Everlasting Love
Chapter 6
NOTE: This is a fictional biographic love story as Macy Strickland, his family and friends navigate their way through different stages of their lives. All of the characters in this story are fictional and resemblance to any one person whether dead or alive is purely coincidental. If you liked this chapter, please send me some feed back; I have a rough mental outline for how this goes but some extra details or inspiration along the way are always welcome. If you are offended by intimate male on male emotional and physical relationships, you should be questioning yourself why you are here in the first place. As always, please consider making a donation to Nifty to maintain this website.
I felt my hand in the grip of Mitch's larger, stronger hand briefly, feeling his nerves tremble a bit and then relax before I felt him start to let go. I savored the short moment, not wanting to force him into an uncomfortable space by trying to hold on longer. To paraphrase a great American astronaut, it was one small sign of affection for both of us, one giant display of affection for Mitch Humboldt. We studied for our French 3 final and talked a little bit more, mostly about our upcoming junior year before Cal was calling me to ask if Rita should set two or three places for dinner. I left for the short walk home, a bit sad that the first date day was over but overall happier that it had finally happened.
The French 3 final was on Tuesday and Wednesday night Karen was over and we were studying for Hardesty's final in College Algebra scheduled for Thursday which would be the last final exam for both of us for the spring semester. Of course, in between drilling on random algebra problems at the end of each chapter, we were grilling each other for details on how our new relationships were developing.
And I was honest with Karen, telling her that Mitch and I were just talking a lot while Robbie and her were doing much more than talking about their middle school years together. I also had to confess to her that I was bailing on the lifeguarding gig at Valleyview Swim and Racquet Club for the summer as I filled her in on the details of Cal's offer to work part-time at his shop but skipped over the potential for a restored Land Rover waiting for me around the start of the fall term. She also reminded me that I should still take the CPR class, that I might need to know that stuff some day.
And that's how the spring term wrapped up for us; Robbie would be cutting lawns in the neighborhood, Mitch would be helping his dad on construction jobs, Karen would be lifeguarding and I would be working with Cal at Advanced Engineering. And I took the CPR class which was much more eye opening than I could have ever expected.
Rita dropped me off at the Lutherville fire station and at first I was a bit confused, the fire trucks were black and white, not red or red and white like I was used to but no big deal. One of the firemen pointed me towards a classroom where folks from every age bracket were waiting for the class to start at 8:00 am with a pair of Baltimore County paramedics promising to be finished by 11:00 am, 11:30 at the latest.
We were shown a video on basic CPR skills and scenarios; then practiced on cheap legless mannequins under the supervision of a pair of the paramedics before taking a 50 question quiz and then we were finally issued our official CPR cards.
Just as I walked out of the firehouse to call Rita for my ride home I sotted a familiar Volvo in the rear firehouse parking lot. I looked around and then passed the car to confirm that yes, it was the same car that had been chauffeuring me to school for the past week. I put my phone away and looked back towards an open overhead door at the rear of the fire station where I saw some of the firemen working on one of the trucks. As I walked closer, I took note of a familiar silhouette standing on top of the fire engine as I watched what the firemen were doing.
"Macy, is that you?" Mitch yelled from atop the white over black fire engine.
"Yeah Mitch, I was here for the CPR class, what are you doing up there?" I asked as I noticed the red tee shirt with the fire company's logo screen printed on the left chest and big white block letters on the back clearly announcing the rank of RECRUIT.
"We're getting ready for Ocean City," Mitch started to explain as I noticed him and a few other firemen expertly packing each hose with a perfect crease on each fold as they placed it into its spot on the truck.
"Go ahead and take a break Mitch, you earned it, you've been working hard since you got here this morning; make sure you get some water" one of the other firefighters said to him.
I watched Mitch spider-climb down, stepping on what seemed like invisible steps as he deftly made his way down to the ground from what I would eventually learn is the hose bed of a pumper, "so what's in Ocean City?"
"Annual Maryland State Firemen's Association convention is the third week in June in Ocean City. On that Wednesday there is a huge parade of fire apparatus from all over Maryland, even some from Delaware and Pennsylvania. We're taking this one and getting her parade-ready along with our new heavy rescue."
My head was spinning trying to sort out and process everything he just told me. Pumper, heavy rescue, parades, Maryland yet some come from Pennsylvania and Delaware. Where did all this come from I asked myself until I saw a certain smile on Mitch's face that spoke volumes. This is what Mitch Humboldt was genuinely passionate about.
"I had no idea you're a fireman," I said.
"Well, I might have been able to work that into the conversation if you weren't busy asking me a thousand questions about school, lacrosse and everything else, but, in all honesty, I'm not really a firefighter yet. You see, I'm too young, I have to be 18 to be able to go to fires and other incidents; I'm only an associate member now, going to training and helping around the station when and where I can. Would you like me to show you around?"
"Uh, sure, if it's not going to keep you from getting that fire truck parade-ready as you say," I replied.
"That's an engine and they are almost done anyhow," Mitch instructed me, "engines carry water, hose and a pump, the job of the engine company is to get water on the fire."
"Engines get water on the fire," I said to myself out loud, listening to Mitch's detailed explanation of how much water she carried and could pump through the different sized hoses including the cannon-like "wagon pipe" on top. It was borderline thrilling to see how Mitch wanted to share this part of his world with me in such detail and I drank in all of him and his explanations, "so, you mean there's a difference between a fire engine and a fire truck?"
"Yep, trucks; sometimes called ladders, carry a 100 foot aerial ladder, maybe a little shorter if it's a ladder tower with a platform, a boatload of ground ladders and an assortment of hand and power tools for forcing entry, ventilation and rescue work," Mitch spelled out before he expanded the working definition to me, "truck or ladder companies support engine companies by gaining access to the fire, searching for victims and opening up the roof and windows to get the heat and smoke out."
"Trucks and ladders support engines" I said processing what truck companies do before asking Mitch, "how long have you been doing this?"
"Started almost a year ago, right after I turned 16; my parents were and still are dead-set against it but they signed the application anyway, I just have to keep my grades up," Mitch replied as we walked passed the other engines to the largest rig that didn't look like an engine or a truck based on what he had previously explained, "this is our heavy rescue."
"You better start explaining, because I don't see any hose or ladders," I admitted out loud.
"The rescue gets sent for any call where there is a report of somebody trapped, maybe a stalled elevator, construction site accident, building fires obviously, you name it, the rescue goes," Mitch said, opening up some of the doors to the tool compartments and showing me some of the specialized equipment carried while still almost glowing in his element before finally opening up a compartment full of hydraulic rescue tools, "...and this is what we get called for the most, automobile accidents with people trapped."
My brain froze as I tried to steady myself but the flashback's wave hit me like a ton of bricks. Mitch's words faded as my eyes must have glazed over before him. I remember some of the pictures from our family's wrecked car that Cal had gotten from the attorneys. Though it seemed like minutes, in a few seconds, my mind refocused on Mitch suddenly talking to me in an apologetic tone, "Shit Macy, I totally forgot, I'm so sorry."
I rubbed the tear that was about to drip from my right eye on my right sleeve as Mitch tried to put something back into the tool compartment that had fallen out, "are those the Jaws of Life?"
"Yeah, but we don't have to do this," Mitch continued to apologize, "I'm sorry, I don't know where my head went."
I nodded no and swallowed hard, "no, keep going, I'm going to be fine."
"Are you sure?" Mitch asked, needing to know.
"Keep fucking going; I don't quit," I almost snarled before a nod to the display of tools, "what do they do?"
Mitch explained in great detail about the hydraulically powered spreaders, cutters and rams and how each was used to systematically unwrap twisted metal or displace vehicle components from around somebody pinned inside of a wrecked automobile. He clearly proceeded with a new level of caution, trying to gauge my reaction and soon, my flashback was fading and my smile returned because Mitch was talking about something he loved to do. I nodded to the notched chunk of dense L-shaped plastic on the ground, "what's that do?"
Mitch carried it over to the driver's door of a white Chevrolet Suburban lettered for Lutherville and opened it, sitting the long edge of the L-shaped plastic device on the door sill with the short leg resting just under the locking bolt and began explaining to me, "Say somebody has their feet trapped under the dash, or the dash is crushed down on their legs..."
I nodded, conjuring a mental image as Mitch continued, "once we remove the doors and roof we make a relief cut here or here" motioning with his fingers towards the front part of the door opening, then remember those rams I showed you?"
All of a sudden I felt like I was learning from some master instructor, not somebody with RECRUIT printed on the back of his shirt as Mitch continued, "The ram's base rests against this plastic step and we shoot the other end up to here," again, motioning with his fingers where the other end of the ram should ideally contact, "with the relief cut and the force of the ram, we should be able to push or lift the dash off the victim's legs and or disentangle their feet."
Then I found myself looking at the tools and the process just like my grandfather would, breaking it down into its components, looking at the L-shaped plastic block obviously bruised where the ram's base had rested against it, "is that really strong enough to work?"
"We got a few of these to test but they don't last very long between the force that's applied to them from the hydraulic ram and sitting in a compartment full of hydraulic fluid and fuel mix both of which essentially act like a solvent to breakdown the high density composite recycled plastic its made from; there are a couple of damaged beyond repair ones in the shop."
"You think steel would be better?" I asked.
"Sure I guess, want me to ask?" Mitch asked with a slightly quizzical look on his face.
"Better yet, see if you can get me one of those damaged ones," I replied, "I got an idea."
Mitch looked at me kind of funny and walked away to find somebody to answer the questions I asked while I called Cal, "Hey...yeah...CPR is done, are you going to be at the shop this afternoon for awhile? I got something that needs to be looked at...sure; anything else...definitely...we can do that...and Mitch is coming along too, see you in a bit."
Mitch was walking back towards me with a damaged chunk of the heavy plastic, "free to a good home" he said approaching me with a perplexed look.
I put it on the floor next to the cinder block partition wall, the mortar lines giving a bit of scale to the object as I took a few pictures and sent them to Cal. "What are you doing the rest of the day, I need a ride."
"I'm pretty much done, that was our Saturday work detail finishing up, I just got to sign out in the log book," Mitch said making it all sound very official; "what are you planning?"
"First we get an extra large Romulus pizza from Antonelli's, take it over to Cal at his shop for lunch," I said, then holding up the L-shaped plastic chunk, "then we fix this forever."
Mitch nodded and began to smile, "this is the Macy I've come to know, my Macy with an answer for everything. C'mon, let's go."
Not long after the move to Maryland I learned that Antonelli's has some of the best pizza in the 21204 and added their take-out number to my contacts. If there was any sort of discussion teetering on the edge of an argument about where to eat, somebody just had to play the Antonelli's card and it was decided; game, set and match; Antonelli's it was. The Romulus was their version of any pizza chain's meat lovers pizza and Cal liked his with some extra onions to boot.
Mitch opened up the back of the Volvo and I put the chunk of plastic in there, noticing his lacrosse stick as well as his lacrosse helmet and gloves visible through the unzipped opening of his equipment bag. I smiled as I got in the passenger's seat as I had done all week, "I watched a few of your lacrosse practices and games with Karen, even took some pictures at the Dulaney game."
"I know, I noticed you over on the sidelines with her a few times," Mitch said as we stopped at Antonelli's long enough for me to run in, pick up the pie and run back out.
"Just go down to Aylesbury Road, turn right, third left," I said directing Mitch to Advanced Engineering, Cal's Lexus in the lot confirming that I got the directions correct.
Compared to Hallmark Restorations next door, Advanced Engineering had the feel of a luxury high-end business space. There was a large bar-high stainless steel counter where customers were usually greeted by Andrea Woods. Andrea was Cal's office manager-secretary-accountant-payroll-clerk and customer service rep. Beyond the counter was Andrea's desk and a few work stations with large monitors on them, Cal's office, a conference room and employee break room that led to corridor into the working part of the shop.
"Delivery for Cal Strickland," I boomed out as we entered; Mitch following, bringing the half broken L-shaped piece of plastic and placing it on the counter.
Cal hurried out of his office in khaki pants, work shoes and a green polo shirt, "You must be Mitch, I'm Macy's grandfather, Cal Strickland."
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Strickland," Mitch replied, reaching out to firmly shake my grandfather's hand.
"Hell, just call me Cal, everybody does except for the corporate sales reps," Cal said, "you guys hungry?"
"Of course, why do you think I got an extra large pie?" I replied as we entered the break room, sliding the pie on the table near the paper plates and napkins Cal got out while I reached into the refrigerator for some bottled waters.
"Let's go in the conference room instead," Cal suggested.
Mitch just went with the flow, scooping up the paper goods as Cal grabbed the pizza and I followed with the bottled water into the conference room. All three of us easily woofed down two pieces of pizza right away before Cal opened his MacBook Pro, what ever was on the screen of the laptop mirrored onto the 56-inch HD monitor on the wall behind him. After a few swipes with his fingers and clicks on the touch-pad, the chewed up plastic block against the partition wall was up on the big screen larger than life, "about 30 inches by 18 inches?" Cal asked.
I jumped up to go get the piece from the counter and brought it into the conference room for Cal to examine. Mitch's jaw almost dropped when Cal pulled out his small tape measure and his guesstimate was spot on as I did my best to impress Mitch with my explanation of what the device was used for. It was almost magical watching Cal pull up the auto-cad software and go through available in-stock materials and quickly spin out an image of the steel replacement for the plastic device.
"We can do this, hell, Macy can do most of it, but yeah, we can make something like this for you guys," Cal said with confidence, "we'll have a prototype ready in a few days for you to try out and see if it meets your needs. If it works, we'll build them for free for Lutherville."
Mitch just kind of stared at the screen, then me, then Cal, not sure what he just heard as Cal tweaked the CAD drawing, deftly building the steel version on the giant screen before our eyes, easily typing in dimensions, instructions and the type of steel to use before sending the diagram to the 36" plotter-printer, "want a copy for the firehouse Mitch?" Cal asked.
I nodded yes as Mitch searched for any words that would come out of his mouth, "Um, yeah, sure, that would be great Cal."
"Go ahead, get out of here you two, it's the first Saturday of summer break, go have some fun while I tinker with this for a little while longer," Cal said, banishing us out into summer vacation.
"See you at home Cal," I shouted as we left before I turned to Mitch, "well, what do you wanna do now; head over to Valleyview for the rest of the afternoon?"
"You are amazing, how did you do that?" Mitch asked as we got into the Volvo.
I shrugged my shoulders, "I don't know, Cal and I just have our connection. Drop me off at my house, I'll meet you at the pool around 3:00."
"If this works..." Mitch said with a voice more uncertain than certain.
"It will work because this is something we can both be passionate about." I said, squeezing his hand on the gear shift lever as he pulled up to my grandparents' house, Rita outside cutting flowers for the arrangement on the dinner table for Sunday supper while Shelby dozed in the shade of a tree, "I'll see you at Valleyview in a few."