Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Chapter 5
Fiona
The apartment building isn’t burning anymore when I get back to Texas.
Instead, it’s a blackened husk.
Even from across the street, the coals are still hot. Steam rises into the early morning Texas air. My skin feels like I’m warming myself by a fire. Sunlight slants through drifting, lazy clouds, and it would almost be pretty.
If it didn’t represent the total destruction of my existence.
Everything I owned was in that apartment. Everything except for my car and the few meager belongings I brought with me to Boston. Pictures from my childhood, my high school yearbooks, all my clothes, my expensive make up, my climbing gear, shoes, mugs, plates, paintings, little keepsakes and knickknacks I’ve collected over the years—all gone now.
“Horrible, isn’t it?”
I flinch at the voice and look over. My landlord Eduardo’s standing ten feet away. I don’t even remember him showing up. He’s staring at the wreck with his hands on his hips, looking exhausted. He’s older, mid-fifties, balding and gray, heavier around the middle.
“Did everyone get out okay?” I ask.
He nods. “Everyone’s fine. Luckily, the smoke alarms went off.”
That shouldn’t really be a luckily situation, but I let it go.
“Do you know what happened?”
“Not yet. Doesn’t really matter now, does it? Can’t change anything.”
“I guess not.” I let out a long breath. “Everything’s gone, right?”
“Everything. All the apartments are wrecked. Only stuff that got saved is whatever people ran out of there with. Apparently, there was another big fire across town, and the DFD couldn’t get here fast enough.” He scrapes a palm over his forehead. “All gone. Even an old car that was parked near the building.”
My feet go cold. “Old car? Was it a Nissan Altima?”
He nods. “Yep, Nissan Altima. Got crushed when the fire trucks finally did show up. They had to drag it away. Poor thing’s in pieces.” He clears his throat and looks at me. “Oh, no, that was your car, wasn’t it?”
I’m white as a sheet. It feels like my throat’s filled with fire ants. I want to cry, throw up, scream, all of the above. “Yep,” I manage.
“I’m so sorry.” He looks horrified. “I didn’t want to be the one to break it to you like that.”
I close my eyes. “I’m assuming I can’t go in there.”
“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I really am. You’re Fiona, right?”
“Right. That’s me. Fiona Kelleher.”
He grunts in reply. “I really am sorry. I don’t know if you have a place to stay—”
I wave a hand. “I’ll be okay.” Although I don’t know how. I planned on sleeping in my car, but it’s a pile of scrap metal now.
“There’s a motel not far from here. A few of the other families got rooms there if you want to head over. The owner’s giving us a discounted rate, nice guy.”
I nod at him. All I want is to be alone right now to revel in my misery. “I’ll check it out later.”
He clears his throat. “Listen, Fiona, uh—I’m sure you know this already, but that place, it’s a goner. There’s nothing left inside. Don’t stick around if you don’t have to. We’ll sort out the insurance crap and figure that all out. You had renter’s insurance, right?”
That’s when I start crying.
Straight up bawling my eyes out. I hunch down like he punched me in the guts and sob into my hands. My car’s gone, my apartment’s a burned mess. I have nothing but the clothes on my back and what’s left in my suitcase.
Insurance. That’s what finally breaks the dam.
“Oh, shit,” he says, coming over, hands fluttering like confused birds. “Oh, no, oh, no, okay, okay, it’ll be okay—”
“I’m fine,” I say, pushing away his awkward attempts at comforting me. “It’s fine. I just didn’t have renter’s insurance. I’m fine.” I grab my stuff and back away from my visibly distraught landlord. “I’ll be fine, I just need to walk it off.”
He looks like he wants to follow, but I hurry away before he can say anything.
Everything’s gone and it’s not coming back.
There won’t be an insurance payment.
There won’t be money to replace what I lost.
I’m just screwed.
I take out my phone and try my mom for the fifth time today. It rings, and rings, and rings. I want to scream at her. How can she disappear on me again, now of all times? I need her, need someone, and she’s supposed to be my parent. I know I’m a grown woman, I’m a freaking adult, but shit, my life is a mess. All I want someone to listen to me for once.
Finally, the line clicks to life. I expect to hear an answering machine robot, but instead, it’s actually her. Relief floods me. Finally, I start feeling like something’s going right. She sounds a little out of breath, but it’s her. Old feelings of comfort and safety try to push their way to the surface.