More Than He Can Handle (23 page)

“I know that, Lillian,” Freddie said calmly. “I'm going to get coffee, if you're coming let's go because the last thing that any of us need is for you to start with your dramatics.”

Lillian shook her head and followed Freddie to the elevator. “Okay, I was wrong,” she relented when they stepped on the elevator.

“Did I hear you correctly?” Freddie said sarcastically. “You're admitting that you're wrong?”

“Yes. Who am I to tell you that you can't love Cleveland? I don't have to like him, but it's your life.”

Freddie smiled at her friend. “I'm glad you came to your senses because I really thought I was going to have to kick your butt.”

Lillian hugged her friend. “How long have you been my sister? You really think I was going to let that dude come between us?”

“I'd hope not,” Freddie said as she squeezed her friend back.

Lillian sighed. “They're going to need us, now. They ribbed on Roland a lot, but they loved him.”

“How do you deal? Every day that Louis walks out that door, you don't know if he's coming back,” Freddie said as they stepped off the elevator and headed for the hospital cafeteria.

“It's a struggle. But I knew what I was getting into when I fell in love with a firefighter.”

I didn't know it was going to be like this,
Freddie thought as she and Lillian ordered enough coffee for all of the men in the lobby.
I don't want to lose Cleveland.

After getting the coffee and some cream and sugar, the women headed back to the waiting room. Cleveland, Darren and Louis were joined by more firefighters and Jill. Freddie passed the coffee cups to the men who wanted them. Then she took a seat beside Cleveland, who looked as if he was deep in thought.

“I got you some coffee,” Freddie said quietly.

Cleveland took the cup from her hands and set it on a table beside the chair where he was sitting and then he drew her into his arms. He didn't say a word, but after a while, Freddie felt warm tears seep through her blouse. She rocked back and forth, kissing Cleveland's forehead.

“I-I can't even remember the last thing I said to him,” he said. “He was doing me a favor, you know. Covering my shift for me because . . .” Cleveland's voice trailed off.

“Because you were in New Orleans looking for me,” she said quietly.

He cast his eyes upward at her but didn't reply to her statement. Freddie exhaled and closed her eyes to hide her tears. Though she wouldn't dare say it, Freddie wondered if Cleveland thought it should've been him trapped in that warehouse with people standing in the hospital mourning him. And she couldn't help but wonder if he blamed her.

Cleveland patted her thigh. “I don't regret coming to find you,” he said.

“But . . .”

“No buts,” he said. “We put our lives on the line every day, but you never want to see anyone go down.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Cleveland looked up at her, his eyes damp with unshed tears. “Just be here.”

Darren and Jill walked over to the couple and Darren looked just as emotional as his brother. Jill seemed to be supporting her husband as they stood.

“Cleveland,” she said quietly. “I'm so sorry.”

Sniffing, he weakly smiled at his sister-in-law. “Thanks, J.”

Jill stroked Darren's arm. “Remember the first time I met Roland?”

Both Darren and Cleveland chuckled, then said at the same time, “Halftime entertainment.”

Freddie furrowed her brows. “Halftime entertainment?” she questioned.

Jill smiled. “These cavemen weren't used to having a woman come over and watch the game. Roland and Louis went on and on about how women didn't know anything about football.”

“And let's not forget how you schooled him on those stats,” Darren said. “He had a newfound respect for women who actually knew what a first down was.”

Silence enveloped them as they had individual memories of Roland. “I've got to get out of here,” Cleveland said, breaking the quiet. He rose to his feet and Freddie followed his lead.

“Cleveland,” she called out as she rushed to catch up with him.

“Freddie, I need some air and I need to be alone for a minute, all right?” he said.

She stepped back and nodded. As he walked away from her, Freddie wondered if Cleveland was blaming himself or worse yet, her, for his friend's death.

That night, Cleveland crawled into bed without saying a word to Freddie. She glanced at his somber frame, not knowing what to say to him or if she should say anything. Inching closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Cleveland,” she whispered.

“Hum?”

“Are you all right?”

“Just tired,” he said as he patted her hand.

“Is that all?” Freddie probed.

“Isn't that enough?” he said as he shrugged out of her embrace. “I just need to get some sleep, all right?”

Freddie dropped her hands from his waist and turned her back to him. She couldn't be angry with him because she knew that he was going through some difficult emotions with the loss of his friend. Still, she wanted to help, to do something to make him feel a little better. Right now, she just felt as if she was in the way. When she heard the slight sound of Cleveland snoring, Freddie crept from the bed and headed downstairs. She didn't know what she should do, should she leave him alone and let him deal with this on his own?

What if he thinks this is all my fault?
Freddie opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water and nervously took a sip. It had been her insecurities and irrational dash to New Orleans that caused Cleveland to follow her and give up his shift. What if he'd been at that fire, would things have been different? Would Cleveland be dead or would he have been able to save Roland?

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself. “The man is grieving.” Setting the bottle of water on the bar, Freddie decided that she needed to be there for Cleveland in any way that he needed her, even if that meant giving him the space he needed to cope with his friend's death.

She crept back upstairs to the bedroom. Cleveland was still sleeping, seemingly unaware that Freddie had even left the bed. She gazed down at his slumbering frame and her heart swelled. She felt helpless to assist him or understand what he was going through. She pushed a stray loc from his forehead with a gentle touch so as not to wake him. Cleveland shifted in the bed, but didn't wake up. She walked over to the other side of the bed and eased back into place.

“Where did you go?” Cleveland asked as soon as her head hit the pillow.

“To get some water. I can't sleep.”

“I hope you don't think I'm trying to shut you out or that I'm being an asshole, this is just hard for me.”

Freddie inched closer to him as he turned around and faced her. “You know,” he said, “Darren and I were there when my father died. It was bring your child to work day at our school and the call that came in was supposed to be routine. It was a small house fire that turned out to be more extensive when we got there. The men in my Dad's battalion secured me and Darren on the truck and they went to do their business. Then the explosion happened.”

She stroked his cheek. “My goodness.”

“It was the worst thing that a kid could ever see. But what made it worse was waiting in the hospital for the doctors to state the obvious. Darren and I knew Dad was dead the minute he was loaded into the ambulance.” A lone tear trickled down Cleveland's cheek. “Anytime we go to a call, in the back of my mind, I'm thinking about that day.”

“Why do you keep doing it?”

“Because there have been so many lives saved because of what we do. I wish that we could save everybody. But who saves the hero?” Cleveland wrapped his arms around Freddie and held her tightly.

“No one expects you to save the world,” she whispered. “Your father and Roland died doing what they loved. I know it doesn't make it any easier.”

He shook his head. “It's never easy. You think about things you said to him or stupid little arguments that you had that didn't make any sense in the grand scheme of things.”

Freddie leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose. “People know that they are loved,” she said. “Even when you argue with them.”

“I know that, but it's still . . .” Cleveland became choked up with emotion. “Some times you say things that you want to take back and the sad thing is I can't even remember the last thing that I said to Roland.”

Freddie held him tighter. “It's going to be all right,” she whispered as she felt his warm tears on her shoulder.

It was hours before Freddie and Cleveland drifted off to sleep. But Cleveland didn't sleep soundly as he tossed and turned, waking Freddie up just as she'd drift off to sleep. Freddie wondered what was going on in his mind and what, if anything, she could do to help him through these trying times. Freddie slipped out of the bed again, heading into the bathroom to splash some water on her face. Maybe after the memorial service, Cleveland would come to terms with Roland's death and find some peace. Still, Freddie had a gnawing feeling that Cleveland blamed himself and her for Roland's death.

Morning came and Cleveland left the bed without Freddie knowing it. When she smelled coffee wafting though the air and felt the coolness of the cotton sheets where Cleveland had slept, she rose from the bed and headed down to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said as Cleveland poured coffee into a mug.

“Did I wake you?” he asked as he pulled another mug out of the cupboard. “I noticed that you didn't get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Neither did you,” she said as she crossed over to him and took the mug of java that he offered.

“Well, it was either lie in bed and keep you up or come down here and make coffee.”

Freddie dumped a few teaspoons of sugar in her coffee cup and looked up at Cleveland as he pulled down a box of bran flakes. “I can cook something, if you want,” she offered.

“That's all right,” he replied. “I'm going to eat a quick bite and head to the station to see what the plans are for Roland's memorial service.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

Cleveland clanked a bowl against the counter. “Freddie, I'm not an invalid. I don't need you babysitting me, I don't need you feeding me, and I don't need you driving me around.”

She shrank away from the counter, tears welling up in her eyes. “Look, I'm just trying to be supportive and I don't know what to do,” Freddie said, struggling to hold her emotions in check.

Cleveland closed his eyes and dropped his spoon in his bowl. “Freddie,” he said. “I'm sorry.” He crossed over to her and pulled her into his arms. “I'm not good at dealing with this. And lashing out at you is wrong.”

She pushed out of his embrace. “I understand,” she said, though she didn't.

“I'm glad you do, because I don't.”

She flashed him a weak smile. “Everyone grieves differently, but I don't want to be your whipping boy.”

“You won't be, but I need some space,” he said. “If I'm quiet, let me be. I'm not shutting you out, but I have to deal with this my way.”

Freddie nodded and fought back the urge to ask him if he was blaming her for what happened. “I'm going back to bed,” she said.

“I'll be at the station,” he said as she headed upstairs.

 

 

Cleveland drove aimlessly, not really wanting to go to the fire station. His thoughts were a muddled mess. What if he had waited a few days to go after Freddie? Would Roland still be alive? It was his shift that Roland had been called in to work. He knew the station had been facing a manpower shortage. He should've put the needs of the department ahead of his own selfish desires.

After an hour of riding up and down the Interstate, Cleveland finally headed for the station house. He wasn't surprised to see a couple of grief counselors talking to a number of the firefighters. Walking in, he headed directly for Darren's office and was surprised to see Jill and Darren embracing each other passionately. He started to back out of the office, when his brother spotted him.

“Cleveland,” Darren said as he and Jill broke off their kiss. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, man, I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Jill crossed over to Cleveland and gave him a tight sisterly hug. “How are you doing, Cleveland?” she asked.

He shrugged, wishing that people would stop asking him how he was doing. What did they expect that he was going to say?
“My friend just died, but I'm doing great?”

“You're here to talk to somebody?” Darren asked.

Cleveland frowned and shook his head. “I'm tired of talking.”

Jill looked from Cleveland to Darren. “Babe,” she said. “I'll see you at home.”

“Kiss Kayla for me,” he called as his wife walked out the door. Cleveland sat down across from his brother's desk and waited for Darren to close the door. When he turned to his brother, Darren had questions dancing in his eyes. “What's the real deal, man?”

“Meaning?”

“You're not scheduled to be here for six hours and you've never been one to hang out around the station. Is ever . . .”

“Don't finish that statement. Everything is not all right and it may never be again.”

“No, I know what you're thinking,” Darren said. “I've struggled with the same thing. Maybe I worked you all too hard and maybe I shouldn't have allowed you to go to New Orleans. But you know what, every call is a risk.”

“Yeah, but what if I had been there that night? Roland would still be here . . .”

Darren placed his hands on his desk. “No, you can't say that. That could have been any one of us. We don't have a crystal ball and we can't see into the future.”

“So, that's why you're jumping ship?”

“Here we go,” Darren said. “I knew you had an issue with me moving on. Do you think I want Kayla growing up like we did?”

“Ma did a hell of a job.”

“I'm not saying she didn't, but I miss Dad every day and I don't want her to feel that.”

Cleveland rolled his eyes, but he knew that what his brother said was true, because he'd had the same thoughts and feelings that Darren had about not having a father growing up.

“You're going to be leading this station,” Darren said. “And you're going to lose men. How are you going to deal with it?”

“Maybe I'm not cut out to lead,” Cleveland mumbled.

“What's that?” Darren asked.

“Nothing.”

Darren leaned in toward his brother. “You need to speak with a counselor.”

“Is that an order? Because I really don't feel like . . .”

“It is an order. I've even talked to a counselor. Trust me, it's going to help because no one on the outside really understands what we're going through.”

Cleveland rose from his chair, not wanting to admit that he needed to get some things off his chest so that he could process his grief.

“How's Freddie?” Darren asked.

“What?”

“Your girlfriend. Please tell me that you haven't run her away with your attitude.”

Not yet,
he thought. “She's at home.”

“That's another reason you need to talk to someone. Our women are great, but they don't understand what we're going through, no matter how much we explain it to them. That doesn't mean that we can shut them out,” Darren said wisely.

“Maybe I will talk to someone,” he said, replaying the row with Freddie in his mind. Rising to his feet, Cleveland headed for the door, then he turned to his brother. “Do you wonder what would've happened if I had been here that night?”

Darren shook his head. “No, because I don't want to think that I could've lost two men that night. Louis and I only got out of there seconds before everything went to hell. Roland was right behind us, at least I thought he was. If you had been there, there would have been nothing I could've done to stop you from going back in that building to look for him. Just as I tried to get Roland on the radio, the warehouse collapsed and the flames rose even higher.”

Cleveland closed his eyes and imagined the wooden beams falling on top of Roland. “He didn't have a chance, did he?”

Darren somberly shook his head. “We tried to save him, digging through the rubble, but then there was another collapse and . . .” His voice trailed off and his eyes watered.

Cleveland nodded and walked out the door to find a grief counselor to talk to.

 

 

It was a little after noon when Freddie pulled herself out of the bed. The silence in the house was deafening and she didn't want to be in there alone. She wondered if Lillian and Louis were going through the same thing. Cleveland was so cold to her, and his apology didn't make things better. She bounded down the stairs and headed for the kitchen, dressed in her thigh-skimming night gown. She opened the refrigerator and searched for something to eat. As she decided on a salad, grabbing a head of lettuce, an overly ripe tomato and an onion, a pair of hands snaked around her waist causing her to drop the vegetables.

“What the . . .” she said as she turned around and looked into Cleveland's smiling face. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, kissing her cheek. “This morning I was a complete ass.”

Freddie nodded but remained silent. Cleveland continued, “I can't expect you to understand what I'm going through because I haven't really given you a chance to.”

“True,” she said. “And I do want to understand. I thought that last night we'd made some headway, but this morning . . .”