Page 86 of You'll Love it Here

The Chaudhrys’ son was home but made it safely out with whatlooks like his dad’s guitar. One of the anonymous college grads stands next to him and stares at his phone. Fighting Couple also look like they were inside when it happened—Marcus in ratty sweats with his hair mussed; Janine with wet, stringy hair and a robe, like she was caught in the shower.

There’s a comforting tap on my shoulder. “Mona joon, are you okay?”

Ava and Abu have emerged from the diner to join the thickening crowd. I swallow over the lump in my throat and nod. Soon they will realize there’s a barrier between me and the rest of the building residents. Soon they’ll find out the truth about me, like everyone else.

They make their way toward Irene, and for a flash, Sami’s gaze—his eyes like open wounds—land on me, before quickly diverting.

A few random onlookers peek out of their windows across the street. Some have started coming out of their buildings to cross their arms and chat with each other and disguise the thrill of it all.

A firefighter exits the building with a little orange cat, and Jane runs to the edge of the caution tape to greet him. I watch the relief painted on her face and wish I could hug her. At least Carmen makes his way to help her.

What do you save in a fire? I asked myself that question six weeks ago, when a fire alarm sent us scattering across the lawn. It had taken me too long to remember the answer then.

My dad’s box.

The urge to run inside—to save it, to open it—is unbearable, but I’m stuck here alone again. All those days it sat abandoned in my closet. My throat dries with every gasp of burnt air. Every ash in the wind could be my dad’s last gift to me, floating by.

The tears come without meaning to. I should’ve known there’s never enough time.

Thankfully, fire suppression eventually no longer seems necessary. Firefighters start opening windows to ventilate the remaining smoke from the building. Earlier the firefighters opened Norm’s deck door and took out the gas jerry cans I’d seen in his closet way back during that first electrical inspection. I overheard Norm clarify that they were just full of water for the shutdowns Irene would sometimes have, as he didn’t want to have to leave for drinking water.

The group of onlookers surrounding the building has gotten rudely large. My neighbors all lean on each other like they’re propping each other up. It’s been three hours of anxiously awaiting our fate. It’s odd how panic can dull if you give it long enough.

It’s pretty clear the fire started in the basement, which is a small relief. There’s only the laundry room and the unfinished rec room. I swallow at the thought of all the work Jane and Carmen put into cleaning that place up.

I’m standing with Marcus and Janine. Since they were home during the city hall meeting, they’re the only ones who don’t yet know of my betrayal, though I’m sure the news will eventually spread.

The daylight has started to fade. A chill has spread through the air, and some of the residents are huddled beneath blankets the fire team provided. Earlier Abu and Sami handed out mugs of tea while Ava supplied muffins. Abu’s voice was flat and distant when he offered me my cup—Sami must have told him when they went into the restaurant.

Sami’s keeping the diner open for people to wait it out.

Some of the residents from the newer condos even came around offering deck chairs and water to the neighbors. Sami offered them tea, too, and I overheard him joking about giving them the “locals only” pricing from now on. A weird kind of undeserved pride overcomes me to see such an olive branch amid all this destruction.

Now, everyone’s formed circles to sit and chat just behind the barriers. Fighting Couple is just ahead of me, bickering as always.

“They’ve got to be getting us in soon!” Marcus huffs. He’s got an angry scab on his forehead from anxiously picking his zit this fine evening.

“They have to wait until it’s been cleared as safe,” Janine hisses back.

Marcus narrows his eyes on her, mouth set in a sneer. Ladies, if your man ever looks at you like that, run.

So far, I’ve gathered via snippets of conversation that Fighting Couple came home from camping at Kananaskis around an hour before we left for the meeting. They started their laundry, made a snack (I’m taking a wild guess it was hot dogs), and then the fire alarm started blaring right after Janine stepped in the shower.

Finally, the mostin-charge firefighter makes his way out and calls, “All right, residents of Valleyview Apartments. I have some updates to share.” Our weary group huddles closer. “The source of the incident was traced back to a faulty dryer that had a cracked internal vent. It looks like smaller items, likely socks and underwear, may have been sucked into the interior of the unit over several months—”

“Wait!” Jane calls. “Did you say underwear?”

Holy shit! Realization dawns on me, too, as the firefighter nods with a practiced sort of patience.

Jane and I lock eyes in an instant, like a momentary escape into our friendship as I mouth, “Panty thief!”

Her head bobs in agreement and it feels likesomething. But then she seems to catch herself and her expression drops to become blank. She turns from me to nuzzle her cat.

“Unfortunately, once the fire ignited it was able to progress quite quickly through the surrounding area,” the fireman continues, arms crossed like a human Smokey Bear. “It made its waythrough the basement area and up the stairwell.” His eyes cast down as he inhales through his teeth. Like he’s bracing for the final blow. We all hold our breath. Across the lawn, Irene seems to be full-on shaking. I’m glad Abu is standing with her. “Which unfortunately means the integrity of the entire structure will need to be fully assessed before anyone can reenter.”

The murmured questions pull through the crowd in little waves once again.

“Can you put this in plain terms for a regular guy like me?” Carmen calls out. The low evening sun casts a harsh glow on his face, deepening the stress lines etched into his temples. I think about all the items stored inside his apartment. His livelihood—his means to support his daughter—tucked inside a building he can no longer access.