July 10, 2001

• THE STORY OF O, PART III (read further down for parts I and II)

  DISCLAIMER: This is not a happy-happy-joy-joy entry. If this bothers you, please skip today's blogging.
  

  Hitch, James IO’s roomie, had just declared his affection for me. This was sort of a surprise, but sort of not, you know what I mean? We’ve all been there. We’ve sensed when someone is attracted to us, but they’re not saying anything simply because it would be inappropriate to do so, and they’re morally and ethically decent people and just wouldn’t do that. (Can I get a witness?) Hitch was a gentleman and waited for what he thought was an appropriate time. I appreciated this trait in him.
  

  So, as wonderful as Hitch was (he was a fine man, indeed), I told him that this was probably not a good point in my life to add another man into the mix. We promised to keep in touch, and went our separate ways.
  

  James, for his part, was upset, and understandably so. I had responded to his proposal for marriage with a "Yes," followed by a "No," and all on his birthday. I was being a complete shrew, albeit unintentionally.
  

  A few days later, to clear his head, James decided to go to Louisiana to visit his parents for a spell. His brother, David, also was there, and he loved David more than Jesus loved the apostles, I believe. Sincerely, there was a deep bond between them.
  

  So David was working in a field on their parents’ property one day, and James was helping him, while they commisserated about life, women and the universe in general. It was time to burn a pile of brush, and David, not knowing how much fuel it takes to burn such a mass of twigs, threw a cup of gasoline into the fire. The tragedy you’re imaging right now, in your head, happened.
  

  David was engulfed by flames. James dove into the fire with the left side of his body leading, grabbed his brother, snatched him out of the fire, and put the flames out. This is all I know of the story until the brothers arrived at the hospital.
  

  The only identification James was carrying listed his Houston phone number as "home," so Hitch received the phone call from the small-town-hospital. (The parents lived in a rural area of Louisiana). David’s ID, of course, had been incinerated. Hitch got the call, then called me, said he thought I’d like to know, and gave me the number to the hospital. My emotions were all over the map, as you can imagine; and guilt was riding heaviest. It still does, to an extent, when I remember this story.
  

  I called the hospital, and got a very backwoods-sounding nurse. She assured me that they were both alive, and were soon being transferred to a burn unit in either Shreveport or Baton Rouge. David was, of course, the worst off, and she told me she had no idea how he’d do. I asked about James, and her reply made me freeze in place for a very long time. I’m not making this up, this is what she really said.
  

  "Oh, honey. Did you know him when he had his face?"
  

  To be continued...

  • 9:02 pm
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