by Mia Kerick
As the horror sinks into my brain, I become completely disoriented. This is the type of situation I’ve dreaded since last April. My thoughts stray to masked gunmen and hooded arsonists, and I bend and vomit on the sidewalk. I’m alarmed to see that no rescue vehicles are here yet, and I find the presence of mind to pull my phone from my pocket and dial 911 to report the fire.
“Jase! Jase!” It’s Liam. He isn’t coming from the direction of the theater parking lot, but from down the street in the opposite direction. “You okay?” Before I can answer, he stops in front of me, runs his hands across my body, starting with my face, from my neck to my shoulders, then right down my arms to my fingertips. There’s no doubt in my mind—no matter how I answer, he won’t believe I’m okay unless he checks for himself.
“I’m freaking out—I called 911!” I stare at him. He’s as pale as a ghost and wearing a frenzied expression.
At this point, thin billows of smoke are streaming out the theater’s double doors. The few people who are still straggling out are soaking wet, and many are holding their jackets on top of their mouths.
A woman carrying a baby girl in her arms, and holding the hand of a little boy, rushes up to Liam and me. “Oh, God! My daughter… she was right behind me but now…. Now I don’t know where she is! Oh, God! I told her to follow me and… Oh, God! Please help me!”
The woman starts to sway, and I think she may be suffering from smoke inhalation. She stuffs the baby into my arms and rasps, “Hold onto my son…” Then she looks plaintively at Liam, “and find my daughter, Sara!!” Next, she’s on the ground, her eyes closed. Having never held a baby before, I struggle with the squirming bundle, and at the same time I try to hang onto the hand of a little boy wailing, “Mama!” When I look to Liam for help, I see a stubborn expression on his face that scares me almost as badly as I was scared six months ago in the Harrison Theater.
“No… no, Liam….” My voice is low and quiet, but I can tell that he knows exactly what I mean. But just in case, I spell it out. “You can’t go in there.”
“I… I gotta… You know I’ve gotta find this lady’s little girl!” Our eyes meet and the connection between us is so powerful that I’m stunned. It’s as if I’ve been struck by a bolt of lightning that shot directly from Liam’s eyes. At this moment, we’re more connected than ever before and at the same time more isolated. I want to nod, to give him my blessing to enter the burning building so he can save the little girl, but it’s more than I can ask of myself.
I try to dissuade him because it’s what I have to do… because I can’t lose him. “Listen, Liam, hear the sirens? The fire department is on their way and…you’ll probably only get in the way if you go in there.”
But he doesn’t hear my final argument because he’s already on his way into the building, calling, “Sara! Sara! I’m not going to leave you!”
Standing here on the sidewalk, one arm juggling a wiggly baby, the other clutching the hand of a terrified little boy, I know I can’t follow him inside. I rise to the occasion and steady the baby in my arm, kneel down to comfort the little boy, and try to figure out whether their mother has had a heart attack.
But I’ve never felt more alone in my life. Never.
***
The bystanders are moved back off the sidewalk and herded into a nearby parking lot as soon as the police and fire fighters arrive. Once the woman and her children are being examined by EMTs, I have a chance to tell a few volunteer fire fighters that my boyfriend is in the building looking for a little girl named Sara. I’m quickly assured that they’re doing everything they can to get all of the people safely out of the building.
I stare at the Oakwood Theater, thinking that it’s not aptly named; it’s a brick building. I can see no flames and very little in the way of smoke, but I know that what’s going on inside could be as devastating as what happened on my last visit to a theater. And the person who saved me from death and subsequent depression, and who I view as a major part of my future, is in that building, fighting the demons of his past.
I trot to an out-of-the way tree and at its base lose the remainder of what’s in my stomach—and I heave again and again—completely unable to cope with my terror at the possibility of losing Liam to another tragedy.
I make my way to the front of the parking lot where I stand and stare, my eyes glued to the wide front doors of the theater, and although I have no idea how to pray, I find a way. I pray with everything in me that the next face I’ll see coming from the theater doors will be Liam. But my prayers aren’t answered. I don’t see his face.
How long can someone be inside a smoky, burning building without oxygen… and survive? It’s been at least ten minutes since Liam left me, probably more. I repeat in my head, Let him be okay, let him be okay, I need him, I need him….
The vicinity of the theater is buzzing with action—fire fighters, police, and EMT’s bravely do their jobs, news reporters set up and speak grimly into the cameras in various corners of the parking lot, some parents hug their children and others wait anxiously for loved ones who are still unaccounted for. And like so many times before, I’m frozen with fear. I want everyone to be okay, of course, and I worry for BJ and Dacia. I worry for the poor woman’s little girl, Sara, and for all of the other children trapped in the theater. But I realize that my future is in that building being a hero, as he’s compelled to do. Liam is sacrificing his life for a little girl he doesn’t know because he thinks that he failed in saving the life of another little girl who he loved so much.
And so I wait. Every minute seems to last forever.
When I finally see him emerge from the theater, sooty and staggering, the limp body of a little girl in his arms, I drop to my knees in the parking lot. I watch as the little girl is taken from his arms and rushed to an ambulance and then Liam is led behind a wall of uniformed people, where I can’t see him anymore.
Liam is alive. This time his battle with the demons that haunt his mind didn’t kill him. But what about next time?
What about next time?
24
I’ve never been angrier with any human being in my entire life than I am right now. From my distant spot, kneeling in the parking lot across the street from the theater, I watch closely as my boyfriend is loaded into an ambulance, an oxygen mask strapped to his face, and whisked away. I’m immediately overwhelmed by panic that’s inspired by my fear of losing him to yet another tragic event, coupled with yet another of his attempts to be a hero. It’s more than I can handle.
I don’t stop running until I’m standing in front of the door to my room. I knock and push open the door without listening for BJ’s voice telling me it’s okay to come in. He and Dacia are on his bed, thankfully dressed, and I scream, “Get outta here—I gotta be alone—I’m sorry, but go!”
“My man… whassup? You pissed cuz the show got cancelled? I tried to call, but you didn’t answer. And there was so much confusion around the theater. I guess some of the people in the audience got stuck in there for a while.” BJ is rambling like he feels really bad that I missed his girlfriend do a frigging magic act. He approaches me and lifts his arm to pat my back, but I slap first. Then I take a swing at BJ’s arm and when I miss, I take a badly aimed swing at his face, but BJ easily blocks it. “Hey, what’s the matter man? I can’t help that something electrical got fucked-up in the theater and started smoking. Don’t blame me. I called you as soon they told the performers and stagehands to leave... but, no worries, the show’s gonna get rescheduled.”
“Jeez, BJ, I had no idea Jase was so into magic,” Dacia adds.
Pop-pop-pop…
And I’m back in the theater…. It’s pitch black and the sound of the shots makes me jump… I’m shaking and sweating and I can’t find Ginny….
“Ginny, where are you? Ginny? Fuck! Where are you, Ginny?”
I’m on the floor and reach around for her but I can’t find her so I squeeze my eyes shut and curl up into a ball under the seats and I wait f
or Liam’s heavy body to press down on me and shelter me from the gunfire, but he never comes.
“I swear he thinks he’s back in the Harrison Theater, Dacia… just look at him… ”
“You might be right… this is too weird.”
“Dude… dude… you aren’t in that theater! Shit, Dacia… should we call health services? What do ya think?”
“I don’t know… but he’s totally losing it, BJ.”
“Liam!” I call.
“Where is Liam?” BJ asks.
“I hope Liam’s not as disappointed as Jase is about the show being cancelled,” Dacia offers casually.
Dacia’s senseless remark starts to break me out of my flashback. I’m finally able to open my eyes, and I realize that I’m in my dormitory room, curled up in a ball on the floor beside my bed. “Liam.” I have no idea why I say his name again.
BJ and Dacia help me up off the floor and onto my bed. At this point, BJ realizes something is seriously wrong with this entire situation. “Dude, what the fuck is going on with you?”
My voice is shaky but I tell them what happened because I need to be sure Liam is okay, and they can help me figure it out. “We got there at seven… people were screaming and running out of the theater because there was a fire.”
“There wasn’t a fire. Just a ton of smoke,” Dacia corrects me. “So, for the record, there isn’t always smoke where there is fire.”
I’m astounded by her lack of ability to recognize the seriousness of this situation. “Liam went in to save a little girl. She was lost and her mother asked us to go find her… and I told him not to go, but he went anyway.”
“Well, shit. Your boyfriend is either stupid or a hero.” BJ is about as clueless as his girlfriend. Even in my distraught state I admit that they are freakishly well matched.
I go on with my story hoping they’ll get the picture that, after the performers left, things got pretty dicey at the Oakwood Theatre. “We could hear the sirens… I told him that help was coming… but he went into the theater.”
“Well, where the fuck is Liam now?” BJ is beginning to see the seriousness of a situation that he thought was just a minor inconvenience.
“They took him in an ambulance… I need you guys to find him for me. But don’t bring him back here.” I yawn. And then I yawn again. The same twisted response that I experienced after the theater shooting is happening to me again. My eyelids feel heavy; I literally can’t stay awake. I’m so exhausted I have to close my eyes but I need to know that BJ and Dacia will find Liam.
I don’t want them to bring him back here to me. I want them to take him home to his apartment and make sure he’s okay… to stay with him and take care of him until he’s better. But not to bring him back to me because I’m not the same guy Liam saved six months ago. I’m a guy who survived hell, more than once, and I need to move on from that place of loss and suffering.
And Liam is a loose cannon when it comes to being a hero. I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to stop himself from trying to save everybody, right and left, and reliving these brushes with death that must somehow prove to him he has the right to be alive. Maybe I’m wrong… maybe I’m exaggerating because I’m scared. Or maybe I just want to be safe and to know Liam is safe and…and I don’t know if this is possible.
As soon as I close my eyes I’m slammed by sleep’s oblivion.
***
“Hey, Jase… wake up. Liam sent me back here to look after you.” It’s Dacia, and for once she’s making sense. “He’s wants me to tell you he’s okay. He was checked by a doctor who said he suffered with smoke inhalation, but then gave him some oxygen and released him from the hospital.”
I yawn. Waking up is close to impossible with this weird sleeping affliction I have in times of stress, but it becomes easier to open my eyes when I feel the sudden urge to vomit. “Trashcan!” I dive for the trashcan beside the bed and barf up pretty much nothing because I have an empty stomach.
“Ewwww!” Dacia squeals.
It’s hard to believe that Dacia’s in the nursing program at Batcheldor. “Yeah, I know.” I tuck the trashcan into the corner and sit up, sliding my legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m glad Liam is okay.”
“I didn’t say he was okay.”
“You said they released him….”
“He’s okay, like medically… but not in his head, you get what I’m saying, hon? The dude is like… desperate. Because we told him you don’t want to see him.”
“He wants to see me?”
“Um… yeah!” Dacia sits down beside me. “BJ basically had to tie him to the bedpost to keep him from coming here.”
The reality of our situation is plain to see and I have to make a big decision. I know that Liam is mine in heart and soul, and even in body, but when someone, and I mean anyone, needs a hero, he will always be more theirs than mine. And I don’t know if I can live with this prospect. “I can’t see him right now. I’m not ready. I need to think. I….” I’m rambling. “I need you and BJ to keep him away from me because it’s over with us.”
Part Four
November
25
Maybe I’m the most selfish person in the world to break up with a guy for being a hero. But I know one thing: I can’t love him as much as I do—literally worshipping him as my hero and more importantly as my partner—and lose him if I don’t absolutely have to. But this is exactly what I did. And I didn’t even do it the honorable way: face-to-face over a steak dinner and a few sorrowful glasses of red wine. I told Dacia to tell Liam that it’s over. And so, I’m done.
And I don’t know how things are going for him, but this break up isn’t working out very well for me. As is typical, on Saturday morning I run home to my mother with my tail between my legs, having no idea what I expect her do to make me feel better. In fact, her “Mom knows best/Mom knows all” attitude is nearly insufferable, on a good day. But it’s also all I know. It’s familiar like the old pair of scratchy wool socks she gave me for Christmas in tenth grade; they’re always there when I need them to prevent a case of frostbite, but even as they keep me warm, they’re irritatingly itchy, to the point of being nearly intolerable. And maybe because Liam’s behavior, in terms of heroism, is not predictable, I require a taste of my familiarly irritating home life.
“There’s far too much drama going on in the theaters near your college, dear. You would have been wise to have transferred out of Batcheldor this summer.”
I wonder if Mom realizes that what goes on in theaters is supposed to be dramatic. “There wasn’t even an actual fire, Mom. Just some electrical problems that led to a lot of smoke.”
“That’s nothing but a minor detail….” She places a bowl of pasta sprinkled with veggies in front of me on the kitchen table and then pops open my can of soda. “So tell your mother what your friend Liam did that caused you to run home without him, not that I’m disappointed to see you.”
I’m not hungry for Mom’s Double Veggie Pasta Primavera and I’m not up for this conversation, but since I voluntarily put myself in her line of fire, so to speak, it’s my duty to respond. “Liam can’t look the other way when someone needs to be rescued. He’s willing to risk his life and… Mom, I’m not willing to let him risk it.”
Mom places the can beside my plate and sits down across from me. “Not to be argumentative, because you know that’s not my way, but you met Liam only because he was saving your life.”
I don’t know how she can keep a straight face, trying to pass herself off as politely agreeable, but I don’t call her on it.
“And tell me if I’m wrong, but before you met Liam it was always girls, girls, girls for you…. Something about Liam made that status change. Some quality in that boy… well, I’m not sure it turned you gay, but it made you unable to look away from him.”
I’m amazed how clearly my mother sees the situation between Liam and me. I’d always wondered how she rationalized that I was straight and then all of a sudden, after I survive
a mass shooting, I’m gay. As it turns out, she saw what was right before her eyes, and simply took it at face value. Wonders never cease.
“You liked what you saw in him. Enough to… son, you liked him well enough to take him home to meet me. That says a lot.”
I roll my eyes and dig into the pasta, hoping it will excuse me from responding to her remarks.
Mom, however, hasn’t lifted her fork. “Did you fall for him because of his bravery… his compassion, maybe? Or was it his dependability, strength, patience, and kindness?”
Her point is clear—I love the heroic qualities of Liam Norwell—and I’m pretty sure that her questions are rhetorical. But they make me think, which, apparently, was the point. “Point taken.”
Mom folds her hands on her lap and presses her lips together primly. She then delivers a line that she must have learned from me. “Just saying, dear. And put your napkin on your lap.”
Her point is that I fell in love with the man who saved me, time and time again. I fell in love with my hero… and I was never happier than when I was taking care of him, largely by letting him take care of me. Being a hero is, in part, Liam’s nature but it became more prominent in his character after years of chastising himself because, his parents constantly accused him of having failed to save his younger sister in the house fire when he was fourteen.
If we are to go on and build a future together, I must accept that a combination of nature and nurture causes Liam to be a compulsive hero.
