I'm rarely wrong about these things.
— A Hunch
Being on your own isn't cheap. I figured I couldn't leave Tonawka for good until I graduated high school. Until then, the only thing I cared about was making money. Mostly legit. That meant working as many shifts as they'd give me at The Brass Buckle.
I was there the last time Butch came in. I could tell he wasn't right. Billy was working the bar, and he wouldn't serve him because he could tell too.
Butch was a townie with an attitude. He'd recently been dumped by one of the other bartenders at the Buckle. Mary Jane. She'd had enough of his shit, and she wasn't the first.
He was making his usual fuss about how awful people are, and he muttered something about Mary Jane as Billy showed him the door. Billy said, "Don't worry about it. He's just being a pain in the ass," but I could tell it was more than that. And I was concerned.
Anybody who knew Butch's history should have been.
First, there was the incident at the Fowlers' house. He took their grill without asking and was pissed when they wanted it back. Flames shot twenty feet high the next time they had a barbecue. Luckily, no permanent damage was done and Mr. Fowler's eyebrows grew back.
Then came the fire at Sheila's house, which was harder to ignore. She was Butch's girlfriend at the time. Everybody knew that one wasn't an accident or a prank, but nobody had the guts to say so.
Instead, they said it was a chimney fire. I wasn't in a position to say anything either. You've gotta know for sure before accusing somebody of arson. Plus, I used the fire as a distraction while I let myself into two of the neighbors' homes, so it wasn't like I could point fingers.
But this was different.
Mary Jane had a little boy, maybe four years old. If Butch couldn't control his temper, it meant her kid could be in danger. And she wasn't exactly in the best condition that evening.
I saw her at the Buckle after her shift. She and Butch had been fighting all day over text messages. I guess she started hitting the cheap stuff pretty hard after work. Tequila, mostly. A little while after she left, Butch showed up, and he was in a rage.
Like I said, Billy could tell he wasn't right. When Billy wouldn't serve him, I had a feeling about where he'd go next. Then I saw the lady who babysits Mary Jane's kid. That meant Mary Jane was home, and it was only a matter of time before Butch showed up there.
I told Billy to call her, to give her a heads up, but he said not to get involved with other people's drama. I felt like I had to do something, so I said I needed to leave early. He didn't need me working that night anyway. The place was dead.
By the time I got out of the bar, it was too late to follow Butch. I hoped I was wrong, but it seemed obvious where he'd go.
I'm rarely wrong about these things.
When I got to Mary Jane's house, everything was dark except for a lamp by one of the upstairs windows. I was about to walk away when I saw a flicker of light in the living room, downstairs. And then another. It was a different kind of light.
Then I saw her kid in the window upstairs.
I looked at the living room window again and I saw it.
Fire.
Butch's car was nowhere to be found.
I ran to the door but it was locked, so I smashed the dining room window. Cut my hand up pretty good too, and tore my jacket while jumping through.
The fire was bad. It was mostly in the living room, but it was moving fast through the curtains and smoke was already getting thick. There was a wastebasket right in front of the curtains, which sure looked like an odd place for it to be. I couldn't help wondering what Butch put in it. Maybe some paper and a few lit cigarettes, to make it look like an accident?
There was no way I could put the fire out, so I ran up the stairs to get her kid. The first bedroom I passed was Mary Jane's. She was sprawled across the floor, not moving. The smoke already got to her. She was gone. There was nothing I could do, so I ran into her kid's bedroom to get him.
"I'm a friend of your mom's," I said. "I'm Dandy. We gotta get outa here. Take my hand, okay? I need ya to watch your feet as we go. Don't look anywhere but your feet."
I didn't want him to see what I saw. No matter what, this night was gonna stay with him forever. No good could come from him seeing his mom like that.
"C'mon now! Gotta go!"
I tried to stay by his side as we went down the hall, so he couldn't see into her room. I led him through the smoke, and down the stairs.
"Gotta go, gotta go. You're doin' so good. Don't look anywhere but your feet 'cause I don't want you to trip, okay?"
I also didn't want him to see how bad the fire was, but by the time we got halfway down the stairs, it was everywhere. We had to go through it.
He stopped and grabbed the railing.
"C'mon!" I said. "We gotta go!!!"
"I can't," he wailed. "I CAN'T!!!"
"Yeah, you can. You and me. We can do it! We're goin' straight to the door. Then we're gonna roll around in the yard, okay? Pretend it's a game! Get to the grass. Drop and roll. Ready? GO!"
"Where's mom???"
"Fuckin' A, kid! RUN!!!"
I felt so bad as I yanked him away from that railing, but we couldn't wait any longer. I pulled him down the rest of the stairs and through the foyer. The flames were eating up the carpet and the walls, but we made it through. It was bad, but we got out.
We were rolling in the yard when the neighbors came running over. Those bastards were asking where his mom was before they even checked to see if we were okay. I was still trying to figure out if our clothes were on fire.
"I got him out," I said, in a desperate attempt to shut them the motherfuck up.
"Where's Mary Jane?"
"She's upstairs."
"Jesus Christ girl!!! You left her in the HOUSE?"
OH. FUCK. THAT.
"I saved the kid's life, asshole!"
Maybe I shouldn't've.
Maybe I should have stayed at The Buckle.
Kid's probably gonna grow up to be just like the rest of 'em. Box 'em up? Sure, why not.