Page 60 of The Firefighter's Fate

He shrugs again like it was absolutely nothing.

“I wonder what our prize will be,” he says.

We soon find out. It’s a giant panda plush toy. Connor giggles excitedly and totally unexpectantly when he takes it from the worker. He passes the panda straight onto me triumphantly.

“What the hell?” I ask him as my hands take the weight of the giant plush toy.

“This is for you, Ember.”

“I don’t want...”

“It’s a gift,” Connor says. “It’ll keep you company as you stay all alone in that leaking motel room of yours.”

I roll my eyes as the firefighter giggles again.

“Gee, thanks.”

Maybe this day won’t be as painful as I feared.

Maybe we might even enjoy ourselves.

We both get freshly squeezed lemonade and take a long walk around the fair. I’m still having to carry the giant panda along with me. It feels so soft and cuddly against my face.

“Why did you want to be a firefighter in the first place?” I ask Connor as I take a sip of the lemonade with one hand and squeeze the plush toy with the other.

“Are you interviewing me, Miss Mortensen?” the firefighter questions with a raised eyebrow. “Here? Now?”

“I got a job to do,” I say. “And we were interrupted the other day.”

“True.”

“So, tell me, Connor... what is it about being a firefighter that drew you in?”

“I like serving my community,” he replies. “Being able to serve others is a big value I place on myself. It’s very rewarding. Firefighting is a very rewarding job.”

“I guess it doesn’t pay well, though.”

“No, not really. But I’m doing something with my hands that has an important and tangible impact on people’s lives. That’s reward enough.”

“Are you worried about your job?” I ask him.

“In what way?”

“Like, being hurt and everything?”

“I’ve got my fair share of bruises and scars and burns, but they’re nothing,” Connor replies. “I like to think of myself as a tough enough guy to not let that stuff bother me too much.”

“You’re not worried about dying in the line of duty?” I ask.

Connor takes in a sharp inhale of breath. A momentary and uncharacteristic flash of worry passes his face.

“Who isn’t worried about dying? I just never think about it, and certainly when I’m not in the middle of doing a job. I do my work, and I do it well, and I do it safely. Anything else that happens to me in the process is totally out of my control. I can’t worry about it, otherwise I’ll go crazy. I’ve seen it happen to other guys, and it ain’t pretty.”

“You know, you’ve got a very Zen philosophy about life,” I remark. “It’s rare. I’ve not seen it in many of my interviewees.”

Connor laughs at that.

“I don’t subscribe to anything,” he says. “No philosophy or anything like that. I just want a simple life, that’s all. I want to serve my community. Meaning doesn’t have to be found in material things, it can be found in the simple... like when you help someone else or make a person’s day a little brighter. Sometimes that’s all you need to do to find meaning in this life. It doesn’t have to be anything deeper than that.”

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