heart beat faster. "What's not fair to me? What the Hell are you talking about?"

"Marci, I love you, please believe that," Noah looked about the room at the other customers, the plant in the corner, the busboy cleaning a table, anywhere but into Marci's sad eyes. "But being married to a firefighter is no life for you. It's no life for any woman. I work long hours. I'm tired when I'm home and there's the danger aspect besides. I wouldn't want any children to grow up without a Daddy." He pushed his chair back, the screeching sound reverberated throughout the busy room. He stood; broad shoulders hunched. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Marci's eyes blazed in fury. "Don't you think I'm capable of making that decision on my own? Don't you think I should be the one to decide if I want to be a firefighter's wife and, by a remote chance, raise children on my own? You b*****d!" She grabbed Noah's wrist and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Noah, please. Don't do this. I thought we had heat."

Noah extracted himself from her grip, threw a few dollar bills onto the table and briskly walked out the door.

***

"So, how'd it go, buddy?" Fellow firefighter and friend Daniel Bailey asked as Noah slunk into the station.

Shaking his head, Noah rubbed the back of his neck. "She took it pretty badly. I guess I don't really blame her."

"Are you sure you're doing the right thing?" Daniel asked cautiously. "Marci's a good girl. Sweet. Intelligent. Awesome body. And she puts up with your crazy a*s too."

Noah's temper turned white-hot. "I'm doing it for her sake so back off, dude."

Daniel threw his hands up in submission. "Just sayin'."

The fire alarm began to sound and the men sprang into action. Jumping into heavy protective garb and climbing aboard the ladder truck, they listened to the crackling voice coming through the intercom system.

"Station 1934. Structure fire at 1375 Ranger Road. Residential structure fire at 1375 Ranger Road."

Daniel threw a concerned look at Noah.

"Holy Hell!" Noah exclaimed. "That's my house!"

The smell of thick black smoke and charred wood assaulted Noah's senses before they even reached his neighborhood. The odor was horrid. He could taste the bitter ash on his tongue.

The flames were intense. His home was fully engulfed. He could not emotionally detach himself like he had from any other fire he had ever worked. He thought of all the photographs he would lose. His Grandpa's roll-top desk. Mom's wedding ring.

Was there a chance? Maybe he could salvage something. Anything. Grabbing the thick fire-hose, he struggled through the front door, spraying water blindly in all directions. He faintly heard his colleagues' warning screams but he ignored them and trudged forward.

The back window shattered and a shard of glass cut his cheek. Blood smeared his face. The flames rose higher; higher. Orange, red, black, grey mingled and danced around his stinging eyes.

"Noah. Noah."

He stopped and shook his head. He shouldn't have rushed in by himself. He needed a partner. He knew that.

"Noah."

The voice was coming from inside the house.

Kitchen.

Turning toward the left, the firefighter's breath caught in his chest when he saw Marci; arms outstretched toward him; blonde hair singed around her pretty face.

"Noah," she cried. "Noah, I thought we had heat."

***

He awakened with a jolt. He was laying on his own couch in his own living room. No smoke. No flames. Everything was intact.

Empty beer bottles and pizza boxes littered the coffee table. Propping himself up on an elbow, Noah tried to focus on the antique wall clock. 4:22. He and Marci would be married in less than twelve hours.

"Bad dream, buddy?" His best man Daniel Bailey asked. "Don't worry, firemen get cold feet too."

Author's Note

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