Fireproof

"What's on your mind, Amanda?"

A corner of her mouth turned up, and a small smile appeared. "I think Ben has a thing for my legs. He'd buy me expensive hosiery and when we'd go out, he expected me to wear what he purchased. I hate to wear stockings and Ben knows that. He buys the best pantyhose in the store. I haven't worn pantyhose in years. He quit buying me hosiery last spring."

"And then the banquet came, and you had to step up to the plate."

"Ben saved a couple of kids from a fire and the state of Kansas gave him an award. I had to go with him. He was so excited about the night. I knew what Ben would expect after the banquet. We hadn't had sex for months."

"Amanda, I want to share what Ben told me about that night. He said he didn't mind you knowing."

"What did he say?"

"All he wanted to do that night was undress his beautiful, sexy wife and make love to her."

Amanda palmed her swollen red eyes. "I know; and I turned him down."

Mrs. Frederick leaned back and looked at Amanda with disdain.

Amanda wrung her hands while tears rolled down her face. "I pushed my husband into the arms of another woman. My life went to hell. I was alone, and I wanted it to all go away. I grabbed the first full bottle of pills I could find, and drove to the park. I swallowed them all.

"I didn't want to die. I just wanted the pain to go away. Hal's going to rape me again. I know he is. I lost my husband. My marriage is gone. Mrs. Frederick, there's nothing holding me together anymore—"

Amanda was bawling. The kind of deep-throated bawl that Mrs. Frederick hadn't heard since those grade school fights she got into. Mrs. Frederick wrapped her arms around Amanda and tightened her hug. Through spit and hiccups Amanda blurted out, "I can't get him out of my head!"

Mrs. Frederick held Amanda tight. "My god child, why didn't you get help? Amanda, just because you married a firefighter doesn't make you fireproof. You're not alone. It wasn't your fault. Hal isn't watching you."

Amanda's tears fell onto Mrs. Frederick's dress. Amanda dropped her arms and folded her hands.

"Taking your life isn't the answer, Amanda."

"Then what is the answer?

Mrs. Frederick stood. "Rachel."

"Rachel?" Amanda asked.

Mrs. Frederick walked to her desk and pressed the intercom button. "Shelly, has Rachel come in yet?"

"She's due any minute." The speaker cracked out.

"When she comes in, have her go to Amanda Meir's room."

"Will do."

"Who's Rachel?" Amanda asked.

"Rachel is part of my staff. She's a bit older than you, and like you she's a rape survivor. She's aggressive and to the point. She'll yell at you and you'll scream back. You'll laugh together and you'll cry together. But in the end, you'll come away knowing how to deal with what happened to you."

"Mrs. Frederick," the intercom speaker called out. "Rachel just arrived and is heading to Amanda's room."

"Amanda, I don't believe in using drugs. I think the best way to deal with a problem it to grab it and shake the shit out of it. Throw it against the wall and see if it sticks. And if it does, then you beat it and shake it some more until you have that problem under control. Rachel will help you if you let her."

"I will. I can't wait until I see Ben and tell him."

"That will have to wait."

"What do you mean? I wanna see Ben."

"Not for several more days."

"What! You never told me that?"

"Rachel's therapy is intensive. We can't have you interacting with Ben until you can deal with your issues."

"But "

"That's how it works."

"Will you tell him I love him? Promise me you'll tell him; soon?"

"I promise. I'll call within the hour. Rachel is in your room by now, and you'd best not keep her waiting. We'll talk and I'll check in on you later today."

Amanda opened the door and stepped out into her fate.

Mrs. Frederick returned to her desk and pushed the intercom button. "Shelly, please call Amanda's daughter. When you get her, transfer the call here."

Mrs. Frederick smoothed the back of her dress, and slipped into her red leather chair. She drummed her fingers on the desktop. "Whomever you are, Hal, I'm going to get you. You already ruined two lives. I wonder how many more—" The ring of the phone broke the silence. "Hello, Sharon Meir, I'm Mrs. Frederick and you don't know me. I've been working with your Mom and Dad and I'd like you to do me a little favor—"

*****

The showerhead dripped while Amanda reached for a towel. She dried herself off, wrapped the towel around her body, and sat in front of the vanity mirror. She stared at her reflection. It's been a month since she was admitted into the clinic and it's been longer since she lay with Ben. Take it slow. That's what Mrs. Frederick would say.

The sound of a blow dryer cut through the stillness of the room. Soon, her hair was dry and she pulled a small white hairbrush through it. She looked down and noticed how her hair flowed over her bare breasts. She smiled. "Just like Ben would do it."

Amanda opened her jewelry case, and slipped her wedding rings on. She looked down into the rosewood box, and noticed Ben's wedding ring. She recalled how he threw it at her the night she tossed him out.

Amanda left the bathroom and stood in front of the dresser. Sharon replaced all her clothing. She picked up a pair of panties and held them in front of her body. They were cut high and exposed more skin than she was used to. "Damn, not much there for a forty-five-year-old mom." Amanda slipped them up her legs and adjusted them.

She dressed for Ben. After all, the ground was covered in snow and plastic reindeers adorned the neighbor's lawns the last time she and Ben were together in an intimate way. Amanda longed for his touch.

She pulled open another drawer, and selected a new package of hose that lay in the bottom. With toes pointed, she inched the silky nylon over her delicate toes and up her legs. She let the waistband snap slightly. She stood and admired her figure in the mirror. She moved hands over her thighs. "It's been a long time since I wore these."

Amanda finished dressing, a pair of dark indigo blue jeans, a white shirt and she was ready. She moved down the staircase with its darkly stained mahogany trim with a pair of heels tucked under her arm. Her toes sank deep into the ivory-colored carpet as she walked to the living room. She sat and stared at the home she once shared with Ben. The curio cabinets that held pretty things that held no meaning. The chandelier she rarely noticed hung above the foyer. There was the piano that no one could play. She sat, all alone, looking at things.

A large cherry grandfather clock stood guard at the opposite end of the room. Its pendulum swung through its arc. Ticking off the seconds with its stubborn, relentless swings and filled the house with a sense of loneliness. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Amanda sat mesmerized as she watched the old grandfather clock count down the seconds of her life. She shook her head and looked around. Their home had become a collection of "things' and somehow it became a house no longer a home. A depository of things she no longer wanted. She dug her toes into the carpet.

Amanda sat in the expansive living room, all alone. Her mind drifted back to the good times. She smiled as she recalled their first apartment. How Ben kept a beer cap under one leg of the kitchen table to keep it from wobbling. The two slice toaster that only toasted one slice at a time. The first meal she cooked was so bad, the neighbor's dog got sick when he raided the garbage can. Between the layoffs and transfers they scrounged enough loose change to take the twins for an ice cream cone.

Amanda felt tears burning in her eyes. She recalled the time Ben was happy someone at the station gave him an old air conditioner for the bedroom. He worked so hard to get it to work. It got so blasted hot in the apartment; Ben moved the twins and their bed into the main bedroom. After his shift, and if there was a few dollars left over from his paycheck, he'd stop and bring home tacos from Taco Bell. A tear slid down Amanda's cheek. She remembered lying on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of hose simply because Ben liked to see her like that after a twenty-four hour shift. Eating tacos with Ben while they watched the "Tonight show with Johnny Carson.' Another tear rolled from her cheek.

"Hold it together." She said. She picked up the phone and called a taxi. She slipped her heels on and walked to the door and the fate that lay beyond a fate that she controlled.

******

The eleven p.m. newscast just started. The sound of the microwave's beep broke the silence and signaled dinner was ready. It was another frozen dinner on another lonely Friday night. The doorbell buzzed. "What the?"

Ben set his plastic fork down. "I'm coming," he called out. Ben opened the door and there stood Amanda.

"Hi, Ben."

"Amanda? This is a surprise. I wasn't expecting you."

"Are you going to ask me in or shall I stand out here on the porch step?"

He pushed the door open. "Oh, sorry, sure come in."

It was the first time Amanda had been in his place, and she looked around as she took a few tentative steps into the tiny apartment.

"You weren't kidding, this is small."

"It's like living in milk carton."

Amanda took her jacket off and handed it to Ben. "I should have called in case you had ah, umm, a friend over."

Ben pulled out a chair for Amanda, and he could see that she wore some makeup. He tried not to stare.

You're looking good, Amanda. I'm glad to see the sweat pants are gone."

A smile fought its way out and for a few seconds it brightened her face.

"Sharon and her friends absconded with all my clothing. Sharon said I needed to get with the times, so they went shopping." Amanda placed her arms on her waist. "Skinny jeans and heels! I'm a real fashionista. Ta-da!"

Amanda sank into the chair; as quickly as it came, the smile evaporated and dark clouds surrounded her. She fussed with the fork. "I'm having a rough night. Sharon's gone this weekend. I have that huge house to myself and I was wondering if perhaps. You know, maybe?"

Ben looked at Amanda's hand. "You're wearing your wedding ring again."

Amanda's mind fogged. She promised she'd make the first reconciliation effort and tonight seemed to be as good as any. Amanda lowered her eyes. "I'd like to stay here tonight. May I? I miss you. Please?"

Ben sat quietly, gathering his thoughts. His fingers reached across the tiny wooden table, it wobbled slightly, and brushed over the back of her hand. "You can stay if want to, but what if it leads to more? Could you handle that?"

Amanda shrugged her right shoulder. The corner of her mouth curled up. "I could." Amanda said. "I left in a hurry and took a cab. I had to leave. I'm tired, Ben. I'm so tired."

"Well then we should turn in." Ben looked at the plastic tray containing his dinner. "I couldn't choke another one of those down anyway."

Amanda squeezed his fingers and then looked around. "Where's the bedroom?"

"One bedroom coming up." Ben tossed the sofa pillows onto the floor. He reached inside and pulled a handle. Out popped a bed complete with blankets and sheets. "Here we go, instant bedroom."

Amanda giggled and Ben smiled. It'd been too long since he saw any happiness in her.

"You can use one of my shirts to sleep in. There's some in the bathroom." He pointed toward a microscopically short hallway. "You can change in there."

She sat on the edge of the makeshift bed. "Lumpy, isn't it?" Then she bounced a few times. "Squeaks, too."

"Springs are shot as well. By morning you'll roll into the middle," Ben said.

Amanda opened her purse, and searched the interior. She pulled out a small white hairbrush and handed it to Ben. "I always brush my hair before bed. Would you like to do it tonight?"

"You're serious?"

"You used to enjoy it; or don't you anymore?

"I always have, you know that." Ben slipped the brush into her locks when Amanda reached out and stopped him.

"What's wrong?"

"That's not the way you like it." Amanda placed Ben's fingers on her shirt. "If I remember, shirt and bra come off first."

Ben reached over and placed a handful of her hair over her left shoulder. His fingers ran through the strands. "I've always liked it when you wore your hair down."

"At one time, you told me that my hair was as golden—"

"As golden as a Kansas wheat field; your eyes as blue as a Kansas summer sky."

"You remembered?"

"Amanda, I never forgot."

Ben pulled the brush through her hair when Amanda again stopped him.

"What about my shirt? Bra?"

Amanda put Ben's hand on the row of buttons. "It would be nice if you were to take "em off."

Ben's fingers worked on Amanda's shirt, and he placed it on the side of the bed. His hands moved across her back, so warm and soft, and he released her bra. Ben slipped the straps from her shoulders and down her arms until it lay on her lap.

Amanda closed her eyes while Ben's hands moved through her hair. He picked up a handful, fanned it across her bare breasts, and then he'd brush it back over her shoulder and down her back.

"You're quiet tonight."

"It was a rough forty-eight hour shift. There was a hell of a wreck on the interstate. Semi-truck versus minivan the minivan lost. It was bad—"

Amanda removed her shoes and unzipped her jeans without saying a word. She slipped them off. "Would you like me to keep my hose on? It's been a awfully long time since I wore "

"Just take 'em off."

Disappointed, Amanda slipped her pantyhose off and draped them across the back of a kitchen chair. She walked over to Ben in just her panties and put her arms around his waist. "Get undressed and let's go to bed. I think we're both tired."

Ben took his clothing off, and joined Amanda on the foldout bed. The springs squeaked when either one moved. "Reminds me of our first apartment," Amanda said as she reached for the light on the end table.

Ben's fingers moved through Amanda's hair, and he relished the softness. Ben spooned her. "If you want me, I won't push you away."

Ben cupped a breast. "C. S. Lewis wrote, "You stand taller when you bow.'"

"When did you start reading Lewis?"

Ben's hand slowly slipped from her breast and moved down her tummy. His palm rested on the front of her panties and gently brushed across them.

"This is nice," Amanda said as she snuggled against his chest.

Ben never spoke and soon his fingertips wiggled inside a leg hole, and grazed her bush. His fingers moved through her short curly hairs feeling her heat.

"Feels good," Amanda sighed. "If you want me, I won't push you away."

Ben's finger dipped into her moist sex where he lingered for a few minutes. Ben slowly withdrew his hand and palmed her breast. His wet fingers moved across a rosy nipple.

"Sometimes, knowing you're here with me is more important than making love with you."

Amanda squeezed Ben's hand that held her breast. "I'm here. Anyone hurt in the wreck?"

The bed squeaked. "Three kids and their mother. It was bad. Signal 30."

Ben sucked in a deep breath. He placed a handful of Amanda's hair over her breast. Married to a firefighter all these years, she knew what signal 30 meant; they were dead at the scene. Amanda sought out his hand and placed it on her chest. She felt his strong arms squeeze her tight. She looped a handful of hair over her ear and allowed it to fall onto Ben's hand. "It's okay. I'm here." She felt Ben's body tremble, and his grip tightened. "I'm here, Ben. I'm here—"

Ben's hands held her tight such strong, powerful hands. The hands that saved so many people from the flames. Hands that carried a child from an inferno and had the strength to wrench mangled car doors open, yet so needy they longed for the softest of things.

Amanda's feet slipped onto the floor, and she sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes. She recalled all the good times they had when they were young. Why, she thought, can't we still have those times again?

Nightlights stabbed the darkness surrounding them. Amanda stood and the bluish-white light threw her sharp, distinct shadows onto the antique-white walls.

"Where you're going?"

"Right here." Amanda sat on a dining room chair and wriggled out of her panties, placing them over the chair back. In the silence of the shadowy room she slowly slipped on the hose. She returned to the bed, and nestled beside Ben and pressed her breasts into his chest.

Ben's hand dropped to her thigh. "I said you didn't need to wear these, especially to bed."

Amanda draped her hair softly across Ben's bare chest. "I want to," Amanda said. She pulled him close, and pressed her lips to his. "I'm sorry, Ben. Can't we start again? I don't want that house filled with meaningless things. I want you and me. Please, can't we start over again?"

Ben's fingertip moved across her forehead then down her cheek looping some stray hairs behind her ear.

"I don't know."

Ben caressed her shoulder and arm. He held Amanda closer, tighter, and more secure. It felt so good to be close to him, his cologne filled her senses, and his arms held her so tight.

"You hungry?"

"You said you couldn't handle another frozen dinner."

"I can't. I was thinking— Are you up for tacos?"

Amanda rested her head in her hand. "From Taco Bell?"

"Drive thru should be open. If we hurry, we can catch the last half of Leno."

Before Ben could move, Amanda pulled on her jeans, slipped on her shoes, and was frantically buttoning her shirt.

Amanda waited by the door while Ben got dressed. Just as Ben turned the doorknob, he caressed Amanda's back.

"When we get back," Ben began, "we'll talk. Okay?"

Amanda could hear the smile in his voice. She was dripping inside her jeans, the moisture pooled in the crotch. She cupped Ben's face in her hands and the stubble tickled her fingers.

"I'd like that. Maybe we could do more than talk?"

******

Nick tapped on Ben's office door. "Got a minute Captain?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"Did you see the list of new rookies?" Nick handed Ben a printout. "Chad DuVal came in fourth in his class. Isn't that your daughter's boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Fourth, huh? That's not so great. Thought he'd do better."

"If I remember correctly, you graduated in the lower third of your class."

Ben tossed the paper onto the desk. "The test was harder then. They eased up." He smiled back at Nick.

Nick picked the sheet up and glanced over it. "Bullshit! He's going to be fine firefighter, just like Sharon's dad. Say, we're having party at the Firehouse Grill this weekend. How about stopping in? Bring Amanda along, too. All the new guys will be celebrating there. It'll be a dressy affair."

"Naw." Ben leaned back on this chair, and pushed away from his desk. He stared out the window.

Nick pulled out a chair. "How are you and Amanda getting along?"

"We're doing better. A week ago, she spent the night at the apartment." Ben smiled at Nick. "It was a good evening. I didn't want sex that night. I didn't feel either of us was ready. But damn, it sure was tempting. She looked good. She wants to give our marriage another try. We see each other, talk on the phone and stuff like that. I've noticed subtle changes. Sometimes I think about asking her to move in with me into that cracker-box apartment. If we don't kill each other living in that sardine can, we can make it anywhere."

"Why don't you then?"

Ben shrugged. "How long will it last 'til things fall back into the same rut?"

"You told me about the woman she's seeing." Nick snapped his fingers. "Rachel, yeah, that's her name. My god Ben, she'd been living in fear of being raped again, and instead of you standing by her side, you run out and fuck the first piece of ass you could round up?"