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The group broke into a rousing rendition of ‘She’s A Jolly Good Firewoman.’

Carla squinted at them.“What’s going on?”she asked with a half-hearted laugh.

“You’re a hero!”Rosa, one of the assistants said, running around the table to give Carla a bear hug.“I’ve watched this at least five times,” Rosa said, holding her phone up to Carla and showing the footage of Carla pulling Martha to safety with the fire raging behind her.A second video showed Carla coming out carrying Fluffy in her arms as the neighbors cheered.

“How did the news get that?”Carla stammered.

“Someone must’ve sent it to them,” one of the partners said.

Carla put her hands on the conference table to steady herself.

“Reporters have been calling here all morning, they want to interview you,” Rosa said, rubbing her hands together.“Isn’t that exciting?”

Carla picked up her things before a panic attack could rear its head.“I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.”She rushed out the door and straight to her car.

By the time Carla got home, her cell phone was littered with voicemails from area codes she didn’t recognize.How have all these strangers gotten my phone number?she wondered.

Some people would have relished being celebrated, but Carla felt violated.After Carla’s daughters, Morgan, Charlotte, and Abby, were born, she kept a very low profile.She ensured her phone numbers were unlisted and avoided social media.

Without listening to them, Carla deleted all the messages, then dropped her phone onto the couch as if she’d picked up a pot of boiling water with her bare hands.She began pacing around her living room.After walking the perimeter eight times, she realized it was only ten a.m., so she couldn’t have a glass of wine.Instead, she settled for a cup of green tea.

She took her phone and her mug into her bedroom.All she wanted was to get under the covers and hide from the world.She pulled her sheets back and slid under them, fully dressed including her shoes.She eyed her phone on the night-stand as if it were a middle-school bully about to hurl insults at her.Then she turned away.Do not look at your phone,do not look at your phone.Unfortunately, her curiosity got the best of her after only a few minutes.Her pulse sped up when she saw alert after alert pop up.The videos were now on Next Door.The local news.And all over YouTube.

“Why can’t people just leave me alone?”she asked as Albert looked up at her as if she were talking to him.

Carla put her head in her hands, her panic hitting a pitch higher than the soprano’s aria inLa Bohème.She willed herself to get up and get a Xanax out of her medicine cabinet, then popped it into her mouth like an M&M.She hoped it would help, but as her head buzzed and her heart pounded, she doubted if anything could calm her.

As she wondered if her daughters knew what had happened, the unique ringtone she had set for her oldest, Morgan, chimed from her cell, answering her question.

“Mom, why didn’t you tell us that you saved Martha from a fire,” Morgan said.“I saw it on Instagram.”

“It’s on Instagram, too?”

“It’s everywhere.Have you told Charlie and Abby?”

“No.And I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t found out on your own.”

“Why not?You should be proud.”

“Because it’s no big deal, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“I don’t get you.I just wanted to let you know how impressed I am.”

“Thanks,” Carla said.“You know I love you.”

“I know, Mom, I love you, too.I’ll talk to you later, I need to get ready for work.”Morgan hung up.

Carla hung up.As she dropped her phone on the bed, it rang again.She grabbed it reflexively.

“Okay, what did you forget, Morgan?”All Carla heard was silence on the other end.“Hello…?”she said.She looked at the phone; there was no caller ID.

“Is this the Carla that used to live in Brooklyn, New York?”The voice on the line was deep and gruff.

“W-w-who is this?”Carla stammered, her vocal cords feeling paralyzed.

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours,” the voice said.

Carla hung up quickly.She shook so vigorously that her phone fell out of her hand and onto the floor.