Flames

1

His name was Frederick Muttassi and he was proud; African born, but sent to America for schooling to keep his family proud too. Soon, the family followed Frederick.2

His Father became a physician in Boston. Working with the poor and downtrodden, he made money from what his patients could scrape together for pay. Being Catholic, his father also worked with the nuns, helping girls in 'trouble'. 3

Frederick grew as any young man might.. following in, what he saw as, his father's giant foot steps... going to the office with him, watching his gestures, hearing his words as he soothed his patients in ways only his father could. Frederick wanted to be a doctor too when he grew up.4

Which he eventually did. Then he went away to nursing school. Nursing first, he said... to get his feet wet. But inside Frederick knew he just could not fill the wide open spaces called his father's soul. He partied a bit too much at school, and fell into what he thought was love. She became pregnant. Catholic born shame was not an option, nor was abortion, so they married.5

He partied a bit more to forget the pain from choices made. She never told him, but he knew she had gotten pregnant to trap him. His wife was from a poor family, so Frederick was her hook into the things she liked best; expensive cars, clothes, and fun. She was his sinker; he was stressed from being overworked at the post office, while finishing nursing school and putting her through law school.6

Eventually they had three children, all girls. The youngest was his favorite and he called her MauMee. He held her close to his heart, and in his arms too; in her bed on nights when his wife would not let him sleep in theirs. He knew he shouldn't have such feelings for the girl, but he still loved looking into those golden eyes. He liked the sound of his whispering "MauMee" into those tiny ears many nights while she silently cried herself into a stupor beneath his sweat. She was a passenger in an out of control car named Frederick. When his conscience wore at him, he eased it by telling himself it is best that he, who truly loves his daughter should lie with her first, so she will know what true love feels like before she marries.7

After graduating from law school his wife became a corporate lawyer, reminding him daily that he never became a doctor. She served up his failings like a potent anti-vitamin. He learned to hate her, and found that emotion painful. The fantasies of hurting her, however, he found delightful. He worked out very intricate scenarios of pain for his wife. 8

Lost in fantasy, Frederick's jaw was clenched as he drove in from work. He remembered what She had said as he left for work that day; "Frederick I will be home from work late tonight, so I want you to get off early and pick up the girls from their soccer and softball practices. Understand?" He understood. He understood that she was having an affair. Many nights she had come home from work with the strong stench of cologne on her. It was definitely not his. But as always, he said nothing when she had these late, so-called 'business' meetings. She liked his silence. And his father had always told him .. "Son, in any argument, the best medicine is silence.. How can a fire keep burning with no fuel?". Frederick wished his wife's flame would die.9

And he was just about to light the gasoline soaked sheets that covered his sleeping wife when he saw it. The red Chevy truck in front of him. It was stopped to make a left turn! He slammed on the brakes and swerved. The blue Ford Mustang in the right lane attempted to merge into the space left by the stopped truck. It caught his right front fender. The rear end of Frederick's white Mercedes spun out into right lane traffic. Bracing for impact as the black Acura hit him, he was smothered by airbag, pain, and in the middle of chaos, silence. Catching what was left of his breath he inwardly smiled, thinking all was safe and he still alive. Then, from behind came a crushing blow. He felt himself topple toward the windshield and over to the right passenger's door. It flew open. He felt the wind gush. His left shoulder hurt badly and Frederick smelled gasoline. In seconds, the car and Frederick were engulfed. Golden hot flames fused his hands to his sides. And just before Frederick passed out from the fumes and the pain, he heard MauMee crying.10

They pried his feet loose from the floorboard and peeled the back of his body from the leather seat. They left the airbag material attached to the front of his body, cutting slits in it for him to breathe and see if possible, and took it all with him to the hospital where a trauma team removed more auto debris from his skin and hair. They didn't think he would make it, but the doctors did all the standard procedures for the severely burned. They placed him on IV's for infection, hydration, and nutrition, knowing it was now up to a power beyond them as to whether Frederick lived or died. 11

Alone and frightened, Frederick wandered in darkness, searching for his car. He was very thirsty and his lips stung when he ran his swollen tongue across them. He stumbled in mud at an opening to a forest grove of young sapling pines that led into a dark tunnel down to the sea. Hearing the majestic sound of the ocean waves engulfing its shore, Frederick longed to walk into the water and drown his thirst in the rushing waves. He wondered where he was. Crushing the small pines as he stumbled and struggled to stay on his feet, he knew he was being pursued, but by whom, he didn't know. He desperately wanted to find his car and lock himself in before his attackers found him. Above the tunnel, the top of a large pine towering over the forest of saplings swayed in the wind just enough to shed a full moon's light across the scene. In the moonlight, Frederick's Mercedes sat at the dark opening to the tunnel, charred and dark like the night that surrounded him, it silently invited him in to safety. He crawled. Each second a painful reminder that he was weak and lost and afraid. Sweating profusely, he reached the handle of the car and twisted. It came off in his hand but the door fell open with a creaking that sounded to Frederick like the bitter laugh of an evil woman. Still he crawled inside, and hugged the door handle to his stomach to keep it shut. He then prayed.12

A blur of white surrounded him. Someone was yanking the door handle from his hands. They had found him, and he screamed out in pain; "No no no, let me be!". Wet coldness surrounded him, and as if from a nightmare, Frederick jerked awake. He felt exposed, like the entire world was leering at him from the glassy eyed machines at his beside and glaring at him from beyond the glass window of his intensive care room at Mercy Saint John's hospital. They were jeering at him and telling him what a fool he was for listening to his wife tell him to leave work and pick up his girls early that day. They all knew him for what he felt he was; a failure as a father and as a healer. And Frederick knew it was all Her fault.13

He didn't know he had been unconscious for a week. He had nearly passed over while emergency personnel tried to save him from the flames that had totally engulfed his car by the time they arrived. Now safe in a hospital bed, awake, and heavily medicated for pain emanating from severe burns over most of his body, Frederick's mind picked up where it had left off; ruminating over his hatred for his wife. The heat generated from his hate was more than enough to incinerate any pain that his burns would cause him in the months to come...14