I’d like to think I’m careful. I don’t go into burning buildings without my equipment, I follow my training at protocol. I’m a firefighter. If I make a mistake, somebody could die. And I took all of the precautions today. How could I not, now that I have my girl waiting at home for me? She’d kill me if I don’t come back in once piece.

But today? Today I made a reckless decision. We were at this structure fire- and everything was fine. And then I heard a woman calling out from inside, and she sounded like my girl. I couldn’t stop myself, even if I’d tried. Hell, I wanted to. I don’t know what came over me I just… ran, without my equipment. I got her out and then I lost consciousness from severe smoke inhalation, and severe burns.

The moment I’m awake, I ask for her. I must be in a hospital. The station, home, they have a different smell. And the must have changed me. I’m bandaged, and on a heart monitor. I see me mom and my dad, outside my room as the doctor gives them news. The run over to hug me, Mama’s crying into my hair.

But all I can do, is ask for my woman. She’s a hairdresser downtown, ex-military. I guess they called her at work, because next thing I know she’s sobbing, still in that bleach and dye splattered apron. I try to get up and go to her, but I can’t. I’m terrified, and so is she.

I hold my arms out even though it hurts to do so, and she runs into them. I manage to pull her onto my lap, and wrap my arms around her. She lets my hair, and whispers in my ear. “If you ever have the nerve to die on duty, so help me god I will revive you just to kill you myself. Are we understood?” She whispers, wiping her nose on the back of her hand and glaring at me.

I try to laugh, but I just start to cough so I smile. “Yes Ma’am.” I rasp, and she tells me to stop talking. Mama and Dad try to get her off the bed, to get her off me, but she refuses to get up. I can see from the look in both their eyes that there’s a cat fight coming.

Dad pulls Mama away, doing his best to placate her. I hold my girl tighter even though it hurts, and she calms down a little. The tears stop, and she takes a deep breath. She smooths out her hair and her dress- one of my favourites, because we were supposed to go out to dinner- and goes to find my doctor and enquire about my care.

“My, my,” Mama says, and I know I’m not going to like what follows it. “That woman is certainly… spicy, isn’t she Macy?” She asks, turning towards me like I’ll agree with her racist opinion on my beautiful Cuban girlfriend. I purse my lips.

“No, mom. I mean, come on! Are you seriously still that mad that the love of my life isn’t white?” I ask, glaring. I don’t want her to know what my parents think of her, so I make efforts to hide it. She’s too perfect for me to allow anyone, even blood, to make her feel less than that.