Page 69 of Embers in the Outfield

She takes a deep inhale. “He was the man—the firefighter at the scene of the crash that killed my parents.”

CHAPTER 30

Kennedy

He haskind eyes that are bright green with blue in the middle; I can see his smile lines, which adds to the comfort he’s giving me as I am placed on the ambulance stretcher. His thick mustache is dark brown, and it looks like Mario from the Mario Bros. game I play at home.

I feel sad, but looking at his eyes, even for a moment, and feeling him squeeze me in a hug, and just the way he looks at me, makes me feel a little better in the mess of this accident.

He hurries off to see how he can help at the scene, but he keeps looking back at me. I can see he is confused with his feelings, trying to take care of the people in the accident, even checking my parents one more time, probably to know for sure there is nothing else that can be done.

Something about the man made me think he has a kind heart just from these little movements he makes around me. As much as this feels like I’m having a nightmare, I never look at this firefighter as anyone other than kind, even in all of the pain.

Much like the warm blanket he threw on me before he left me with the paramedics, his simple looks are calming mein a way I never expected, especially from someone who’s a stranger. But soon, everything comes rushing back to me, and my heart feels too heavy for my little mind to understand the pain I’m going to have to live with for the rest of my life.

The paramedics ask me a few more questions, trying to find out if I have family nearby. I tell them about my grandparents, but my mom and dad have the cell phone. “It’s only for emergencies,” they would say, even though they would sometimes let me play Snake when I got bored and they were working.

The lady calls over to the nice fireman and tells him to look for a phone. She doesn’t say his name, so I still don’t know who he is. He goes on his search, and I feel like my body is a statue, looking past him at the two lifeless bodies under the drapes. My mommy and daddy, not laughing or playing peek-a-boo, but simply there, without any kind words or ways to make me feel better.

The fireman comes back with a phone; the screen is cracked, and I can’t help but think that I will never play a game on it ever again. I will never hear my mommy laugh or my daddy try to talk in an English accent when he would read me stories. In that moment, that fireman gives the last piece of my parents that I’ll ever hold. Because now I’m alone, and all I want are their hugs and their laughter. All I want is to go back home and start the morning over again. I just want to go to sleep and wake up from this nightmare I’ve been dragged into.

The fireman stops to talk to the lady paramedic, telling her to watch over me. He says something to me about his kids being young like me and tells me about his favorite cartoon to watch with them. He tells me maybe the emergency room will have a cartoon playing when I get there, and that if it is the same one, he wants me to tell him all about it. He promises he will checkon me later to see if I am doing okay with my grandparents once they meet me at the hospital.

Before I know it, I’m being rushed off in the back of the ambulance, and the lady sitting next to me with her clipboard is asking me more questions. Even though I don’t know him, the more she talks, the more I wish the fireman could be with me, asking me questions instead.

My head hurts, and my heart feels like it’s never going to be the same. The rest of the day feels like a horrible dream, and I want to see the fireman again. He never comes though. The world changes from the look on everyone’s face when I’m waiting for my grandma and grandpa. But I’ll always remember that fireman with his kind eyes. No matter what I do, I’ll always remember his eyes.

Numb. That’s the only word that comes to mind with how I’m feeling right now. That memory of the younger version of me in the firefighter’s arms is playing on repeat. The moment River’s mom flipped the page of that photo album, and I saw his face, it felt like the world around me disappeared. In previous photos, he looked so different with his hair and no facial hair. But the minute I saw that one picture, I knew who was staring back at me.

I’m hunched over, feeling violently ill and close to passing out. I look at River to find him stunned and somewhat confused. I can’t imagine what I’m saying to him makes much sense.

“What do you mean he pulled you out of the car that day?” he asks, his features hard to read.

“Exactly how it sounds, Riv. Your dad, the firefighter who got me out of the car after the accident and got me to safety, is the same man in those photos.”

I don’t really understand why I’m so uneasy with River right now. I mean, this doesn’t change my relationship with him in any way, but some part of me feels strange being the last person to see him instead of River himself. Like I got a piece of his dad right before he ran into that building and never came out alive.

River takes a few breaths and then goes to sit down, probably trying to digest what I just told him. He runs his hands through his hair a few times, a tell of his when he’s uncomfortable or thinking things through. I’ve noticed him do it often when he’s working something out, and hopefully, he doesn’t pull his hair out with how much he might be repeating my words through his head right now.

“Let me get this straight. The firefighter who saved you that day, who pulled you out of the car that your parents died in, is my dad?” He chokes up at the last part like it’s too much emotion for him to process.

I simply nod, trying to put the pieces together. There’s so much of that morning I’ve tried to forget, but his father is someone who was the only light on the darkest day I’ve lived through.

“He had kind eyes,” I can’t help but say out loud.

River moves to sit down and then looks up from the couch, and I see the comfort from my words enveloping him.

He nods, and a smile finally breaks the tension on his face. “Yeah, he did. He was always happy and everyone’s favorite person in the room. Even though Clay and I were young, I still remember the booming sound that would carry whenever he laughed. I remember my mom looking up at him and the pure love she had for the man, even years later. They were high school sweethearts. Did I ever tell you that?” River says, and I can seehim being pulled into a distant thought, reminiscing about the father he lost years ago.

“Yeah, they met sophomore year in high school and started dating junior year after he spent twelve months badgering her to go out with him. She always tells the story like he finally wore her down, but I can tell she always liked him but just needed to play hard to get, even all these years later, and he’s not even here.”

He chuckles at his own words, and I feel like my heart is breaking all over again, knowing he lost his dad in a way so many others did that day.

“Can you tell me more about your interaction with him? I know it hurts, Kennedy, but it’s like I have been given this little extra moment to hear a story I never got to hear about a man I lost too early in life.” I can see the agony in his features. He knows how hard things are for me when it comes to recalling that horrible day in my life, but I know how much he needs this.

When I hear of people who lost loved ones on 9/11, many are saying how much they hope they know they were loved. Many will talk about their hopes that their person was happy doing what they loved. I think they just want to know that the person was at peace during such a horrible day. Add in the stories of people who missed a call from a loved one to only have a message on a machine that they play back over and over, recounting the love they shared in their message.

I take a seat next to River and pull his hand to rest in mine. “Of course I don’t mind.” I feel that lump in my throat try to form, but I push past it, knowing that we now share a moment we both wish would have turned out very differently.

---