THE BLIND and THE LAME

1. The Fire

Two loud bangs upstairs jolted me awake, the second several seconds after the first. As I got my bearings I smelled smoke and headed for the stairs to warn my parents. A wall of smoke and fumes and the glow of fire upstairs told me I had to get out of the house, now. Welcome relief at the front door greeted me as I limped into fresh air. I hastened to the curb as I reached for my cell phone to call 911. Only then did I realize I was clad only in my underwear in the chilly wee hours of an early July day. Our whole wood-frame house now totally engulfed in flame. I knew I couldn't go back for the phone. No sirens, no sign of firefighters or police. I headed next door as fast as I could and pounded the door. Finally Mr. Smith opened a second-story window and leaned out hollering, "God, Jimmy, it's two a.m. What the hell do you want?" Then he saw what was happening and said, "Oh shit! OK, Jimmy, I'm calling 911 now."

The first police car showed up within a minute. The officer took one look and fished a blanket out of his trunk to wrap myself in.

"My parents are in there!" I hollered as the whole flaming structure collapsed into the basement.

"Son," the officer said, "If they're in there I'm sure they're gone. Was there anyone else in there?" Fire trucks arrived and began to douse the burning rubble that an hour before had been the only home I'd ever known. I replied to the officer, "No, it was just the three of us." I sat down on the curb and wept. The officer sat beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. "Son," he said, "Do you have any family you can go to?"

"No, sir," I said as I got hold of myself. "My Dad's only brother lives in Alaska. He doesn't get along with us and doesn't like me at all. My Mom was an only child. All my grandparents died a long time ago."

"Son," the officer asked, "How old are you?"

"Just turned eighteen, sir," I replied. "Fourth of July. Yankee Doodle dandy." Why the hell that stupid thought entered my head at that moment I'll never know.

"No siblings?" asked the officer.

"Four older brothers. Youngest is twelve years older than me. My father ran them off one by one years ago. I have no idea where they are."

"Are you still in school?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "Rising senior. I lost a year with a medical problem."

"Oh son," said the officer. "You're having a helluva life."

"Officer," I replied, "You don't know the half of it."

Just then a voice said from my other side, "I'm sure you can stay with us, at least for a while." It was Robbie, my friend from school.

The officer said, "Aren't you Mr. van Dam's son?"

"Yes, sir, I am." He sighed. "I'm afraid everyone knows who I am." Mr. Reginald van Dam owned the town bank and the pencil factory and had a majority interest in the steel mill where my dad worked. He was hands down the richest man in our county. The van Dam residence sat facing the end of our street, a block and a half from our house, on a lush nine or ten acres of ground.

"Robbie, how did you know?" I asked.

"The sirens woke me and I turned on my scanner to see what was happening. When they said the address I knew it was your house. Where are your mom and dad?" I jerked my hand up and said, "In there" as I pointed to the rubble with my thumb, and began weeping again. This time it was Robbie's arm that upheld me as the officer said, "Son, sit right there if you will. I'm sure the fire marshal will want to talk with you."

Robbie asked, "What happened, Jimmy?"

"I don't know," I replied. "I was sound asleep when a loud bang from upstairs woke me, then another a few seconds later. I got up and went to the door to the front hall. I opened it and there was all this smoke and a fierce red glow upstairs. I could hardly breathe and got to the front door and on out to the curb as quick as I could. By the time the cops came the whole house was nothing but fire. Then it all fell into the basement."