To start the story of Chris becoming a firefighter, you'd have to go back four years. Well, I guess if you're starting at the very beginning, you would go back to when he was a little boy and he was visiting his uncle at the fire station. Chris' uncle was a lieutenant and Chris thought he was the coolest uncle in the whole world.
I guess, for some other context, you would also have to know that Chris and I always talked about how we have the perfect careers for being together. Chris, a super-talented and hard-working brick layer, had the kind of job that could go anywhere. And I was the kind of girl that wanted to go everywhere. If I got a job in Maine, Colorado, California, New York, heck even Canada, then Chris could go there, be with me, and be a brick layer in Maine, Colorado, California, New York, or Canada. People everywhere need brick walls. It was the perfect set up. Me dreaming big and knowing that Chris would be there in my dream. Dreaming that if I wanted to just go somewhere and do something, that I could.
That plan was kind've working. I was working in publishing, working my way around the state. Books, magazines, food, health... I was working my way around the industry, making contacts, getting ideas. And Chris was there with me.
Somewhere in our five years of marriage, I learned to appreciate how Chris makes decisions. He makes them slooowly. This used to drive me nuts. I wondered what was wrong with my husband. Did he not have opinions? Did he not hear me? Well, it turns out Chris needs to think about things. He needs to think about how it could turn out and how it could be better. He needs to think about how to say something or when to say something. It's really quite special, you see. By taking it slowly and sorting things out, Chris tends to always make the best decisions. And, as his wife, that makes me feel happy and safe.
But then the phone rang.
Four years before the phone rang, Chris applied at the Waterloo fire station. We lived in the Waterloo area at that time. He passed all the tests, did all the interviews, and made it on The List. Four years have passed since then.
Meanwhile, I was still dreaming that dream. The List made me nervous. If anything, The List kicked my ambition into high gear. I couldn't see that I had a really good job for a 26-year-old. I mean, I had an office, with a door. I had even fired somebody. And you have to be somewhat important in order to fire somebody, right?
I was surrounded by friends. I was super involved at church. Life was ridiculously fun. But The List was making it hard to breathe. Maybe, I thought, if I could get a job in Canada, then The List would just go away. We didn't move to Canada, but we did move to Des Moines. I thought The List was gone for good. Before we moved, Chris applied at the fire station in Des Moines, and made it on Another List. But, with almost perfect timing, Another List never amounted to much. Des Moines put a hiring freeze on their fire department and had a bunch of layoffs right around the same time we moved here. I had dodged two lists, and I was still free. If not free to just move wherever I wanted, at least I was still free to dream about it.
But then the phone rang.
The phone rang on a Sunday night. We had already been in Des Moines for a year, and The List was four years in the past. I could tell that this wasn't a normal Sunday night phone call and I sat on the floor watching Chris' face, trying to figure out who it was, what was being said, what did that expression mean?
"It was the Waterloo fire department. They're offering me a job. And they need an answer by tomorrow."
That seemed a little drastic, even for me, who doesn't take time making decisions. For Chris, it was nearly impossible to sort things out. We stayed up all night. Writing out a list of pros and cons. We cried and I conjured up my best congratulations.
"They still remembered me. They said they really liked me and they have money to hire two guys. I'm at the top of The List."
We called my dad. He gave the advice that only a Dad can give. We weren't being naive, the decision seemed drastic even to my dad. Ask them for more time, he said.
They gave us more time. Four months. They were going to hire two more guys in four months. Chris will remain on the top of The List. They really liked him and they really wanted him, so they gave him four months.
The next week I sent my resume to Canada. I actually don't even know what it would be like to live in Canada. I would probably hate it. But I sent out a million resumes just because I was running from that darn List. I was selfish. I wanted Chris all to myself and it seemed like someone figured out how awesome he was and was trying to steal him from me. I sent out a million resumes as a last attempt at escaping the inevitable. I was going to be a firefighter's wife.
I already knew what it would be like. I would be alone. In fact, when I googled "life of a firefighter" all I could find were a bunch of websites about support groups for the wives of firefighters. "Sweetie, do you really want to take a job that comes with a recommendation for a support group for your wife?"
But the set-me-free resumes didn't completely fail. I got another job. It was the next step up in a publishing career that leads to who knows where. Funny thing is, the farther I work my way up, the farther away I get from an office with a door and the ability to fire someone. The companies just keep getting bigger, and despite a growing salary and growing responsibility, my role keeps feeling smaller. I'm a little hard-working gear in a big, big machine.
So here we were, Chris and me with job offers in two different cities. Now it was decision time. Who gives up on their dream?
Well, four months was almost enough time for Chris to make that kind of decision. Whenever someone heard the decision we were struggling with, they couldn't see the complexity of it all. "Way to go Chris!" "Wow, you'll be living every guy's dream!" "What's so hard about that decision? Just go for it!"
To be fair, Chris said he wouldn't take the job if I didn't want him to take it. To be completely unfair, Chris put the biggest decision of our lives in my hands. Who would ever tell their husband that, no, you can't be a firefighter because you're ruining my fantasy dream that someday we'll move to Colorado or Canada or Australia! Anywhere!
It's almost been a year since Chris took his job in Waterloo and I took my job at the big machine. Which means it's almost been a year of answering the same questions with a smile and a shrug.
I'm not sure whether it's because I'm feeling A) very honest or B) very alone, here are my real answers to the FAQs as of late.
Q. So, you live in different cities?
A. No, we work in different cities. We live in Des Moines. We have an apartment there and I work there. Chris drives to Waterloo every third morning and stays there for 24 hours.
Q. Do you like your time alone?
A. Not really. I tell people that I like the alone time so I can catch up on schoolwork. But, honestly, I would rather be catching up on schoolwork when Chris is sitting in the same room. I tell people that I don't really think about being alone because I'm so busy studying. But the truth is, I think about being alone a lot, in the middle of reading sentences about metabolism and nutrient deficiencies, in the middle of making a serves-one dinner, and in the middle of trying to fall asleep alone.
Q. Do you worry about Chris going in fires?
A. The honest truth is that I don't think about this. Chris has convinced me that his equipment will keep him safe in a fire, and I really, honestly believe that. What I don't tell people is that I worry about Chris driving as much as he does. He gets up every third morning at 4 a.m. to drive to Waterloo to stay at a fire station where he doesn't really sleep and then he drives back to Des Moines the next morning. So yes, I do worry about him driving while he's tired. And yes, I worry about the non-fire things he does, like pick up dead bodies. No one told us about the dead bodies.
Q. How are you doing?
A. People tend to ask me this question a lot lately, and they ask it in a tone that suggests I may not be OK. The truth is, I'm mourning a little bit. I'm mourning the life I always thought I would live, with the husband that would go with me anywhere, and the career that fulfills all my dreams. If you've already found your own happiness and peace in life, it may be easy for you to tell me that the grass isn't always greener on the other side. You don't need to tell me that. I'm working on it.
Q. Do you like being the wife of a firefighter?
A. No, I don't think I do. But I like being Chris' wife. And I like having a husband that is happy, and fulfilled, and proud of himself. And that's the honest, forever truth.
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