“Maybe another time,” I said.
“Jaxon,” a thunderous voice called out, “My office. Now.”
Finn raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Sounds like the chief wants to speak with you,” he said, his voice grim. “Sure you won't need a drink afterward?”
I shook my head. “Nah, man. I'm good. Have fun.”
Finn gave me a sympathetic grin and slapped me on the shoulder before heading out, leaving me alone with the boss. Our chief was a big, burly old man. He'd been in charge for as long as anyone could remember. Had to be in his late fifties or early sixties, but he kept going strong. In fact, it was hard to tell how old he really was based on the shape he was in. He kept himself lean and mean and could run circles around some of the rookies we’d had come through. Tim Scott was his name, and everyone in our house lived in fear of him. No one really wanted to be called into his office – especially not after the shit day we'd just had. The last thing I wanted was to get chewed out. I had no choice though, so I stiffened my spine and walked into his office, head held high.
“Yeah, Chief?” I said.
He'd sat back behind his desk and didn't stand up when I entered. Instead, he just mumbled, “Sit. Close the door behind you too.”
I did as I was told. Sitting there, in front of the chief, waiting for him to talk, just added to the mountain of stress that'd been building up on my shoulders throughout the day. My head began throbbing and exhaustion hit me hard. I wondered if I was in trouble – and if so, for what? Everything at the house had gone according to protocol. No reason for anyone to get reamed out. A life was lost, but they were dead before we'd even gotten the call more than likely – not that it would keep me from punishing myself for not saving them or anything.
“Jaxon, I know today was tough,” Tim said, running a hand over his scruffy face. I'd never noticed how tired he looked until that moment. “I just wanted to see how you're holding up?”
I stared at my hands. Dirt thick under my nails, calluses and scars on my palms. I stared at them instead of my chief, because I knew I was the only one he'd called in after the fire. I was the only one he thought had a problem or needed his hand held. I wasn't sure what to think of that.
“I'm doing okay,” I said. “All things considered, sir.”
“We lose people sometimes, Jaxon. It happens in this line of work. It's just a fact we need to make peace with. You can't save them all, son.”
“I know,” I snarled. “I've seen it happen more times than I can count.”
“Yes, and each time, you seem to struggle with it more and more.”
I lifted my head and gazed across the desk at the older man. He'd been there a long ass time, done his time as a firefighter, just like me. He'd seen his share of death on the job – probably more than any of the guys I worked with combined. Yet, somehow, he was able to keep going strong. The man was unflappable and even death didn't seem to faze him.
I wasn't sure how it didn't eat him up sometimes, but I didn't dare ask. That wasn't the type of question you'd ask Tim. We didn't talk about our feelings. We were men. But suddenly I couldn’t keep it in any longer.
“Don't you think we should struggle with it? A woman died today. She was someone's mother, someone's grandmother. And now there's a family out there grieving, and we're supposed to shake it off and go on like it's just another day?” I snapped. “Forgive me for needing to take a minute to process it, but I think it's a good thing to be bothered after losing someone on the job. It means I'm still a fucking human being.”
Tim stared at me intently, his gray eyes softening just a touch. Once again, he ran his hand over the stubble on his face, which was a nervous habit of his when he didn't know what to say. I knew that emotions made him a bit uncomfortable.
“Jax, you know I love ya like you're my kid. I love all you guys like that,” he said. “You're not wrong, but you're taking this way too hard. You're letting things you can't control get too deep under your skin, son. I think you need to take some time off.”
“Bullshit,” I said, gripping the corners of the chair. “I'm fine.”
“You have two weeks of vacation time built up – a few sick days too,” he noted. “You never take a day off, and I think it's time.”
Clenching my jaw, I opened my mouth to speak, to start to argue with him, but Tim shut me down before I could even get started. He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine in that intense and intimidating way he had.
“This isn't a request, Jax,” he said, his voice stern. “I'm putting you on paid leave until I deem it appropriate for you to return to work.”
“Chief, I'm fine –”
“The fact that you think you're fine is part of the problem, Jax,” he said.
He pushed a card over toward me, and I picked it up. It was the number for a therapist. I put it back down on the table quickly.
“I'm not seeing a shrink.”
“You need to talk to someone, Jaxon. I know your history, I know why today was extra hard on you, and you can't keep pushing those feelings down,” he said. “Listen, I know we don't like to get all touchy-feely around here, but I've seen Carla a few times myself. She's great, and she works with firefighters, police, EMTs – first responders who've seen some shit. She knows what she's doing.”
I stared at the card like it was a coiled snake, ready to strike. I didn't dare pick it up.
“My past has nothing to do with this,” I said, thought without much conviction.
Tim shook his head. “If you're not willing to work through this, I'm afraid you may need to find another career. I'd hate to lose you – you're one of the best men we've got here – but I can't let you keep working if your head’s not in it. If you don't get yourself straight, one of these days you're either going to kill yourself or somebody else. Seeing Carla or someone like her is a condition of getting back to work. Period.”
Being a firefighter was all I'd ever wanted. It was my dream. Ever since I'd lost my mom, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. To threaten to fire me over not seeing a therapist was low. My blood boiled and it took everything in me not to fight back. I struggled with it but managed to bite back the words that threatened to come pouring out. In the end though, I knew it wouldn't do any good and would only make things worse. And deep down, I knew the chief was probably right. He was just looking out for his whole crew.
“Alright,” I said, picking up the card and slipping it into my pocket. “I'll call Carla. Can I stay on?”
Tim stared at me in earnest for a second before responding, “I think you need to at least take a week off. Two weeks would be even better, but we can talk again in a week and see where you're at. And only after you meet with Carla. Got it?”
I let out a deep sigh. There was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise. Nothing I could do to prove to him that I was fine, that my head was on straight and I'd just had a tough day. My jaw clenched tight and I gripped the arms of the chair, the anger and a cocktail of other emotions rushing through me.