Swallow The Words That I Meant To Say

I met her for the first time after the fire, in a room with white walls, white coats, white sheets, and white bandages. She was a timid girl at first, but she spoke with me for a bit and I found out she was much more than I ever was.

"Good morning," the tall man said as he walked into the room. I was afraid this was heaven, everything was so pristine, but the girl assured me smartly it wasn't. In the hallway, footsteps made their nimble way by, but the tall man blocked my view. Move.

"How do you feel?" he continued, watching me patiently. However, I did not like to be scrutinized - as it turned out, neither did she.

Get out of my face, she said, I'm better than you'll ever be. I had to agree and told the man, "I'm fine."

You should've let him know how you really feel.

Tired. Aching. Sore. Hurt. Angry. Alone.

"Do you recall anything that has happened in the last seventy-two hours?" With his clear clipboard he sat poised, ready to take notes. This made me uncomfortable, but I found it hard to say so.

You prick, just say three days, said the girl, doing the math for me. Of course you remember. She was talking to me again. How in the world would you forget?

My throat was dry, but the words were smoothed by the sandpaper there. "Yes."

"Can you tell me what you remember?"

"There was the fire."

It was Christmas, we were having dinner. Mom, Dad, Tommy, Kayla, and me. The house was warm because Dad lit the fireplace we hadn't used in years. Everything felt okay again.

"It was everywhere at once."

I was helping Kayla eat, but not too much. She was a recovering bulimic. She'd drawn her first picture of the family the week before and it hung on the refrigerator. I watched her when she went to the bathroom and flew her around like an airplane.

"The place smelled like burning wood and all I could hear was screaming."

Tommy played his new video game against Dad and won. Mom left the dishes in the sink, figuring she could do them tomorrow.

"I couldn't breathe."

The world was suddenly crumbling down in flames. Mom was screaming your name, Janessa! over and over really close. I reached for her voice but there was nothing there. Only air.

The tall man sat back slightly. "Do you remember anything else?"

"I just told you the whole story!" Listen.

He frowned but said nothing for a few minutes, filling in an empty box on his paper. Then, he adopted a gentle expression. "Do you know what day it is today?"

December twenty-eighth.

His eyes bored into mine expectantly.

"December twenty-eighth," I repeated.

"Very good." Another pause as he scribbled down yet another note. "Do you know what your name is?"

"Yes." Mom's scream was burned into my brain forever.

"What's your name?"

Janessa.

"Alice," she said.