The New M.E. Generation











{December 3, 2008}   You Can Be My Hero 9 – Miracle on 62nd Street

I’m walked inside the station through the garage and the first thing I come face to face with is the fire truck. I think this is the first time I’ve ever been this close to one and its presence of respect and powerfulness was quite impressive.

The station was actually housed in exactly that, a house, meaning there’s no sliding pole. (Darn it!) It had the usual layout of a residence with a kitchen, rooms, living room, etc.

After the quick tour is over (five minutes or less), Al offers me a drink and I sat with him and other firefighters in the dinning table. He then asked one of them to try to contact Brian. The firefighter makes the call and leaves a message for him.

While I had my drink and waited for Brian possibly calling back, I talked to Al about being divorced, how I met Brian and not getting his number, and how embarrassed I felt doing what I had done. Oddly enough, he sat there and listened to everything I had to say.

The firefighter who tried to contact Brian receives a call on his mobile. I kept talking to Al, trying not to show my obvious anxiety waiting to learn if it was finally him.

“What’s up bro’?” said the firefighter. “Listen, there’s somebody here looking for you. (Pause). Emma. (Another pause) Emma! The one you met at the party. Want to talk to her?” He hands me over his mobile.

My mind went blank; I didn’t know what to say. “How are you?” I asked. (“Good and you?” Brian asked me.) “Hmm, nothing, hmmm,” is all could say. I was so nervous I honestly don’t remember what else I told him over the phone.

I do remember the following. “Do you want to meet at the coffee shop on 57th in about 20 minutes?” Brian asked.
“Yeah, I can do that. See you in 20 then,” I concluded.

The place is not that far away from the station, so I decided to stay there briefly before finally exiting. I’m still nursing my drink and talking to Al. I’ve been hoping for this moment and now I couldn’t bring myself to seeing him again.

The time came for me to leave and I thanked Al and the rest of the firefighters for their hospitality.

Al walked me to my car, and just before I drove away, he looked at me and, with a caring voice, simply said, “you’re a nice girl and he’s a great guy. I hope things work out for the best.”

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