It was December 1st, 1958. I was at work at the Chicago Fire Department in the West Side of Chicago. It was a very slow day, as the station is only busy when there's a fire somewhere. I had started working here about a year ago and I saved a lot of people in that one year. I was in the middle ranks, happy where I was. But to be honest, I was never happy. I walked into the quiet hallway at the back of the station, wearing my heavy beige uniform, gripping my firefighter's hat in my left hand. I slouched down in the corner and put my hat on my chest and let out a sigh. Finally, I thought. Some alone time. I closed my eyes knowing that I shouldn't because I knew that it would be the same every day, but I did so anyway. Flashbacks of memories, painful memories appeared in my vision.
It was September 19th, 1945. I was twelve years old. I had just finished school for the day and arrived at the bus stop on the bright yellow school bus. I got off at my stop and walked one block home from the bus stop with a large smile on my face, ready to tell my parents everything that had happened that day at school. The air smelled of early fall and rainbows of leaves were scattered all over the sidewalks and the street, colors of orange, yellow, and bright red, just like the sunrise in the morning. I skipped the entire way home and once I arrived, my younger brother was already home from elementary school and was at the kitchen table doing homework. He heard the front door open and close and saw me put down my school items by the shoe closet next to the front door. He turned to me and tried to insult me. But I basically roasted him, he was in second grade, he had terrible insults.
"If I were a bird, you'd be the first person I'd poop on," he said in his nasally voice.
I scoffed and fired back, "Watch out guys, threatening insults over here." He tried harder.
"Are you insulting me? Shock me. Say something intelligent."
And I said back, "Brains are awesome. I wish everyone had one."
We went back and forth until Papa stepped in. Papa had the black hair and blue eyes like me. Anyone could easily tell that we were related.
"Woah, woah, hey guys! No need to argue and insult each other."
My brother, Alex, pointed at me and said, "She started it!"
"I did not!" I replied.
"Did too!"
I narrowed my eyes into slits. "Why you little-"
Papa stood between us and told us to knock it off. Mama stepped into the kitchen with a smile on her face.
"Marcus, they're just kids. They're going to fight," she said in a soothing voice. Oh, how I miss that voice.
"Carolyn..." Papa pleaded,
"It's fine, Marc." Mama looked away from Papa and turned her eyes to Alex. "Alex, please do your work."
Alex looked at his paper and said in a defeated tone, "Okay, Mama. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, baby. You are forgiven," she said with a smile.
I glared at Mama and Alex, feeling defeated by Alex and unsure of who to blame for the anger inside of me.
"Ashley, let it go," Papa said sternly.
I clenched my fists so hard I had pinched through my skin. "No!" I screamed.
Papa's face twisted with intense anger and his eyes turned into those of a demon's. "Go to your room! Now!"
Mama just stood there, looking at Papa with her hazel eyes that was so beautiful with her amber hair, looking uncertain. She opened her mouth to say something but she closed it immediately.
