Poor Richard's Epigraph: Creditors and Debtors

“creditors have better memories than debtors.” -Ben Franklin

 

She owed me. She owed me big time, and she didn’t even seem to care. I can still remember it like it was yesterday. I don’t know why, I guess she didn’t really ask for my help, but a little appreciation would have been nice. At least a sign telling me she was okay.

 

I woke up from another nightmare. My fiance was in bed next to me, he was thoughtful enough to place a glass of water on the bedside table, just in case tonight might be another night where I’d need it. Turns out, he was right. I took a sip and held my knees to my chest, trying to slow my breathing. The event comes back to me in flashes: first the parked car, then dropping my keys attempting to put them in the ignition, then suddenly having a strange tingling in my head. Eyes blurring, and finally blacking out against the seat behind me. Heat crept up the sides of the car.

 

It was a few years ago, and I was on my normal run through town, I had it down to a science: down Glengyle, left on Lexington, do a loop around Fillmore and be back on my block in about 2 miles, I did my run every day. That day, I turned the corner of Lexington Street and was met with a sight that stopped me in my tracks. There was smoke coming out of a car parked across the street, in front of a bunch of apartment buildings. I stood there dumbfounded for a minute before I realized: there’s smoke coming out of that car! I could tell it wasn’t just exhaust or steam, it was black and cloudy and billowing out in huge amounts. It made everything around me dark. Something, told me I should survey the premises and  make sure there was nothing around the car that could explode and hurt anyone. I dialed 911 on my cell phone. While on the phone with the operator I searched for signs of what could be happening, but it was hard to see with the smoke piling up in the air around me. I was starting to cough, and even get lightheaded. My lungs were feeling like they were full of ash and my eyes were watering. “911 Emergency services, what is the problem?” A patient voice asked.

“Hi, yeah,” I took a breath and ended up just coughing, still circling the car,”I’m at the corner of Lexington and Glengyle, there’s this car, this car...it’s on fire!” I called into the phone.

“Ma’am, calm down please, is there anyone else around you?” The voice sounded almost robotic.

“No, I don’t think so,” I panted, “but I’m going to check.” I put the phone down from my ear and circumnavigated the car another time. All of a sudden, my worst fears were confirmed.

 

The heat....it was suffocating....but  I couldn’t get my body to move.

            “No! Wait! There is! There’s a person! In the car!!” I was in a full-fledged panic now. “What do I do?” I screamed.

“Ma’am, stay calm, please. We’re sending out dispatchers right now, please step away from the car.” She ordered.

By now the smoke was engulfing everything around me. Bushes nearby were erupting in flames and everything was in a frenzy. The fire alarm went off in the building nearby, probably smoke going through open windows, and people began evacuating immediately. I couldn’t leave though, there was a girl trapped in that car and she was losing her chance to make it. I threw my phone down on the ground and started making my way through the cloud. I could hear the siren of a fire engine but couldn’t wait that long; I calculated it was about a mile away. My hands were out in front of me, searching, for anything to grab onto and finally they made contact with the door of the car. I slid my hands across it, scalding them, but knowing if I left now she wouldn’t make it. Finally I caught the handle and swung the door open. Even more smoke poured out. I saw her though, lying still and ashen in the driver’s seat. I grabbed her under her armpits and attempted to lift her, but it was like lifting a hundred pound rag doll. She stirred a little, and I was relieved. I kept whispering “it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” under my breath, but I wasn’t so sure myself.           

 

Am I really going to be okay?

 

Finally I got her in both arms and could carry her freely. She stirred again and I kept whispering words of encouragement, right as the sirens approached. I couldn’t see through the smoke and I felt like I couldn’t breathe but I knew I had to hold on just a little longer. Right as I was about to give up, strong arms in flame retardant sleeves were there ready to catch me. I heard the shhhhhhhhhhhhh! of a high power hose and heard some deep voices talking, and the last thing I remember was flashing red lights.

That was so long ago. I was taken to the hospital and when I woke up I was told that, although it was a stupid decision, I had saved the girl’s life by diving headfirst into that mess. I asked about the girl, and the doctors said she was fine but they think she suffered a seizure in the car, which is why she was unconscious when I got to her. She didn’t think she was epileptic but they wanted to check, so she was going to be held a little bit longer and they discouraged me from visiting. The firemen were still trying to figure out how the fire was started. I left the hospital with my mom later, and haven’t heard from anyone about it since, save for the occasional journalist looking for a story.

That is, until I came to the Starbucks at the end of the block from my new office this morning. I was waiting in line and there she was. I recognized her. The barista behind the counter: it was her. I was sure of it. I thought she would say something when we came face to face, but as the line got shorter and we got closer, she just looked at me and smiled like I was just another customer. When I placed my order, she said nothing other than the cost and a “have a good one” as I stepped to the side. I was in shock. Did she not remember a thing?

 

 

I had weekly appointments with a therapist for my nightmares: it’s been a few years but they still come every now and again. My therapist just watches me calmly as I recall each terrifying detail, and speaks in his soft, caring voice that half puts me to sleep. After today’s session I was going to be late for work, so I confirmed my appointment next week and ran down the block to my job as a Starbucks barista. Most mornings were hectic, so I tied my green apron on and headed into the madness.

Most days are dreadfully routine.Today, though, today was special. A new face came into the shop and it wasn’t just any old banker or lawyer: she had a voice that calmed down the hectic atmosphere around us. I felt safe when she spoke. I couldn’t explain it. She was looking at me with wide eyes, like she was trying to remember something.

 

I kept staring-nothing. I couldn’t leave the shop until she said something. And then it hit me: why was I so intent on getting recognized? Wasn’t the whole point of doing nice things to know you did the right thing? As I grabbed my coffee cup I mulled it over and decided this encounter was just the closure I needed. The girl made it, she looked happy, and for that, I was happy. All I could have hoped for was true for her, and if she wasn’t carrying around the baggage of that day then, I thought, why should I?  I learned a valuable lesson, and with that I gave her a smile and left for work.

 

 It took me a moment, I had my back turned, but when she spoke again I knew who the woman was. It was the voice I kept hearing in my dreams, the faceless voice that saved me from my imminent death that chilly October morning. This was the woman who saved me. I felt a rush of peace as I looked into her eyes and rang up her order. She stalled a little while, and I felt an understood connection. I smiled to her as she opened the door and we went our separate ways.