And then, she would walk into the bakery. Her scent would carry across the counter as it made its way to my nose; I’d know her fragrance anywhere. I’d greet her with a beaming smile and she’d order her favorite dessert. I’d pass it to her free of charge, because I couldn’t possibly take any money from her. I’d watch her sit at her usual table and somehow, I’d muster up the courage to go talk to her. We’d end up talking for hours about anything and everything.
When it’s time for her to leave, I’d touch her hand, look deep into her emerald eyes, and tell her how she makes my heart skip. Just as she spreads her lips to respond, a soft knock startles me from the daydream and in walks the beauty herself.
She peeks her head inside. “Hi, I uh…I thought that I’d stop by before I left and see how you’re doing.”
Glancing at the clock, I turn to her. “It’s thirty minutes after your shift.”
She walks in and sits in her usual chair. “I always end up staying a little late anyway. It’s no big deal. How are you feeling?”
Pushing the pain aside, I shrug my shoulders. “It could be worse.”
“You always say that.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
She smiles as a strand of hair falls in front of her face. She quickly brushes it behind her ear and beams bright. “So, I wanted to ask you a question.”
I sit up, ready for her request. “Yes?”
At first she peeks out the window, nervously biting her bottom lip. Nervousness spreads across her face as she looks out into the night sky. She lets out a deep breath and asks, “Remember the time at the bakery in high school, the day it rained?”
With wide eyes, I reply, “Uh huh.”
“Yeah well, you told me that you wanted to be a firefighter and I recall you wanted to tell me why but you never had the chance. I was wondering if you could tell me now.”
Her question knocks the air out of my lungs as a swirl of emotions flow all around. Is this it? Is now the time to tell her about my parents?
I glance a peek at her beautiful face. Her eyes sparkle underneath the twinkling moonlight, desperate to hear my answer.
I close my eyes and exhale, mentally preparing myself for the memories that are going to resurface. I tell her to pull the chair closer as I open up to her.
With a low voice, I begin, “My mother died in an apartment fire when I was eleven years old.”
Her face fills with shock as she gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, god. I’m so sorry
, I didn’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to talk about it I completely understand.”
I brush off her apology. “No need to feel sorry. I want to tell you.”
“Oh, okay.” She cuddles up in the chair, resting her hands and head on her knees.
“It was in the middle of the night. The smell of smoke woke me up from my sleep and the sirens from the trucks outside startled me out of my bed. I remember hearing people scream from the hallway; the walls in that building were pretty thin. The only thing I remember wanting was to find my mother. Her bedroom was adjacent to mine but the smoke was so thick, I could hardly see. Debris from the upstairs apartments had started to fall and the flames had already managed to heat up the doorknob by then. Goodness, I was so scared, but not for me, for my mother. I had managed to get out of my room, but couldn’t get to hers. I remember her screaming for me, calling out my name as the living room and the foyer burst into flames. Eventually, two firefighters found me. One covered me in a fire blanket, and the other rescued my mother.”
Dredging up past memories sent my system into an emotional overload as tears filled my eyes. Images of my screaming mother started flashing in my mind. My heart broke into a million pieces all over again. Shutting my eyes for a brief pause, my fingers wiped away a few escaping tears.
My voice started to crack. “The plan was to get out of the building as soon as possible, but it was on the verge of collapsing. We ended up having to jump out of one of the windows onto a trampoline. Just as we jumped out, there was an explosion…and my mother and her rescuer didn’t make it.”
I look to her and see tears cascading down her face. She sniffs softly and grabs a tissue to wipe away her tears. “And…your father?”
I murmur, “My father died from cancer a few years before the fire. I was lucky enough to have the chance to say goodbye to him. With my mom, it was a different story. After she died, my aunt and uncle took me in, and they made me the man I am today.”
A soft cry escapes her lips as she reaches out and grabs hold of my left hand. She squeezes it softly and whispers, “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine growing up without my parents.”
My eyes drift down to see our hands entwining with one another. She notices our hold and quickly lets go, bringing her hand back to her side.
I clear my throat. “Uh yes, I was lucky enough to have my aunt and uncle. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.”
We lock eyes and just for a moment, I feel like I’m looking into her soul. Warmth and love spread all over my body as I have the urge to reach out and touch her face, to feel her smooth skin underneath my flat palm, to see her blonde locks curl around my fingers. Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink as we stare and gaze into each other’s eyes.