“Call Liam. I have to know what happened after the roof collapsed. She was still alive when I found her, I thought. Her chest was moving. It doesn’t make any sense.” My head falls into my hands, trying to replay the situation in my head. I remember seeing her chest rise and fall, although I didn’t have time to check for a pulse with all the debris coming down. Our time was limited for an escape, and if I would have taken more time, we wouldn’t have made it out at all.
The phone rings, and then his voice answers. “I need you to tell me what happened after the roof collapsed. Everything.”
“Don’t you think...”
“None of that you need to rest bullshit. Tell me. The woman didn’t make it and the girl is going to be put in foster care most likely. I need to know what I did wrong.”
“Nothing. You tried to save her. The smoke was just too much. The little girl told us when she got to the paramedics that her mom has a lung condition. I tried to get to you to help as fast I could, but not fast enough. I’m so sorry.”
No, she can’t be dead. That little girl can’t be put into foster care. It just isn’t right. Maybe she will have a family member that can take her in. No child deserves to go into foster care. Especially after losing a parent like this.
Like normal, my head starts running through our route to the fire. Could we have gone a different way to save a couple minutes? Did I hesitate when we arrived?
“I know what you are doing. Stop. You couldn’t have changed the outcome, brother. This isn’t your fault.”
Liam knows me so well because this happens after every call. It’s just how my brain works. Assess the route, the time to go inside, and if anything could have been done differently. I run back through everything, and he’s right. No time could have been cut anywhere to have changed the outcome, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
Tessa gets back up on the bed with me and hangs up the phone without warning. “You are an incredible man, but this isn’t your fault. You literally risked your life for her. You did all you could, baby.”
Somehow hearing that doesn’t make me feel any better. All I can think about is Tessa and Emily being trapped inside and wanting to save them. Is that why I almost gave up my life today?
The doctor comes back and hands me some paperwork to sign. “You are free to go, Mr. Jackson. Remember lots of fluids and rest. I’ve included a doctor’s note that will take you off work for a minimum of one week. At your follow-up appointment, your primary physician will decide if you should be off for a longer period.”
Tess jumps off the bed and begins to gather up our things. “Emily is going to be so happy to see you.”
“Does she know what happened?”
“No, and thankfully none of your injuries or bruises are somewhere where she can see. So, let’s keep this hospital visit between us.”
I’m excited to get the heck out of here, but my mind keeps going back to the poor little girl, waiting for some stranger to take her away. It might sound stupid, but I feel connected to her, like I should at least go and check on her before I leave. “Listen, I have one thing I need to do before we leave.”
“Okay?” she says questioningly.
I go to the bathroom and change into some jeans and a t-shirt that Liam left for me and head down the hallway to the waiting room. There she is, the young girl, at most age six, sitting with a backpack, staring at the doors.
“Hey, sweetie. You remember me?”
“You tried to help my mommy.”
“Yes, and I’m so very sorry for what’s happened. Are you okay?”
“My throat still burns, but they said that’s normal.”
“Yes, it is.” I take a seat next to her. “Do you have any family that the social worker can call?”
“My aunt lives in Florida.”
“Okay, make sure to tell them so they can get ahold of her to come get you. I know this all seems very scary, but you’re going to be okay.”
She leans in and gives me a big hug. Tessa is standing in the corner of the room, just watching us, with a single tear falling from her eye. “Babe, do you have a pen and paper in your purse?”
She reaches inside and pulls out a pen and a half blank receipt. “That’s all I have.”
“It’ll work,” I say, taking it and writing my number down for her. “Keep this and contact me once you get to where you are going so I know you made it okay. Can you do that for me?”
She nods and places the piece of paper in her backpack pocket.
Just as I walk outside the doors, a black van pulls up, and the social worker gets out to head inside. Her badge gives it away.