The Hero

“Oh! You’re the guy who saved that baby!  Last month, right? I saw you on TV.  That was bold, man.”

“Yes, I’m the guy. Thank you.” The men didn’t know each other. They’d crossed paths at a raucous house party.  

“Were you scared? I mean with all that smoke and those flames. What made you do it?” The man asking the questions was in his early thirties but looked older. He had a large belly, and not much hair left.

That was the question that Raj hated most. “What made you do it?” It wasn’t like he considered his options and chose saving the child’s life. He was driving home from night school, when he saw the second floor of a house, in the middle of his block, engulfed in flames. He heard the sirens; the fire engines were on their way. He jumped out and ran toward the house. When he reached the front porch, the child’s mother pointed to her front door and said, “My baby is still in there! He’s upstairs in his crib!”

Raj, who was 23, had taken his eyes off the man who’d asked what made him do it. He was hoping the guy had moved along, but he was still standing there waiting for an answer. “I did it without thinking. A reflex I guess.”

“You crazy, man. I heard you got burns all over your arms and on your face, but I don’t see nothin’ like that on you.”

“The media exaggerated quite a bit,” Raj said. “I had some smoke in my lungs and some first-degree burns, that’s all.” Raj took a long pull on his beer and walked away.

The bedroom had been filled with black smoke. He heard the baby crying and ran toward the sound. He scooped the kid up and headed for the staircase. The truth was that he was haunted by what he’d seen in the hallway. There was an elderly man in his underwear just standing there. “Hey, Mister! Let’s go. Follow me.”

The old man nodded and said, “I need to get my pants on first.”

Raj didn’t wait. He had rushed down the steps, gone through the doorway and out into the street. The child’s mother practically ripped the child from his arms. He had turned to look at the house, momentarily thinking he could go back for the old man, but it was too late for that. The stairs were ablaze.

Raj was treated like a hero, although not an especially cooperative one. The question that kept him awake most nights was, “Why didn’t I make that old man come with us?” Raj knew instinctively that there hadn’t been time to look for trousers. He should have ordered the guy down the stairs.

While the emergency medical technician was giving him first aid, Raj, hopeful anyway, asked him, “Did the old man get out okay?”

“No. You saw him?”

“Yeah, he wanted to get dressed first, I guess.”

“He didn’t make it,” the tech said.

“I should have taken him with me.”

The tech nodded. He tapped Raj’s shoulder. “Listen, my friend. You had your hands full. “That old man’s death isn’t your fault. So, get that thought out of your head right now. You’re a hero.”

Raj knew better. He’d seen the man’s face. He was still seeing it when he couldn’t sleep, which was most nights. The man was so frightened, he froze in that hallway. He could have yelled, maybe startled the man into action.

A week after the fire, he’d gone to City Hall for a ceremony. The mayor gave him a plaque and a check for $50.00. He saw the mother and her baby again. The photographer wanted to take a picture of Raj holding the baby, but the mother said, “I appreciate what he did, but I’d rather not have him hold my baby.”

Raj took a closer look at the woman then. She averted his stare. She wasn’t getting much sleep either.