Please don’t forget the mustard.

I was obsessed with my dead friend’stte father. I hated him. He was a psychopath. He killed my best friend. He wore the same old, dingy, black denim coat everywhere he went and had a dead expression on his face. <br><br>I was obsessed with my dead friend’s father. I loved him more than anything. He saved my life. He was a hero. He wore the same old, dingy, black denim coat everywhere he went and had a dead expression on his face. <br><br>I was five years old when my family moved to a cheap apartment complex. The first person I met was a boy called Tommy. We met on the playground. I was trying to go down the slide, but there was already a kid on it. He was crying. <br><br>A guy came over and he spoke to me in the voice you use when you talk to difficult toddlers. “Are you papa’s little girl?,” he asked. Papa is a term that my Russian family uses for grandpas, but I knew what he meant, so I answered, “yes,” and the man took me by the shoulder and said, “Well then, Papa’s little girl gets to go first.” He then yanked the other kid off the slide and threw him into the dirt. I remember the kid crying. He scraped his knee. He continued crying for a while. <br><br>The guy who helped me walked over to the crying kid. “Here,” I said, and I handed the man my frilly white handkerchief. He took it and used it to clean up the boy’s scrape. <br><br>The crying boy was still crying, so he grabbed the kid’s arm and dragged him away. “I’m gonna take you home to momma.” <br><br>I watched him walk into a nearby building. A few minutes later, a kid ran up to me. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Tommy. My dad asked me to come out and play with you.” <br><br>I didn’t say anything, but the kid started to play with me without waiting for me to respond. He went down the slide, and then I went down the slide. <br><br>Tommy was a few years older than me, but he never acted like it. He never told me not to do something because I was “too little.” He never avoided playing with me because I was “too little.” He even let me win at games. <br><br>Sometimes Tommy’s dad would take us out for food or to the park. He would drive us in his big, black car. Once, we all went to the zoo. I saw a monkey that looked like my uncle Vik. I laughed. Tommy laughed too, but his dad stopped the car and asked me why I was laughing. I told him that the monkey looked like uncle Vik. “How does uncle Vik look,” he asked me, and I told him that uncle Vik had a long body and short legs. Tommy’s dad nodded, then put the car in drive and accelerated. <br><br>Later, I saw a monkey that actually looked like uncle Vik. I pointed it out to Tommy. This time, Tommy’s dad didn’t stop the car. <br><br>“Why do you like taking me out?” I once asked. <br><br>Tommy’s dad smiled. “I like you because you’re beautiful,” he said. Then he kissed me on the cheek. <br><br>Things were good until the night of the fire. <br><br>I remember that my dad was kissing me goodnight when we smelled smoke. He carried me outside without waking me up, and I don’t remember anything. I woke up laying on the grass. I was cold. <br><br>I sat up, and when I did, I saw Tommy’s dad. He was standing over me. He was wearing his black denim coat. My dad was standing next to him. They were talking, but the sound of the fire alarm obscured their words. <br><br>Tommy’s dad handed my dad a red plastic tub. He smiled and waved at me. I smiled and waved back. I watched my dad carry the tub into the nearby parking lot. <br><br>As my dad was walking away, Tommy’s dad turned around to go back into the burning building. <br><br>I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around, and it was my dad. He picked me up and started to carry me away. “Please don’t forget the mustard,” a voice shouted. I looked into the burning building and saw Tommy’s dad. He was waving at me, and I could see the faintest of smiles on his face. <br><br>Then a part of the building collapsed, and a thick cloud of black smoke came out. When the smoke went away, Tommy’s dad was gone. <br><br>I grew up not understanding what had happened the night of the fire. I didn’t understand why my family moved out of the apartment complex. I didn’t understand why Tommy’s dad did what he did. <br><br>It wasn’t until years later that I understood. <br><br>Tommy’s dad was a psychopath. He killed my best friend. He burned our building to the ground. He was an asshole. He didn’t help me down the slide. He threw that little boy off the slide and hurt him. He took the boy home and had sex with him. He was a sick pervert. I wasn’t beautiful. I was a pawn in his game. <br><br>But I never realized that side of him. To me, he was the guy who saved my life. He ran into the burning building, and he saved me. He saved my family. He gave my dad the tub that held our savings. We used that money to buy a house. If it wasn’t for Tommy’s dad, I would have grown up in a trailer park. <br><br>Years after the fire, when I was old enough to understand what happened, I saw an old news report of the fire. It said that no one died, that I wasn’t in the building when it caught fire. But I know that I was. I remember the smell of smoke. I remember the sound of the alarm. I saw Tommy’s dad waving at me before he died. <br><br>I went back to the apartment complex. I had never been back before then because I was too scared. I got out of my car and walked up to the spot where I saw Tommy’s dad die. I looked up at it. It was a parking spot. I saw the black lines on the ground that symbolized where you’re supposed to park your car. I remember that parking spot. That was where my dad put the tub. <br><br>I sat down on the asphalt. I sat there for a while, not moving, not saying anything. I was lost in thought. A man walking by stopped and asked me if I was okay. <br><br>I stood up, and my feet were numb. “I’m fine. Do you know what happened to this building,” I asked. The man looked up at the building and said, “It was torn down years ago. This is a parking lot now.” I nodded and walked back to my car. <br><br>Then I heard a voice. “Papa’s little girl? Are you okay?” I turned around, and it was Tommy’s dad. <br><br>I looked at him, shocked. “How?” I asked. <br><br>Tommy’s dad shrugged. “I ran out the back door. I was going to come back for you, but I knew your dad would get you out in time. I was right.” <br><br>I stood there for a while, silent. I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I got up the nerve to speak. “What did you do with Tommy?”<br><br>Tommy’s dad looked away. He mumbled something under his breath. I couldn’t hear it, but I saw his lips move, and I knew that he was talking. <br><br>“Why did you burn the building down?” I asked. <br><br>Tommy’s dad looked at me with a straight face. “I burned the building down for you. Remember when you said that my coat smelled like mustard? Remember that?” I nodded. “Well, I burned the building down, and I got rid of the coat.” <br><br>I thought back to that day on the playground when I gave Tommy’s dad my handkerchief. I realized that I had smelled mustard on him. I had never smelled mustard on him after that. I never saw him wear that coat after the fire. <br><br>I smiled. “Thank you for burning the coat,” I said. “I was really scared of it.” <br><br>Tommy’s dad didn’t say anything. He just turned around and walked away. I watched him go. I never saw him again.