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There!
One knob turned in her palm, silencing the hiss of gas. Someone had turned off the flames but hadn’t twisted the knob fully to shut off the gas. Alanna spotted her mother’s white ceramic tea kettle on the counter. Still gagging, she shoved open the sliding glass door to the back yard, then rushed around the first floor throwing open all the windows.
How had this happened?
Nightmares flooded her mind. Had her mother collapsed somewhere inside the house? What about Sully? Had they both asphyxiated?
“Mom?” Alanna called again, her voice low and hoarse. She checked the half bath downstairs, almost convinced her mother’s rigid body would come tumbling out. It was empty.
Grabbing the edge of the newly installed banister, she launched herself up the stairs, her heels striking each stair with a loudclack. The air was notably fresher up here. She heard the soft mutter of voices down the hall and rushed toward the sound, shoving open the door to her room.
Her mom and Sully both turned to her, nearly identical smiles slapped across their faces. Her mother sat on Alanna’s bed, hands tucked in her lap, while Sully stood at her window holding some sort of measuring device.
“Last item on the list,” Sully said and patted the front pocket of his jeans, where she could see the corner of a white piece of paper sticking out.
Alanna gaped at them. Her heart pounded so hard she was surprised the walls weren’t shaking.
“I was just telling Sully how you cut your own hair that one time when you were in middle school,” her mother said. She turned back to Sully. “You should have seen it. One side was three inches shorter than the other, and Alanna insisted that’s exactly the way she wanted it.”
Sully’s brown eyes studied Alanna’s face. “Is everything all right?”
“You left the stove on!” The scream burst from Alanna’s mouth.
Her mother’s smile turned to an O of surprise. “I did? Oh, my. I didn’t even notice. Sorry, honey.”
“Sorry? SORRY?” Something broke inside Alanna. Just fucking snapped. After everything that had already happened today, and now she had to deal with this?
“You could have blown up the house,” she cried. “You could have been killed for god’s sake! How could you have not noticed?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Alanna saw two teacups sitting on the room’s small desk in their delicate little saucers. She wanted to hurl them into the wall, watch them smash into a million little pieces.
Her mother’s eyes were wide. “Sometimes… my hands… I can’t grip the knob—”
“I can’t watch you all the time,” Alanna interrupted her. “I’ve got so much other shit to deal with. I just can’t, Mom.”
“It was an accident.” Sully’s voice was gentle like he was trying to calm a spooked bobcat. “We had the door closed and window open. Neither of us smelled anything. Just relax.”
Relax.
Did that word seriously just come out of his mouth? Alanna’s blood boiled. He caught her gaze again. Then Sully made the biggest mistake of his life. He recognized the truth behind her anger.
“Oh, Alanna,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” His eyes filled with pity, and that shattered her.
“This is my room.” Her voice was a growl. “You don’t belong here. Get. Out.”
“He was fixing the window,” her mother murmured. “I added it to the list.”
Alanna didn’t even look at her mother. Her gaze was locked with Sully’s. She would destroy the pity in his eyes. Whatever it took. “You could have blown up the whole damn house with your tools. One little spark, and ka-boom!”
“He was only trying to help,” her mother pleaded.
“Get. OUT!” The last word tore from her soul.
“Alanna!” Horror filled her mother’s voice.
“It’s okay, Dede,” Sully said. His voice was controlled, but at last the pity drained from his eyes. It was replaced with a cold anger. Yes, this was better. Pity she couldn’t stand. Anger she could deal with.
Sully tossed his whatchamathingy into his tool bag and hefted it on his shoulder.
