by Jack Weyland
She rested her hand on her stomach and felt it rise and fall with each breath. I wonder if I’ve lost any weight, she thought. I feel so skinny. Maybe it’s just because I’m lying down. I’ll have to weigh myself when I get home.
She fantasized being the next Jane Pauley or Diane Sawyer, influential, trusted by viewers, able to examine important issues of the day, smart, intelligent, and with a little help from makeup experts, beautiful too. When she found corruption in government, she would reveal it. When she found heartwarming stories of ordinary people who did extraordinary things, she would let the world know. If there were health warnings that needed to be made, she would sound the alarm.
She remembered something David Alexander had said, “Reporting the news is like standing on a riverbank during a flood and describing what comes down each day. Every day is different. There are high points and low points, but whatever it is, you’re there telling the world what you see.”
She retrieved David’s business card, studied the phone number he’d given her, thought about calling him, but then decided against it. If I wait another day or two, maybe he’ll call me.
She decided to take a shower. Because she didn’t have girls at the door clamoring for her to hurry up, and because she didn’t have to be anywhere for hours, she could take her time. That was also another luxury she hadn’t enjoyed since coming to college in the fall.
As the water cascaded over her, she faced away from the spout, lowered her head and let the water drum on the back of her neck. It was better than a massage.
A cloud of warm mist filled the room giving it a mysterious air as if it were fog. She grabbed the tube of shampoo and, using it as a microphone, assumed her newscaster’s voice, “The swamp monster has gone back into the swamp, but I’ve gone in to get him. Authorities say that dense fog in the region is hampering their search for the half-man/half-frog creature who, it is believed, brutally killed a night-watchman last night.” She put her hand to her throat as if someone were choking her, then dramatically slumped over.
If she got a job working for a national network, she wasn’t sure if she’d use her real name or not. “This is Emily Savage . . . This is Emily . . .” She paused. She knew there had been a TV news personality named Jessica Savage, so she couldn’t use that. But she liked the combination of Emily, which seemed quite feminine, and the word Savage.
She tried to come up with variations. “This is Emily Beast for CBS news . . . This is Emily Barbarian for CBS news . . . This is Emily Maniac for CBS news . . . This is Emily Homicidal for CBS news . . . This is Emily Nightmare for CBS news . . .” She started giggling.
She might have gone on much longer, but the hot water started to turn lukewarm, so she got out and started drying. She’d had so much fun in the shower that she grabbed the shampoo tube again. “This is Emily Wolf . . . This is Emily Coyote . . . This is Emily Badger . . . This is Emily Rhino.” She started laughing but stayed in character, doing the interview. “I’m sorry. It’s just that sometimes I crack myself up. This is Emily Delusional.”
Molly called out through the bathroom door. “Emily, who are you talking to?”
“Nobody, I’m just playing TV announcer.” She opened the door a crack. “Do you need to get in here?”
“Well, yeah, for just a minute and then I’m going back to bed.” She walked in. “Gosh, you’ve really steamed up the place, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s the longest shower I’ve ever taken. It’s so good not to have to rush around to get ready. I’m done in here for a while. Help yourself.”
In her room, Emily took her time getting ready for church. She examined the reflection of her face in the mirror attached to the door. What else can I do to improve the way I look? she thought. She couldn’t decide if she should color her hair, which was fine and silky and blonde. She called it blonde, but a boy in high school once told her it was the color of a field of hay stubble. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but at least it was accurate.
She felt happy and contented that school was over. She had a good chance of getting straight A’s. The next day, before leaving to go home for the summer, she’d mail out her demo-tapes to TV stations. That might open up some possibilities for her, but even if it didn’t, there was still a good chance that David could get her a job working in Washington, D.C.
David is falling in love with me, she thought. Serves him right for being so mean to me in the beginning. It’s flattering, but I have no intention of doing anything about it. Except it means I have power over him. Imagine that—little old me having power over the rich and famous David Alexander.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Austin’s my one true love. She smiled at the thought because since coming to school she’d spent very little time thinking about Austin. But at least she’d continued to write him, which wasn’t that much trouble since she’d been sending him the same letter she sent to her brother.
She looked in the closet for something to wear, but there wasn’t much choice. Because of doing last-minute term papers and cramming for finals, she hadn’t done a wash for well over a week. She found a long-sleeved white blouse in the back of her closet. It had been a Christmas present from her aunt. It was too big for her, and was much too flouncy for Emily’s taste. She thought it made her look like a Gypsy.
After she got dressed and put her makeup on, she went in the other bedroom to wake up Molly. “Hey, sleepyhead, it’s time to get ready for church.”
Molly just moaned and rolled over.
Emily sat on Molly’s bed. “Come on, you know you’ve got to do it.”
“Just ten more minutes.”
“No, c’mon, it’s time.”
Molly was a cowgirl from Soda Springs, Idaho. She used little makeup and wore the same blue denim dress to church every Sunday. She was going with a returned missionary from Ashton, Idaho, and they had been talking about getting married.
Molly stretched, yawned, and slowly got to her feet, then padded to the bathroom. She turned to face Emily. “Brett’s going to pick me up. You want to ride with us?”
“No, that’s okay. It’s such a nice day. I think I’ll walk.”
Half an hour later Emily left the apartment on her way to church. It was a beautiful morning, with the temperature in the midseventies and a light breeze blowing. The sun was warm on her cheek, which reminded her she was looking forward to getting a tan during the summer. It wasn’t easy for her to do because of her light complexion, but she thought if she consistently sunned ten minutes a day she might be able to get a little color.
She thought about her weight again. She’d heard that the camera adds about ten pounds to a person’s appearance, and from what she’d seen she believed it. Maybe she’d go on a diet over the summer, when it was easier to lose weight by eating more fresh fruits and vegetables. But if she did decide to diet, she for sure wouldn’t tell her mother about it. Emily’s mom thought Emily looked fine and had never understood when Emily worried about her weight. It was just one more thing on which they had disagreed.
Even so, Emily was looking forward to being home again and to letting her mom take care of her. While living away from home for the first time, she’d found out how much work it took to do the things she’d always taken for granted when she lived at home—buying groceries, cooking and cleaning up afterward, and washing and ironing clothes. It would be nice to give some of those chores back to her mom.
What if I do get a job and don’t spend the summer at home? What if I never come back to school? Am I really ready to be on my own?
The weather was so pleasant that Emily was almost sorry when she reached the institute building where church was held. She was early. The meeting wouldn’t begin for twenty minutes.
She went in the chapel and sat down to wait. She spent a few minutes reading her scriptures and then went out into the hall to get a drink of water. The water was cool and pure and tasted good.
Returning to her seat, she closed her eyes. It’s so quie
t and peaceful here, she thought.
She remembered that she’d forgotten to pray before she left her room and felt guilty because she’d had plenty of time. It’s because school is over, she thought. I don’t have any impossible deadlines to meet or any hard exams to study for. I’m out of my routine. That’s why I didn’t pray. I should have, though.
She closed her eyes and began to whisper a prayer, but she stopped when some people began coming into the chapel. She didn’t want them to think she was weird.
There weren’t that many at church that Sunday because the semester had ended, and most of the students had already left for home.
After church, back at her apartment, Emily was glad to get out of her church clothes. She changed into jeans but continued to wear the blouse she’d worn to church. For comfort, she didn’t tuck it in and left the sleeves unbuttoned.
She was alone in the apartment. She figured Molly had gone with Brett to visit his grandmother who lived in Smithfield. She didn’t mind. It was nice to have the place all to herself. She fixed herself a sandwich then started to sort through folders from school. By four in the afternoon, she had a garbage sack full of old papers she was going to throw away. After that, she took a nap until five, then woke up just as Molly returned.
Chapter 4
“You want some supper?” Emily asked.
“No, you go ahead. We had a big lunch, so I’m not hungry now. I think I’ll take a nap for a while.”
Emily got up and looked for something to eat. The cupboard and fridge were pretty much bare, but she did find a package of Ramen noodles.
She turned the electric burner on to high and put the water on to boil before sitting down to read the Sunday issue of the New York Times.
She got so interested in an article on the front page that she forgot about the pan on the stove until she heard the water vigorously boiling and sloshing over onto the stove. She stepped quickly to the range, and when she reached to remove the pan from the red-hot burner, the right tail of her blouse brushed against the glowing coil and caught fire.
She didn’t panic at first because it was only a small flame. She brushed at it with her hand to put it out but that only fanned the flames. Within seconds, the flame raced up the right side of the shirt, and then the whole front of the blouse was on fire. She could hear the “whoosh” of the flames as they rushed upward. At first there was no pain, just the sensation of heat on her skin. But in a moment, the pain was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Not just on the surface, like burning a finger on an iron; this was much deeper. Each breath she took carried flame-heated air and airborne contaminants into her lungs, searing her mouth and lungs.
The polyester fabric not consumed in the fire melted and formed a hot, gooey substance that stuck to the skin on her arms, chest, and stomach. It felt as though the blood under her skin was boiling.
In full-blown panic, Emily screamed again and again.
Molly came running into the kitchen and saw Emily engulfed in flames. “Oh, Emily!” she screamed, but stood for a moment, not knowing what to do. Then she tackled Emily, pushing her to the floor and slapping with her hands at the burning fabric, trying to smother the flames. Panicked, Emily fought to get free and struggled to her feet, still screaming.
Molly tried to get what was left of the smoldering fabric off Emily by pulling it over her head, but as she did so, the flames caught Emily’s hair on fire.
“Aaagh!” Emily screamed as the fire licked at her ears, face, and scalp.
Molly fought against being overwhelmed by panic, knowing that if she didn’t do something fast, Emily would die. Water! she thought. She knew it would take too long to fill a bucket. Emily might be dead by then.
Spotting the spray attachment on the sink, she grabbed it and turned on the water. “Don’t move, Emily! I’m putting out the fire!”
Molly started on Emily’s head and then moved down until the fire was put out. The molten fabric adhering to Emily’s arms, chest, and stomach cooled and stuck to the severely damaged skin.
Emily slumped to the floor, wracked with pain and in shock.
Molly grabbed the phone and dialed 911. “My roommate just got burned in a fire! You’ve got to come right away!”
Writhing on the wet floor, Emily was trying to get enough air into her lungs.
“My name?” Molly cried out. “Why do you need to know my name? I’m telling you my roommate is dying!”
Emily felt as if there were a heavy weight on her chest preventing her from breathing. I’m not going to make it, she thought. I’m going to die. I just hope I can live long enough to tell my mom and dad I love them.
Molly finally calmed down enough to give the 911 operator the needed information. She hung up the phone and got on her knees beside Emily. “They’re on their way, Emily. Just hang in there, okay?”
Emily wanted to thank Molly, but the pain was so severe that it took all she had just to breathe. She wasn’t ready to die, but she almost wished she could because of the pain.
Molly was crying. She grabbed a dish towel and began wiping at some of the water around Emily. “The ambulance is coming right away, okay?” she blurted. “They’ll be here any minute.”
“I think I’ll need to have someone look at this,” Emily whispered.
“I know. They’ll take you to the hospital.”
She still wasn’t getting enough air, but trying to breathe more deeply brought intense pain to the burned areas of her stomach and chest.
She never heard any sirens, but after what seemed a long while, the room was suddenly full of strangers—a policeman, firemen, and paramedics.
“What’s her name?” one of the paramedics asked.
“Emily,” Molly said.
“Emily, I’m Devon. We’re going to get you to the hospital, so they can take good care of you. Okay?”
She tried to answer but all that came out was a moan.
Devon cut her burned shirt away from her body so it wouldn’t pull at the skin when they moved her onto a stretcher.
“Is she going to be all right?” Molly asked.
“We just need to get her to the hospital, that’s all.”
They started down the stairs, carrying Emily on a stretcher. Even though they tried hard to be gentle, each step caused her intense pain.
They got her in the ambulance and started for the hospital. “Don’t tell my parents about this,” she whispered to Devon.
“They need to know, Emily.”
She didn’t want her mom and dad to worry. But even so, she remembered back to the time when she was little and fell off the monkey bars at a playground. She had broken her wrist, and she remembered how her mother had held her on her lap and kissed her to “make it all better” while waiting for the doctor to see them in the emergency room of the hospital. She desperately wanted that kind of comfort now.
It was a short ride to the hospital. Emily was wheeled directly into the emergency room, where on a count of three, she was gently lifted onto an examination table. Having been alerted by the paramedics, the members of the medical staff were ready for her, and she was immediately surrounded by a doctor and two nurses.
The doctor, in his midthirties, took charge. “I’m Dr. Sullivan. We’re going to check you over to see how you’re doing.” He addressed one of the nurses, “Get her vitals,” he said.
While one nurse was checking her blood pressure and heart rate, the other placed an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. She was having trouble breathing, and getting the oxygen helped lessen the panic she’d been experiencing, feeling that at any minute she might die. They also started an IV in a vein in her left arm.
After a few minutes, Molly came rushing into the emergency room. Emily asked her to get someone to administer to her, and Molly left to go make the phone calls.
Emily wanted to know how badly she’d been burned. She raised her head and saw that her chest and upper right arm were covered with large and very wet blisters. She lay back down aga
in. This is worse than I thought.
The few times Emily had been burned, her mother had always used Neosporin ointment on the burn. She thought the nurse would bring a big tube of the stuff and apply it to her burn. But that didn’t happen.
She felt herself going in and out of consciousness. One time when she woke up, she realized the doctor was talking to someone on the phone. It sounded as though he was asking for advice. Oh, great, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, Emily thought.
Holding the phone to his ear, Dr. Sullivan stepped to Emily’s side. He lifted the sheet that was loosely covering her and said, “Well, the burned area is over her right arm, the right side of her face, her neck and chest . . . I’d say twenty percent . . . third degree. Her pulse is steady, but we’re still trying to stabilize her breathing. Yes, we’ve done that . . . Yes, we’ve done that . . . No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. All right, we’ll do that. What else? . . . All right, we’ll prep her and get her ready for the flight. Thanks for your help.”
As soon as Dr. Sullivan got off the phone, he ordered morphine for Emily. Then he spoke to her. “Emily, we’re going to AirMed you to the burn center at the University of Utah in Salt Lake City. They’ll take good care of you. We’re going to try to keep you comfortable until the helicopter arrives, okay?”
Perhaps because she’d been watching reruns of M*A*S*H on TV, Emily pictured a military helicopter, where the patients are strapped onto a stretcher outside the helicopter. What if I move the wrong way and fall? she thought.
A nurse came and administered morphine through Emily’s IV.
Maybe it was the morphine, but the image of the helicopter ride became more and more distorted in her mind. She pictured a cot dangling from a helicopter, without any straps, and that she’d have to hold on tight for the entire ride, and that if she passed out or lost consciousness then she’d roll off and fall to her death.
I should have just used the Neosporin and stayed home, she thought. It might take a couple days longer to heal, but at least I wouldn’t be facing a helicopter ride.