Page 3 of Mister Fireman

“You don’t believe in God?” he asked, casually sliding the plate that had the birria tacos with beans and rice in my direction.

“Yeah, I just… You caught me off guard.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, separating the tacos so that we had one and a half of each. Then, he spooned some beans and rice onto my plate. I gritted my teeth as he opened my straw and shoved it into my drink.

Why is this man taking care of me?

Blinking back my tears, I swallowed hard as my nostrils flared.

“Why are you being so nice to me, when I was mean to you?” I almost whispered.

His smile was warm as he gently used my chin to tug my face, and eyes, in his direction. “Because, usually, the people who are mean are the ones who need someone to be nice to them the most.” His thumb kept a tear from sliding down my cheek. After he wiped it away, he told me, “Eat.”

With a nod, I turned my attention to the plate he’d prepared. His act of kindness made me smile with each tiny bite I took of the delicious food.

3

Dejvi (Dave-E)

Her spirit weighed me down from the moment I laid eyes on her. While I had no idea what she was suffering from, I felt led to help in any way I could. What started as a simple gesture of eating together turned into us sitting in silence after we finished our food. She’d cried, and I couldn’t just… walk away. Not until after she did.

“So…” she cleared her throat, “you’re a photographer?”

I smiled at her attempt to finally strike up a conversation. Looking over at her, I nodded. My eyes scanned her face briefly because I didn’t want to make it obvious just how attracted to her I was, but I couldn’t help it. She had pretty cocoa brown skin that it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep my hands off of. Her brows were straight and thick, hovering over slanted red eyes that had gotten slightly puffy because of her tears. My favorite part of her face was her lips—they were juicy and the same color of her skin.

“Yes, but not professionally. I’m a fireman.”

“Oh. So you just randomly take pictures of objects?”

“Kind of. I always wanted to be a photographer but didn’t want to chance a career that wouldn’t provide the financial security I want and need. When my grandmother died, I decided to start up with my photography part time. That was something she made me promise her I’d do.”

Her expression softened and dainty hand covered mine. “Sorry to hear about your grandmother. Has she been gone a while?”

With a sigh, I squeezed the back of my neck. “Since COVID started. That was probably the hardest part of the virus for me. She died of pneumonia, worsened by an infection because of her dementia, but I was unable to go to Chicago for her funeral and had to watch on Zoom.”

I saw the moment something shifted inside of her. I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d lost people to COVID, too, or dementia, but I wouldn’t press her if she didn’t want to share.

“I started with objects,” I continued, trying to pull her out of her head. “Moved on to people about a year ago. I still prefer objects, though.”

“Can I see some of your work? Do you have an online portfolio anywhere?”

Her interest softened me. Normally, women weren’t interested in hobbies unless they produced income. I never charged people for my photography services and lived off my salary and a few investments my brother Aspen and I made together. He had a tattoo shop, and I was a silent partner, plus we owned an office suites building and parking lot that brought in crazy money because it was downtown.

As I showed her my online portfolio, she gasped, smiled, and complimented me. I showed her the pictures I’d taken tonight, which led to us agreeing to ride the Ferris Wheel. She didn’t have any tickets or a wristband, so I got her one. Since things were slowing down in preparation of the carnival closing for the night, we didn’t have to wait in line too long.

We settled into our seats on the ride, and the moment the bar clamped down on our laps, her head jerked down.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Mhm.” Her head nodded rapidly as she gripped the bar. Looking away, she nibbled her bottom lip and released a long sigh. “Everything’s fine. Just fine.”

Relaxing further in my seat, I tossed my arm behind her. She relaxed against me slightly. Her eyes met mine briefly, and she gave me a soft smile.

“What’s your name?” I asked, making her chuckle.

“Enjell.” She definitely looked like an angel. “You?”

“Dejvi, but my friends call me V.”

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