When I was a firefighter Chapter 7 part 2 of 6

When I was a firefighter
Chapter 7 part 2 of 6

I shook Bill’s hand and said, “Nice to meet you,” while waiting for him to get to what brought him here.

Bill was looking for the right words to explain what he wanted before he just started talking. “The nurse said I just missed you. I was so upset that she was alone before…” his words trailed off as his eyes became glassy. “But she says she wasn’t alone: that you were with her.”

I said, “You are Katie’s Dad. I am so sorry for your loss. I did everything I could…”

He stopped me, saying, “I know you did. Believe me: I know. I tried to find you sooner, but the nurse would not give me any information about you.”

I thought (but did not say) ‘she clearly gave you my name…’ I just said, “Yeah, they can’t by law, I think.”

Bill seemed to hesitate to go on but I didn’t push him to continue. I knew he was surely still grieving over the loss of his wife and daughter and perhaps just needed to talk to me to work through some of those thoughts. He was having a hard time looking me in the face and kept gazing at the ground while shifting his weight nervously.

Finally, he spoke, “You’re going to think I’m crazy; maybe I am…” He glanced at me momentarily before continuing, “She told me to come to find you—that you’d be here.”

I said, “So the nurse did tell you my name and where I work? That is ok: I actually don’t mind…”

Bill interrupted, “No; not the nurse—She wouldn’t tell me anything.”

Confused, I asked, “Who told you…?”

Bill said weakly, “Katie.”

“What?”

Bill said, “It sounds insane: I know. But my daughter has been telling me in my dreams every night to come and find you. She told me your name; that you work here.”

I was in complete disbelief and asked Bill, “What is this? Is this some kind of joke? Who are you, really?”

Bill said, “Believe me: This is no joke—It would be easier if it was! You have no idea how much I hoped that, when I showed up here the first time, the guys here would tell me they never heard of any ‘David Mann.’ When they confirmed you worked here, I cried all the way home.”

My head was swimming and I felt like I needed to sit down. Bill wasn’t giving me time to process what he was telling me and continued to tell me that Katie wanted him to find me and thank me ‘in person’ on her behalf for staying with her as I had promised. He finished talking and all.
I could do was stare at him in silence and disbelief.

Logical explanations began to come to me. Any number of nurses or doctors at the hospital could have told him my name and where I worked.
The guys here at the station could have told him about me staying with Katie—Or if he found the crew that worked the life flight, they could have told him the same thing. Then, a very logical (and probable) explanation came to mind.

I said, “I think maybe you overheard people at the hospital talking about what happened.” He shook his head and I continued, “You were overwhelmed with grief at the time and their words didn’t register to you at that time. But those words were heard; if only subconsciously.
When you slept, they came out of your subconscious and that’s how you knew my name. That’s how you found me.”

Bill thought for a second and said, “No, I don’t think that’s it. I mean, it sounds good, but there is more to it than that.”

I was closing my mind to the idea and said, “That’s got to be the answer, Bill. I’m sorry: I wish it was possible, but…”

He cut me off saying, “Katie told me to tell you something if you didn’t believe me. I’m not sure I understand this, but she told me to tell you that she likes cherries. I don’t get that because her favorite flavor was always strawberry.”

I thought for a second and asked, “Do you mean Cherry—as in my girlfriend, Cherry?”

Bill said, “Maybe; I don’t know.”

I was ready to kick the ass of whoever told a stranger about my Cherry, but then Bill said, “There was one more thing she told me to tell you, but it makes no sense at all to me.”

On the verge of anger, I asked, “What’s that?”

He said, “she said to tell you that she’s glad she is alone on the playground. Does that mean anything to you?”

His question quickly became rhetorical when he saw my eyes become as glassy as his. I had told no one about the dream of Katie and me on the playground with the voices of the other kids that were not there. Only I knew what it meant (at least to Katie). A tear pooled and ran down my face and I irrationally tried to quickly wipe it away before he saw it. It was unlikely that he saw my own tear as his eyes were already flooding; he didn’t even try to hide it.

We both seemed to realize at the same time that we were two guys blubbering in front of a firehouse in broad daylight and composed ourselves accordingly. After taking a deep breath, I told Bill about my dreams of Katie—specifically about the playground and what she said it meant to her. He said that he wasn’t surprised when he saw last Friday’s paper headline because Katie had told him I was working on fixing the intersection. The longer we talked, the more inescapable the implications became.

I said, “Listen…Bill… I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but can we keep this conversation between us? At least for now, anyway.
This is a lot for me to process and I do not want anyone to think I’ve lost my mind or call me crazy. You know?”

Bill asked, “You think I want to tell anyone about this?! I didn’t even want to talk to you about it! But she asked me to so—you know—I had to.”

I nodded in understanding and said, “Can I give you my number? If you need to talk or want to share anything that happens or have questions that I might be able to answer…”

He said, “Yeah, of course!”

Bill gave me his number also and commented that having this dialogue gave him (in a small way) part of his daughter back. Knowing that this was evidently more than just vivid dreams and that she had been able to communicate with us was not something a father could put a dollar value on. I told Bill that I would tell him any time I had a dream about Katie; no matter how insignificant it seemed to me. He appreciated the offer and said he would do the same.

We shook hands again before Bill went on his way; each of us promised to keep in touch. His number was programmed in my phone, even before I continued the maintenance on the fire hoses.

I finished my tasking and was re-stowing the gear when one of the guys asked me what Bill wanted. I told him who he was and said he only wanted to thank me for trying to help his daughter; nothing more. That explanation was apparently sufficient and the subject was never brought up again.

To be continued