Growing up was interesting. Everyone else had these incredibly sweet nothings to look at, to look forward to. Mine was nothing like that. John, my best friend from middle school, his arm read “you’ve made my life complete, and there is nothing I would trade in this world to not have you. Thank you John, I’ll always love you.” It was easy to know what that meant, it meant that he was going to live a happy life eventually, no matter what he did. When it comes down to it that’s what these scars in the shape of letters were. The last words from your true love. A prediction of your future. When it comes down to it we all want to know we’ll be happy, right?

Some people show their words off, some hide them. People believe that long sleeve shirts were invented for that purpose. I myself could care less. I like to believe that my future isn’t set in stone, or skin if you will. Each day I constantly go against what the normal individual would do, take bigger risks, fight what some call destiny, in the hopes that I may conquer. I do this because when it comes down to it what’s the point of living if you don’t feel alive?

That’s likely enough information for you to get the gist of my story and who I am. Don’t think too far into it, there’s really not much. Nowadays I spend my time in what some may call a hermetic life. Most others are in the world desperately trying to connect, connect to their one. I almost don’t want to, well no I’ve decided that I am not going to. I go to work day in and day out doing everything I can to make the most of my existence. While making the most of my existence I get paid pretty well, firemen are in short supply, people are too scared to live.

One day we got the call, it was down in a school house, a middle school, a pyro in the bathroom. The few of us hurry to get our gear on and board the truck. The sirens blair and rubber turns as we barrel towards the corner of 6th and Davis street. We pull up to what looks to be nothing too bad, even though all fires are bad. Outside the school is a large group of children and adults standing in separate different smaller groups. One teacher is flagging me down waving her arms and yelling. I jog to her.

“She’s still in there with half of her class”

“Who is?”

“Skyler Johnson”

“What’s the room number?”

“132, first floor, near the back”

With this information we set off into the school, rushing down the hallway with almost reckless abandon. Schools were the worst, the idea that children are dying keeps anyone awake into the double digits of the morning. We climb over beams and smalls fires to reach 132. The door is pinned shut and there are small childlike sounds coming from inside. Andrews drops his shoulder and puts his 230 pound frame through the door into the class. Near the center is a group of kids in a circle, in the middle is who I assume Ms. Johnson. Debris from the building had pinned her down and punctured the lower right side of her chest. Blood was seeping slowly from the wound, which was somewhat a good sign. The children were herded and taken outside by half our team. The other half, including me stayed with Skyler.

“Now Ms. Johnson what we are about to do will likely hurt, a lot.”

“Please, it’s Skyler to you”

“Alright, Skyler, we’re going to attempt to lift this beam off of you, in doing so the piece that is inside you will come out. We will have to put pressure on it and get you out extremely quickly”

“As long as the kids are safe”

“They are. On three. One, two, three.”

Steven, Matt, Gary, and I all lifted as one. Pulling the debris off of her and to the side quickly. At this point we used a towel to plug the wound and I applied as much pressure as I could. For such a situation Ms. Johnson, Skyler I mean, was extremely calm. Maybe she was trying to help keep me calm with casual conversation. Questions. Such as where are you from, what do you like to do in your free time came up. We did this little conversational dance all the way to the ambulance. As the EMT’s put her in the back I told her everything was going to be alright.

“I hope so, nonetheless, I wish I met you sooner.”

Something sounded oddly familiar about those words, something poking me in the dark reaches of my mind, a place a I hadn't visited in a while. I looked down at my arm.

Maybe you can’t fight destiny.

We had all been sitting at the table for quite a while. The dessert course had been served. Ice cream and chocolate syrup. Steven and his wife, Candice, didn’t really spend much time when it was their turn to host dinner. Siara and I when it was our turn served a brilliant steak dinner, seasoned to perfection served with an aged bourbon glaze. Suffice to say our turn actually made a positive difference in everyone’s lives.

Kyle was sitting directly across from me yammering on about some miserable story he had. His job really truly was the most agonizingly boring thing I had ever had the displeasure of hearing about. Here is a surprise, he’s an accountant. To him when Terry down the hall spilled his coffee it was something important to inform his entire, yet small, social circle about. There is a reason that circle is so small. Kyle is one of those people that ended up at events but was never truly invited, drug along by someone everyone else actually liked. This person that had brought him along was his wife Kate. Kate, just Kate, beautiful and honestly perfect, was a woman that everyone admired in many ways. Her smile was not only infectious, it was destructive. The kind that ruined lives.

The names I’ve included are the only ones that matter. There were of course others present at this ‘event’.

Siara lightly elbowed me, turned her head and gave me a look of absurd boredom. The face consisted of crossed eyes and lips pulled back in what mimicked a painful expression. Most likely this face arose in response to Kyle, the only reason I guessed this is because I felt how she was looking.

I turned my gaze tiredly back towards Kyle since he was still rambling aimlessly about an event no one in this world would find interesting. My eyes wandered to the piece of art that is Kate’s face. She was already looking at me and we shared that all too familiar moment. It was the one we shared whenever we were alone. A certain wanting and desire. My wife Siara is amazing, but what man doesn’t think two is better than one? The ruinous look I just received was the same one that repeatedly singlehandedly upended what I thought love was.

By the time we all finished our ice cream Kyle had ended his tortuous tale. This was apparently a good time for Kate to announce something. The ringing of her fork on glass twisted my innards in a vicious grip. I don’t know how but I realised something was soon to go wrong.

It took two words to ruin the evening.

“We’re Pregnant”

At this point Kyle was exasperated, whispering to himself while shaking his head.

It took approximately 5 seconds for him to connect the dots. Longer for others.

We had all heard Kyle and Kate had been ‘trying’ for months. What a weird way to put it. I guess trying sounds better than fucking in the desperate hopes a child would be produced. We all always wondered why Kyle never seemed disappointed or surprised that their constant attempts ended in vain. I myself wondered why no more as he clutched his steak knife. Never once did he look from my eyes. The only reason I noticed this fact was because I tore away from Kate’s terrified gaze.