Page 6 of Too Much Heat

“You try being stuck in this chair 24-7.”

And there it was. The quicksilver change in mood again.

“Only because you won’t leave the house. Come on, let’s get you up and we’ll go sit in the backyard. Maybe have a picnic.”

“No.”

“Sammy…please.”

“Go cook. I gotta pee anyway and I don’t want you to watch.” He had a bottle from the hospital specifically for urination that he kept on the side of the couch. Soon, she knew, he wouldn’t be able to manage that alone.

“All right.”

She got up and went to the kitchen. Like an automaton, she put the water on to boil, dumped some sauce she’d made yesterday into a pan to heat it. She took frozen meatballs from the fridge and put them into the microwave.

After that, she climbed the stairs to the second floor and felt better immediately. This was her refuge and she’d taken care to set it up. The Cape Cod’s second floor sported two sections with the staircase up the middle. Dormers gave the room character as did the high ceiling. They’d planned on having two kids, one for each side. That dream fled when Sam was diagnosed with early-onset ALS. He was only forty.

She crossed to the left. A queen size bed with peach and taupe quilt sat in the middle of the space. Dressers she’d found on the street sat on two walls. She’d stripped them and put on a natural coat so the oak shined through.

For a moment, she flopped on the bed. She’d learned to shower before she left the firehouse—the bathroom was downstairs and full of Sammy’s stuff. So all she had to do was change. She looked longingly at the other side. A rope swing sat in one dormer, a treadmill in front of the TV, a peach couch and taupe chair that she’d bought for a song beckoned.

Instead, she forced herself up, changed into shorts and a t-shirt and headed back downstairs.

This time, Sammy didn’t give her grief about taking the medication which slowed down the progression of the disease. After supper, he watched some TV then went to sleep at eight. So she only had a few hours to feed him dinner, get him settled for the night and endure the rants of a man she once loved to pieces.

Chapter 2

“Billy, you can get two things.”

The boy, Caroline’s oldest, smiled up at him. Billy was a parents’ dream: he was easy-going, mature for eight and very pleasant. “Okay, Uncle Joe.”

He handed the boy money. “Go up and order. Stay where I can see you.”

Billy beamed. Joe always treated him as an adult. Today, he’d taken the kid to Syracuse to see the Syracuse Mets play against the Rochester Redwings. A wayward thought hit him. He and Jimmy had season tickets for the team. And there was that hole in his heart again.

Billy waited in line then came back with two hotdogs and gave him change after Joe took his dog. “You okay, Uncle Joe? You look sad.”

“Nah. I’m fine.” He nodded to the food. “Didn’t you want a drink?”

“Nope. One’s for you, one’s for me.” He didn’t tell Billy he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“We gotta have something to drink, kiddo.” Joe purchased two sodas and they made their way to the nearest entrance ramp. The raucous crowd cheered for the team as they reached the rows and the sun was starkly bright.

Billy said, “Wow, this is more people than I ever saw before.”

“The Mets are trying for a three-game sweep over the Redwings. Let’s head up.” They climbed the first set of steps, found their row and slid in.

He was halfway through his perfectly cooked hot dog when more fans slid into the row in front of them. He almost choked on his wiener.

The woman looked up at him. No smile. “Hello, Captain Romano.”

“Firefighter Swanson.”

Billy held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Billy Romano.”

Her eyes widened.

“My nephew,” Joe clarified.

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