The fire truck didn’t seem like it would ever come. Peter pulled the cell phone from his pocket to call again, more frantic this time, but put it away when he heard the sound of sirens down the street.
“You brought your cell phone?” Hannah asked in disbelief. Peter shrugged his shoulders, and soon the whirling red lights from the fire engine played upon the fronts of all the houses in the neighborhood as the truck pulled up to the curb. Human figures emerged from the machination carrying hoses and equipment. In less than a minute water was being thrown onto the burning structure, in what appeared to be a vain effort to extinguish the flames that threatened everything that had once been the Manchell family household.
Peter suggested that Tommy call his mother and handed him the phone. The neighbors fulfilled their societal obligations by meandering onto their respective lawns to watch the spectacle from a safe distance. Like good neighbors they observed the tragedy without making any attempt to interfere in the affairs of those around them. Hannah hated their prying eyes, even though she knew that her family would have done the same. Julia hated the fact that none of them did anything to help, though she couldn’t have said how the congregation of strangers could have made the situation better. Thomas felt secretly glad that most of his valuables were no longer stored in his parents’ house, but felt ashamed for his relief in that moment. Lewis was completely quiet, unable feel anything but fear. He positioned himself so that his uncle stood between him and the rest of the family. The trapped feeling of knowing that he would be found out, and knowing that his sentence would be worse than he could imagine, worked as a multiplier increasing his fear and shame tenfold.
The Manchell’s watched helplessly. A fireman overheard Thomas ask where they would sleep that night and said that usually insurance would pay for a hotel. Julia felt certain that none of the spectators would think to invite the displaced family into their home. They didn’t. When Peter overheard the fireman’s suggestion he pulled out the cell phone. Hannah asked who he was calling, and he told her that he was calling the insurance agent because they were always boasting about going the extra mile, and being there for their clients. He wanted that wiry pot-marked face with glasses out there with them while the firemen put out the last of the flames that flickered in the ruined household.
More time passed and Mrs. Johnson showed up. She ran to Tommy who was sitting on the bright red fire engine and scooped him up in her arms. Then she looked up at the shell of a house. Julia watched her as the grim realization of what had occurred, of what was still occurring on the Manchell family’ front lawn, swept across her face, replacing the initial relief that had washed over the panicked mother when she’d first seen that her son was safe.
Silence prevailed. Only the firemen spoke and their voices seemed remote, as if they came from a faraway fantasy world, infinitely removed from the reality that had come crashing down on the front lawn where men and women who shared a last name stood shocked and alone.
About fifteen minutes later another car pulled up behind the fire truck and an overweight man who Peter greeted stepped out of the car.
“Who’s this?” Thomas asked
Much to Julia’s surprise, Peter introduced the man as their insurance agent. Hannah didn’t know whether she was more amazed at Peter’s audacity in calling the man in the middle of the night, or the fact that he had actually appeared on their front lawn in so little time. Lewis watched as the potbelly went over to the fire truck and talked to some of the firemen, who had by that time wrapped Debra up in a blanket. Lewis knew that this fat man would be the one to find him out and expose the secret. His eyes followed the agent as he surveyed the damages and then went back to where Peter and Hannah were standing.
“I’m really sorry for your loss. I’ll get working on your claim first thing in the morning, and if you’re eligible then you should have the money by the end of the week,” the stranger said professionally. Lewis couldn’t hear what was being said but he knew that he’d been caught.
“What do you mean by ‘if you’re eligible,’” Peter asked. He was frantic and angry.
“We’ll obviously have to do an arson investigation before we can approve your claim,” the agent said.
“Is that really necessary?” Peter asked.
“It’s a routine procedure, but especially in cases like yours.”
“What do you mean by cases like yours?” Hannah asked. The rest of the family had been preoccupied with their own personal dilemmas, but everyone except Lewis and Debra came in close together when they heard Peter and Hannah’s raised voices. Even Tommy and Mrs. Johnson took a few steps toward the crowd to try and hear what the commotion was about.
“Well in cases like yours when people have problems with their mortgage, are filing for, well you know, or even just have marital problems, we find that domestic arson isn’t uncommon.”
“My parents aren’t having marital problems,” Thomas said stepping up to the insurance agent.
“How did you know about that?” Hannah asked ignoring her son.
“That doesn’t really,” the man began to say. He glanced over his shoulder to the place where Debra stood talking with some of the firemen but didn’t finish his sentence. “It’s my job to be aware of these sorts of things,” he said firmly, then quickly added in a more compassionate voice, “But you shouldn’t be worried. I’m sure it was an accident and everything will be taken care of by the end of next week.”
Lewis saw the man look away from his parents and in his direction. He slinked further off into the shadow of the fire engine.
“Are you really having problems?” Thomas demanded.
Peter and Hannah looked back and forth from each other to their son.
“Are you?” he asked again.
They didn’t know how to respond, but the silence was all the confirmation Thomas needed.
“Why are you doing this? Why are you breaking up the family?” he shouted as the fire department went through the scorched frame and ashes, all that was left of the house he’d grown up in, an image of the stability and consistency that had eluded him for the past several months while living in the dorms.
He didn’t know or care that the house had been built when the principle of planned obsolescence prevailed, or that it couldn’t have lasted much longer because it had been built on a bad foundation; his family never talked about such things. It hadn’t been an old house, but it was already showing signs of deterioration. Monetarily speaking the maintenance that the house needed would have cost nearly as much as the house was worth. Peter and Hannah had known about the problem of their decaying home for years, but had only addressed it when a specific problem came to the surface. And even then they had only administered the easiest cosmetic solution, in the vain hope that if they ignored the fundamental problems in the house’s design everything would somehow resolve itself.
As the family stood outside the burning house Peter and Hannah both knew that all those problems had resolved themselves in the only way possible.
“Why are you doing this to the family?” Thomas demanded again.
“Your dad and I haven’t been a family for a long time. We’re just two people whose lives bump into each other from time to time,” Hannah said glibly.
“What you’re mother’s trying to say is that,” Peter began.
“You don’t have to pretty it up!” Thomas shouted. Then he found his car keys that he had instinctively placed in his pocket before leaving the burning building. He unlocked the front door and stepped in as Peter and Hannah followed behind him.
“Where are you going?” Peter shouted.
“Home.”
“What do you mean home?” Hannah asked.
“You know, my dorm room, where I live.”
“That’s a three and a half hour drive. At least wait until the morning so you don’t fall asleep at the wheel,” Hannah pleaded.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Look son, home isn’t just a place w
here,” Peter began but was cut off by the slamming door and the rumbling of the engine.
Peter and Hannah could only watch as their son’s car braked at the intersection and turned onto the main road and out of sight. Lewis was still hiding, glad that nobody had tried to find him. Luke and Debra decided to get a hotel room so they wouldn’t be in the way of ‘family business.’ Julia borrowed the insurance agent’s cell phone to call Sara and made arrangements to stay with her family that night. Mrs. Johnson offered to take Lewis for as long as necessary. And when the fire truck pulled away from the curb, the family followed it, each going in their separate directions, until Peter and Hannah were alone in the shadow of the charred wood that had once been a beautiful addition to the neighborhood, but was now nothing more than an eyesore.
* * *
At that same moment a blonde woman was sitting across from her only friend smoking a cigarette and sipping on the coffee that the man behind the counter brought out to her.
“Thanks for coming out with me,” she said, and wrapped her cold fingers around the steaming mug, pausing to enjoy the warm sensation.
“No problem. It’s been too long since I’ve really gotten out,” her friend returned. “I was about to become that middle-aged lady who goes to bed at 9:30 every night.
They enjoyed their coffee and each other’s company in silence.
“Are you feeling okay? You haven’t really seemed like yourself tonight.”
Susan put down her coffee and situated herself in her chair, as if she’d been waiting all evening for her friend to ask her that very question.
“I’ve been thinking a lot these past few days,” she answered.
“About what?”
“Working at the old folks home has made me realize that everything about my life seems empty and pointless. It’s like nothing I’ve ever done has ever really mattered. You know that guy in the home, the one who should be dead?”
“You’ve mentioned him a few times,” her friend answered.
“Yeah, him. It was his family that I ate with yesterday, and he said some things that got me thinking about how we are. And today at work I went in to visit him on my break and he told me some stuff that made me think about the way my life’s going. I’d always written him off because he was just like all the other nuts in that place, but now I don’t know what to make of him. There’s more sense in what he says than I saw at first.”
Her friend didn’t respond but waited patiently for the blonde woman to continue.
“I don’t want to end up like him, all alone in some nursing home, and that got me thinking that I want to live life differently. When I do get old, I don’t want to end up in a bed, spending what’s left of life regretting everything that I never did,” Susan said, and extinguished her cigarette in the ashtray.
Part II
Chapter 1
Home
When I return to my ratty apartment
the stress of long days dissipates
into the dingy white walls,
but as I look for a much needed snack
the handle to the pantry door falls off.
I trudge through snow and slush
on my way to and from the mundane
affairs of my life,
and in those moments I long
for a cozy fire and a cup
of hot chocolate to warm my body.
But even when I’m sitting in my arm chair,
watching a sitcom, while
who knows what drips from the ceiling,
coming from a bathtub or dishwasher
belonging to the girls who live above me,
I long for Home.
“Whatever happened to all those talks about living a better life?”
“What about them?” the blonde woman asked.
“During the holidays you were set on turning your life around, being nicer to people, being intentional with your time. You were sick of ‘floating through life.’ And you got me to make all those New Year’s resolutions with you, but we’re still waking up in the morning with just enough time to make it to work, and we’re still coming home to watch the news before dinner and primetime.”
“What about it?” the blonde woman asked maintaining her emphatic aloofness.
“It’s only March and you’ve already,” her friend hesitated. “I was really hoping that you’d actually see them through, for your sake, because you really wanted it.”
“People don’t ever really change,” the blonde woman said. “They just wish that they could.”
“You’re wrong. You have changed. You used to be popular. You went out on dates and had a social life. You knew people and had friends who cared about you; some of them still do you know.”
“Then maybe people do change, but it’s only change for the worse. We get older and learn what the world is really like, and that realization wears us down. Some people learn sooner than others, but in the end the only happy people are the ones who haven’t ever experienced the world the way it really is. Given time they’ll end up jaded too. Everyone has learned to give up on life by the time they walk through the front doors where I work.” The blonde woman pulled out a cigarette and tapped it on the table.
“I’m sorry but I can’t believe that that’s true.”
“I wish you were right. I hope you’re right.”
* * *
On the morning of March 13th Abraham Thomas Manchell woke up and began reading the last of the old western novels Peter had brought him.
* * *
Thomas walked along the sidewalk lined on both sides by the snow that had fallen the night before. When he got to campus in the morning it was smooth and pristine. Now blades of dry dead grass were beginning to sprout, and the snow along the streets and sidewalks had faded into a dingy grey. The cold blanket seemed to infuse new life into the campus that morning, and even Thomas had been excited—snow in March wasn’t a common occurrence. But now his only concern was getting back to the little apartment he’d rented for the semester.
It had seemed like a good move a few months ago, getting away from the immaturity inherent in the dorms and the fraternity, and into an environment where he could really focus on his studies. Now he regretted the twenty minute walk—the waste of time—that he had to endure twice a day. When he got to the apartment complex he fidgeted with the key; his fingers were numb. He finally got it to turn in the frozen lock and pushed his way into the cold apartment. He went straight to the thermostat and turned it up to sixty-three degrees. He couldn’t justify turning it up any further, knowing how much the electric bill would be. Then he went back to the kitchen. It was dingy, what one would expect from the cheapest apartment within walking distance of a major college campus.
He was careful to turn the doorknob on the pantry door before pulling it towards him. A screw had come loose a week ago, and every time he forgot to turn before pulling he was left with a closed door and an unattached doorknob in his hand.
He reminded himself that he had to call the front office, just like he’d reminded himself every day for the last week.
* * *
That same afternoon, Peter Manchell sat in his new SUV heading to his new apartment. It was a different highway than what he had taken on the way home from work for the past decade, different scenery and a different life, but the traffic was the same. The three and a half feet that separated him from the overweight man riding in the passenger side of the car to his left still seemed to be a world away. His cell phone rang.
“Hello,” Peter said.
“Dad?” The voice on the other end belonged to Thomas.
“Hey son.”
“Are you driving?” Thomas asked.
“I’m in the car.”
“I’ll call back then.”
“Don’t worry about it. The traffic’s stop and go now. What’s going on?”
“I was planning on coming down to the city this weekend and couldn’t find the directions to your apartment.”
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“You don’t remember how to get there?”
“Come on Dad, I’ve only driven there a few times and it’s only on the complete opposite side of the city.”
“Okay, when you’re on the interstate going south, take the exit for,” Peter began.
“I just need the address and I’ll get a map from the internet. This is the 21st century you know.”
“Of course. It’s 3241 S. Springwood.”
“Thanks Dad. I’ll see you Friday afternoon.”
Peter hung up the phone and turned up the radio in a futile attempt to drown out the foul mood that the afternoon traffic had produced in him.
“Come on,” Peter shouted at the windshield. He still didn’t know why he was in a hurry to get home. The car seat was every bit as comfortable as the used sofa he’d purchased for his temporary living arrangement. He didn’t have any plans; there were no pressing engagements. In fact he knew that once he got home he’d only fritter away the evening watching sitcoms. Nevertheless, he was in a hurry to do so.
* * *
“You ready for scouts?” Luke asked.
Lewis put down the video game controller that had connected him to the television ever since he got home from school. At his uncle’s prompting he saved his game and rushed back to his room to get changed. He threw off his t-shirt and buttoned up the beige uniform shirt that his uncle had purchased for him. It wasn’t childish like the blue Cub Scout shirt. He felt sophisticated and important in that uniform, and he relished buttoning each button. He went to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror admiring the red epilates until his uncle’s voice called him from the living room. Those red epilates signified that he’d taken another major step in his life—he was a real boy scout, and soon he would be going on a real camping trip.
“Let’s go or we’re going to be late,” Luke called.