Alone

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

Well, that was the only rule we thought really mattered. There were others. Obviously. No cooking. No sharps.

Stay out of the medicine cabinet and the liquor cabinet and the gun cabinet.

Okay… so there were lots of rules. Of course there were— it was our first time leaving Ryan in the apartment alone, and we were both so scared of what might happen.

But he insisted that he was ”big enough” to look after himself.

And we agreed. We trusted Ryan.

But we didn’t trust other people, even the neighbors on our floor. So we told him not to open the door.

Not for any reason.

Not for anyone.

We told Ryan if he opened the door even for a second some creep would snatch him and do the worst.

The door had to stay shut.

It was a good rule, a necessary rule.

We made him promise.

And he did. But we still worried.

We thought: what if someone tricks him. What if someone pretends to be a cop? Or a friend?

What if?

We could not stop agonizing.

We talked about canceling our plans…

So I removed the thumb latch from the inside of the door. We keyed the deadbolt from the outside, knowing Ryan could not possibly open the door.

That he’d be safe.

We went on our date.

Then we saw people on the ring doorbell— running down the hall…

… then the smoke…

My wife was sobbing. My heart was climbing up my throat.

…

We rushed back as fast as we could but we were… far too late.

The firefighters wouldn’t let us….

And I don’t know how neither of us ever thought to…

…

I’m so sorry.

Ryan…

It’s all my fault.