Our house, our home

My throat was burning. I tried not to breath, counter intuitively, and failed. I sucked in painful lung fulls of air and coughed it out again. I couldn't see straight and the house felt like it was spinning. The crackling fire sounded like applause as I tripped and lumbered forward in a clumsy dance, trying to reach the source of the screams. I was getting closer, but so were the flames. The soles of my shoes were disappearing under the hot floor and it felt like I was walking on coals with no end in sight. My son cried out for me. I called back, and told him it would be okay. I was almost there. Not much further now. My face was covered in soot and my nostrils felt like they were on fire. I tried breathing through my shirt, a marginal improvement. I could see the door to his bedroom down the hall. I grabbed the doorknob and ripped the door open. A fair amount of skin didn't come along as I let go of the burning hot knob. The pain was far away, like the sound of an echo that is recognizable, but doesn't feel like it's a part of you. He had wrapped his baby sister in a blanket and was shielding her in the far corner of the room. Don't cry, he whispered. It'll be okay.

I had never struck him before, but I wasn't myself that day. It wasn't justified or understandable, but overreaction never is. I had been on the phone, yelling at a clerk because of a problem I couldn't find anyone else to blame for. A few minutes earlier I had been on the opposite end, being read the riot act by my own boss. He had run up to me in the middle of my meaningless tirade and asked for something, and I had ignored him. As children will do, he bombarded me with variations of dad. Dad, dad, dad, dad, daddy, daddy, daddy, dad, dad, dad. I snapped and slapped him across the face. It was something I knew I would regret before I even did it, but not every action can be explained. I hated myself for it, and could feel him slipping away from me every day that passed. He flinched when I had reached over to fasten his seatbelt. That broke my heart.

The separation had been hard on the whole family, especially the children. We tried not to fight in front of them, but the walls were only so thick. I slept on a few couches and spent a few nights in motels. Nights were spent shaking and drinking, and fearing that this would actually be the end. I looked back at the people we had been, once upon a fairytale. I tried to imagine finding someone else who I could spend my life with. Starting a new family with a new wife and a new house. I poured the bottle out and took a cold shower. I had to see them again. I would have her take me back, regardless of what it took. I would hold a boom box over my head playing her favorite song. I would yell "Stella!" until she came out. It didn't matter at this part, I was stripped of any pride I could hope to have. Without her it didn't matter what people thought of me, because there was no me. I drove slowly, and felt myself fading out a few times. Every time I had to turn the radio up a little louder to keep myself awake. I shut it off when I saw the smoke up ahead.

I got to them as quick as I could. Are you hurt? They were crying, but they seemed alright. It's gonna be okay, kids. I promise you, daddy's gonna get you outta here. I'll never be gone again, I swear. I love you so much. The room was getting smaller and hotter. I pressed them against the wall and tried to get my head straight. There had to be a way out of here. Don't let this be it. The room was spinning harder know, my feet were being pulled out from under me. The applause got louder and the house was cracking under us. My sweater was heating up on my back, and I could feel the fabric melting into my skin. The pain was coming closer, pulsating and disorienting. I heard something smash. Turning around, I saw someone outside the window. He was a flash of red, calling for us to come to him. I lifted him off his feet and sent him and his sister toward to window. I tried standing up, but could only stumble. Keep going, I yelled to them. Don't stop! You're going to be okay, just keep going. They reached the fireman, who lifted them up and out, and out of view. The ceiling was crashing down over me. He reached out his hand and told me to reach for it. There were only four feet between us, but his voice was a million miles away. I fell to my knees, arm stretched out in front of me. The house was creaking even more. The roomed stopped spinning and I fell forward. Something had fallen on me, pinning me down. The room was black and orange and biting ferociously at me. I called out to the man in the window. His eyed went from frightened to sad. He had heard me. He retracted his hand, and smiled to me. They're going to be okay, he said. And then he was gone.