Page 3 of Calling a Cease-Fire

But whatever. His problem wasn’t mine.

My phone rang from my purse, and I pulled it out, swiping the answer button and bringing it to my ear. “Hey.” I had just seen my co-worker Charlie before I left work. If he was calling, it was likely to check on me.

“How are you holding up?”

I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder while I shoved my sweater into my bag. “Fine.”

“Bullshit.” He blew out a breath. “You can’t brush these things off. Talking about it will help.”

I matched his frustrated exhale with one of my own. “I get that’s how you feel, and I know it works for you, but I can’t constantly rehash the worst moments of my job.” I hitched the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “I just need to figure out my own way to deal with it.”

I pushed away the memory of the call I took toward the end of my shift. The fear in the wife’s voice as she begged me to help her. To save her from her abusive husband.

But I couldn’t. Or at least, not completely. Last I heard, she was in critical condition in the hospital. Hopefully her husband would go away for a long time. That was the silver lining I was clinging to.

“I know.” Charlie sighed. “But if you don’t figure it out soon, you’re going to drown in it.”

He had become one of my closest friends since starting at the center last summer. I knew he meant well, and I agreed I needed to figure it out.

I had nothing against therapy. If I felt like I needed it, I would have no issue taking that step. But I wasn’t there yet. I just needed a healthy, consistent way of sorting and processing the tough days. Getting shit-faced just to forget wasn’t the best option, and burying it deep within my psyche wasn’t the answer either.

Lyla had done that after the traumatic accident she’d been in, and it had blown up in her face. But I couldn’t bring myself to talk about the hard calls like it was just another task at a normal job. And going to the gym, like one of my other coworkers suggested, was not my thing.

“I promise I’m working on it,” I reassured Charlie as I left the locker room and headed back into the gym. “You’ll be happy to know I volunteered to play in the PD vs FD volleyball game tonight.”

“You volunteered?” He chuckled. “Who are you and what have you done with Mia?”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Well, for one, you don’t like people. At least not in large quantities. Not to mention you were grumbling earlier today about how you let Lyla talk you into even going to watch it.”

I scanned the bleachers looking for the girls and made my way to them once I spotted them. “What can I say? I’m complex.”

He laughed. “That you are.”

“Gotta go. Game’s about to start. I’ll call you later.”

“Ok, chica. Have fun. Don’t hit anyone with the ball.”

I smiled, looking for Zack. “No promises.” The thought of bouncing the ball off his head sounded quite satisfying.

“I can’t believe Zack organized all this,” Nicole said to Izzy as I came to a stop in front of them.

I held back my eye roll. It wasn’t like organizing an event was that hard. But it was obvious Nicole had a serious crush on Zack. Frankly, I was getting a little sick of hearing her rave about him. But I would definitely come off like a shitty friend if I said that out loud, so I kept my mouth shut.

“It was his idea to honor Daniel and collect money for his family too,” Izzy added.

Glancing around, I tracked Zack as he walked across the floor and knelt in front of a crying woman. He consoled her with a gentle smile, a somber expression on his face. She nodded as he talked, like he was saying all the right things in the moment, and then he leaned forward, wrapping her in a hug.

I didn’t know how to reconcile my feelings about him. Most of the time the relentless teasing and class clown act lodged deeply under my skin, but over the last seven months I’d seen glimpses of a softer, more serious side that intrigued me. It was a shame that as soon as he opened his mouth, he ruined it.

I turned back to the girls. “Do one of you have a hair tie?”

“Of course.” Lyla dug around in her bag, producing an elastic. “Here you go.”

I took it from her and pulled my hair up into a ponytail, smoothing it back before wrapping the tie around it. Thankfully, I had flat-ironed it this morning so it wasn’t a frizzy mess. My hair was naturally straight, but I loved the feel of it when I took the time to make it sleek.

“Raven,” Zack hollered.