“Want some Teddy Grahams to go?” D’andre asks Harper. She nods, grinning like a kid who’s already had way too much sugar tonight. I don’t object though.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket.
* * *
Husband: Hey babe are you still awake?
* * *
I roll my eyes. California is two hours behind us, but it’s only ten p.m. here in Texas. I type back: yep, about to leave Maya’s. Great job, btw
* * *
Husband: Thanks <3 Call me when you get home!
* * *
I thumbs up the message and then shove the phone back in my pocket. It’s not true, it’s not true, it’s not true I tell myself. We say our goodbyes and get in the car, and the knot of anxiety in my chest only gets worse now that we’re driving alone on the road without the comfort of our friends while my husband is two thousand miles away having a fantastic night celebrating his second place podium finish.
I sigh and rest my head against the back of my car seat as we drive home.
“Mommy, when are we getting my best friend?”
“Huh?” I say, turning down the radio. She’s four. She doesn’t have a best friend.
“My doggy best friend! When are we getting him?”
“Oh,” I say.
As soon as Harper heard the phrase that dogs are “man’s best friend" she asked if they are also a little girl’s best friend. Jett said dogs are friends to everyone, unlike cats who are very particular about who they like.
“Next week,” I say with a smile. I am so excited to adopt a retired working dog from a facility we found a few months ago. Our family has been needing something extra, and I’m not quite ready for another kid yet. A dog will be perfect.
“I can’t wait!” Harper says, pumping her tiny fists into the air.
“It’ll be so fun.” I smile at her from the rear-view mirror. I don’t know who’s more excited about getting a dog. The whole family is excited for it. We’ve already picked out a bed, food bowls, and multiple collars because we couldn't decide on just one.
Maybe if my husband decides to go back to professional racing full time, the dog will also help take my mind off how lonely I am while Jett’s traveling around the country. Ugh. Stop thinking like that, I remind myself.
We get back in town, and I pull into our neighborhood. My random thoughts suddenly turn to confusion. It’s late at night and the sky is black, punctuated by the occasional dim streetlight. Except right now, in the center of the sky, a thick orange burst of moving light billows high into the sky. I don’t even understand what I’m seeing at first. It’s so surreal, and so bright, flickering in the dark sky. My body is on autopilot, driving me through the streets of our subdivision, turning onto the street where we live, all by muscle memory.
As we approach our house, the beautiful custom home Jett and I bought to start our marriage together, I see the source of the bright orange sky. And it still doesn’t register at first. My thoughts are scared, panicked, and all over the place. My eyes are wide, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my fingers hurt.
“Fire!” Harper says, unclicking her seatbelt and leaping into the passenger seat beside me. “Fire, Mommy!”
I swallow, stopping the car right in the middle of the street. My house, the beautiful home we’ve built together and paid for with hard work, has a chasm ripped in the middle of it. Flames fly out of it, dancing around the roof and the walls like some kind of angry dragon. Sparks spray around it, drifting high up into the air, so much higher than I ever thought a fire could be. The flames rage and roar, slowly consuming my house, shattering the windows and turning the crisp white trim ashy black before consuming it completely.
People filter out of their homes, everyone gawking in awe and horror as they stare at my home like it’s entertainment and not a tragedy in the making. Some have their phones out, recording the spectacle like it’s just something fun to get social media likes.
Somehow I’m now standing outside, next to my car, Harper’s hand gripped tightly in mine. I don’t remember turning my car off, but the engine is stopped. My neighbor rushes up to me. She’s wearing purple pajamas that say Fifty and Flirty all over them. Her hair is in a silk bonnet and she’s not even wearing shoes.
“Keanna! You’re okay! Thank God you’re okay!” She squeezes me in a hug and then kneels down and hugs Harper. “Oh my sweet baby Harper, I’m so glad you’re okay! My little angel! You poor thing! I was scared to death!”
I normally know her name, but I can’t think of it right now. Maybe I’m in shock. She stands up, turning to look as a thick orange burst of moving light billows high into the sky. My neighbor wipes tears from her eyes. “Where’s Jett?”
“In California,” my voice says. It doesn’t feel like I’m talking. I can’t take my eyes off my house. Even from where we stand across the street, the fire is so hot I’m instantly drenched in sweat.
A guy who lives down the street runs up to me. He’s an off-duty sheriff's deputy. His name is Toby or Tony or something. My brain isn’t remembering things very well right now.
