“Your mommy told you to go outside because she loved you more than anything in this world. She wanted you to be safe. She made sure you got out because your life was more important to her than her own.”
“But I should have helped her!” His voice rose to a scream again. “I should have pulled her outside! I’m big enough! I could have done it!”
“But now she’s dead!” Marcus’s whole body convulsed with sobs. “Now she’s dead and I’m all alone and it’s because I didn’t save her!”
“Marcus, can I tell you a story?”
He looked at me, tears streaming down his face. Didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no. Just looked.
“When I was eight years old, my house caught fire too. My daddy woke me up and told me to climb out the window and run to the neighbor’s house. He said he was going to get my baby sister from her room.”
I paused. Took a breath. This story still hurt after forty-six years.
“I did what my daddy said. I climbed out and I ran. And I waited at the neighbor’s house for my daddy and my sister to come out.” My voice cracked. “They never came out, Marcus. The roof collapsed. They both died.”
Marcus stared at me. “Your daddy died?”
“And my baby sister. Emma. She was only two.”
