The flames roared into the night sky as the grocery store on Old Hickory Street burned with an intensity that seemed to sync with Tommy Sullivan’s pounding heart. He wouldn’t admit it to most people, but it was times like these when Tommy felt most alive. He loved fighting fires more than anything else. Sometimes, he wondered if he loved it even more than his wife and kids.

Willow Creek was one of those small towns in East Tennessee where many people—like Tommy—grew up and never left. He married his high school sweetheart, had two kids, and raised his family in the tight-knit community in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. For people like Tommy, the allure of the big city and the great unknown was never a thought. He felt perfectly at peace in the place where his parents and grandparents had made a home.

From the outside, Tommy’s life appeared idyllic. Church on Sunday, coaching his son’s baseball team, backyard barbeques, and, of course, the camaraderie and fellowship at the firehouse. But as he stood there on that hot July evening, watching the fire burn the town’s grocery store, he felt the most peculiar sensation. It was a feeling he was becoming familiar with.

He loved fighting fires, but this was different. Tonight, as he had faintly felt on other nights, he sensed he less wanted to fight the fire and more so like he wanted to watch it burn everything to the ground.

“Tommy The Hero” wouldn’t have thought this before. The sensation had much less to do with the virtue of saving people. It was about the fire itself.

It was a spooky feeling, and he brushed it aside once he and his mates mobilized and began putting out the blaze. But later that night, when he got home to his wife and kids, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

–

“It was a bad one,” Tommy said, the image of the flames consuming the store and the black smoke rising in the sky still searing through his mind.

“Oh baby,” said his wife, Sarah. She rubbed his back, trying to console him.

Tommy rarely showed his vulnerabilities to anyone but her. Even with her, he often locked his emotions inside. At the very least, he let Sarah know when things were frustrating him beyond the point he could handle. He hadn’t been doing that lately, though. The cracks were starting to show.

“Is everyone okay?” his wife asked.

“Yeah … No serious injuries. We got everyone out safe. But there’s some bad damage to the store. I just feel bad for everyone, you know?”

Tommy didn’t mention the strange feeling. He didn’t know how to communicate something like that besides feeling remorse for entertaining those thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked. He glanced at her as he climbed into bed. She was making that face that said, “You’re not telling me something.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and she knew it. But Sarah had a way of letting him process feelings independently until he was ready to share them. She wasn’t going to rush it.

As he turned off the bedside lamp and turned onto his side, he couldn’t get the image of the fire out of his head. The thick smoke had billowed into the sky and blotted out the stars, and he could remember several moments where he stopped in his tracks and stood mesmerized by it all.

He’d experienced something like this before. When he was a rookie, the intensity of fighting fires was overwhelming. He’d often be afraid when they arrived at the scene. It wouldn’t be until the adrenaline kicked in that he’d enter something similar to a flow state where he could function and block everything out.

Lately, the feeling was much different. It wasn’t fear. It was something far more insidious. It was curiosity and, perhaps, appreciation. Watching the fires was almost like watching a work of art or enjoying a football game on TV.

The shame he felt about this was immense. What kind of sick person enjoys watching destruction like that? Was there something wrong with him?

He tossed and turned in bed, finding it hard to sleep. Sarah was a deep sleeper, though; he noticed she was already fast asleep and snoring.

Tommy considered waking her to discuss his feelings but decided against it. Instead, he lay in bed, the thoughts eating away at him. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

–

The following morning, Tommy woke with a pounding headache and a bone-dry mouth. He wondered if he was getting sick, but his temperature was fine when he checked it. As he settled into middle age, waking up and feeling slightly ill wasn’t unusual. It didn’t help that he’d started smoking tobacco again.

His wife was getting Maggie and Jack ready for school, and Tommy trudged down the stairs, still half-asleep. Maggie and Jack were more hyper than usual, speaking loudly and watching the TV, and the volume turned up so loud Tommy couldn’t hear himself think. 

They were watching Bob The Builder, and every time the cartoon construction worker asked, “Can we build it?” his kids screamed in unison, “Yes, we can!”

“Hey, kiddos. Can you turn that down?” he asked.

With the volume so high, they couldn’t hear. On his last nerve, Tommy stomped to the living room, grabbed the remote, and switched the TV off.

“Dad!” Maggie protested.

“I said, turn it down! Shit … no one listens!”

His wife peeked her head in the room. “Hey, hey! What’s going on?”

“Daddy turned the TV off, and then he yelled at me!” Maggie was crying, and Jack, as usual, began to sulk and walked out of the room.

Tommy had been more agitated recently with the kids, another reason to feel guilty. His wife cut him off before he could apologize.

“Okay, okay, baby. Your father didn’t mean to yell.”

Before the situation could be hashed out, Tommy retreated out of the room and went outside for a cigarette. He’d been smoking more than usual lately.

On the porch, the sun rose over the rolling green hills, basking their yard in an orange glow. The scene was quite beautiful, and the birdsong would have been music to most peoples’ ears, but Tommy’s mind was elsewhere.

As he went to light his cigarette, he was enchanted by the flame from his Zippo lighter. The flicker of fire moved in the soft wind, swaying like the flames at the grocery store the last night. Tommy didn’t understand why he was so mesmerized by the fire, but it froze him in his tracks.

“Tommy? Hey, Tommy …”

He swore he could hear someone calling his name, but it was like the voice was from down a hallway far away. He was too caught in watching the flame from his lighter to be aware of anything else around him.

“Tommy! Wake up!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He turned to see his wife’s worried and confused face.

“What were you doing just now?” she asked, her eyebrows arched.

“I … I don’t know. I was spaced out.”

Sarah studied him for a moment and let out a sigh. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting really strange. Have you been taking your meds?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “All good, I swear.”

“Well … We have to go. Call me if you need me.”

Sarah loaded Maggie and Jack in the car and took them to school. Meanwhile, Tommy stayed behind and got ready to head to the firehouse. He wanted to tell his wife so much, but he wasn’t sure how to explain it.

How do you explain to someone that the thing you’re supposed to prevent and stop from happening is what excites you the most?

To Be Continued …