call your therapist. // eddie diaz

ii. someone for everyone to talk to

the heat of los angeles wrapped around me like a too-tight blanket as i climbed out of my car. after a long drive from my old home in seattle, the smog, the endless stretch of palm trees, and the constant hum of life had felt strange. i'd moved to escape, to heal, and to rebuild myself after years of emotional wreckage. now, i was standing in front of a fresh chapter.

my new apartment wasn’t much - one bedroom, one bathroom, and a small balcony overlooking the city. the kind of place you moved into when you were starting over. as i carried in boxes, i glanced at the bare white walls of my living room. it wasn’t home yet, but it would be. it had to be.

with the last box dropped on the hardwood floor, i wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead and stretched my arms overhead. the empty space echoed around me, but it felt oddly comforting. i was finally free - free from the toxic cycles of my past relationship. the echoes of that relationship still clung to me, but the physical distance made them feel more distant, more manageable.

i opened a box labeled "office supplies" and began unpacking the essentials for my new workspace. therapy books, files, a notepad, and a handful of pens came first, followed by a framed picture of my sister. i placed the frame carefully on the small desk i'd set up in front of the window. it would take time to adjust, but at least this was a start.

as i arranged my space, my thoughts wandered back to the relationship i had left behind. the way my ex had constantly undermined me - slowly chipping away at my confidence, always making me second-guess myself. the manipulative arguments. the gaslighting. it had taken so much to walk away, but here i was, standing in a new city, trying to put the pieces back together.

my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, pulling me from my thoughts. it was a message from bobby nash, my new boss.

bobby: hey, veronica! i hope the move went smoothly. i’d like to invite you to the firehouse tomorrow to meet the team. we’ll be finishing up a shift around 2 p.m. looking forward to introducing you to everyone!

i let out a small sigh, part relief and part nerves. meeting the 118 was the next step, and though i was excited, the idea of starting with a team of first responders wasn’t exactly easy. firefighters were tough, hardened by the things they saw. they might not be open to the idea of therapy right away, but i was determined to make a difference.

the next day, i found myself pulling into the parking lot of station 118, the bright red fire trucks gleaming under the california sun. the building stood like a beacon of safety, with a sense of order and strength that felt intimidating yet reassuring. i took a deep breath before stepping out of the car, smoothing down my clothes as i walked toward the entrance.

before i could step inside, the loud siren of an approaching fire truck rang through the air, signaling the crew’s return from a call. i stepped back and watched as the truck pulled into the bay. the crew hopped out, immediately greeted by the sight of a young boy - christopher - waiting with an excited grin.

i recognized eddie instantly, even though we had never met. he stood beside the fire truck, dust and exhaustion clinging to his skin, but there was something striking about the way he moved, a natural grace mixed with the weight of responsibility. as christopher made his way toward him, eddie’s entire demeanor softened. he crouched down to christopher’s level, tousling his hair and laughing softly at something the boy said. the tenderness in that moment struck me. eddie looked every bit the hero i had imagined, but there was something in his eyes - a weariness, a heaviness - that made me pause. he had seen more than most people ever would, and it lingered behind his smile.

“veronica?”

the sound of bobby nash’s voice pulled me back to reality, and i turned to see him approaching with a warm, welcoming smile.