Abigail

“Thanks for looking after her,” he acknowledged the sitter, before lifting his daughter up, and holding her on the left side of his hip. “How was she?”

The sitter, a young, short statured, curly haired African American woman smiled back at him, and gave his daughter a light tickle with her finger tips. “Oh she good,” she said, exaggerating the good. “Abby’s just a little sweetheart, ain’t you,” she laughed, and tickled her on her side one more time.

Ronald gave off a plastic smile, and gently set Abigail down on the concrete steps of the house. He reached down into his back pocket and felt the bulge of both his wallet, and the blue lighter he had tucked back there that very morning. He brought out his wallet, and skimmed through the ruffled bills inside. “How much do I owe you?” he asked, holding on to his fake grin.

The sitter looked up and to her left as she crunched the numbers. “Let’s see, ten dollars an hour plus the overnight stay,” she began, her eyes still darting around. “That’s a hundred twenty,” she confirmed finally, before greeting her hands with a wad of mixed bills.

“Here’s one fifty,” Ronald insisted, and thanked her again before making his way back to the car.

Abigail straightened herself as tall as she could in her booster seat in order to meet her dad’s eyes now reflecting off of the rear view mirror. Her feet dangled over as she kicked her legs, back and forth, against the front of the leather seat. The car engine harmonized with her as she started to hum some unfamiliar song, as her old man rounded the car onto the city’s interstate.

“Daddy,” she spoke, bringing his attention back to her reflection in the rear view mirror. “Tomorrow is a very special day, you wanna know why?”

He made his way over to the center lane and squinted his eyes back in the mirror. “Is it?” he pretended. “What makes tomorrow special?”

“It’s my birthday!” she blurted out, without a moment's hesitation.

“It’s your birthday?” Ronald continued to tease. “Get outta town. How old are you turning?”

“Six,” she announced.

“Six?” he continued playing along. “I can’t believe it!”

Abigail nodded, bit her tongue, squinched up her eyes and smiled in agreement.

“Well I guess that means we’re gonna have to throw a party,” he continued. “Who should we invite?”

Abigail leaned her head up against the passenger side window, as her eyes grew moist, and her voice grew lower. “I wish mommy could be there,” she sighed.

Ronald paused, looking back at her in the rear view mirror until he finally held her gaze.

“Me too Abby,” he consoled her. “Me too.”

***

Ronald pursed his lips and blew down hard on the red rubber balloon as it slowly inflated out and over the living room table. He took another breath in and blew even harder than the last as the carbon dioxide filled up the bright and elastic party decoration. Then very carefully, he pulled the end of the balloon into a knot, stretched the end of it, and let it soar across the room to join the others.

“Do you think we have enough?” he asked.

Abigail narrowed her eyes and pointed along the sea of yellow, red, blue, green, white, pink, and purple colors that lay all around her. With her other hand she began to count in groups of five, until she was left showing only her thumb and index finger. “Twenty-two!” she declared, and then smiled, giving her dad an approving nod, to let him know that the job was done.

“Now the streamers,” she insisted, her lips curving upwards towards her ears.

Ronald took a deep breath and let out an even longer sigh as he stood up from the couch and made his way over to the box of letters that spelled out “Happy Birthday” in bright rainbow colors. He unpacked the box and lined up the letters out on the coffee table, and unraveled the string. Abigail stood close by and watched as Ronald carefully weaved in and out though the paper holes of the “H” and then the “a” and then the “p.”

“Can I try?” Abigail asked confidently.

Her dad leaned over and gave an approving nod, and handed her the end of the string. Abigail stuck her tongue out and softly bit down on the tip of it as she squinted one eye and pulled the string through the “p” and then the “y”. Ron stood up, and gladly made his way over to the kitchen’s coffee machine, when there came a ringing at the doorbell.

He looked down at his watch, “It’s a little early for guests,” he thought out loud, and made his way over to the front of the house and opened the door. Outside stood a girl, the same age as Abigail, with golden hair and bright blue eyes. She wore a long pink dress, and in her hands she held tightly onto a big red wrapped box, topped with a bright pink bow. Next to her stood her equally blond and vivacious mother.

“Afternoon Ron!” the woman announced. Upon hearing this, Abby came rushing to the door from the living room, and upon seeing her friend, began to jump up and down in excitement.

“Hi Claire,” he said, half smiling.

“Sorry I had to bring Eva a bit early. Ted’s not feeling too hot, and he asked me to run by the pharmacy for him. I hope you don’t mind,” she explained, taking little time between her words.

“Of course,” he accepted, and as soon as the words left his mouth, Abby and Eva were dancing up and down in the foyer.

“You wanna see something cool?” Abby asked excitedly, as Eva quickly handed her birthday present over to Ron before chasing her friend down the hallway.

As the two girls disappeared around the corner, Ronald brought his attention back over to Claire, who let out a brief shiver from the dropping temperatures outside. Yet, held onto her smile as if she had been grinning and bearing it for the last year. She was stunning, but the increasing depths of her wrinkles clenched a hidden sadness within her.

“You doing okay Ron?” she asked earnestly. His wife and daughter’s birthdays, being only two days apart, was starting to become a sorrowful reminder.

“Yea. Ahem,” he choked. “Yes, we’re good, I’m good. Thanks for bringing her Claire,” he said, returning a smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” and with that he closed the door. For a moment he just stood there listening, as the car slowly pulled out of the driveway and made its way down the street.

Ron heard loud giggling and made his way into the room where he immediately saw four legs and feet dangling out from underneath his high bed frame. He crouched down on his hands and knees, and peered under. Abby had, to his surprise, created a little fort underneath the bed along with blankets, dolls, toys, pictures, and snacks she had snuck inside God knows when.

“It’s a bit dark under there don’t you think,” he teased.

“Dad! This is my hideout, and it's a secret!” Abby insisted.

Ronald got back up on his feet. “Oh I see. Sorry, sorry. Secret’s safe with me,” he promised, before hearing the doorbell ring again.

***

Ronald stuck the sixth and final candle into the frosting of the round chocolate and rainbow frosting cake as a cacophony of little girl’s birthday sounds emitted from the living room. He licked the frosting from his finger and adjusted the candlesticks so that they were all lined up at even heights. He then patted himself along his chest and abdomen, down to his front pockets, and then to his back.

“Where did I put that thing,” he muttered to himself, and scurried out of the kitchen, making his way to his bedroom trying not to be noticed. He picked up his jeans from the night before that lay sprawled over the edge of the laundry basket and checked the pockets. “Bingo,” he announced, grabbing the blue lighter, and quickly made his way back into the kitchen.

“Watcha doing Daddy?” he heard his daughter calling out.

“It’s a secret. I’ll be right there!” he shouted back.

He lifted the blue lighter up towards the candles of the cake, as the memories and regrets of that evening came rushing in. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he thought and quietly examined the clover sticker on the plastic casing for a moment. He shook himself out of it when he heard Abby making her way across the house towards him. He flicked the lighter as the flame shot out and caught onto the wick of the first candle. He then set the lighter down on the edge of the kitchen counter, and used the flame of the first candle to light the other five.

“Daddy!” Abigail came rushing in the kitchen. But before she could finish, Ron was already mid birthday song, as he walked with the flaming cake towards the living room full of children.

“Happy birthday dear Abby,” everyone now joined in singing. “Happy birthday to you!”

Everyone in the room clapped, as all the kids rushed towards and surrounded the birthday girl and her cake, poking their faces in, knowing all too well what was to happen next. Abigail closed her eyes as tight as she could, took a deep breath in, and blew with all her might, as each one of the candles extinguished into a puff of white smoke that rose and disappeared before it could reach the ceiling.

“Who wants cake?” Ron asked the room, knowing fully well what to expect as a sea of children’s hands shot up into the air, followed by a din of “me, me, mes.”

***

“Thanks for having her,” the woman at the door smiled, as the last of Abigail’s guests made their way from the front lawn, down to the car parked alongside the curb. Abby and Ronald stood in the door frame waving and watched as the car pulled out from the cul-de-sac, and disappeared into the night. A gust of wind made its way past them, and into the house, causing them both to shiver.

“Come sweetie, let’s get inside. It’s cold!” Ronald insisted, wrapping his arm around his daughter, and stepping back inside the house. He looked down at his watch. “Almost time for bed.”

“Can I stay up a little longer and play with my toys?” Abigail begged. “It’s still my birthday.”

“You’ve got twenty minutes,” he answered, and as soon as he said it, she disappeared into his room, and closed the door behind her.

Ronald plopped down deeply into the living room sofa chair, letting out a long suppressed sigh before reaching over for the TV remote. He clicked it on and didn’t even bother flipping through the channels. Any distraction was good enough really. As he settled in, his eyes grew heavy, and he submitted to the local news anchors pitching their stories.

“Temperatures continue to drop as winds from the north are picking up, sending a cold front down to the southern parts of the county,” the weatherman spoke, standing in front of a colorful map.

Ronald shook his head, and slapped both of his cheeks before leaning his neck over the chair towards the bedroom. “Abby,” he shouted. “Ten more minutes and then bed time.”

He focused his eyes back on the screen as the scene cut to a female news anchor standing in front of a strip of police tape that danced around the red, blue and white lights that flashed all around her. Ronald found her attractive and it only reminded him of how much he missed his wife and how incredibly lonely the last year had been.

“Shots rang out last night on the intersection of first and Main street. One victim has been rushed to St. Francis Medical center where they remain in critical condition,” the news anchor spoke into the microphone, looking directly into the camera and into Ron's eyes. “Police are still investigating the shooting, but at this time the shooter continues to remain at large.”

The screen flashed and a different news anchor appeared, this time in front of a basketball court. Sounds of sneakers squeaking on polished wood emitted from the television as the anchor talked faster than normal into the microphone. As the camera panned to one of the baskets, Ronald suddenly heard a door in the hallway slam, jolting him up and out of his chair and onto his feet. He quickly made his way towards his bedroom and could smell a strong smell of smoke coming from down the hall.

“Abby,” Ron called out, but there was no answer.

When he finally made it to his bedroom door, there on the floor, between his room and the bathroom door lay the blue lighter with the clover sticker. He stepped over it, opened the door to the bedroom and his heart sank into his stomach when he saw that his bed was completely engulfed in flames. He stood there for a moment, shocked, as he watched the fire begin to lick up from the headboard and onto the wall. Then the fire alarms sounded.

“Abby!” Ron was now screaming, less out of anger and more from worry. “Abby, where are you?”

He brought out his phone and dialed the emergency line before quickly making his way down the hall. “9-1-1, what is your emergency?” came the voice from the dispatcher. Ron approached the door to the bathroom and turned the knob of the door. It was locked.

“Abby,” he yelled again, pounding on the door. She remained silent on the other side, sounding only a faint whimper as Ron jiggled the handle.

“Sir, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher asked again.

“Hi, hrmph,” Ron grunted, shaking the handle of the door again. “There’s a fire in our house,” he explained, and then hastily gave the address before hanging up.

He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. All the worst of his thoughts came flooding in as he tried to bargain with the adrenaline that was surging through his body. He let out a leveled exhale of air before crouching down calmly at the door. He leaned his head down at the door's bottom seam and could see Abby. She sat on the toilet seat, crying into her favorite rabbit cuddly.

“Abby, sweetie,” Ron spoke calmly now, although his body was still trembling. “Sweetheart, you aren’t in trouble,” he spoke just loud enough to hear over the blaring smoke alarms. “But I need you to unlock the door.”

Ron tilted his head back down towards the crack under the door and watched as Abby got up from the toilet, and walked towards him.

“I didn’t mean to,” she began. “I was just trying to see under the bed,” she confessed, sniffling.

“It’s okay honey, just open the door so I can see my birthday girl,” he begged.

Light poured into the hallway, lighting up Ron’s face, as Abigail stood at the doorway of the bathroom with a rueful look about her. “At least Henry is okay,” she said, referring to the stuffed rabbit.

Ronald stuck out his arms, pulling his daughter into his chest and then quickly up above his shoulders. He walked cautiously down the hallway, stepping over the blue lighter, and turning Abigail’s attention away from the burning bedroom as they made their way to the front of the house. Sirens could be heard as emergency vehicles rounded the corner into the cul-de-sac, as the two made their way out the door and onto the front lawn.

Lights bounced and reflected off the windows of the houses as Ronald looked on to his neighbors who all stuck their noses through the curtains of their houses in order to get a better look at all of the commotion. He set Abby gently on the front curb of the house as the paramedics ran out and gently wrapped a blanket around her. The fire engine followed as men in brown and yellow striped turnout coats, and leather red and yellow helmets poured out and made their way towards the house. Ron watched one unravel the hose of the truck, while another attached the end of it to the nearby fire hydrant. Two of the firefighters led the end into the house as water rushed through the conduit and onto Ronald’s disintegrated bedroom.

Ronald took a seat down on the curb next to Abigail, who sat silently, squeezing Henry rabbit close to her chest, as the paramedics talked reassuring words in her direction. He threw his arm around her as the familiar lights of a police car drove in, and a man, close to his own age, stepped out. The officer saw the two and immediately walked over to the curb, and stood above them both with a serious look about him.

“Evening,” he introduced himself. “My name’s officer Diego Rodriguez…”