It was January 27th. I spent that fourth Sunday morning of the new year sleeping. I used that fourth Sunday afternoon of the year to teach plastic army men how to swim in the bathtub and how to carry out reconnaissance missions on the terrain of the bathroom tile. On the evening of that January 27th, my parents went out to dinner with an aunt and uncle of mine. On the evening of January 27th my sister was at home watching me while our parents were out. It was a Sunday night and we both had school the next day, so we both planned on staying up as late as possible without getting caught. We started off eating an equivalent of nine cups of pure granulated sugar for dinner. Then we sat down in front of the television to watch Godzilla, although we both agreed it was a little out of season in mid winter. I thought it would be a good night to have popcorn and convinced Joanie to take some out of her private stash hidden in her room. She went into the kitchen which was adjacent to the den and clanged some pots around and rummaged through some cabinets and drawers.
"Josh, do you know where Mom put-"
"Two drawers up and to the right."
I didn't even have to look away from Godzilla's ravaging of Tokyo to tell her where anything was; it was part of my job to know where everything in the house was at any given time of the day, and I knew Joanie well enough that I even knew what it was that she would be asking for depending on the given moment and her location in the house. Little boys know those kinds of things. And that's why big boys don't need clean houses. As long as we know where everything is, we're fine.
"Two up and also two to the right, or just two up and one to the right?"
"Two up, one right."
"I'm still not finding-"
"Your other right."
"Oh."
"That's another point for Joshua Lyman, King of the World."
Kids tend to embellish situations and be a little pompous. I, on the other hand, was always very modest - I really should have gotten like five points for that.
"It's not like we're keeping score!"
"You're just saying that because you're losing."
"That's not true."
"It is, too."
"It is not, but to change the subject, what's this alcohol doing in here?"
"I guess I forgot to put it away when Mom used it earlier."
"Why was she using it in here?"
"There's more light or something."
"Well, yeah, but why did she need to use it?"
"I was saving my paratroopers from the tree out front and I cut myself. Mom said it'll leave a huge scar. Want to see it Joanie?"
"Maybe later. Think you can put it away?"
"I'll put in away later."
"The top's not on very well."
"Ok."
"Want anything on the pop- Ow!"
Joanie ran out of the kitchen and a couple things clattered to the ground. She went into the bathroom and turned the faucet on.
"Joanie, what happened?"
"I burned my hand."
There was a chorus of "Ow!"s from her. There was a roar and cries from the television. There was a strange hiss from the other room. I saw in the reflection on the TV an odd light.
Peering over the back of the couch, I whispered, "Joanie."
"What Josh? I can't really hear you."
"Joanie, I think there's a fire."
"What?"
I could hear the confusion in her voice.
"Oh Josh, it's just a movie. Japan will be okay."
"No Joanie, there's a fire."
She came out then and looked at me. I looked at the kitchen. She looked with me.
"Holy shoot..." She whispered.
She said things like that all the time as an alternative to cursing.
"Okay, okay, okay... Come on Josh."
Her choice of words that night was the only evidence of panic that I could sense in her. Her actions were very level-headed. She realized that the door leading to the living room from the den was the only other way to get to the front door from that part of the house besides the kitchen. We both knew that that door had been stuck for years. But trivial matters don't distract Lyman women. She forced the lock open. It had been locked awhile ago as added security when I was still afraid of monsters and had never been unlocked since then even after I outgrew my fears. Joanie shoved at the door and it finally gave way. I ran out past her to the front door to unlock it. She caught hold of the door, sank to the floor, and looked at me upset and flushed from the heat.
"Josh, go outside and run out to the road. Do not come back near the house, okay? I'll be out there with you in a few minutes, okay Josh?"
As scared as I was because she was saying 'Okay.' too many times for the situation to ever be 'okay', I nodded.
"Go to the road, okay? I'll come find you in a few minutes."
She hugged me and pushed me out the front door. And I ran, having just seen flames licking the dining room wallpaper and smoke billowing up to the ceiling. My sister, with her back turned to the ensuing devastation, had closed the door on me. So I ran with my legs not keeping up with the pace my brain wanted to go. I reached the road and sat on the crumbling asphalt. The grass was cold and wet. And I waited. But it was impossible to force myself to wait. To a child, any time over half a minute is a long time, and I was no exception. I heeded my sister's warning - I wouldn't go back near the house, so I went to our neighbor across the street and knocked on her door. A light came on inside and the door opened slowly.
"Joshua Lyman, what are you doing here, dear?"
"Grammy, Joanie said she would come out, but she hasn't yet."
"Where are your parents, dear?"
"Out having dinner."
She blinked for a moment, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "What do you mean, 'She hasn't come out yet'?"
"There's a fire in my house, Grammy."
"Oh dear, I'll call the fire station." She went back inside to call.
She was this nice old lady who always called everyone by their first and last names when she addressed them. My mother was friends with her just like everyone else's mom and all the kids would call her Grammy. She wasn't anyone's grandmother, so she was everyone's. Grammy came back out and sat with me on her doorstep. We waited for the sirens.
They came.
Smoke was coming out of our chimney and it would have been inviting if the front windows hadn't been glowing a lurid orange behind the blinds. When they arrived, some firemen went up to the house, a few attached a hose to a fire hydrant, and a couple saw me and Grammy - the two loomed huge and ominous even from far away. They asked Grammy who we were and one knelt to talk to me when he found out that it was my house.
"Is anyone still inside?"
I nodded. "Joanie."
"Who is Joanie?"
"My sister."
"Alright."
I could see the heightened concern in his face. He wasn't there just to save a house anymore. He jogged back to the others and yelled at them to hurry, yelled that there was still a person inside. His partner stayed with us, planning to ask a few more questions, but he was stopped short by a loud noise that made everyone flinch. It sounded like a gunshot and as it echoed in the night, the man told us that the radiator probably exploded.
Two pairs of headlights appeared down the road, soon showing the hesitations of the drivers to the scene before them. My mom left the car before my father had even stopped and ran over to me. She picked me up as my father joined us. My mother, ignoring the fireman who was trying to get her attention, spoke to me.
"Honey, where's Joanie? Are you okay?"
I pointed to the house and she started crying. She carried me over to my dad. My aunt, upon seeing us, began to cry too. My mom kissed me and finally relented to my relatives' offer of keeping me for the night. I walked away with Uncle Phillip and Aunt Hannah, and the last thing I heard as I got in their car was my dad asking about his little girl.
