Jane leaned against the doorway and watched her son playing with his new toys. Santa had been good to him this year and now he was oblivious to the world.

“I love you, honey.”

He didn’t even hear her. The shinny red fire truck smashed into the side of the building sending building blocks and action figures flying across the room. He squealed in delight as the truck ran over a bystander and lambasted into the second building. One more building to go and the town would be in ruins.

Jane sighed and walked back to the living room. Where the hell was Flip? He was on duty last night, but he should have been home before Timmy had woken up. That jackass had promised he wouldn’t miss this one. He probably fell asleep while watching TV at the station again. She thought about calling down there, but changed her mind. He always got upset when she called there; last time they yelled at each other for a few hours before he slapper her and stormed out of the house. The whole lot of them were a bunch of lazy, racist, selfish assholes. When they weren’t on duty they were usually drinking down at Cessman’s, Blackford’s premiere strip club. Assholes.

There was a glass of wine begging Jane to drink. She usually didn’t start before noon, but today was special. Today was Christmas. Jane sat down and had a few pulls. She didn’t want to get loopy, but she needed something to calm her down a little. She just needed a little something to dull her anger.

The doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone today. Just Flip, where ever the hell he was. She opened the door and was shocked by the man standing in front of her. He was a short, older man. He looked like he had been through hell and back. The clothes he wore were stained all sorts of grimy colors. Some of the stains were years old, some looked fresh enough to be from last night. He had obviously been wearing the clothes for hours, maybe even days. He also had a stench coming off him that tore at Jane’s throat. It was a smell Jane was all to familiar with. Man sweat and smoke. Just like Flip smells after he came home from training or a fire.

“Flip ain’t here. When you find him you can tell that asshole to rot in hell.” She slammed the door in the man’s face and walked back to her glass. Another pull and a few deep breaths.

The doorbell rang again. What the hell? Couldn’t he take a hint. She jerked the door open. “Why don’t you try the station. He ain’t here and I don’t know where the hell he is. And I really don’t care anymore either. So why don’t you just…”

She looked into his eyes. He was crying. The tears had made streaks in the light film of ash that clung to his face. She could see a pain deep inside of him. She immediately dropped her emotional defenses. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before he spoke.

“Mrs. Kelly, I’m Mark Smith. I’m the chief at Station 3. Flip worked for me.”

Chief Smith. Of course. Flip was always bitching about how this guy was writing him up or making him pull the midnight shifts, which cut into his Cessman’s time. She suddenly recognized his face from the banquets at the station. He was always smiling there and he always gave off a sense of control. It was like he knew everything that was going on and what people were thinking. Not today. As he stood there he looked very fragile and lost.

“Where’s Flip?”

He spoke in a pained voice. “Last night there was a three alarm fire downtown. A few stores and a warehouse were involved.”

He wasn’t answering the question and she was getting impatient. Something was wrong and he wasn’t telling her what it was. “Where the hell is Flip?”

He stared at her and blinked a few times. When he finally spoke it was with a trained voice that held no emotion. “Mrs. Kelly, Flip died last night. He gave his life in the line of duty.” The tears dried up and his eyes were a dead wall.

Flip had done some shitty things in his life, but this took the cake. “You lying son of a bitch. Where the fuck is Flip?” Her words became more forceful as she spoke. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t come here Christmas morning and tell me my husband’s dead.” She was getting angry at the man standing there. “What type of sick joke is this?” She was screaming now. “Get the fuck off my porch you asshole!”

“I’m sorry Jane, this isn’t a joke. Flip died last night in the fire.”

She lunged at him. She hit him in the chest with everything she had. He stumbled backwards but didn’t fall. When he regained his balance she screamed and lunged again. This time he caught her and pulled her against him. She started to cry and beat at his chest with a few weak fists. Through the sobs she cried, “No! He can’t be dead. You bring me my husband. Bring me my Flip. He can’t be dead. Not today.”

The Captin held her for a few minutes while she wept. When she was finished the smell from his clothes hit her again and she pushed back away from him.

“What happened?”

“It was a heart attack. They were venting the warehouse roof and it collapsed. They fell and Flip had a heart attack. Johnson and MacJanis were with him. They were able to pull him out, but they didn’t realize what had happened until they got him outside. The medics tried to bring him back, but by then he was too long gone.”

Everything was happening too fast for Jane. Three minutes ago she hated her husband and wished he was dead. Now she was a widow. Her head was spinning and it felt like every moment brought a new emotion. She began to feel numb from the emotional assult.

“So what happens now?”

“His body is at the morgue. You’ll have to go down and ID it sometime in the next few days. Is there anyone you can stay with the next couple of days? Maybe a sister or good friend?”

“Yeah. I’ll call my brother. He’s lives across town. He can come over today.”

“I can stay here and wait for him. If you want, that is.”

Jane wasn’t there anymore. It was like she was floating above the two of them, watching but not really participating in the conversation.

“Yeah. Thanks. No, wait. Thanks, but I don’t want you here. I don’t mean it like that… I mean, I’ve got stuff to do and I don’t want you here. No, I mean…”

“It’s OK. I understand. I’m really sorry this happened. And on Christmas. If you need any help with anything just call down to the station and anyone there will be more than willing to give you a hand with anything. Or you can ask for me and I’ll do whatever needs to be done. I’m really sorry for this.” He began to silently weep again, which caused her to cry some more.

After a few seconds she raised her chin and looked him in the eyes again. She made a weak smile, then turned and went back into the house. She needed to call her brother, then figure out how to tell little Timmy that his father wasn’t coming home anymore.