Let it go
The ride was silent - the tension palpable. Carina stared out the window, her knee bouncing. Maya gripped the steering wheel tightly, knowing Carina was already gearing herself up for whatever was about to happen. When they pulled into the firehouse, Maya parked, but Carina didn’t move right away.
Maya unbuckled her seatbelt. “Come on.”
Carina hesitated for a second longer, then got out. The fire station was quiet—eerily so. The usual hustle and bustle of firefighters preparing for calls was absent. The engines were gone, out on a call, leaving the station nearly deserted. Maya steered clear of the reception area to avoid the desk clerk, choosing the staff entrance around the back.
She led Carina up the back staircase and into the gym. The only sounds they could hear were the faint hum of the refrigerator in the Beanery and the distant ticking of a clock. Maya and Carina stood alone in the room, the heavy punching bag swaying gently in front of them. Carina stared it. Her fingers twitched at her sides.
Maya didn’t say anything—not yet. She moved quietly toward the equipment cabinet and took a pair of the sparring gloves off the shelf. She had seen enough of the fire station’s team using them, pounding against the bags during training, to know how much of a release this could be. But she was also anxious, her gut churning as she wondered whether she’d pushed Carina enough to do this or if she'd resist.
She approached Carina slowly, holding the gloves out. "Here," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Put these on, Carina. You need to get it all out."
Carina frowned. She just stared at them for a second. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took them, her breath sharp, controlled—but barely. Maya helped tighten the straps, her fingers brushing against Carina’s wrist longer than necessary, eyes locked on hers, grounding her without saying a word.
Carina exhaled. Long. Slow. Unsteady.
“Just try. If you want to stop, you can stop.” Maya coaxed, relieved to see a spark of determination in Carina’s eyes.
She stepped back, giving her space.
Carina walked over to the punching bag. Maya watched as she hesitated for just a moment, then raising her arm, she punched the bag. The impact was solid, but weak. Half-hearted. She stepped back, her breath catching, her body still tense.
“Again,” Maya encouraged gently, nodding toward the bag. “Harder this time.”
Carina hesitated, her jaw tight. Maya could sense the battle waging inside her.
But then, in the quiet space of the fire station, the silence almost too much to bear, Carina looked at Maya. Maya was waiting, watching her, not pushing, but not giving up either. There was no judgment, only patience. And something else too—a glimmer of understanding. Of trust.
Carina’s hands clenched into fists. She raised them again, this time with more purpose, more aggression. The punch came harder, more forceful, and the sound of it echoed around the empty space. Carina’s breath caught as she took a step back.
“You’re doing good,” Maya said quietly, watching her closely, willing her to let the pain she was feeling - the grief, the anger, the loss—flare up again. To push through. To let the punch bag absorb all the frustration and sorrow she had been unable to release so she would feel lighter.
Then, it was as if something inside Carina snapped, and she didn’t hesitate. She punched again, harder. She punched again and again. And again. Sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.
“I hate this. I hate this so much,” Carina cried out, her voice breaking as she swung with renewed desperation. Her punches became frantic, like she was trying to beat the world into submission, trying to punch away the vision of her brother’s blood on her hands, the memory of him slipping away in her arms.
With each strike, Maya could see the tension in Carina’s body slowly unravelling, the anger ebbing away with every rhythmic thud of her fists.
She grunted with each punch. Her breathing came harder. Her body moved with a relentless, raw force, her face flushed with emotion, the sweat now running down her face in rivulets and spraying the air around her. The bag was swinging violently with every blow.
And then she screamed.
Raw, cathartic, freeing itself from her chest like a dam bursting, as her fists continued to pound the bag. She punched harder, over and over, tears mingling with the sweat, the sobs wracking her entire body.
Finally, Carina’s legs gave way beneath her. She dropped to her knees, her chest heaving as she crumpled forward, burying her face in her hands as she cried.
Maya was there in an instant, kneeling on the floor beside her and pulling Carina into her arms, holding her tightly, as if to keep her from falling apart completely. She didn’t say anything at first. She just held her, letting Carina sob against her shoulder, letting the grief pour out of her in wave after wave.
“It’s okay,” Maya whispered, throat tight, heart clenching as Carina came undone in her arms, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Carina clung on, her body trembling slightly, slowly settling with each ragged breath. Maya held her close, whispering soft assurances as she rubbed soothing circles on Carina’s back.
She didn’t try to fix it, didn’t offer advice.
She just let Carina cry, let her release it all.
She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually, she felt the slightest shift—the tension easing, if only just a little.
As Carina’s sobs began to slow, Maya pulled back slightly, gently tipping her chin up. ‘It’s okay. You’re okay,’ she murmured, her gaze steady, full of quiet reassurance. Carina’s lip quivered, eyes red and swollen from crying, but there was a subtle shift. Something in her had let go, and Maya had been there to help her through it.
Maya brushed a stray lock of hair from Carina’s face, her touch tender. “You’re allowed to feel all of this, Carina,” she murmured. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to grieve. It’s not going to be easy, but... you don’t have to do it alone.”
Carina let out a shaky breath, “I hate this, Maya. I hate feeling so... weak.”
“No, Carina. You’re not weak,” Maya said firmly. “You’re human. You’re grieving. But you will get through this.” She paused, her gaze softening. “I’m here for you.”
Carina swallowed. Maya could see the weight of her words hitting her. She finally nodded, her fingers tightening around Maya’s shirt. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. Maya understood.
With a soft sigh, Maya helped Carina to her feet, supporting her as they walked toward the bench to sit. Carina let her head fall to Maya’s shoulder, resting there, the two of them finding quiet comfort in each other’s presence. Maya seeking permission with her eyes, before gently removing the gloves, setting them aside. There were no more words for now. They didn’t need any.
Carina finally pulled back, just slightly.
Her face was close—so close. Maya could feel the warmth of her breath, see the way her eyes glistened with tears. She was so beautiful, even like this. Even in her grief. Carina’s gaze searched hers, and for a second, Maya thought something might happen.
But then Carina bit her lip and shook her head. Not now. Not like this.
Maya swallowed, nodding just slightly in understanding, and gently brushed a tear from Carina’s cheek with the pad of her thumb. Carina leaned into the touch, her fingers still gripping Maya’s wrist like she wasn’t ready to let go. Maya wasn’t either.
For now, Maya would be here. For as long as Carina needed.
There were no shortcuts to grieving — especially when Andrew’s death was so sudden. So brutal. So senseless.
But she was in this for the long haul.
Because that’s what Carina needed.
She wasn’t sure what this was between them, or if it could ever be anything.
She couldn’t think about that now.
Right now, all that mattered was Carina.
And Maya didn’t want to run from that.
Not this time.