The Unlucky Ones, page 6
The alarm continued to screech within the house, piercing my ears. I clambered out of the tub, grabbing my robe. The instant the door swung open, my eyes clouded, my nose filling with smoke. Burning oil and grease singed my senses.
“Oh. God. No.” My stomach bottomed out as I darted toward the kitchen, where the haze grew thicker with each step. I whipped around the corner, seeing flames sprouting high from the stove, black billows curled up into the range hood. My mother stood over the stove batting at the fire with a burning towel, flinging ash and flames around the room every time she flung it back. With the other hand she poured water, igniting the flames higher. The last thing you did was throw water on a grease fire.
“Mom! No!” I screamed, as magazines on the table went up in flames. The fire quickly spread over the table to the fabric chairs. “Stop!”
She continued to strike at the stove, unaware I was there. I slammed into her, shoving her to the side. I reached for the knobs, my skin sizzling with heat. I grasped the potholders hanging nearby, trying to turn off the knobs. My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I nudged the pan she had on the stove to the side.
The wails from the alarm shredded at my nerves. I was vaguely aware of Mom moaning in fear and Mia’s terrified voice calling out for me. The fire was spreading behind me. I had to stop it now or we would lose the house and possibly our lives.
“Mia,” I yelled over my shoulder, waving away acrid smoke. “Go stand on the front lawn and call 911. You remember how, right?” I hoped my constant drilling it into her head would override her fear. “Mom, go with her!”
In my periphery I saw Mia dart to where my phone charged in the living room and sprint for the doorway. “Enisi,” she called out to her grandmother through her hacking coughs, but my mother was locked on the flames in a different world than ours. “Enisi!” More panic dripped from Mia, her hand reaching out to Mom.
“Go, Mia! I need you to call 911 for me. Now!”
She nodded and disappeared, zooming out of the house.
My five-year-old niece was the only one I could depend on to help. She understood how dire this was and acted. Behind me, my mother rocked back and forth in fear and confusion, coughing and moaning but not moving away from the scorching flames, forcing me to bump her back with force. From my time working in the restaurant, I knew grease fires were not easy to put out and spread quickly. Baking soda and a fire extinguisher were the best bets.
Spinning around, I rushed into the hall closet, grabbing the extinguisher and covering my mouth as my lungs tried to fight against the smoke as I ran back in. I squirted everything in sight. Thick white foam coated the stove, table, and chairs, the fire sizzling under the suffocating weight of the spray, not wanting to give up its fight. I unloaded the entire contents, smothering every bit of the fire as tears streamed down my face from terror and smoke.
When the last of the foam trickled out and the cylinder blew only air, I dropped my arms, scanning the room. The crackle of the dying flames and the smoke filled the room with an eerie feeling of death, as though the fire had burned out my last thread of hope and left me hollow inside.
In the distance I heard the fire engines heading our way.
“Mom, come on,” I choked, grabbing her under my arm and rushing us out into the clean night air, my skin caked in soot and sweat. Stepping outside, I spotted Mia standing by the tree, running for us the moment we stepped off the porch.
“I d-don’t know what happened.” Mom’s voice was small and rough as she leaned into me. “I-I just wanted to make breakfast for my baby girls. Thought it would be fun for them to give their daddy breakfast in bed for Father’s Day.”
Fresh tears zigzagged down my face, blurring in the red and white lights zooming up our road, followed by police cars.
The had fire gutted our kitchen, but her words gutted my heart.
The fire brigade stomped in and out of our house, the lights from all the trucks, ambulance, and police driving our neighbors out, staring at us as if we were on a TV show.
I sat in the back of an ambulance, Mia on my lap wrapped in a heavy blanket, as the EMTs checked us all out. Mom screamed and fought, forcing them to sedate her. She eventually curled up on the cot in the back and fell asleep, never aware the events were of her doing.
My face was streaked with soot, and my white robe looked as if I’d rolled in mud. My lungs burned, and my throat felt as if it had been rototilled. Otherwise I was fine. Thankfully both Mia and Mom checked out too, though we all looked like dirty street urchins.
“Devon.” Uncle Gavin strode toward me, his expression pinched in a frown. He had made sure we were all right before pursuing his duties.
I watched him silently while holding Mia’s sleepy body close to mine. He stopped a few feet from me; scratching his head, he glanced back at the house.
“That could have been really bad.”
“I know,” I croaked out.
“Really bad.” His head snapped back to me. “Do you understand what could have happened here tonight?”
“Yes,” I gritted out. I hadn’t even closed my eyes and the nightmare of the worst outcome looped over and over in my head. I gripped Mia even tighter to me, needing to feel her solid little presence and know she was okay.
“Do you?” Gavin barked before taking a deep breath, letting his panicked anger settle down. “This has solidified my decision. When my granddaughter is put in danger, when you are put in danger, there is no choice anymore. For my family. For the town. I will do my duty to keep you all safe.”
My lashes fluttered, staring back at the house. I knew this was coming, had known it for a long time. But there had always been tomorrow. A tomorrow when I would deal with it.
Tomorrow was today.
“This is not something that will get better, Devon. You know that. She will continue to get worse. I’ve stood by too long now, waiting for you to get to this decision yourself. No more. She has to go into a facility. Where people know how to take care of her.”
The lump in my throat coiled tighter. Understanding his point didn’t make it easier to accept. She was my mother. I had such little time left with her anyway. And my soul understood the moment I put her into a home it would feel like the end. I would have to say goodbye soon.
My lips rolled together, forcing the tears back. “Okay,” I whispered.
Gavin’s face softened with empathy, and he bent down and rubbed my shoulder.
“I know how hard this is. Believe me. I love her too. She’s been in my life for the last thirty years. But she is no longer the woman she was. You know in her right mind she would want you to do this. She wouldn’t want to be a danger to her own grandchild or daughters. This is the best.” He drew his hand away. “I will help any way I can.”
I could only nod, my vision blurring with heartache.
“Mia!” A screech tore through the air. I jerked my head back to see a jeep pull into the driveway. My sister jumped out of the passenger side, her face riddled with panic and horror. “Oh my god! Where is my little girl? Mia!”
Mia lurched awake the same time Uncle Gavin yelled out to Amelia, my throat unable to speak above a whisper.
“Amelia! Over here. She’s fine.” Gavin waved her over.
“Mia?” Amelia spotted her sitting on my lap and sprinted to us.
“Mommy!” Mia scrambled off my lap, running with open arms to her mother. Amelia swept her up, a pained-joyous cry breaking from her lips as she wrapped her daughter tightly against her, stroking her head. Her eyes closed, the love of a mother exploding out of every pore of her body at seeing her child was okay. Amelia could be a pain and very shallow, but when I saw the love she had for Mia, how she would flip the world upside down for her, those things were easy to forget.
Amelia set her down, taking inventory over her little girl’s body. Alarm widened her eyes when Mia started coughing.
“Fine, Mommy,” Mia’s voice squeaked.
Amelia’s head snapped to me, our gazes locking. “What happened?” She stomped up to me, peering around at the commotion. “Where’s Mom? Are you okay?”
“They’re fine. Alyssa is sleeping in there.” Gavin answered for me, pointing inside the ambulance. “There was a little accident. A fire. But everyone is okay.”
“Little accident?” Amelia’s voice rose. “Doesn’t look little to me.” She waved at all the trucks and emergency crew taking over our front yard. “Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“I tried.” Gavin folded his arms, curving up an eyebrow at her. “Maybe if you actually kept your phone on.”
At the sight of her messy hair and puffed lips, I had no doubt what she had been doing instead of answering her cell.
I could see a deep blush forming, humiliation abruptly turning to anger. My father had also been incredibly sweet, until he was angry. We all had hot tempers, but Amelia came with even a shorter fuse than the rest of us.
“Tell me what the hell happened.” Amelia’s face twisted into anger. “You were supposed to be watching my little girl. I trusted you to keep her safe.”
“Seriously, Amelia?” A burst of sardonic laughter popped out of my mouth, burning my throat. “You really are judging me right now?”
“I leave for one night, and my daughter almost dies in a fire. Yes, I am judging you, Devon.” She moved up into my face.
Fury flushed over my skin, making me stand up. “One night? Please, you are home one night. I am the one home with your daughter and Mom. Me. You’re trying so hard to find a man who will take care of you, do you even bother with names anymore or just bank account statements?”
“How dare you?” Amelia shrilled, shoving me.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Uncle Gavin stepped in, tearing us apart. “Stop it now! This is not helping.”
Amelia got in one more shove before Gavin pulled her back farther.
“Stop it, Amelia! Your sister is not to blame here. It was an accident. Don’t turn your guilt and fear into anger at your sister. She is doing the best she can.”
Amelia stepped back, crossing her arms, looking at the ground and taking deep breaths.
“If you want to blame anyone, it should be yourself.”
“Why? What did I do?” Her head popped up, her lids narrowed on our uncle.
“Because Mia is your kid, and the woman in there is your mother too.” He pointed at the body sound asleep in the ambulance. “I’m not stupid or blind, Amelia. I’m well aware of who pays the bills and keeps a roof over your head.”
“I work! I have an actual career I’m working toward. I work hard.”
“Amelia.” Gavin touched her arm, giving her his warning look. “Stop.”
She huffed, dropping her head again.
“The situation is different now, and you two are going to need each other even more. Everything is going to change, and you girls need to depend on each other and not fight.”
“What do you mean?” All anger drained from Amelia, her throat bobbing with alarm.
“I mean, as a family member, as the sheriff, I can’t allow Alyssa to stay here. She needs to go into a home. Someplace safe for her. And everyone else.”
We all knew no such place existed in this town. This meant Mom had to go to a bigger city where they had facilities which could deal with her disease. I wouldn’t simply abandon her.
It was time.
“What are you saying?” Amelia turned to me as if I were the parent making the decision. “Devy?”
It hit me like a thunderbolt. What would happen? Something I wanted for so long, maybe not this way, but it still led to the same conclusion.
I gulped, meeting my sister’s gaze. “We’re leaving.”
Chapter Eight
“Mia, please come help.” My sister’s voice rang out behind me as I stared out the window of our new apartment, the city alive with activity below. The minuscule two-bedroom place wasn’t much and wasn’t in the best part of town, but I couldn’t stop the smile from engulfing my face. I was living in Albuquerque, which to me was everything. It felt like a giant leap from the town we came from.
Uncle Gavin was helping us financially until Amelia and I got jobs; the rent was almost the same as the mortgage we used to pay. Gavin took over our house. He had been subletting a converted garage because his divorce from his “bitch wife,” Lisa, two years ago, and he jumped at the chance to make the house his own.
So he got his own place and we got out from an unsellable house and a mortgage we couldn’t keep paying. Granted, it came with a shitload of repairs, especially the kitchen, but he didn’t seem to mind. It was all his.
With the little he had left, he paid for our first month’s rent on our apartment, while the sale of Amelia’s car covered the last. I hated feeling the weight of his kindness. He couldn’t afford it any more than we could. I would pay him back the moment I could, but the facility mom was at would take most of my paycheck. Mom qualified for some Social Security disability benefits because she worked long enough to pay into the system. She received a small monthly payment, which helped some. But first thing tomorrow, I was looking for a job.
“Mia!” Amelia yelled again, wiping the sweat from her brow. “Damn, it’s hot here.”
We’d grown up in the mountains of northeast New Mexico. Albuquerque was a high desert area, and mid-September felt like a sauna to us.
I swiveled around to see the small kitchen/living room chock full of boxes, which showed how small it was because we didn’t have a lot of stuff. Uncle Gavin had kept all the family photos and memorable items in the garage at the old house. I had filled a few boxes of clothes, books, shoes, and personal items. Ninety-five percent of these boxes were full of Amelia’s and Mia’s stuff.
Mia bounded into the space from the bedroom she would share with her mom. Thankfully I got my own room. Technically, I had my own room in the old house, but for the last six months, when mom’s wandering got bad, I ended up sleeping in her room, making sure she stayed there. I hadn’t really had my own space for a while.
“Take this box to our room.” Amelia handed her a small one stuffed with toys. My sister had fought leaving for a week, saying she couldn’t leave her clients and job, but when she realized I was going with or without her, she changed course. She understood she couldn’t afford a place on her own and also take care of Mia. Uncle Gavin was nice and invited her to stay in the house with him, but she admitted she was more terrified of being without me than the need to stay. I knew she liked the built-in babysitter attached. Uncle Gavin worked too much for him to watch Mia.
“You have an interview tomorrow?” I pulled dishes out of a box, loading them onto a shelf.
“Yeah. Can you take Mia to her new daycare? I really want to be ready for this interview.”
The daycare was an elderly woman two floors below us who sweetly said she’d love to watch Mia sometime. My sister jumped on that, and before the woman could blink, she had obligated herself to watching Mia during the week.
The “interview” was with one of Amelia’s previous clients’ daughters who had a salon here. It was more like Amelia stopping by and hinting at wanting a job while dropping the mother’s name and telling the daughter she did her mom’s hair every week than an actual professional interview.
I pinched my lips together, holding back my true response. “Sure.”
My resumes were printed out, in my bag, ready for me to pound the pavement. Tomorrow I would go to every restaurant downtown. I would not leave without getting a job or at least an interview. I had no other choice.
“After we’re done here, let’s take Mom dinner.” I set the last plate on the pile, glancing at Amelia.
Mom was probably so scared. She had been fine on our initial walk-through, but when she really comprehended the facility was her new home, and we would be leaving her there, things went bad fast. She had thrown tantrums before, but this was violent and feral.
I jumped in, but the nurses scooted me away, telling me to let them do their job. Their natures were soothing and efficient.
I expected to feel relief, the responsibility no longer mine, but instead I felt odd. Useless. Guilty. As though she was a pet we were cruelly dumping off at the pound.
Abandoning her.
Breaking me into even smaller pieces.
My shoes pinched my feet, my teeth digging into my bottom lip as I pretended I wasn’t a moment away from tugging them off and going barefoot. The sun pounded against my temples, wilting my put-together appearance like ice cream left in a hot car.
It was four thirty in the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky. For the last two hours I had walked everywhere and heard enough “Not right now” or “We’ll keep it on file” to fill the Rio Grande. College had started a few weeks earlier and summer was ending, so either the college kids already nabbed the serving jobs or the restaurants were cutting back until the holiday season.
Whatever the reason, I was getting noes all the way around. It didn’t help I had only served in one place. While five years showed I was faithful, a single line on my resume wasn’t helping me. I tried to fluff and fill it with all things I had done at Sue’s, but it wasn’t hard to see I didn’t have a lot of outside-of-the-diner experience.
I peered down at my phone to a text from my sister boasting about getting a job at the salon. I pinched back a wave of aggravation at myself.
“I can’t go home yet. Next one,” I gave myself a pep talk.
Tired, thirsty, hungry, and cranky, I pushed myself through the last bit of Old Town, daring myself one more place before I gave up for the day.
The last restaurant was a sophisticated, elegant steakhouse I had walked by three times, because it looked too fancy for my pathetic resume. But desperation forced my hand. It was quiet, the lunchtime crowd long gone. One thing I knew in the restaurant business was never, ever, drop off an application in the middle of lunch or dinner rush. I already felt I was walking the fringes of the dinner crowd.
