Cheryl Tardif - Submerged

“What?”

“You broke Titanic’s dispatch record,” Rudy called out from across the room.

Rudolf Eisenhauer was a skinny man in his early forties. He’d moved from Germany to Canada about twenty years ago with his parents. All Marcus really knew about the man was that he had an IQ so high that no one could figure out why he hadn’t been gobbled up by Microsoft or Donald Trump. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he rarely spoke unless asked something.

Marcus frowned. “I broke Shipley’s record?”

Rudy nodded.

“What was Shipley’s time?”

“Forty-eight seconds,” Leo interjected. “From the beginning of the 911 call to the time Fire picked up his dispatch.”

Shipley poked his head out of his office. “What’s going on?”

Leo beamed him a smile. “Marcus broke your record.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Forty-six seconds,” Leo said. “He shaved two seconds off your record.”

Shipley lumbered toward them, his face set in stone and his eyes trained on Marcus. “Is this right?”

Marcus shrugged. “I guess. I wasn’t really looking at the clock.”

“No,” Leo said. “But I was.”

Shipley didn’t crack a smile. “Any casualties?”

“Not sure,” Marcus said.

“Don’t celebrate until you do know.”

Shipley turned on one heel and was swallowed up by his office, the door closing behind him.

“Forget about him,” Leo said.

“It’s hard to forget about someone who’s on a collision course with me.” Marcus stood and stretched. “I need a coffee. Want one?”

Leo nodded.

In the break room, Marcus rinsed his mug. He filled it with fresh coffee and added extra cream and sugar. Leo took his coffee black. The thicker the sludge, the better.

He returned to the cubicles as Leo was taking a call.

“Heart attack,” Leo mouthed, grabbing the mug from Marcus’s hand. He took a gulp, wiped his mouth and said, “Sir, can I have your name please?”

Marcus returned to his desk.

The hours passed quickly. That’s how it usually went when business was booming. And the night definitely boomed. Five hours into his shift, there were already two car accidents, one heart attack that ended up being a case of bad gas, two domestic disputes and the house fire.

“Good God,” Leo said, groaning. “What a night. Is there a full moon out?”

“That’s what sucks about this job. We either sit here for hours twiddling our thumbs, thankful that no one was hurt―”

“Or we’re bombarded by emergencies and don’t have time to twiddle anything.”

Marcus nodded. “That about sums it up.”

“You know, you’re starting to look like Grizzly Adams. You ever gonna shave?”

Marcus stroked his bristly chin. “Why should I bother?”

“You ain’t gonna catch a lady looking like that,” Leo said, eyes narrowing. “You look like you’ve got something to hide.”

“Maybe I do.”

Leo stood up and hiked his jeans over his bulging stomach. “It’s time to stop hiding, Marcus. Get out. Go on a date.”

“A date. With who?”

“I’d date you,” Carol called out. “Except my partner might be pissed.”

“Gee, thanks, Carol.” Marcus turned back to Leo. “You could at least wait until we’re out of the office before talking about my personal life.”

“What personal life?”

Leo was right. Ever since Jane’s and Ryan’s deaths, he spent his time either at work or at home wishing he was at work. He’d tried dating a half-dozen times. Some were even nice women. But none of them were Jane.

“Sorry, man. I know it’s tough on you. I hate seeing you so… alone.”

“Maybe I like being alone, Leo.” He knew it was a lie as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“Listen, here’s an idea…”

Uh-oh. Whenever Leo had an idea, it usually ended up with Marcus passed out on a floor somewhere. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it usually meant trouble. With a capital T .

“I’m not going bar hopping with you, Leo.”

“That’s not what I had in mind.” Pause. “However…”

“No strip club either.”

Leo scowled. “You’re no fun. But that wasn’t my idea.” His eyes gleamed. “We could set you up on one of those matchmaking sites. The online kind. You know, like that one they advertise on TV.”

“I’m not that desperate.”

One of Leo’s brows arched.

“Okay, maybe I am that desperate.” Marcus shrugged. “It’s not my thing.”

“So what is?”

“I don’t know. Something more… normal. You know, you meet someone at a bookstore or a coffee shop and start up a conversation.”

Leo snorted. “When’s the last time you went to a bookstore? Or a Starbucks for that matter? You don’t go anywhere.”

Thankfully the phone rang and Marcus was saved further humiliation. If there were a Starbucks in Edson, he didn’t know where the place was located. And the fact that he hadn’t been inside a bookstore in months would’ve proven Leo right. He didn’t get out enough.

While Leo took the call, Marcus stared up at the suspended ceiling tiles. He probably should make an effort to have a life. It was getting more and more difficult to recall the softness of Jane’s skin and the musical tone of her voice. Or her laugh. And Ryan? Sometimes Marcus thought of him as a young child, sometimes as a teen.

The fact was, Jane and Ryan were disappearing from his life. What would he do when they were gone completely? Sure, he’d always remember them, always love them. He’d never forget his wife and son. But that didn’t mean he had to stay in limbo. He just wasn’t sure how to get out.

Getting out meant altering his life in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine. Change meant risk. Risk meant possible failure. He was deathly afraid of failure. It could send him crashing back to rock bottom. He had to prevent that at all cost.

I feel so goddamned trapped.

That feeling lingered with him for the rest of his shift.

After his shift, he drove home, walked Arizona and wolfed down a roast beef sandwich with horseradish mayonnaise. Then he walked Arizona again and polished off Andrew Gross’s latest thriller. Finally, he climbed into bed and tried to sleep.

He kept thinking about the wooden box with the medical insignia on it. The one with the hypodermic needle inside and a small vial of clear liquid. Why the hell had he kept them?

Fight it, Marcus.

He focused on his breath. In… out… in… out.

“Daddy…”

Ryan stood at the foot of his bed.

Marcus swallowed. “Don’t leave me.”

“Daddy?” Ryan held out a small hand, but as Marcus reached for it, his son began to fade. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love—”

But Ryan was already gone.

Marcus got up, walked Arizona for the third time that evening, then settled on the couch for a long night of television.

“Insomnia’s a bitch,” he muttered. He glanced at Arizona, who was already half asleep. “But what do you know about it, you lucky dog?”

Friday morning, Rebecca dropped the kids off at school. They were hyped up on thoughts of their trip to Auntie Kelly’s and already fighting over what they’d be doing. All Colton wanted to do was go swimming in the pool, while Ella wanted to pick wildflowers and play with the “Trips,” as everyone called the triplets.

Rebecca let out a happy sigh. “Vacation, here I come!”

She’d taken the day off to get ready for the trip. She planned to drop the kids off at Kelly and Steve’s after dinner and pick them up Monday afternoon. Then she’d have three nights in a B&B in Cadomin and two full days of relaxation.