Prairie Fire

by Djuna Shellam

  “Who knows, Em, maybe it won’t even work out, and I’ll be back before you know it,” Prairie offered weakly.

  Neither woman spoke. They both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Prairie closed her eyes, took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly.

  “You know what? Let’s just…” Prairie shrugged.

  Prairie didn’t want to go where she knew she needed to go, but didn’t want to, but it had to be done—for both of their sakes. She had been struggling internally for a week once she figured out a possible, semi-palatable way out for both of them, but wasn’t sure until that moment it was what she needed to do. It was bad enough if she got hurt, but to hurt Em? Prairie couldn’t stand the thought of it.

  “Em… Uh, um, hmmm. You know, maybe we should just take some time off from, us… and rethink everything, you know? I’m going to be gone maybe eight months a year, every year, and you’re just getting started with your career…” Prairie looked at the floor, telling herself not to retreat. “I mean, if what we have is meant to be, then…”

  Em wasn’t expecting it, but the moment the words came out of Prairie’s mouth, she was relieved. “Prairie…”

  “Stay here, babe. Stay in the house, and don’t worry about anything. I’ll pay the mortgage and the expenses and… everything, Em. I love you,” Prairie wrapped Em in a tight hug, “and I don’t want you to think this is it, and you have to get out because I’m leaving, and—” Prairie’s heart was pounding out of her chest and she thought she might start crying if she didn’t get out of there. “We’ll talk on the phone once I get there, right?”

  The shuttle driver tapped twice on the horn.

  “Shit.” Prairie stood up and started to move toward the door, then hesitated, and sat back down, hating to let go. “I gotta go, Em.”

  “Okay, Prairie. I, I’ll miss you.” A tear slid down Em’s cheek. “I love you. Always.” She pulled Prairie to her, clinging to her. “Thank you, Prairie. Thank you for everything, for… for saving me.” A sob escaped from Em. Prairie was really leaving and she would be all alone—again.

  Prairie drew Em to her and kissed her deep and full on the mouth as their tears combined. Prairie pulled away, looked Em in the eyes and said, “I love you—I have since the moment I first saw you. I… I have to go now.” She kissed Em one last time.

  “Fuck,” she said under her breath as she stood up. Prairie took a long, final look at Em, who remained seated, staring at the floor, then turned and rushed out the door. Another moment and she would have crumpled to the floor, sobbing. She ran down the stairs, rushed past the driver and jumped into the shuttle van. She let the driver close the door. Prairie didn’t look back. She dug into her carry on bag for her sunglasses. Once retrieved, she quickly put them on and retreated into hiding until she arrived at her hotel room in Toronto, removing them from time to time only to mop up a new round of tears.

  By the time Em could stand up and walk to the door, Prairie and the shuttle van were gone. For a long while she stared down at the empty space at the curb where the van had been, as the words “It’s over,” played over and over in her head. Feeling empty and alone, Em turned slowly and went back into the house, and headed straight to what was now her room and fell onto the bed she might never share with Prairie again, sobbing.

  21.3—Love You Always

  Curled up in a ball in the middle of the queen-sized bed, Em was awakened by the phone ringing on Prairie’s nightstand. For a blissful moment she forgot. And then she remembered. She caught a sob in her throat as the phone continued to ring. She wanted to ignore it, but the ringing was incessant.

  “Hello,” she answered groggily.

  “Hey, baby. You okay?”

  Em was struck by the sweet sadness in Prairie’s voice.

  “What time is it?”

  “Oh, it’s early. I’m sorry, I, I needed to hear your voice,” Prairie admitted.

  “You got there all right?” Em asked sincerely as a lone tear slowly rolled down her face.

  “Yeah, easy trip. No problems at all.” She lied—it was a terrible trip. All she thought about the entire trip was Em. Leaving Em. Breaking Em’s heart. She was filled with such remorse over what she said to Em as she left, her heart hurt.

  The instant Prairie woke up in Toronto, she regretted everything. What was she thinking? She didn’t want to lose Em. Prairie wanted to quit her job before she even started and run back to her love, her life. What was she thinking?

  “Is your room nice?” Em still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Prairie was across the country, sleeping in a strange bed without her.

  “Oh, y’know. It’s just a room.” It was actually fantastic, with a spectacular view of the city, but Prairie didn’t want Em to feel worse than she probably already did.

  Em missed Prairie so much already. It was everything she could do not to break down again. Hearing Prairie’s voice was almost worse than not. She wanted to tell her how she was feeling, that she would consider going with Prairie, but it was obvious when she left that Prairie wanted to break things off. Em would never beg. She had begged Alice, and vowed she would never again beg anyone to stay. Or choose her.

  The line fell silent as Em and Prairie struggled with their own emotions. What to say? What to feel? What to do?

  Prairie thought she had endured the worst heartbreak ever when she broke off her intimate relationship with Fiona. It almost did her in. This feeling of loss, missing Em, wanting her, feeling she had abandoned her, was worse than anything Prairie had ever felt. She didn’t care about the Blue Jays, Alice, or anything but Em. She felt physically ill. She had to fix it.

  “Babe. Em. Honey, listen, I’m so sorry about when I left. I didn’t mean any of it. Really. I thought it was, I thought you…” Prairie choked back the tears. “I love you so much, Em, and I can’t bear the thought of not being with you. I’ll come back right now if you want me to. I swear. Nothing matters without you. Please say you want me to come home.”

  Prairie’s rare vulnerability ripped a hole in Em. Part of her wanted to believe Prairie and say, “Yes, come home,” but the stronger part of her knew what coming home to her would do to Prairie. She would live to regret her decision and would, in the end, resent Em for causing her to give up her life’s dream. Em couldn’t let that happen no matter how much it hurt.

  “Prairie… No. I won’t let you do that. You know I love you, too. And I miss you so much, already, but, this is what you want—you know that. It’s been your dream long before I…” Em began to cry. “…before me. We’ll be fine, okay?” She wanted Prairie to come home. Prairie was her rock, her foundation. Without her, Em didn’t know how she was going to survive, but she had to try. What she wouldn’t give for Prairie to not have to choose, but it was what it was. A choice had been made—by them both.

  “Em,” Prairie sobbed. “I don’t want to lose you!”

  “Oh, honey, don’t cry. Don’t cry. You won’t lose me. I’ll be here. I’ll be right here when you get back, baby,” Em cried.

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’ll miss you so much, but… I’ll be here when you get back,” she promised.

  Neither was sure if she believed it, but they both needed to at least for a little while. The mutual longing from each end of the line was nearly palpable.

  Prairie’s voice was barely audible when she said, “I should go—I have a big day today—orientation and all.” She felt guilty and didn’t want to hang up.

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Em.”

  “I love you.”

  “Always.”

  “Always.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  The Package

  22.1—1996

  “Hey, babe,” Em lowered her reading glasses and peered over the new screenplay of Eve’s she’d been reading. “Are you thinking of acting in this and directing? Or just directing?”

  Eve looked up from her book. “Mmmm. I haven’t decided. Do you think I should? Do both, I mean
.”

  Em scowled momentarily. “Maybe. The script is great so far—it really is—and I like the two main characters, but…”

  “Should I consider the lesser role if I decide to do both?”

  “Exactly, babe. I’ll keep reading with an open mind, but there’s a lot going on, and…” Em winked at Eve. “I was just wondering.” She began to read the script again.

  “Okay.” Eve smiled and returned to her book. She trusted Em’s opinion in all things, but especially when it came to film projects. Em’s reputation in the industry as a writer, script doctor and producer was well regarded, but more than that, her recommendations had never let Eve down.

  After a family dinner with Izzy and the rest of the family, once everyone retired to their own homes on the estate, Em and Eve finally had the main house to themselves. The fire burning in the enormous, floor-to-ceiling rock fireplace crackled and smelled as a winter’s night fire should, emitting the perfect amount of warmth and ambient light. They sat facing each other on the shortest section of the large leather sofa sectional, feet touching, sharing their favorite large Afghan throw made just for them by Eve’s mother, Ev. Eve put down the latest Anne Rice novel she’d been reading and gazed into the fire, deep in thought.

  After several minutes, she said more to herself than to Em, “It’s weird. I can’t help thinking about Dot.” She lovingly stroked the knitted throw and pressed her feet affectionately against Em’s.

  “Mmm.” Em replied absentmindedly while continuing to read.

  “It was so great being in the desert with her and Wave last Spring, and then in the Fall. I don’t know what made me think of it just now. Huh. I just love her place. Is it me, or does it get better and better every visit? And Wave’s cooking…” Eve’s voice trailed as she got lost in the memory of their visit. “Wasn’t Dot’s dinner party with all her neighbors just grand? Such an interesting mix of people, weren’t they?”

  “Mmm.”

  “And Wave…” Eve waxed fondly. “He’s so wonderful. I’ve always loved him, from the moment I first met him as a little guy. But now, he’s become… wow. Such, a grown up man. A gorgeous, kind, wonderful man.” Eve sighed. “He makes me miss Ivey more than ever. You can really see her in him.” Eve quickly wiped a threatening tear away from the corner of her eye. Though it had been twelve years since Ivey’s death, the horror of it remained with everyone who had loved her.

  Em put the screenplay to the side and laid her reading glasses on the script. She crawled over to Eve and snuggled up next to her, reaching around her and holding her close. “I know, babe. My heart breaks for Dot and Wave every time I see them. To lose Ivey in that way. So horrible. Ivey was the most loving, sweetest woman I’ve ever known in my life, and I’ve know quite a few sweet women. She was so great for Dot. She changed Dot. I mean, not that she needed to be changed, just that…”

  “I know what you mean,” Eve interrupted. “She did. And so did Wave.”

  “How they made it through after…” Em’s voice trailed.

  Eve flashed back to the frantic phone call she received from Dot, hysterically trying to tell her that Ivey had been killed in a freak accident on the freeway. She’d never known Dot to be so out of control emotionally. Eve quickly pushed the memory away.

  “Ugh. I just hate thinking back to that time in our lives. There were days,” Eve said softly, “I wondered if Dot was going to make it herself. She was so distraught.” Eve shook her head.

  “I know. Poor Dottie,” Em sighed. “Poor Wave. They had each other, thank goodness.”

  “And us,” Eve added, smiling lovingly at Em. “I’m so grateful I was in a place in my life I could stay with them for weeks at a time.”

  “Me, too,” Em agreed. “Isn’t it strange we both stayed with them all that time, but never at the same time?”

  “It is, though…” Eve giggled to herself at her memory. “Remember that one time?”

  “Oh, you mean the one where we almost crashed into each other in the driveway?” Em asked, her eyes dancing.

  “You were coming, I was going, and you didn’t see me backing out of the driveway,” Eve giggled.

  “Oh, I saw you, all right—you were just a crazy driver!”

  “Ha! Me? Right.” Eve leaned into Em. “I could tell you were so mad.”

  “I wasn’t, was I?”

  “Oh yeah, you were mad.”

  “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we had actually stopped and talked to each other?” Em asked, thinking back to that day, trying to remember the details.

  Eve looked at Em and smiled. “This, of course—just ten years early.”

  “Aw, so true.” Em hugged Eve, then sighed. “Losing Ivey is going to stay with us for the rest of our lives.”

  They both knew what Em said was true. In twenty years, neither they nor Eve’s mother had gotten over losing Alice, and they knew they never would. Eve nodded solemnly.

  “Still,” Em mused, “It’s so amazing, those two—Dot and Wave. I mean, isn’t it amazing how, if you didn’t know any better, sometimes, you’d actually think she was his birth mother. They love each other so much, you just—”

  “Feel it,” Eve finished Em’s thought.

  “Right? I’ve always wondered…” Em stopped mid-sentence, worried she might upset Eve with her own personal concerns. Once they came to the decision to try and get Eve pregnant using artificial insemination, Em worried she might never feel a strong enough bond with Eve’s biological child.

  “I know, honey. I know you were worried you might not feel as close to a child you weren’t related to or didn’t give birth to.” Eve knew it was one of several reasons Em was initially reluctant, but she had faith in Em. Eve felt she knew Em almost better than Em knew herself, and she knew with all her heart that Em would have loved their baby and been a fantastic parent. “It’s okay,” she reassured Em. “Really, it’s normal. I’ve read that some people who consider adoption feel that way—at first, so… I wasn’t worried, but I hear you.”

  Eve held Em close, stroking her arm, feeling so much love for her. They remained quiet, lost in their own thoughts until Em proclaimed, “We should make it a point to visit more often. I know Dot loves it when we do. Twice a year just isn’t enough.”

  “Agreed,” Eve said, then kissed Em on the cheek. They both stared into the fire, contemplating their future plans. “Hey,” Eve said, looking at Em with playful longing. “Wanna mess around?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Em purred, then sweetly kissed Eve’s lips. “Mmmm. Come here, baby.” The sweet kiss flamed into a passionate kiss as they quickly began to undress each other, completely overtaken with passion.

  22.2—Who Could That Be?

  The winding street, a touch of fog, and drizzling rain made the drive up the unfamiliar hill in the dark of night almost treacherous. Prairie was used to driving when the night was dark as ink, but only where she knew the country roads as well as, if not better than, she knew herself. But in the hills of Bel Air, it was unfamiliar territory. She began to regret not calling ahead, but instinct told her the news she needed to deliver had to be in person—and it couldn’t wait. But the delivery of the news wasn’t as urgent as the package that came with it.

  She was exhausted. Her heart ached, and the depth of the pain was not erased in the least by the perilous distraction of driving up and up to the top of the tony Los Angeles suburb. On one hand, Prairie wished she had rented a smaller vehicle so the street would seem bigger; but on the other hand, she was glad for the substantiality and familiarity of the Lexus LX—the same model as her own. She smiled wryly. Probably only in L.A. was it possible to rent a luxury SUV.

  She glanced in the rearview mirror to check on her sleeping passenger in the backseat. Poor thing, she thought—and then her heart hurt even more. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. It certainly wasn’t how she thought things would go, and to have the responsibility of sorting everything out by herself was just too much. Prair
ie always prided herself on handling everything and anything that came her way with a steely resolve, but that was before the world landed on top of her.

  If only she could go back a week in time. If only that would change everything. Would she do anything differently? Would she have said the things that somehow always went unsaid? Would she have prepared better? As she came upon a closed and quite impressive gate, Prairie admitted to herself the answer was probably no. Nothing would have changed. Not her, not the situation, not the end result. She clenched her jaw—she would not cry. Not now. It was important for her to be strong.

  Prairie peered through the rainy windshield and tried to see what was beyond the gate, but the poor weather conditions made her visibility next to nonexistent. Fiona told her about Em’s estate, but somehow Prairie always thought she was exaggerating, trying to wind Prairie up. Not that Fiona had ever been here herself, but for reasons Prairie could never understand, Em had opened up to Fiona, sharing far more of her life with her than she ever had with Prairie. Maybe Fiona had exaggerated about Em’s mansion, but whether she did or not, at the moment, Prairie couldn’t tell for sure; but even with the low visibility, it felt impressive.

  As the SUV idled quietly, Prairie sat for several minutes, contemplating what would come next. She dreaded it, whatever it was. She had wanted to see Em for years and years, but they just never seemed to be in the same place or available at the same time. Perhaps it was designed that way by Fate, Prairie, or even Em—or a convenient combination of all three. But now, with Em just moments away, Prairie was not looking forward to this reunion in the least. If she could turn around, she would in a heartbeat. This was not the visit she had ever envisioned over the years, but she knew leaving now wasn’t an option.

  She inhaled deeply, opened her window, reached out and pressed a button she hoped would get her to someone who would open the gate, and then said a prayer.