January 1977

It was not a sound that anyone likes to hear in the middle of the night least of all the wife of a fire fighter, the ring of the telephone. In the darkness hours it was never good news.
"Chelle?" Mike's voice filtered through his wife's brain.
Well, Mike was alright, anyway. "Who else would it be?" she asked still half asleep.
"Chelle, listen to me. I didn't want you to hear this later on the news..." That was never a good statement. "It's Freddie," Mike continued. An eerie silence was the only response. "Michelle, are you there?"
"I'm here," she assured him weakly.
Mike proceeded to fill her in with the gory details, how her friend, someone who the auxiliary had used for programs was now fighting for his life in a hospital bed.
Michelle's mind drifted to just a few years before:

December 31, 1971
“So, Michelle, are we going to get to meet that handsome firefighter you’ve been seeing?” her chatty friend Betty inquired.
“Yes, will he be here tonight,” Dawn asked.
Michelle and her friends were setting up in Rampart hospital’s auditorium for the staff/patient New Year’s party that night.
Michelle rolled her eyes. “Yes, he will be here tonight,” she answered.
“Well, all right!!!” Dawn drawled. “Heck, I was beginning to think he was invisible.
“Very funny,” Michelle told her. “But, I have to admit I’m glad he was able to be off today.”
With that Betty and Dawn broke into humming the wedding march.
“It’s not like that,” Michelle said.
“Sure it isn’t,” Betty told Dawn who nodded in agreement.
“Will you two just take these balloons and blow...them up.”
Decorating continued in compatible silence for several minutes. Then unexpectedly Mike Stoker walked through the open doors. Michelle smiled when she saw him enter though it faded when she noticed the rather solemn look on his face.
“Mike,” she said puzzled.
“Do you have a minute?” Mike’s voice was serious.
“Yeah,” she answered still perplexed. She turned to her friends. “I’ll be right back.”
Mike led Michelle to an empty waiting area outside the auditorium and invited her to sit.
“Oh, it’s a sitting thing huh?” She attempted to make light.
“Yes. Yes, it is,” Mike confirmed sitting beside her. There was a pause. “I’m not very good at this.” There was another pause as Michelle silently urged him to tell her whatever it was. Mike swallowed and looked away. Then turning back to Michelle he finally said, “I got a call from a friend of mine on the police force...”

Back to present:
“Michelle...Michelle...”
“I’m still here,” she told her husband.
“Where were you?” Mike asked.
“Just thinking.”
“1971?”
“You know me too well,” Michelle sighed. “It just seems so... so...”
“Similar,” Mike finished.
“Yeah, similar.” The phone still to her ear she lay back against the headboard. “Two very talented men putting bullets into their brains.” She shuddered as she spoke.
“Something else similar too,” Mike told her. “Neither case was your fault.”
Michelle remained silent so Mike continued. “They were performers. You worked with them on a regular basis and, yes, you got close but you were not responsible for their demons.
“My degree is in psychology,” Michelle finally said. “I should have seen the warning signs. In fact with both of them I did see the signs...”
“And you sought to help them,” Mike reminded her. “You didn’t sit back and do nothing. Sometimes...well sometimes it doesn’t turn out the way you’d like.”
“Still...”
“Chelle, I’m coming home. Try to relax. We’ll talk more when I get there.”
Ordinarily, Michelle would have tried to talk Mike out of leaving his shift but this time she had to admit she wanted and needed him there. She slid down under the covers and with her mind on overload she managed to fall asleep.
Under the circumstances it had not taken Mike long to find someone to cover the rest of the shift for him. He arrived home, made his way to the bedroom and quietly entered easing himself onto the bed. He reached out an arm and gently shook his sleeping wife.
Michelle stirred. Mike shook her again. This time her eyes popped open. In the shadows of the room she saw his concerned face looking at her.
“Do you mind some light,” he inquired.
“No,” she croaked in response.
Mike clicked on the bedside light causing her to squint until her eyes adjusted. “How are feeling?”
Michelle shrugged. “Numb, I suppose. Guess I thought if I went to sleep I’d wake up and it would have all been a dream.”
“Well, I’m here to drive you to the hospital.”
Michelle nodded and threw back the covers as Mike stood. “Do you think he’ll make it?”
“Honestly?” Mike contemplated his wife. “No.”

“His parents made the right decision,” Mike told Michelle on the drive from the hospital. They had elected to remove him from life support and allow him to go peacefully.
Michelle stared out the window of the car, unresponsive. Making a decision Mike pulled the car over into a grocery store parking lot.
“Do we need something?” Michelle asked absently.
“Yes,” Mike told her matter-of-factly. “We need to talk.” She turned to him with a look that said emphatically ‘not now.’ “Well, I need to talk,” Mike remarked. “You listen.”
Michelle folded her arms and waited.
“This may not be the best timing,” he began. “But it’s on my mind now and... well, I have to say it.” There was a pause. “You did not shove quaaludes down Freddie’s throat...”
Michelle opened her mouth but Mike shushed her with his hand.
“Any more than you poured liquor down Pete’s. And you most certainly did not tell either one of them to put a gun to his head. I’m sorry but I just can’t have you blaming yourself.”
Michelle lifted her eyes to gaze into Mike’s ready to verbalize a response. For a minute Mike thought she was going to bite his head off. Instead she drew a shuddering breath and formed the words. “How is it that everyone with whom I became close in the process of doing my job has met with an early demise?”
Mike looked at her, puzzled. Then it hit him. “You’re thinking of Richard as aren’t you.”
Michelle nodded. “Don’t forget last April.”
Mike held his wife as she cried quietly against his shoulder in the parking lot of a grocery store.

author’s note: This is my tribute to the memories of Pete Duel and Freddie Prinze. And though I never think of these things as “my fault” like many I know I deeply wished there was something I could have done.

January 1977

fan fiction by: Michelle Gussow