Maybe I shouldn't've.
— A Flicker Of Darkness
After taking a trip out of Tonawa, coming back felt like defeat, but I knew I couldn't leave for good until I graduated high school. In the meantime, 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.
Butch was one of the regulars there. He was a redneck with an attitude, and he'd recently been dumped by one of the bartenders. Mary Jane. She'd had enough of his shit, and she wasn't the first.
I don't understand why some women go for bad boys. Both halves of that term should be a clue. Bad means bad, and boy means not a man regardless of his age.
The night after Mary Jane dumped Butch, he showed up at the Buckle, and I could tell he wasn't right. Billy was working the bar, and he wouldn't serve him because Billy could tell too.
Butch was making his usual fuss about how awful people are, and he muttered something about Mary Jane as Billy showed him the door. I shot Billy a look, and he said, "Don't worry about it. Butch is just being a pain in the ass," but it was more than that. I could tell, and I was concerned.
Anybody who knew Butch's history should have been.
First, there was the incident at the Fowlers' house. Butch took their grill without asking and he was pissed when they made him return it. The next time they had a barbecue, flames shot twenty feet high and burned down their gazebo. They were planning on replacing it anyway, and Mr. Fowler's eyebrows grew back, so in theory, no harm was done.
Then came the incident at Sheila's house. She was Butch's girlfriend at the time. Everybody knew that wasn't an accident or a prank, but nobody had the guts to say so. Instead, they said it was a chimney fire. I used it as a distraction while I raided the neighbor's fridge, so it wasn't like I could say anything either. Don't judge. A girl's gotta eat.
But this was different.
Mary Jane had a little boy, maybe four years old. If Butch couldn't control his temper, her kid could be in danger. And she wasn't exactly in the best condition at the time.
I'd seen her at the Buckle a little earlier. It was her day off, but she'd been fighting with Butch, so she came in and started hitting the cheap stuff hard. Tequila, mostly. After she left, Butch showed up looking for her. He was in a rage, so Billy threw him out.
Then the woman who babysat Mary Jane's kid stopped by the bar. That meant Mary Jane was home, and it was only a matter of time before Butch went looking for her there.
I told Billy to give her a call, to give her a heads-up, but he said, "We don't get involved in other people's drama."
"I know, but..."
"It's bad for business, Dandy."
He was right, but I had to do something, so I left early. Billy 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, so I headed straight to Mary Jane's house.
When I got there, everything looked fine. The whole house looked dark except for a light in one of the upstairs windows. I was about to walk away when I saw a flicker of light downstairs, and then another. It was a different kind of light.
Fire.
I caught a glimpse of Mary Jane's kid in the window upstairs, but Butch's car was nowhere to be found.
I ran to the door. 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, and smoke was already thick. There was wastebasket right in front of the curtains, which seemed like an odd place for it to be. Surely, Butch put something in it. Maybe paper and a few lit cigarettes, to make the fire look like an accident?
I ran upstairs to get her kid. The first bedroom I passed was Mary Jane's, right at the top of the stairs. Her door was open and she was sprawled across the floor. 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. His door was closed, so the smoke wasn't bad in there yet.
I burst into the room and told him I was a friend of his mom's. "I'm Dandy. We gotta get outa here. I need you to take my hand, okay?"
I tried to stay by his side as we went down the hall, so he couldn't see into his mom's room. No matter what, this night was gonna stay with him forever. No good could come from seeing her like that.
"Gotta go, gotta go," I said, as I led him through the smoke, and down the stairs. "You're doin' so good. Look down, at your feet. 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 were gonna have to go through it.
He stopped and grabbed the railing.
I said, "C'mon! We gotta go!!!"
"I can't," he wailed. "I CAN'T!!!"
"Together, we 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???"
"Come on, kid! RUN!!!"
I tried to yank him away from the railing, but he wouldn't let go, so I said, "Well, I'm outa here. If you're staying, you're staying," but there was no fucking way I was leaving that kid behind.
He screamed, "WAIT!!!" and he squeezed my hand tighter.
"Alright then! Let's go!"
I pulled him down the rest of the stairs and through the foyer as the flames were eating up the carpet and the walls. 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 about his mom before they even checked to see if we were okay. I was still trying to figure out if our clothes were on fire.
"Where's Mary Jane?"
"I got him out," I said, in a desperate attempt to shut them the fuck up.
"But where's Mary Jane?!?"
"She's upstairs."
"Jesus Christ, Dandy!!! You left her in the HOUSE?"
"OH. FUCK. THAT. I saved this kid's life!!!"
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.