Page 5 of Aspen Heat
The firefighter gets up and paces in front of me. The old man is still standing in the doorway and I wish they would leave me in peace.
"Looks like you've already packed, Ms. Stone. That's a good first step." He hesitates. "Mr. Brownwick can you put thatsuitcase and work bag in the back of my truck? We'll be right out."
I make a sound that's close to a snort. As if he's getting me out of here. Good luck to him. The old man finally moves and takes my things outside. He's taking my things outside!
Rude.
"Miss Stone…"
"You're going to fix that door if it's the last thing you do."
"Melissa. Can I call you Melissa?"
He's still pacing in front of me and my eyes keep following his every movement. I don't know that I want him to call me by my first name, but I've gone back to being speechless. God, I hope I don't start to scream obscenities. It happens sometimes when I'm too worked up.
He would deserve it, though, and I decide right here and right now that I won't be upset if it happens. A car horn blasts through the silence in my cabin and my eyes dart to the window. The old man seems upset and he's making a bunch of hand gestures I can't understand from where I'm sitting.
It takes just that tiny moment as I look outside my window for it to happen. I'm scooped from my couch and thrown over a shoulder. My world is upside down and I start screaming.
"What the hell is wrong with you. Put me down right this minute."
"I'm sorry, but we've got to go."
He marches out of my cabin, with me in tow over his shoulder. I'm kicking and screaming, but he's got my legs held tightly. My fists hit his back and buttocks as hard as I can manage, but he keeps walking. After a few seconds I'm thrown inside the passenger side of his truck, knocking my head in the process.
"Ow! You're hurting me."
"It doesn't matter anymore, Mel. We need to go."
He secures my seatbelt and I know I'm red in the face. My freckles are probably popping out for all to see, and I do what I need to do. I start screaming like a banshee. The firefighter ignores me, closes the passenger door and walks around the front of the car to get inside the truck.
When he starts the engine, I start screaming harder and start pounding the console in front of me like I'm a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. When a hand squeezes my shoulder I jump up in surprise.
"Melissa, dear, it's all right. We're going to be alright."
I didn't realize it at first, but my face is wet with my tears. Shame fills me that this little old lady is handling things much better than I am. I try to get a hold of myself, but some sobbing starts happening.
"Mrs. B-brownwick, are you okay?"
"Yes, dear. This young man helped us evacuate. We'll be safe soon enough."
I start drying my tears with my shirt and a hand appears in front of me, opens the glove compartment in front of me, pulls out some tissues and hands them to me. I tear them from him and start blowing my nose noisily.
He says something under his breath that sounds like "you're welcome" and goes back to his driving. From my house we're only about forty-five minutes away from the main town and I start to do my rhythmic breathing once more.
Something I don't like is happening and I need to deal with it. I remind myself that this schmuck tore my door down and I know I'll sue the fire department because of it. I don't care if this is an emergency situation. He had no right to do that.
Would I have opened the door? That is debatable, and something I do not want to think about right this minute. The ride into town is quiet and my breathing exercise is helping meget a hold of myself. I'll be okay. I just need to remember that I've kept myself safe before.
When we approach the school, I see there are a ton of vehicles parked on the premises. I recognize a few of my neighbor's cars and feel shame that I wasn't more proactive in helping get them down here. Or get myself down here for that matter.
I let my past nightmare overwhelm me instead of taking action. I definitely need to work on that. The firefighter gets as close as he can to the entrance of the covered stadium and there are people ready to help us down and make sure we're taken care of.
Taking a few more breaths to fortify myself and face whatever is coming my way, I hesitate, and startle when my door is open abruptly.
"Let me help you down."
"I don't want your help."
