Chapter 1

Hometown Heroes

Summer, 1997

“Emma!  If you don’t get your ass in here now, you will be seeing the belt tonight.  I told you to get in by 9pm and its 9:05 as I’m yelling at you!!” a voice boomed across the neighborhood.

I flinched as soon as I heard his voice burst through the hot summer air, knowing I was going to see the belt whether I came back right away or not.  He sounded drunk and I knew he was just waiting for someone to take his anger out on.  The routine was always the same: After each day shift in the city, he’d head to the bar with the rest of his platoon and drink until the memory of my mother was flooded out of his veins, he’d get home around 8pm and eat the dinner that my grandmother made him, which in turn would cause him to sober up enough to remember his daughter who resembled the love that left him because she couldn’t handle being a firefighter’s wife.

Wow he has remembered me a little earlier than normal tonight.

I quickly came out from the hiding spot I was stooping in while we were playing Ghosts in the Graveyard and gave away possibly my best hiding spot ever as I waved to my neighborhood friends as they peeked around from their spots.  I was skipping across the back-yards when Patrick came running up behind me and tugged on my arm.

Patrick lived down the street from me and had been my best friend since we were old enough to ride our bikes around the village.  We were both is Mrs. James’ 6^th grade class at Lake Shore Middle School and have sat next to each other since kindergarten because my last name, Kasyk, fell in line alphabetically after his.  He was always the class clown who was shorter than me.  I always made sure to rub it in his face that I was taller than him, but he’d always throw back that his last name, Kaleta, came before mine.  So, of course that fact made him more superior than me.  He wishes.

“Emma, don’t go home,” he pleaded to me.  “Come stay at my house tonight, mom said you could sleep over.”

“Patrick, you know I can’t sleep over on a week night,” I replied, annoyed because it was the same argument every night of the week.

“But it’s summer,” he whined in a high pitch voice.  “Plus, he’s drunk…”

“He’s always drunk,” I pointed out.  “I’ll be fine.  I always am.”  I didn’t have to say anymore because again my dad’s angry voice roared across the backyards.

Patrick left out a large whoosh of air and held a fist out.  I bummed it twice with mine and ran over to the back-door of my house so that I could receive my nightly belt-whipping.  My only thought was that I hoped dad had a busy day at work.  If he did have a long, tiring day, it meant I wouldn’t have to endure the pain for too long.

August, 2006

“Emma!” my battalion chief yelled down through the stairwell as I was running up the high-rise simulator with the 50ft of 2 and a ½ inch hose draped over my back and shoulder.  “Emma! Get your ass moving!  You have 45 seconds to get up here to the 5^th floor and you are only on the 3^rd!”

Shit!  I put my head down and thought only of the steps in front of me, trying to tune out the fact that my body was screaming out in pain from hiking the 80 plus pounds of hose, quickly up the stairs.  If I didn’t pass this drill, I wouldn’t be dropping my probie status.  This was my last PT test that I needed to pass and I was bound and determined to pass on the first try.

Firefighting was in my family bloodline.  My grand-pop had been a chief in the Buffalo Fire Department for 30 years.  Presently, my dad was a battalion chief and well respected throughout the department.  I needed to prove that I did not get this job because of my family name, but that I earned it and could do just as well as anyone with a dick.  Most of all, I wanted to make my dad proud of me.

“1 minute and 28 seconds, Kasyk!” Charlie yelped as he slammed his strong hand down onto my other shoulder, causing my body to finally give in and fall down in a heap as I smiled and weakly pumped my fist in the air.  “Congrats, Firefighter Kasyk, you are officially off your probationary status.”  He then leaned down and whispered, “I knew you could do it, kid.”

“Thanks Charlie,” I forced out between my gasps for air.  It had to be the hottest day of the year to be running up and down the stairs in my full turnout gear, but it was only another way to prove that I could handle the heat.

“Go get out of your gear and get a shower…you are coming out for a celebratory drink,” Charlie said as he put his arms around my shoulders and squeezed me in a sideways hug.

The older man was my godfather to me and was now my Battalion Chief at the station I was assigned to.  In fact, most of the guys in the department have known me since I was a little girl.  My dad would often bring me along to work with him after my mom left.  I basically grew up in a firehouse, so becoming a firefighter was the next logical step in my book.

My permanent home has become Station 21, on

Ohio St.

which was literally a block back from Lake Erie.  We were a fairly large station, housing an Engine, Ladder and Rescue truck.  The members were also apart of the structural collapse team for the city.  I was excited to be apart of such a diverse station.  Rescue work had always been my goal when I was accepted into the academy, so I was ready to move forward with my training so that I could begin moving up the ladder.

Before heading into PJ Ryan’s, the Irish bar that my platoon frequented, I decided that I had to call my best friend and tell him my exciting news.

“Hello?” his voice echoed into my phone with an insane amount of background noise coming along with it.

“Patrick, I am officially done my probie status!” I squealed into the phone.

“Wait?  What?  I can barely hear you!” he basically screamed into the phone.

I took a deep breath and repeated my news and waited for his reaction.

“Seriously?! Is that like a record or something?  Because that is so totally wicked, Emma!  I’m so happy for you!” he yelled as a big smile came across my face.  I could tell that he was genuinely excited for me, which made me even happier.

“Thanks, Patrick!  And no, it’s not a record, but I still feel good that I’m the first one in my class to get promoted…”

“That’s my girl!” he said brightly as I heard a big crashing noise in the background.

“Patrick? Where the fuck are you?” I asked as I pulled the phone away from my ear to rub it because I think I just incurred hearing damage.

I heard his addicting laugh as he spoke, “I’m at a party with one of my new teammates in Rochester.  Speaking of the team, are you going to be able to get out here for my first game as a pro?”

I bit my lip as I tried to think of my schedule and then answered, “I should be able to make it, as long as I can get a car to get there…”

“I’ll let mom know, she can bring you along.  You have to be there, Emma.” He said in a whiney, pleading voice that he only seemed to use on me to lay it on thick.

“Good grief Patrick, I will be there!  Just don’t use that puppy voice on me again!” I said, blowing off the fact that he always seemed to get what he wanted and that my heart was aching from missing him.  “Okay, I have to get going.  My turn to get a drink; the boys have brought me out to celebrate my promotion.”

“Alrighty.  Love you, Emmy.”

“Love you too, Patty,” I said with a smile that always came to my face when we called each other by our childhood nicknames.”

Late Summer 1997

“Patty?!  Why do I always have to play goalieeee?” my best friend whined as I threw the goalie pads at her.

“Because I am going to be the next Gretzky,” I said as I faked a slap shot at her.  “So I need to practice my shots; stop being a girl and put the pads on, Emmy.”

“I AM a girl, retard,” she snarled as she sat down on the ground and began putting on the gear.

“No you aren’t.  I don’t like girls.  You are Emmy, my best friend,” I shot back at her as I laced up my inline skates.

“You really are stupid.”

“Mom said it’s not nice to say things like that,” I turned back at her.  Emma just looked over at me and rolled her big blue eyes the way she always did when she didn’t want to fight anymore.

We were in the middle of playing some street hockey with a couple of our neighbor friends when my mom came out with tears covering her face.

“Patrick, you need to come inside now,” she said as she walked over to me.

“Mom? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Hunnie, your poppop has gone to heaven to be with your grandmother,” she said as she kept crying.

“Poppop is gone?!” I yelled loudly, causing all my friends to start slowly slinking away from our now stopped game.

I just watched in horror as my mom shook her head up and down and all I could think about was running away.  I dropped my stick and ran down the street, away from my mom who was now calling out to me.

My Pappy was one of the most special people in my life.  He taught me how to play hockey and took me fishing every weekend during the summer.  I felt like my whole world was coming to an end and I knew exactly where I needed to go.  I wanted to be alone.

I quickly climbed the rickety ladder and sat in the corner of the tree-house.  No one knew where it was, so I figured I’d be safe, but then I heard someone climbing the ladder.  I picked my head up off my knees watching as her unruly blonde curls first came into view.  Emma.

“Patty?  Are you okay?” she asked, in her scared voice, her blue eyes opened wide.

I put my head back down on my knees, wishing she would just go away.  “What do you want Emma?”

“I was scared for you…” she mumbled.  “Are you crying?”

“No,” I snapped.  “Boys don’t cry.”

“Crying is okay.  I cry when I’m not happy,” she said softly as she crawled into the tree house and sat next to me, taking up the same position I was sitting in.  She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them as I felt her staring at me.  “I felt the same way when my poppy died,” she said.

I looked over at her through my tear stained eyes and just stared at her for a moment.  She grabbed my hand and squeezed it as she looked at me with tears now streaming down from her eyes.  “I won’t tell anyone,” she said softly again.

Present Day…

Her blue eyes and blonde unruly, curly hair will always be imprinted in my mind.  She always looked like she had run through a windstorm, adding to her carefree personality.

Emma has to be the strongest person I’ve ever known.  I dreaded when our evenings would have to come to an end as her drunken dad would yell across the neighborhood, cursing and threatening her.  She would never complain about the bruises on her arms and back.  She would never complain about the mean things he would say to her.  She would always shrug her shoulders and say, “It is what it is, Patty.  It’s my fault that I remind him of my mom.”

After all the abuse she endured, I never understood how she was able to still live her life caring more about others, than herself.  She just took her father’s harsh words and stinging hits with a grain of salt.  There have only been 3 times that I’ve ever seen Emma cry out of sadness or hurt.  Two of those times were my fault. 

My mom was good friends with Emma’s grandmother, so she pretty much had it down to a science when asking if Emma could stay at our house.  I knew her grandmother didn’t approve of her son’s behavior, but the frail elderly lady was no match for Dean’s strength.  Unfortunately it just wasn’t feasible for Emma stay over all the time, even though every night I prayed that she could come live with me.

As abusive as Dean was, Emma seemed to love him that much more.  All she wanted to do was make him proud and to make him love her.  She never gave up trying to please him, no matter how much more pain it caused her, physically and emotionally.  I think Dean was always upset at the fact that he didn’t have a son.  However, Emma would have been any father’s dream girl.  She was a complete tomboy who could throw punches with the best of them and easily kicked my ass until I finally grew to be bigger and stronger than her.

No matter what problems Emma faced, she always did it with a smile on her face and had determination and optimism that I could only hope to have half of.  She has made me the man I am today and for that I will always be in debt to her.