You're On Fire Pt 3

The flames have broken through the underside of the easements like a pot boiling over and the people have their heads turned to the end of the street where finally, finally, after a time that will have everybody talking, swinging red and yellow cones of light appear as Engine Two roars into the neighborhood like a jet blowing up the night. The firemen in helmets and gear grab their hoses and tools, going to work on the fire; your neighbors look disappointed, and your father has told you that it’s because there are two kinds of people when it comes to fire, the ones who can’t wait for it to go out and the ones who wish it would never stop. The firemen aim their hoses and vent the Celletti roof with axes; the work is tedious, ongoing long after the people have gone back home. You see your father with his helmet cocked back talking to Sedarski, shrugging, pointing in some undefined direction behind him while the cop nods along in agreement. Your mother closes the window and walks you to your room.

Were you scared? she asks you.

No, you tell her, I’m jake. Jake is what the firemen call each other; jake is a fireman who doesn’t lose his shit.

She runs her fingers through your hair and exits with a sigh. You stare up at the ceiling, your room turning yellow and red and yellow and red a thousand times before the engine lights are turned off, and your room goes dark.