The Badboy and The Jailbird

Chapter 7 "Fire"

Taylor looks at me as if remembering when I had broken down and cried. I had let my guard down. It won't happen again. Especially not in front of him.

Taylor looks back at Sheila. "Who is Jessie?"

Sheila looks at him as if determining whether or not to trust him, so she looks to me. I lazily nod.

"He was our brother. 4 Years older than me. 6 years older than Brody." That's when I decide to pipe in.

"We had a good relationship, the three of us. Really close. I looked up to my brother for everything." Everyone is silent until Taylor breaks it. "Why do you say had?" He looks at me with worried eyes. A different type of worry though than when I hit my head.

I start to get hot. My eyes start to flare. Sweat steams out of my pores. Sheila sees this and speaks, cautiously yet confidently. "He's dead."

Those two words send me overboard. I start to remember everything vividly: the fire, the drugs, the needles, the firemen, the sirens, the hospital, this house, the ashes. But most of all the screams.

The deep, raspy screams of my brother that I had tried so hard to protect.

I feel tears in my eyes but close them for fear of breaking down again. Instead, I start to hyperventilate. My shirt is almost soggy with sweat and I feel like I'm in the fire all over again.

Sheila runs to the kitchen and grabs a dishtowel and soaks it in water then comes to put it on my head while calmingly telling Taylor to get me some water.

After 5 minutes I start to calm down and Sheila starts to talk.

"Should I tell him the story?" She looks at me with depressed, worried eyes. I hesitate but nod my head to say okay. Sheila and Taylor sit back down and I take a long drink of water. Sheila starts to talk again.

"Jessie was a good kid. Good looking, good in school, good personality. It was only after the death of one of Brody and Jessie's best friends that he realized life is fucking short. He started injecting morphine, drinking, and going to wild parties. One night he came home drunk out of his mind and high on drugs. The power had been out since 10 that night, so he went to light some candles while Brody and I were watching a movie on the computer."

I tensed remembering everything in exact detail. I take another swig of water and curl my legs to my chest. Sheila continues, quieter and with tears in her eyes.

"Little did we know that he was setting all the candles next to the curtains at the same time he was shooting up. 5 minutes later we hear screams-" her voice cracks and she stops, tears dripping down her face.

Taylor looks at us both worried then looks at Sheila's arm. At her scars.

"You don't have to keep going. It's ok."

Sheila shakes her head and continues with a raspy voice. We haven't talked about that night except maybe once or twice. "The curtains were on fire, and soon the whole kitchen was on fire with Jess still in it." I stop her, deciding to finish the story.

"Sheila tried to get to him. I was trying to call 911 on the home phone but it wasn't working since the power was down so we tried desperately to get him out. Eventually, we had to leave or we would have died too. A few neighbors had seen the fire and drove to the fire station. 10 minutes later we were out on the lawn watching the jets of water put out our beloved house along with our brother."

Sheila was in full-on downpour mode, grabbing tissues constantly.

"I'm sorry." Taylor looks down at his twitching hands then does the unexpected. He comes over to where I am curled up, helps me up, then hugs me.

My head rests just below his chin and my arms wrap perfectly around his waist. The warmth radiating from his body is calming and reassuring.

The rest of the night goes by quickly and quietly. We order pizza, watch Ride Along, and then go to bed, all with different thoughts in mind. No more is said about Jessie.