A Locked Heart

“Well, team, I guess I’m going to head out,” said Chief as he threw cash on the table to cover his tab. “You lot kicked ass out there today.”

“Yup, that fire never saw us coming,” said Carrie with a grin on her face, which was nearly covered entirely with soot. Only the area around her eyes was left unblemished, allowing her pale sky-blue eyes to peer out from the darkness that surrounded them. 

“Funny that you should mention asses,” I said with a sly grin plastered on my face. I stared at his rear and continued, “Didn’t I see smoke coming out of yours at one point?”

“Hey, you can’t call yourself a fireman if you’ve never set your butt on fire during duty before,” Chief stated proudly.

“Oh, is that what happened to it?” Carrie said with a grin of her own. “Here, I thought you were just born without one.”

Chief waved us off. “Alright, alright, you’re both hilarious. Have fun, you two.”

Chief then left the bar and left Carrie and me at the table. The rest of the team had already left for the night, and before I knew it, it was just the two of us. Her face was slightly flushed from drinking a little more than she should, but her eyes were lively as if they were excited for the rest of the night. You could always see a flicker of mischievousness hidden within them, which always provided me with an endless amount of entertainment.

“So, Charlie,” Carrie said hesitantly while edging closer to me. “What do you say we head somewhere else?”

“Hm?” I muttered as I took a sip of my drink. 

“I still have some adrenaline pumping through me! I think I’ll go stir crazy if I don’t get up and do something. Let’s find someplace that’s playing some music and dance a bit,” she said as she wiggled slightly in her chair. Her eyes lingered toward the door as if she was ready to sprint toward it.

“No…no, I don’t think so. You go ahead. I’m pretty tired, and I think I’m just going to pay my tab and get some sleep,” I managed to say and quickly downed the rest of my drink to drive the point home. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Carrie.”

Carrie looked like she would argue, but over the past few weeks, I had gotten used to this dance between us and gracefully sidestepped the conversation, and by gracefully, I mean I tripped over my barstool and avoided eye contact as I stumbled out of there as quickly as possible.

I felt guilty blowing Carrie off like that. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed Carrie’s company, and there had been plenty of nights when I’ve considered taking her up on her advances. Hell, there have been some nights when I wanted to make my own, but well, I couldn’t take that last step no matter how much I wanted to. Honestly, I didn’t know if I could ever take it.

—

I took my regular path as I walked home. I made it to the intersection on Sixth Avenue, where the light post continued to flicker on bravely through the night. It had been that way for at least five years now, and the darn thing refused to die. Instead, it flickered on steadfastly like a beacon guiding me home after a hard day’s work. I grabbed the post and playfully swung my body toward the direction of my house with familiarity, which put me right in front of Roscoe’s Coffee House. 

I walked in and ordered my usual: a large caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso. I hoped that it would sober me up slightly before I got home, and luckily, I had long grown immune to the effects of caffeine. Mikey, the barista who ran the night shift, greeted me like always, but he always stared at me like I was some wounded puppy whenever I saw him these days. 

I left the coffee shop and traversed the last block to my home. I saw that somebody plastered something against my door as I drew closer. From afar, I thought it was another menu of a new restaurant in town but soon realized that it was much too small. 

On the door was a single photograph pinned against by a thumbtack.

My heart sank as I saw the photo.

It was a photo of a woman sitting over a cliff staring out into a lake. She had long dark auburn hear boarding on black, which consumed the sunlight as it cascaded against it. She had her hair tied up in a ponytail with a scrunchie that you would see in an old 80s sitcom and wore patchwork jeans aged from use and perfect for hiking. The sun was coming from behind her, so the light scattered across the lake as if it was a road made of light. It was the beginning of fall, so the leaves had begun to turn a premature orange. 

I had seen this photo before. Heck, I was the one who had taken it. I hadn’t seen it in years, so I didn’t know if this was a copy of the photo or the original. 

The question was: Who the hell put it on my door?

I unpinned the photo from the door. I gave it one last look and turned it around. On the back, someone had written, “03 ←, Go to the place where the fallen stars returned home.”

I stared at the photo for a moment, took a deep breath, and called Chief. It looked like I would be heading childhood neighborhood tomorrow.

—

“That’s why they call them crushes. If they were easy, they’d call ‘em something else,” said Sam’s dad as she bared her heart to him.

Although, this was about the millionth time I had heard the line, and I quickly toned out the rest of the scene as I traced my hand against the side of the barn. Old man Peterson had just repainted it red, so it felt smooth to the touch. 

Every Friday at 8 pm, the Petersons would play an old 80s movie against the side of the barn. It was their attempt to relive their youth while showing the young folk what real cinema was all about. However, the Friday before every Valentine’s Day, they would play 16 Candles. I nearly knew the entire movie by heart, which was why I didn’t feel particularly motivated to watch the movie nor watch all the high school kids snuggle up next to each other while they pointed at the movie, saying, “Oh my God! It’s just like us!”

Give me a break.

I rounded the corner barn and stopped as I saw a girl I had never seen before knelt in a field of daisies. I couldn’t see her face as the night’s darkness had coated it. I could only make out the neon green scrunchie that tied her hair into a ponytail. I had never seen her before, which was weird. When you lived in a small town, it was strange when you didn’t know everyone’s name. 

I didn’t want to disturb her, so I decided to take my leave, but as I took a step back, my foot landed on a stick, snapping it in half. The sound vibrated through the night, bringing her attention toward me. She smiled at me, and her mouth moved to call out to me, but before she could, fireflies erupted around us, illuminating the night. They circled us as they scattered about, and it was at that time that I got my first good glance at Jessica. She had her hair tucked in front of her left shoulder, and she leaned her head slightly toward that side. Her eyes sparkled as they marveled at the thousand lights that danced around us. She stretched out her hands and twirled, taking care not to hit a single one. Her once simple smile beamed out at what almost seemed like magic. The fireflies floated above us, escaping into the vast sky as if they were rejoining the stars.

I didn’t know when, but at some point, I had edged up right next to her, and we simply stood until we were once again enveloped by the darkness of the night.

—-

I stood at the back of the old barn. The once fresh coat of paint from that night had long faded, and it could flake off easily with a good gust of wind. I saw the site of the photograph pinned against the barn as I drew closer. 

Like the other photograph, I unpinned it and gazed at the old photo from my childhood. I remembered this one. My parents had taken it when Jessica and I weren’t looking. We were curled up on an old checkered picnic blanket watching 16 Candles in our teens. I cringed as I remembered the awkwardness of reaching for her hand that night. My hand felt so sweaty, and I wondered if Jessica noticed, but if she did, she never said a word. I remembered I wanted to kiss her that night as the movie drew to its conclusion, but my parents were watching us like hawks, and we never got the chance…or at least that was the case until we came to this exact spot where I was currently standing. 

I turned the photo over, and it read, “18 →, Go to the place where two hearts became one.”

I nodded as I read the words. I took out my phone and called Chief. I guessed I would be going into work today after all. 

—

My phone lit up with messages from everyone at the firehouse telling me to get my ass over there. I had been getting a cup of coffee at the time when they started. I didn’t even think as I dropped the coffee and sprinted out of Roscoe’s while managing a half-hearted apology to the staff who would be responsible for cleaning up my mess. Chief and the others made it seem like the entire town was on fire with how they were acting. My eyes scanned about, desperately trying to find a trail of smoke, all the while praying that I would make it in time.

I bolted into the firehouse and called out as I tried to catch my breath, “Where’s the fire? Do we know if anyone is injured?”

However, as my eyes frantically raced over my surroundings, I didn’t see the normal site of bustling bodies readying themselves to save the day; I saw them lined up in a row, four on the left and four on the right. Everyone dressed in a black tuxedo with sloppily made bowties. 

I was pretty sure Carrie was wearing a clip-on. 

They were each holding a bouquet of daisies. The same ones that I had to discover Jessica kneeling in when we were children, and speaking of Jessica, she currently stood at the end of the row grinning up at me as if she had pulled the greatest prank in the world. She was wearing a white sundress with a red sash tied across her midriff.

Before I could ask what was going on, she walked toward me, got on one knee, held out a diamond ring, and asked, “Charles Castle, will you marry me?”

—

I had been so nervous about asking Jessica to marry me. Before she proposed to me, I conjured up hundreds of proposal ideas, but I never went through with any of them. I would always have a stray thought that would creep into my mind and stop me.

You’re just a fireman, you dunce. 

Have you looked in a mirror recently? Have you looked at her? Yeah, dream on, fella.

Am I good enough? 

When I saw Jessica on one knee, asking me to marry her, I knew I was good enough. I half wondered if she saw me struggling and decided to take matters into her own hands. She was always like that…brave when I couldn’t be. 

I needed that bravery now.

My brothers at the station watched me as I wandered into the firehouse. Their eyes followed me as I stood in front of my locker and stared at what I knew was the final photo of this scavenger hunt. 

It was a simple photo. One owned by every married couple. 

The photo was of Jessica and me kissing each other after saying our vows. I had the same photo on the mantle next to my bed. I felt my eyes beginning to water, but I took a deep breath and gathered myself. I was nearly at the end, and I would soon know the purpose of all this.

I turned over the photo and scrambled on the back were the words,”11 ←, You know where to look.”

I nodded my head. I most certainly did.

—

I climbed into the attic of our home. In the center was a single-locked chest that I had noticed shortly after Jessica had died. It had never been locked before her death, so it meant that at some point, Jessica had decided to lock it when things seemed their bleakest.

Cancer has and will ever remain a coldhearted bitch. 

Jessica fought it all the way, but no matter how much a person wants to fight against their mortality, at some point, it would eventually collect its bill. In the end, Jessica had faced her death, while I flailed and cursed at God the entire time. During my grief, Jessica decided to sneak up to the basement, clear out her knickknacks and seal it with an old combination lock. The same type of lock you would see on a high school locker. 

I felt silly.

I didn’t have to check the old photos for the combination. It was the date of our wedding anniversary after all.

03 ←, 18 →, 11 ←

I had long memorized the date, and year after year, I had never forgotten it. For the past two years, I had brought flowers to Jessica’s tombstone to commemorate the date…to show her that I had never forgotten it even after all this time.

The combination lock popped open without any fuss, and I flipped the chest open. Within the chest sat a heart-shaped box. My breath caught in my lungs. It was from the first box of chocolates that I had bought for Jessica on our very first Valentine’s Day together.

The box itself had aged with time. It’s bright red coloring had faded to a dull red similar to that of a brick. There were countless nicks and scrapes across it. Jessica had been using it all this time without telling me. My hands trembled as I opened the box to see if full of photos…all of them were of me.

A photo of me twirling on the light post on Sixth.

On the next one, I was sipping a cup of coffee outside of Roscoe’s.

There were photos from the very first time we met to the final photo of me falling asleep next to her hospital bed before she died. 

I couldn’t help it. I started crying, and strangely enough, I did it with a smile plastered on my face. I missed Jessica so much, but how could I not smile when the photos reminded me of all the good. The way she snuck taking photos of me while giving me a simple, unapologetic shrug. 

“It’s more natural,” she would say. “I don’t want you to pose. I want to capture who you are at the moment. The real you. The one that I love.”

I didn’t know how long I stayed at the attic that night reliving the past, but I still marvel at the last gift Jessica had ever left me still to this day.

—

“So, you’re not mad at us?” Carrie asked as we continued to sip at our beers.

The rest of the team had already left for the night. After finding that box full of old photos, I needed a few days to recover. I could have used a few more; however, my friends felt differently. They barged into my house and took me to our regular place. We sat in silence at first; then we started to talk about small things that didn’t matter until I began to feel normal again.

It was at this point that they finally decided to come clean. Before Jessica’s death, she had left the three photos with her parents. She left them detailed instructions on how to deliver it to me, and when her parents asked her about when to give it to me, she apparently said, “Whenever you get sick of seeing him crying and think he should move on with his damn life.”

Her parents had asked the firehouse for help.

I shook my head. “Nope, if anything, I think I feel the best I’ve felt in the past two years.”

Carrie’s hand carefully crept off the table and enveloped my own. “I’m glad. I hope you know that if you ever need to talk that I’ll always be willing to listen.”

I started at for her hand, and she self-consciously moved it away. “Well, with that said, I think I’ll go ahead and make my graceful exit before I embarrass myself.”

Carrie gave me one last wave and made toward the exit.

“Hey, Carrie?” I asked more than I called out. 

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ll go stir crazy if I don’t get up and do something. I don’t know…do you want to go out and dance? Maybe someplace with some live music?”

Carrie didn’t say anything. She simply walked over to me until she stood by my side and stretched out her hand. I reached out, grasped her hand in my own, and took my first step to my next life.