The Lick of the Flame

My father called the tip of a candle light the lick of the flame. I never understood why, but neither did I understand why he would stare at a burnt candle for entire minutes. Watching it with such interest… as if the very sight of a small fire was more important than his own children.

I had just turned old enough to drive when my mother has diagnosed with stage four cancer. She passed soon after, leaving my little sister and me with my depressed father. Since then I've had to drive my little sister and me so we don't miss school... or so we can go grocery shopping... so we can live.

We had to take care of each other—all during the time that my father stares at the lick of the flame.

I could never quite understand why he had this obsession. According to my mom, as a child he had a strange fondness over fire. I learned in my Psychology class that there are people in this world who legitimately have this sort of obsession.

But I always wondered if maybe it was enhanced as a safety net for when my mom died? As if to give him something beautiful to look at since mom passed… but that idea just made me feel more insignificant in his life.

One day, when I dropped my sister and I off from school in our old, bronze Jetta, I noticed the front door was open.

I could feel the beating in my heart increase, and couldn't help but wonder if there was an intruder inside. My father never invited family or friends over... they either lived too far away or he lost connections with them after my mother passed away. And if he did invite someone over, he would have warned us; I would remember when my father had spoken to us.

"I'm going to check on daddy, see if he's okay," I told my little sister.

I could see that her dark brown eyes widened and she clutched her backpack harder.

"It's going to be okay." I gave her little knee a squeeze.

I closed the door to my car and slowly walked to the front porch. I didn’t know what I was expecting... but I didn't think that the door being left open was an accident.

When I entered inside, I was immediately hit by the strong odor of vanilla candles. It was a more pleasing smell than the Ramen noodles and dirty socks I was used to smelling inside. I crept a little closer when I found my dad sitting on the couch.

"What the hell, dad," I shouted. "You left the door open!"

Immediately my dad was brought away from wherever he was in his mind and turned to look at me. He let out a small smile.

"Was someone else in here?" I asked. Despite the fact that I knew it was safe inside, my heart continued to race.

My dad didn't answer, but continued smiling at me.

"Talk to me, dad! What's going on...?"

He didn't need to speak, though, because I knew what this was all about. Beside several small candles was a picture of my mother.

I immediately felt as if gravity were pulling me stronger to the ground. This day last year marked the moment my life changed forever.

I swung my backpack across my back and walked up to my dad. 

"She's gone, dad," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. He didn't seem to hear me, but instead continued smiling... all the while staring at the lick of the flame.

"You can't—"

"I raced to grab as many of these beauties as I could," he remembered in a rough voice. He cleared his throat. "I thought the more I buy, the better it is to celebrate her."

I licked my lips and squeezed my dad's shoulder. "Dad, I understand how difficult this must be. I know mom meant a lot to all of us—but if you don't stop living in the past then we can't continue in the present."

He looked at me.

"You need to put these candles out before something bad happens. It's getting late, why don't we get some dinner?"

He didn't move a muscle.

"I'm gonna go back to the car for a moment, dad."

He turned away and started out the house. I looked back and noticed he didn't move a muscle.

I helped my sister out of the car—and right when I shut her door I heard a loud bang, like a vase crashing into the ground. A rush of adrenaline coursed in my veins and I raced for the front porch. Inside I saw a small fire on the carpet—and my dad standing beside it, watching it with awestricken eyes.

"Put it out!" I shouted.

My sister saw the fire and started to scream. Between the pounding in my head and the screaming of my sister, I didn't know what to do.

"It just fell," my dad explained, all the while staying as stiff as a stone. He pointed at a piece of china placed on a flimsy table. The remains of the china were spread throughout the small flames, and my eyes noticed three candles lying beside it.

I rushed to the kitchen sink and was about to pour a glass of water when I noticed a cabinet ajar. My eyes caught a glimpse of a shiny red tube. I pulled the cabinet open and saw a fire extinguisher inside.

"Dad must have thought he would burn the house down before he bought these candles." I thought to myself.

I grabbed the extinguisher and tried to read the instructions while I rushed to the living room. I had no clue as to how to operate this machine, but I did know that if I did not act now then I'm gonna have to worry about more than a small burnt area on the rug.

I nearly dropped the extinguisher when my eyes caught sight of what was unfolding. The fire was spreading to the furniture —the tables and cabinets and even the couch, they were all bursting into bright orange flames! I saw my father surrounded by the fire, not moving an inch to escape his doom. My sister remained just as still, screaming her head off so loud she could have cracked glass. I would too if I was in kindergarten.

I grabbed my dad's wrist and shook him out of his trance.

"Dad—dad, if we don't put this out then the fire's going to burn down the entire house!" I shouted at him.

To my shock, nothing I said or did would wake him the trance he had on the lick of the flame.

"Dad!" I pleaded. “Please…”

"Your mother was the most beautiful thing in my life," I heard my father say. Whether that was to me or to himself, I did not know. "I never meant for this to happen... She likes candles... I like fire..."

"Dad, we need to get out!"

I noticed my words had some effect to pull him from his thoughts. I tossed the extinguisher on the ground and wrapped my hands around his wrist. With a giant yank I guided him out of the flames and towards the front porch. Luckily, none of the flames caught on his legs.

By the time I had my father regrouped with my sister, the fire was everywhere. I didn't understand how it could have spread so fast, but neither could I have understood how the fires in California had spread so fast these past few years. That's why I felt a sudden discouragement to extinguish them. I wonder if the firefighters in California felt the same…

"We need to get out of here," I told my sister and father.

I grabbed both their arms and was about to lead them out the house when all the sudden my father tore his arm from my grip and charged back into the fire.

"I have to get mom!" he shouted.

My heart nearly skipped a beat and I was afraid that my father was... No... I couldn't assume that.

My sister and I stood and waited for him, but between the dense smoke that was obscuring our vision and burning our lungs, and the intense heat coming from the flames... I realized standing and waiting for my father would get us killed.

But something in me refused to run to safety. Something told me that I couldn't leave my only parent behind. I couldn’t lose them both, not now… 

"Daddy!" my sister shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I released my grasp from my sister and started to run for my father when I saw him charging out with several items in his hands.

"Daddy, watch out!" my sister shouted.

I looked up and noticed a wooden beam, covered in the orange flames of death, coming loose from the house. It was a matter of seconds before it would collapse... in front of my dad.

I didn't understand what was happening to me—for my body yet again went on pilot mode and I saw myself running towards my dad, sacrificing myself for him.

I heard the roaring of the flames, I inhaled the thick smoke, and all the while I put it past me... I couldn't lose my father... I needed to save him.

I was but an inch from him, ready to shove him out of the way, when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist and pull me away. By then, I collapsed into unconsciousness.

When I woke up I saw the thousands of small stars twinkling in the night sky. It filled me with a sense of relief that brought me to the verge of tears. My mind was racing, and I struggled to comprehend what had just happened only several moments ago... but seeing the night sky brought a sense of peace within me…

"Dad!" I jumped.

"Stay still, sweetie," a paramedic put her hand on my shoulder and lightly pushed me back on the gurney that I was lying on.

I shrugged her off and looked around. I saw ambulances and police officers... as well as our neighbors watching the scene... Then I saw the dark, burnt structure of the house.

Our house…

I raced off the gurney to find my sister and father. To my relief, they were both well…

"I'm so sorry, kids," my father apologized, squeezing us in his embrace. "I was overwhelmed with so many emotions—I never meant to hurt you two."

I squeezed my father back, tears rolling down my cheeks. "We know, dad, we know."

He then looked at us with his large, sad eyes. I couldn't help but feel an unbearable amount of relief to see my family okay.

"You two are the most important things to me... And until today, I seemed to have forgotten."

That day made me realize that despite the grief and depressions that surround us whenever we step into a moment of crisis, these emotions keep us from what's really important... the power of family and love. Because sometimes we forget that without love and family, we never have that lick of the flame that allows us to push forward in life...