"The Recycle of Life"
By Ross
L.A. County Fire Department paramedics, John Gage and Roy DeSoto, climbed wordlessly up into the cab of their rescue squad.
Roy gripped the steering wheel with both hands. Prior to igniting the truck's engine, he turned to give his still-silent partner a concerned once over.
Johnny was just sitting there, staring straight ahead. Sweat had plastered his longer-than-regulation length hair to the sides of his face, and was causing his wavy black bangs to hang from his forehead in glistening ringlets.
Oh, yeah. His partner was hot, all right.
But it wasn't because he'd just set a new World's Record for scaling twelve flights of stairs in 90- degree heat. No, Johnny was hot because he'd just witnessed the senseless loss of something that was very precious to him—a life.
Roy kept his concerned gaze fixed upon his flustered friend. "Wanna talk about it?"
"No-o," his bummed buddy immediately shot back. But then he exhaled an exasperated gasp and changed his reply to, "Maybe..." John lowered his sweat-drenched head and stared sadly down at his lap. "I got there just as she was going over the ledge. I was able to grab onto her wrist. I told her, begged her, pleaded with her to hold onto mine. But she wouldn't hold on. I could a' saved her, if she had just held on..."
Roy reached out and placed a comforting hand on his hurting friend's shoulder. "That girl had 'let go' long before you got to her, Johnny."
For the next few minutes, neither man spoke.
Finally, Gage glanced in DeSoto's direction. "Remember Cassie? That kid in that car wreck this morning?"
Roy's face filled with a profound sadness. He swallowed hard and managed a slight nod.
"She wouldn't let go of my hand. She held on right up til—" John's voice cracked, and his blurry gaze returned to his lap. "One girl refuses to 'let go'...another refuses to 'hold on'. One values life as the precious—sacred—gift that it is. One treats it as completely valueless...and throws it all away." The paramedic paused to clamp the lids down on his damp, brown eyes. "I...I just wish that there was some way that we could collect the life that is being thrown away...and put it in IV bags, or somethin'. So we could inject it into kids like Cassie. Yah know?"
"Yeah...I know," Roy assured him, his voice also sounding a bit shaky. "In the meantime...Speaking as someone who values your life very highly...The next time we get a jumper, I'd appreciate it, if you wouldn't lean so far over the ledge, like that. At least, not without being tied off. If your belt had been just one notch looser, you might a' lost your trousers...and I might a' lost you."
John's hanging head snapped up and swung in Roy's direction again. "You would've held on," he confidently predicted.
After all, they were partners. And partners never 'let go'.
Roy gave his now slightly smiling friend's left shoulder one last reassuring squeeze, before finally reaching for the key.
August 2009 Picture
Stories by Ross
