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“Ash, it’s Mommy,” Cindy Murphy cried. “You got to turn on the news, baby. I’ll stay on the line while you do.”
“What news is on this early?” she asked. “Is it Da?”
“No, baby, there’s a fire burning.” She stopped to try to get control. “Mike’s team fought a fire this morning, they’re calling it the Ridge Fire, out by Pala Road somewhere, and there have been two fatalities, two firefighters.”
Aisling’s heart was thumping so violently in her chest that she was finding it difficult to talk.
“Did they say who died?” she cried out.
“Turn on the television. Da said to tell you we’re on our way.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Aisling cried, thinking it would not be necessary because Mike was going to be deployed, and that was where the danger would lie, not there in San Diego County, the best place to live in the country.
She hung up the phone and, while waiting for her parents to arrive, ran to the bathroom to shower first. Hopefully the alarm would be nothing and she would still go to work, get her assignments, and take care of one patient after another.
While she showered, she remembered the beautiful dinner Mike had prepared for her, and how they’d made love before he took a nap. The tears came, even though she believed he would be safe and come home to her in three days. She only had to get through three days before she saw him again.
After she had put on her makeup and dressed for the day, she remembered Ralph and led him to the back door to pee on the patio, not outside during a walk like was their routine. He knew he needed to perform for her, so he went around the side of the condo near the trash cans and peed on the gate. She waited for him and praised him, “Good Ralphie, good boy.”
There was a knock on the door, too soon to be her parents, and when she looked out the peephole, she saw Devon, white bandages on his face and neck, standing next to an unknown man. It wasn’t Mike.He’s dead, she thought. They wouldn’t come here to tell her he’d been injured. They’d have called her for that, would have had her come to the ER, and the chief would tell her the news directly.
Her phone was ringing. Now she knew it wasn’t about Mike, it was probably her sisters, or friends, or Mike’s family, but she waited, looking through the peephole, and Devon looked back at her. Finally, he nodded at her, and his face contorted, grimacing.
After unlocking the door, she opened it slowly, and she and Devon looked into each other’s eyes.
“Oh, Devon,” she cried, and they began to sob and grabbed each other.
Devon sobbed into her hair, aware of the dirt and crud he might be transferring to her, and all he could think of was how fragile she felt under his grasp, her arms so thin in his burned hands. How would she survive this trauma?
The other man, she never did get his name, but he looked on, getting out a hankie and wiping his eyes. While they stood on the porch crying, neighbors in pajamas and robes and dressed for work came out and surrounded them, holding on to each other, crying and praying. Soon, Aisling’s mother and father pulled into the driveway and joined the huddle.
The morning was foggy, and then Aisling knew it wasn’t fog. It was smoke she saw, smoke that had killed her husband. The temperature was already in the seventies; it would be a hot day, not good for firefighting. No one had said yet that he was dead. But Aisling sensed an emptiness in her chest, a knowledge that she would rather not have.
Just take it minute by minute, reason told her. Second by second if need be. There was no other way. The emptiness ebbed and flowed with each breath.
“Let’s get inside,” Cindy Murphy said, opening the door behind Aisling. Da Murphy came around and gently guided Devon and Aisling inside.
They invited the neighbors in, and some came. Quick trips to the local grocery store provided trays of fruit and veggies, cookies, and cut-up cake. This would continue throughout the week and into the weekend. Aisling wouldn’t have to take Ralph for a walk, clean her house, or provide food; it would all be taken care of by her family and neighbors.
The battalion chief, Charlie Saint, Big Mike’s younger brother, would be at the Saints’ house. Mike’s five brothers and his parents and extended family were devastated, but no one from the family would reach out to Aisling, at least not yet.
Devon sat on the couch in a fog, his arm around Aisling, who cried continuously; her eyes would be swollen shut by the evening. When the calls didn’t cease, Cindy took over Aisling’s phone and spoke with Chief George McGrew’s wife, who was calling with condolences although she had also suffered a great loss. The wives of Mike’s team called, and finally, Mrs. Saint, Roberta.
“Oh my God, oh my God, is Aisling there? Has she heard the news?”
“Yes, she’s here and she knows,” Cindy said. She walked to the hallway to get some privacy. “I think she’s in shock. I’m so sorry for you, too. I know you must be in shock.”
“Big Mike is not doing well,” Roberta cried. “I’m numb. But I wanted to reach out to Aisling, to let her know we love her. I know she’s probably too upset to talk to me.We haven’t really gotten to know her because everyone is always so busy. But my son loved her and we love her, we want to help her.” She broke down crying again. “He ignored us for her, you can understand what I’m saying though, right? She tried to stay involved with us. She was a good wife to him for the short time they were married. She’s been a wonderful daughter in law.”
Cindy didn’t know how to respond; the woman went back and forth, insulting Aisling and then praising her. But her son had just been killed. Looking over at Aisling, she tried to imagine never seeing her again, and it was unthinkable.
“I’m so sorry,” Cindy said. “I wish there was something I could say or do that would make a difference.”
“Mike, oh my God, I can’t believe it.”
Mike’s sister-in-law got on the phone, brother Joey’s wife. “This is Candy. My mother-in-law is not handling this well. Is this Aisling?”
“Candy, this is her mother. Do you want to talk to her?”
