Tim stared at me intently, his gray eyes softening just a touch. Once again, he ran his hand over the stubble on his face, which was a nervous habit of his when he didn't know what to say. I knew that emotions made him a bit uncomfortable.
“Jax, you know I love ya like you're my kid. I love all you guys like that,” he said. “You're not wrong, but you're taking this way too hard. You're letting things you can't control get too deep under your skin, son. I think you need to take some time off.”
“Bullshit,” I said, gripping the corners of the chair. “I'm fine.”
“You have two weeks of vacation time built up – a few sick days too,” he noted. “You never take a day off, and I think it's time.”
Clenching my jaw, I opened my mouth to speak, to start to argue with him, but Tim shut me down before I could even get started. He leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine in that intense and intimidating way he had.
“This isn't a request, Jax,” he said, his voice stern. “I'm putting you on paid leave until I deem it appropriate for you to return to work.”
“Chief, I'm fine –”
“The fact that you think you're fine is part of the problem, Jax,” he said.
He pushed a card over toward me, and I picked it up. It was the number for a therapist. I put it back down on the table quickly.
“I'm not seeing a shrink.”
“You need to talk to someone, Jaxon. I know your history, I know why today was extra hard on you, and you can't keep pushing those feelings down,” he said. “Listen, I know we don't like to get all touchy-feely around here, but I've seen Carla a few times myself. She's great, and she works with firefighters, police, EMTs – first responders who've seen some shit. She knows what she's doing.”
I stared at the card like it was a coiled snake, ready to strike. I didn't dare pick it up.
“My past has nothing to do with this,” I said, thought without much conviction.
Tim shook his head. “If you're not willing to work through this, I'm afraid you may need to find another career. I'd hate to lose you – you're one of the best men we've got here – but I can't let you keep working if your head’s not in it. If you don't get yourself straight, one of these days you're either going to kill yourself or somebody else. Seeing Carla or someone like her is a condition of getting back to work. Period.”
Being a firefighter was all I'd ever wanted. It was my dream. Ever since I'd lost my mom, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. To threaten to fire me over not seeing a therapist was low. My blood boiled and it took everything in me not to fight back. I struggled with it but managed to bite back the words that threatened to come pouring out. In the end though, I knew it wouldn't do any good and would only make things worse. And deep down, I knew the chief was probably right. He was just looking out for his whole crew.
“Alright,” I said, picking up the card and slipping it into my pocket. “I'll call Carla. Can I stay on?”
Tim stared at me in earnest for a second before responding, “I think you need to at least take a week off. Two weeks would be even better, but we can talk again in a week and see where you're at. And only after you meet with Carla. Got it?”
I let out a deep sigh. There was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise. Nothing I could do to prove to him that I was fine, that my head was on straight and I'd just had a tough day. My jaw clenched tight and I gripped the arms of the chair, the anger and a cocktail of other emotions rushing through me.
“Fine,” I said.
I left it at that. Anything more, and there probably would have been some trouble. I knew Tim well enough to know that when he'd made up his mind about something, it was done. Case closed. I wanted to keep my job, so I did as I was told. I left his office and grabbed my things from my locker, slamming it shut even harder than the first time.