I heard the pounding on my door and then the faint sounds of the apartment’s fire alarm droning in the background. The undeniable smell of smoke had me awake quickly and scurrying to pull on clothes and get the hell out of my unit. There was no time for dysphoria – something was burning.

When I got to my living room a light fog like haze greeted me and I coughed a few times breathing it in. No time to waste gathering shit – but phone, keys, purse, and laptop made it into my hands before I was out my front door and into the cool night’s air that was more suitable for breathing. There was a fire below in a unit on the first floor.

To my right were the stairs that would lead me down to the parking lot below where I could see and hear people below yelling, waving, and pointing at me to go to my right. To my left further down the walkway was Carlton, the super who lived on the first floor, banging on doors to get people out. There was the sound of sirens in the distance getting closer above all the racket around me.

Ghostly yellow and red shadows danced below me in the parking lot and then sounds of breaking glass as a cool breeze washed a momentary cloud of dark acrid black smoke over me.

I looked at Ms. Carol’s door next to mine and it appeared to be closed still. I yelled down to those gathered below asking if she was down there. I got my answer, “No! She’s not here!” Followed by someone shouting, “Dude get the fuck down here!”

I looked towards Carlton at the far end of the walkway, he was now carrying one of the Larson kids down the far stairs, followed by two other kids crying and holding onto him, as their mom Amy was trying to make sure they stayed close to him. Ms. Carol’s closed door called to me and I set the stuff I was carrying down, fumbled with my keys, got a key in her lock, and opened the door. Something whizzed past my feet and I caught a glimpse of her cat Jasper’s ass-end before it disappeared down the stairs.

Smoke was thick in her unit and lazily billowed from the doorway, the air feeling much warmer than I’d experienced in my unit. I didn’t want to go in there, but knew the layout and thought I could search quick enough to get in and out – I hoped. One final breath and I stepped into the haze. Ten feet in I stumbled over something and ending up falling on top of her body. She’d almost made it to the door!

Staying low I dragged all ninety-two pounds of my neighbor out the door and onto the exposed hallway almost to the stairs.

“Ms. Carol!” I screamed why trying to shake her awake. Pulse, check for a… Nothing! Fuck! “Ms. Carol, Jasper got out, he’s fine,” I absently yelled at her while placing my hands on top of each other at her sternum area and began singing to myself ‘Staying alive, staying alive… Ah, ah, ah, ah, staying alive, staying alive…’ while compressing her chest.

<-^->

The Red Cross was on scene an hour later, with blankets, hot coffee, and a warm Metro bus for us to sit in while the firemen continued to mop up outside. I overheard someone saying it looked like just six units would be deemed ‘uninhabitable’ until they could be inspected. From my seat on the bus I could see two firefighters had gone in mine with a hose ready to spray the hell out of it, but exited pretty quickly. I had hopes what little I owned wasn’t soaked.

The thought I hadn’t taking out renters insurance was going to bite me in the ass. I would have to start over - yet again - if I couldn’t salvage anything in my unit. It would be easy to believe the universe was against me right now, but it had allowed for me to pull Ms. Carol out, so there was at least that win.

The unit that had caught on fire was below Ms. Carol’s and was occupied by an older single guy from the middle-east. I hadn’t said but twenty words to him over the past year I’d been living here, though he was very polite and didn’t seem to judge me at all during those few exchanges. I knew he wasn’t on the bus and finally heard someone mention having heard a body had been found in the unit. I just hoped Ms. Carol was going to be alright and that I’d be able to find Jasper for her at some point.

I made a call to work saying I was going to be late, not saying what had happened because I didn’t want to have that conversation around all the people on this ‘shelter’ bus. I was told the message would be passed on to our boss. What a way to start the day…

<-^->

Four and a half hours later the Battalion Chief, a woman, entered the bus and said most residents could return to their units. The six we figured were damaged by the fire, mine included, weren’t to be entered. The guy who lived on the other side of Ms. Carol’s complained and the Chief agreed to let him be escorted in to get his laptop for work since his and mine had very little damage.

She solemnly did confirm that there was a body found in the first floor unit when asked. My heart sank upon hearing that. Great start to the day indeed.

When she was done speaking I approached her and asked if I could retrieve some clothes from my unit and she agreed to let me do that, but only with a firefighter accompanying me. She’d give me no more than five minutes inside. When I finally got a look inside my apartment I was relieved to seeing everything wasn’t soaked. My living room carpet and the kitchen floor bordering Ms. Carol’s unit were certainly wet, but at least the place wasn’t soaked.

Everything would reek of smoke though and I’d need to toss anything made of fabric I couldn’t get into a washing machine. My cardboard Christmas tree was still standing and the firefighter with me said it was cool, though a bit quirky. I certainly fit the descriptor ‘quirky’ and wondered if he knew that.

“Aren’t you the,” he said from behind me after a pause, “Person who pulled your neighbor from her unit?”

I turned to looked at him for a brief second, remembering ‘Dude!’ had been shouted at me earlier and now this guy wasn’t sure if I was a woman or not. Whatever…

“Yeah, I… I sometimes go in to feed her cat when she knows she won’t be home from volunteering at the soup kitchen across town. I had her key and have been in there plenty of times. She almost made it to the door; I actually tripped over her I couldn’t see from all the smoke.”

“You likely saved her life. Not many people have it in them to run into a burning building. I mean, we don’t recommend it,” he said having recovered from his earlier indecision about my gender because he’d watched me gather up a bunch of makeup, a hairdryer, pulled a couple skirts, blouses, and t-shirts from my closet, and stuffed obvious women’s lingerie into a duffle bag the Red Cross had given me.

“She’s fine then?” I asked over my shoulder.

“Last I heard.”

<-^->

I was the only resident taken to a shelter since I had no place else to go – at least until my apartment was deemed livable. Not like this was something I hadn’t experienced before, I just wished this wasn’t my only ‘fall-back’ option. I had a ‘Hate–Hate’ relationship with shelters from when I was a runaway teen ten years ago. With really no money to my name for a hotel or friends I’d want to impose on, the shelter my only option.

At least I got my own room and could secure my smoky belongings until I got back from work and could wash them.

Settled, a quick shower in an empty ‘Family’ bathroom, a half assed attempt at styling my hair and barely any makeup applied, I was back in my room. I felt I couldn’t wash the smoke out of my hair or off my skin. I got dressed hurriedly in the few choices I was able to bring with me and wasn’t sure I didn’t smell like I’d hung out at a campfire all night.

I really could have used a bit more sleep, but I had to get to work. The shelter staff was kind enough to provide me with eight free bus / subway vouchers, so that was a bonus. With those in hand I was off to navigate getting to work from a very different set of bus routes. My early New Year’s resolution – to not still be in this shelter come the New Year.

I was late to work by twenty minutes and my excuse was good enough to back my boss up a bit from really laying into me. Guess morning fires in your apartment complex qualify as a good excuse. Probably couldn’t use that one twice though.

Everyone wanted to hear the story and the TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner of the dining area was turned to the morning news cast. When the story finally rolled around I got a better understanding of the fires fury. I felt relieved that more damage hadn’t been done and more importantly others hadn’t died.

There was mention of a resident having been killed in the fire and an update was given on the one in the hospital for smoke inhalation being in stable condition, which set my mind at ease as I jumped in and started pulling shots of espresso for the backlog of drinks and a crowd of six people at the counter waiting for their orders.

It was just another busy morning at Estella’s Espresso and Bakery…

<-^->

As lunch approached I began setting up the sandwich bar. I’d just transferred the soup from the back of the house to its warmer when I saw him enter - cute guy, bright eyes, hadn’t seen him in here before, and it was obviously he was looking for someone.

Estella’s was a meeting place for the online dating scene locally. Not sure why, but Estella certainly wasn’t going to complain – in fact she celebrated that on every social media channel she was on. At some point in this places history she’d done events called ‘Speed-Dating’, but it was a fad that died when the digital version of dating became common place. I was on a couple of dating sites – just not all that active. Most of my ‘potential’ matches were fetish idiots anyway, so I didn’t chase the online dating avenue all that often.

There was something about this guy though as I watch him come towards me and sit at a spot at the counter. What’s your game?

“Hey… What can I get you?” I asked focusing especially hard on controlling my voices tenor, timbre, and tone. If I talked slowly, control seemed to be easier and I had less huskiness, gravel, in my voice.

“Ah, actually I think I’m looking for you,” he said with a smile that easily cost his parents five or more grand.

“Yeah? Well I’ve had a hell of a morning, so if you’re here to talk to me about my cars extended warranty – I don’t have one. Avid bus rider out to save the planet from global warming. How about we just keep our exchange menu related, eh?”

So much for controlling the sound of my voice rattling all that off.

“No, no… Look, I’m Brock Lindgren,” he stated as if I we supposed to know who he was.

I shrugged in reply.

“I’m a reporter for the Tribune, and wanted to talk with you about this morning,” he said all teeth again.

“Not sure there’s much of a story there Brock. Fire, someone died, people got displaced - don’t you think that’s crappy enough?”

How did he know I was part of that? I looked toward one of my co-workers who looked confused by my questioning glare. When I looked back at him his face was more serious, maybe he realized I wasn’t just going to roll over and gush because he was cute and had an expensive smile.

“All those things are true, but you’ve left off maybe the most important part of that story, you saved someone’s life.”

Now it was my turn to betray a little bit of discomfort on my face.

“What makes you think I did anything? I got the hell out of my place when Carlton, the super, came banging on my door. He helped Amy and her kids out. You should go talk to him.”

He pulled his phone out, tapped something, and spun it around to show me. It was a video and I leaned in and watched as it showed me entering Ms. Carol’s unit, coming out a few moments later dragging her, and then doing chest compressions on her until relieved by a couple firefighters. The video was very jumpy and whoever had taken it had zoomed to the maximum their phones camera would allow. The video was pixilated and grainy, yet got good enough glimpses of my face when the picture wasn’t so bouncy.

“Okay,” I stated as uninterested as I could.

“Okay? Pretty heroic,” he stated with emphasis.

I just stood there looking at him and after a moment decided to threw my reality at him.

“Look, I’ve got nothing to say and I’ve got a whole lot of work to get done before lunch starts. Any chance you’d just order something and we call it good?”

“You’re staying at the Christian Ministry Shelter?”

I could feel the uncomfortable rolling on, turned toward the kitchen as Marcus was coming out, and waved at him with a face that I hoped told him I wasn’t happy. When he came over I nodded to Brock whatever-his-name-was as if he needed to deal with him.

What we girls appreciated about Marcus, the guy who managed the kitchen, he didn’t let people roll over any of the staff. He’d shut down plenty of creeps and while I sensed Brock wasn’t exactly a creep – he knew too much about me and I didn’t like that.

Marcus looked at Brock, “Can I help you?”

There wasn’t menace in his voice exactly, but there certainly was a clear understanding delivered in those four words.

“No,” Brock said sliding his card across the table, “Just wanted to see if I could talk with Kiara about the fire this morning at her apartment.”

Marcus looked at me and I nodded ‘No’ ever so slightly.

“Look, Kiara has a lot to get done before lunch starts. She has your card,” he said making a display of handing it to me. “If she wants to talk to you she’ll call, fair enough?”

Those last two words clearly contained a warning in their tone, maybe even broadcasted in part by Marcus’ facial expression, which I couldn’t see standing next to him – but I saw how they hit Brock and how his face reacted.

“Certainly, absolutely… Sorry to have caused you any trouble,” he said looking directly at me. “I think it’s a worthy story not being covered by the TV reports I’d like to explore. Please call me if you reconsider.”

With that final sentence he was up and out the door.

<-^->

Lunch was typical for a Thursday, and maybe helped out by Christmas being just three days away. I was tired and ready to get out of here. I really wanted to see Ms. Carol, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy and I might fall asleep on the bus and end up God knows where.

Done with our registers count – we got around to dividing the common tip jar up, each of us walking away with an extra hundred and four dollars and change each. The Christmas spirit was alive and well and the money would certainly help. A few of my regulars slid me a few extra dollars because they’d heard about the fire and I heard, “God bless you for saving that woman…” a few times during the lunch rush.

My attitude better with a pocket full of money I decided I would go chat up Ms. Carol, then head over to the apartment to see what Carlton knew about us getting back in and ask him if there were other units available for rent, and finally see if I could find Jasper. Being an older building with zero amenities and having such cheap rent would be hard to replace if I needed to go elsewhere. Maybe Ms. Carol would consider a roommate someplace close by since her unit was likely a total loss?

I’d called out a ‘Goodbye’ to the crew and exited the front door heading toward an uptown bus stop when I saw him. I stopped dead and was about to turn around when he raised his hands.

“Hey, just want to talk,” he said with his perfect smile gleaming.

“Look, this isn’t how to get a story,” I said as best I could while trying not to sound worried or too male.

“I sort of stepped in it with my editor, that’s the truth. I can get him on the phone and he’ll tell you I said you were going to talk with me after work. I’m really sorry – I just need this story and I’m desperate. I’m hoping we can maybe help each other.”

He looked genuinely sorry, but I was hearing warning bells like this morning. Help me?! You could do that by leaving me the hell alone!

When I didn’t reply he said, “We could go back into Estella’s, get a table in a corner so no one bothers us. I get your story, and then pass on an idea that’s getting some community traction.”

“No… You want my story, let’s hear this traction crap first,” I challenged.

There was a momentary hesitation, but he gave in.

“Fine… I got a chance to interview Battalion Chief Carey and she says she’s gotten a few calls from the city council and even the mayor about you. Ever thought about joining the fire department?”

I chuckled, “You’re kidding me?”

“Actually, no I’m not… I even talked to one of the firemen who’d relieved you doing chest compressions and he was pretty impressed. The DEI initiative in the city is not to be screwed with and their stats for LGBTQ+ members of the police and fire departments are slightly below the national averages for cities our size. Don’t underestimate there being support for you out there,” he said.

Of course I heard clearly everyone knew I was part of that alphabet-rainbow and felt oddly spotlighted. I was twenty, maybe thirty years out from being partially accepted like those first two letters were of that rainbow. Any light shone on me tended to not be so good and as an added bonus the dysphoria delivery truck would be dropping off a load of anxiety, fear, and worry I could choke on when it was noticed I wasn’t exactly someone’s vision of a CIS woman.

“Look,” he said since I hadn’t said anything, “The lead for the story isn’t ‘Trans Woman saves another woman’s life’ or anything like that. I promise it will be more human interest than anything, spotlighting the saving of one life, when it could have been worse. Oh, and I’d really like to know the story behind the cardboard Christmas tree.”

He was smiling that gleaming white toothy smile of his and combined with him being mildly attractive I decided to see where this would end up.

<-^->

We went back into Estella’s got that table in a corner and a visit to our table from Marcus. He didn’t look happy, at least until I told him I’d arranged this meeting on ground I was comfortable with. He left us to it after that. Pretty sure Brock was nervous there for a couple seconds.

“So, what do you want to know?” I asked.

We talked for twenty minutes, me telling him pretty much I hadn’t thought out my going into Ms. Carol’s unit, found her luckily within ten feet of her front door, and only knew CPR because of a shelter I was in as a kid had a class and I was bored so took it. He asked about my transition, respectfully, making me feel less anxious, and seemed genuinely curious about my journey. It was a story I hated recounting because it wasn’t remarkable or didn’t closely mirror others who were MTF or FTM. Yawn worthy for sure. To not take my story to dark places I left out any living on the streets details through my teens, but think he probably knew something along those lines wasn’t far from my experiences.

“Okay, so… I really want to thank you for saving my ass by agreeing to talk with me. I’ve got enough for a pretty good addition to what’s already been reported and,” he paused for a second, “It might end up as a happily ever after ending story if you were to look into applying to the fire fighter academy.”

I smiled, “My happy ending is Ms. Carol is okay, that’s more than enough for me. I don’t need a different career and if I needed another New Year’s resolution I’d probably add not running into burning buildings to the list.”

Brock asked for my number, just to let me know when the story hit, and I gave it to him. Yeah, I was one of those girls who were a sucker for a nice smile on a cute guy.

<-^->

Over the course of the next three hours I’d visited Ms. Carol and we agreed to see if we could make a go at being roomies, made it to the apartment to talk with Carlton, found Jasper and got him settled with Sara (a neighbor Ms. Carol said could watch him since I was ‘shelter’ bound), and was now walking up the block to the shelter tired, cold, and hungry. Before I’d left the shelter this morning I’d seen in the kitchen area they had the typical sundries and had resigned myself to a bowl of Top Ramen. If I was lucky maybe there’d be a handful of some kind of generic cookies to be had.

I just wanted to eat, shower, and get into bed since I needed to work tomorrow bright and early.

As I approached the door to the shelter it was opening and a woman was exiting. She was staring at me and I felt like, wait…

“Hello Kiara,” she said with a warm smile, “I’d just stopped in to see if I could talk with you.”

“Chief Carey?” I asked surprised.

“I’m off duty, so Melissa if that’s alright.”

“Oh, ah… Sure, hey Melissa. So, you’re here looking for me, is something wrong?”

Of course something was wrong – the Battalion Chief of a major cities fire department was looking for me. Had someone else died? Was I in trouble for helping Ms. Carol? Wait, Brock had said…

“No, no, of course not. You just getting back, from work?” she asked.

“Yeah, well… Ah, I stopped by the hospital to see how my neighbor was, then the apartment, and yeah I’m a, I’m staying here, and I got off work at 3…,” I babbled ridiculously.

“You eat dinner yet?”

“About to hopefully get some Top Ramen going,” I nodded towards the shelter door.

“I was going to go get something to eat, thought maybe you could join me?”

“Oh, I… Yeah, but I’m kind of a, well I could change if you want.”

“You look fine and the teriyaki joint around the corner is really pretty good, not fancy at all and certainly no reservations would be needed,” she giggled.

Okay, that put me at ease a little, but didn’t explain why she was seeking me out unless what Brock had said was true about people talking about me.

<-^->

The walk to the restaurant was pleasant and the conversation light. Chief, Melissa, talked about her day – which seemed pretty hectic and she got me talking about mine which paled in comparison. When I brought up Brock and his comment about the mayor, she confirmed that she’d been called by his office, but said we could talk about it more at the restaurant. Once there we got a booth in a moderately busy restaurant, mostly take-out, ordered, and she began…

“It’s not commonly known that most fire departments are made up of 93% men, but they are. Of that 82% are white. This really is an issue for cities like ours as we try and right imbalances of marginalized persons, correct diversity, equity, and inclusion missteps in a profession that could benefit from being more diverse. We need to do better in our department, I’ve been chartered to do better, and I resolve that this coming year we’re implementing some changes for the better.

“Did you know only about 4% of our calls this year involved putting out fires? The majority of our calls were in support of medical emergencies, about 64%. So, this stereotypical idea you need beefy guys hauling hoses and ladders around is not really the case. Look at me, I’m 5’4” and a buck-forty dripping wet. I did my time, did all those macho tasks, and rose in the ranks because more of our job these days requires us to think than physically lift vehicles off of people,” she said with a bit of a smile.

“Obviously we’ve got a race disparity to correct, but also one involving LGBTQ+ individuals openly being accepted in the department. I had to prove myself constantly when it became known I was a lesbian in the ranks, but I did and I rolled over plenty of misogynistic homophobic assholes running the department to get to where I am today. Point is, while I may not know every bit of your struggle to be your true self, I know a little about the struggle you face to get where you are and to be your true self.

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m trying to gage your interest in joining the department. You’d have to test in, no free tickets are given out no matter how high ranking you are, but I’d personally vouch for you and that would help you get noticed by the selection committee if you pass the written and physical exams. Your actions today, that wasn’t just heroic, but selfless. You certainly knew the risk and yet still tried to help. How many others from your building did anything? Your buildings super and you… Well, what do you think?”

I was beyond blown away and certainly flattered. I asked a few questions, and was told the next testing phase would be January 8th. Everything I would need to study she would provide me, and then she was quiet for a moment as if considering something.

“Is staying in the shelter something you need to do?”

I explained my situation and said it depended on how long it took before I would be let back in to the apartment. I also added it was my resolution to be out of there before the New Year and the neighbor I’d pulled out might want a roommate.

“Oooh… Well, it’s not likely you’ll get back in any time soon. The structural damage is pretty bad and I would guess the insurance, permits, and work won’t even start until late next summer,” she said concerned.

“Shit… Sorry… Not what I was hoping to hear. When I asked Carlton about it he had no idea when I could get back in.”

She was studying me closely now, “Okay, so what if I make you a deal? You commit to taking the tests and I’ll let you and your neighbor rent our small guest bungalow for whatever it is you pay now, all utilities included. If you pass the tests, the selection board is the first week of February and I’ve got a good feeling you’d be selected for the fire fighters academy. That’s a six week live on campus training regimen that will push you to your limits. You make it through that you’ll get placed in a training slot in one of the city’s stations. You interested in making that your New Year’s resolution?”

“Why would you do that for me?” I asked.

“Because I see something in you, something you probably don’t see. Someone who’s determined to make her way and that’s someone I can believe in.”

<-^->

My New Year’s resolution to not be in the shelter come January came true – Ms. Carol and I were renting Chief Carey’s and her wife June’s bungalow now.

I took both the written and physical fitness exams to be considered for the fire fighter academy, passing with a combined average score of 81%. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to complete the fitness exam, but dug deep and did.

On February 8th I reported to the fire fighters academy determined to be that woman others could believe in. I would be the first Trans woman firefighter for the city if I made it through training and there would be a new light shone on me.

Finally, I might have been talking to a reporter I knew about all this over a couple dinners and a few movies. Think he’s writing a second article…

FIN

----------------------------------------------------------
Authors Note: Don't be afraid to click the "Thumbs Up" icon for this short story if it's done anything for you (you don't have to have an account to do so, and there are no prizes for most likes or payouts for that matter; (I’d have bot’ed that bitch long ago)). If you comment, I will reply, so let’s chat or not or whatever floats your noddle.

If there are problems or you have criticisms you'd like to share privately, feel free to message me on the site (you’ll need an account) or via email ([email protected] (link sends e-mail)) - I'd love to address them if I can.

I'm trying to grow as a storyteller; I'm far from perfect, so any help is much appreciated and valued. Thanks for reading...