Fifteen
Jen jerked awake. Lights flickered in her bedroom, but she looked down to see that her movie was repeating the menu screen, with the music playing softly. Pulling her hand out from under the covers, she ran it over the blanket searching for the remote. Locating it, she turned off the DVD player and then the TV.
Laying her head back down, she closed her eyes and snuggled back into her sheets. Then the sound of someone yelling caught her attention and she listened for a moment without opening her eyes or getting up.
It was not unusual to hear random noises at night in the Shady Meadow complex. Sometimes there were sirens, even though that was rarer. But it had happened.
She was just settling back into sleep when there was a bang on her front door. Cursing under her breath, she sat up in bed, her heart pounding. Her immediate thought was that going out there and opening it was a terrible idea. If there was some sort of commotion or scuffle between tenants, she wanted no part of it. But what if someone needed help?
The pounding came again, this time harder and frantic, followed by someone yelling what sounded like “Fire!” Jen jumped out of bed and raced to the bedroom window. Nothing.
Pulling on a pair of yoga pants, she ran out of her bedroom and headed for her front door. She looked out the peephole but saw no one. Then someone yelled again from somewhere else in the building.
“Everybody get out! There’s a fire.”
“Oh God.” Jen quickly glanced around the room, no idea what she should do next.
Rushing back to her room, she grabbed her phone and then opened the bottom drawer of her dresser to grab the small box that contained her father’s letters. After slipping into flip-flops, she ran back to the living room, grabbed her purse, and opened the front door.
She smelled smoke. Mom!
Up until that point, waking up to the yelling and banging had felt oddly like a dream. Despite the calls of “fire,” her apartment had seemed fine. Safe as on any other night. But now, with the stench of smoke and the faint sound of flames, she knew it was real.
The woman who lived across the breezeway from Jen came out of her apartment with a baby on her hip and holding the hand of her toddler, eyes wide with panic.
“Where’s it at?” Jen asked her.
“First floor,” she said without stopping. “North side I think.”
First floor. Shady Meadows was made up several buildings, each with eight apartments, four on top, four on bottom. Many of the buildings were connected by concrete breezeway-type porches, which would make it easy for a fire to spread through the wood roofing and stairs that ran between them.
Jen followed her neighbor down the stairs, suddenly worried that the little boy was having trouble navigating the steps. She leaned down. “I’ve got him,” Jen said as she scooped him into her arms. “Go.”
She followed the mother down the steps and into the yard, past the mailboxes, and near the parking lot. Setting the boy down beside her mother, she looked up. “I’ve got to get my mom.”
As she turned back toward the building she saw flames coming out of the apartment next to her mother’s. Oh God.
Without hesitation, Jen ran through the yard in that direction. As soon as she reached the mailboxes she heard a familiar voice screaming.
“Jen! Jen, open up!”
She stopped in her tracks and glanced up at the second-floor breezeway where her front door was located. And there was her mother, banging on her apartment door. Diane was throwing her arms against the metal door like she could break it down, and the look of anguish on her face made Jen’s heartbreak.
“Mom!” She screamed. But the sound of the quickly growing fire and the bustling of hysteric people had become a buzz of noise around them. Jen began to take the stairs two at a time. “Mom, I’m down here!”
Hitting the second floor, Jen pivoted and headed toward her apartment. Her mom was still standing there, now beginning to become frantic. “Jennifer! My daughter’s in here.” She yelled over her shoulder to the ground below.
“Mom! I’m here!” Jen yelled.
Diane turned, and her face took on a look of such intense relief it made Jen gasp.
“Jen!” Her mother burst into tears. “Oh, Jen!’
“Mom, it’s okay. Come on.”
Grabbing her hand, Jen begin to lead her down the steps, through the smoke now wafting up from the first floor. Her mother continued to sob, and Jen squeezed her hand as they rushed down the sidewalk and onto the grass on the far side of the parking lot.
There were now at least fifty people watching the flames travel quickly through the buildings, and that’s when they heard the sirens. Jen turned to her crying mother, opened her arms, and they embraced.
They were both alive. They still had each other.
* * *
The sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand roused TJ from his sleep. Reaching out, he grabbed it and turned it over. Dean. Weird. It was a little after three in the morning.
“Hello?” TJ said, after clearing his throat.
“Hey, man, sorry to wake you up.”
TJ rolled over and ran a hand down his face. “No problem. Something wrong?”
A heavy sigh on the other end of the line got his attention.
“Dean? What’s going on?” TJ asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.
“Everyone is fine. I probably should have waited till morning, but I knew you’d want to know right away.” TJ sat up in bed as Dean continued. “Jen’s apartment building caught fire.”
TJ’s heart crashed into his stomach. “What?” He instantly threw back the sheet and got out of bed. “Where is she? Her mother? Are they okay?”
“Yes, yes. Relax. They’re both fine. Actually, they’re both asleep in Charlotte’s guest room.
TJ grabbed a pair of jeans. “I’m coming over.”
“No, listen, man. Don’t do that. Everyone is fine. Wait until morning.”
“You’re kidding, right?” TJ asked, walking over to his dresser for a clean shirt. “There’s no way I’m going back to sleep now.”
“I get that,” Dean said. “But they were exhausted. They’re asleep now. And we’re going back to sleep, too. There’s nothing for you to do here. But she’ll need you tomorrow.”
Unsure what do to with himself, TJ walked into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. “How did it happen?”
“No idea yet. Hopefully they’ll know more in a day or so.”
“Did … anyone die?”
“No. When we left, only one man wasn’t accounted for, but they think he might be at work or at a girlfriend’s. A few people were taken to the hospital to be checked out, but I don’t think anyone was seriously injured.”
That was good news, but he was still shaking with emotion. “I can’t fucking believe this. That place is a pit. What I’d like to do right now is go strangle whoever runs the place.”
“I understand how you feel,” Dean said quietly.
TJ sat up straight and rubbed at his chest, which was feeling tight. He’d never experienced the sensation before. “Why didn’t she call me?”
“I don’t know. Didn’t want to bother you, maybe?”
“That’s bullshit, Dean. How could she be okay bothering you?” TJ was suddenly furious at that thought.
“She didn’t call me. She called Charlotte.”
TJ sighed, feeling a little better with that, but still not satisfied. They were now a thing—they’d just discussed it that day. And he’d kissed her not even twelve hours ago. He should have been her first call. No hesitation. But she didn’t choose him, and he wasn’t sure if that made him furious or hurt. He was angling toward both.
Oh God, if anything had happened to her. That burning in his chest started up again. He stood up. “Shit, I feel like I’m gonna have a goddamn heart attack,” he muttered.
“Take a deep breath,” Dean said. “It’s anxiety. I’ve felt it, trust me.”
He walked back through his roo
m and headed for the hallway. “I need to see her, Dean. I’ve got to come over.”
“You’ll be no help here, TJ. What you can do is start thinking of what we can all do to help. We’re too exhausted after this, but you can start making a list. Do some research.”
That all made sense, but TJ was hung up on one thought. As he made his way down the stairs, he asked, “What time did Charlotte hear from her?”
Dean hesitated. “About twelve thirty.”
“And you’re just now calling me?” He stepped into his kitchen and flipped on the light.
“She asked me not to,” Dean said. “I’m sorry. Truly. But Jen asked that of me, and I couldn’t blatantly disrespect her trust like that. Even though I’m doing it now, but because you’re my friend and I’d want you to do the same for me.”
TJ cursed under his breath, nearly bruising his fist on the quartz counter of his kitchen island. How could she do that to him? Especially after this morning’s conversation.
“Hold on, I hear something,” Dean said. The phone muffled and then Dean was back. “Sorry, somebody just went into the bathroom.”
“Was it her?”
“Might have been. Charlotte was falling asleep when I came out to call you.”
TJ’s phone alerted him of another call. Pulling it away from his ear, he saw her name. “Dean, I gotta go. It’s her.”
Without giving his friend a chance to reply, he hit the SWAP button. “Jen?”
“Hi,” she said in a voice so quiet and vulnerable he might not have recognized it to be hers had he not known. “I’m sorry to wake—”
“Babe, I know. I already know. I’m so sorry.”
As if relieved from the need to explain, she began to cry. The sound—her quiet gasps and sobs—nearly ripped his heart out.
This … this was different. The sounds traveling through the phone were of her completely breaking down. Tears of pain and despair. And it was killing him. Bending over, he laid a hand on the counter, as if it could hold him up. “Jen. Tell me what to do. I want to come over.”
“No,” she cried. “We’re fine.” She sniffled, and then the crying resumed. “I’m sorry. I just … I can’t stop.”
“Baby, it’s okay. I know,” he said. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“What about your mom?”
“She’s fine.”
“And you don’t know how bad the damage is yet?”
“I’m pretty sure my mom’s unit was destroyed. It was hard to tell how bad it had gotten from all the smoke. But it was just so terrible,” she cried, fresh tears starting up again. “One woman—my mom’s neighbor—has three kids. She’s a single mom. And she stood there bawling as she watched her apartment burn up. What if she hadn’t gotten all those kids out, TJ?”
“But she did, Jen. It sounds as if everyone is safe.”
“What will we do now?” she asked quietly.
“Don’t worry about that right now, Jen. We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone.”
When she didn’t respond right away, he spoke again. “Jen, did you hear me?”
She cleared her throat and said, “Yes,” her voice a little stronger.
“I want to come over there with you.”
“No. That’s not necessary. I just … I guess I just wanted to call you.”
“I’m glad you did. I really wish you’d have called me right away. You have to know that.”
“I hate needing anything, you have to know that.”
He threw his head back and sighed. “Jennifer Mackenzie, I want you to need me. Can you please get that through your thick skull? I want to be the person you call. Always.”
The line went silent.
“Jen?” he prodded.
“I heard you. It’s just difficult for me.”
“I understand, but you need to realize that needing help is not a character flaw. Or a sign of weakness.”
“I’m trying, TJ.”
“I know.” The damaged sound to her was so unfamiliar, he was struggling not to get in his car, to hell with her wishes. But he also knew that this was exactly the kind of emotion Jen probably avoided at all costs. She hadn’t called him—or wanted Dean to call—for a reason. She had too much pride for her own good. But she’d finally called him anyway, and he had to see that for the gift it was. If he pushed too hard right now, he’d end up regretting it.
“I’m going to go back to bed,” she said.
Panic seized him again, but he pushed it down. He understood she was tired. “Okay. I understand. I’ll be there in a few hours. Okay?”
“You don’t hav—”
“Jen. Stop. I will be there in a few hours.”
“Okay,” she finally said.
“Okay.”
“Good night,” she said quietly.
There felt like more he needed to say and promise. But instead he just replied in kind.
“Good night, Jen.”
Sixteen
Jen opened her eyes when she felt a tap on her back.
“Are you awake?” her mother asked.
“I am now,” she answered, rolling over in the bed. Thank goodness Charlotte had a guest room with a queen-size bed for them to use. After getting off the phone with TJ, Jen had slept like the dead.
Now, facing her mother, she gave a tentative smile. “You sleep good?”
“Had a lot of nightmares.”
Jen frowned. “I’m sorry. What about?” Although she could guess. She’d had a few herself.
Diane sighed and rolled on her back. “Variations of last night.”
After the fire trucks had shown up, they’d watched them work, completely in shock, for about twenty minutes. Everyone had wanted answers, but they just kept saying it would take a few days to know.
Along with the fire department, three ambulances had come to check everyone out. That was when Jen had called Charlotte, after debating who to call for a while. She’d wanted to call TJ, and almost had, but it had seemed so presumptuous. And it was late. They’d just started to be more than friends.
She’d had a million excuses.
But she didn’t regret calling Charlotte, who had come with Dean immediately and insisted they come home with her. After hot showers and some tea, Jen and her mother had gone to bed. It was then—after Diane had begun to snore—that the despair and trauma of the night had set in. That was when she’d suddenly needed to speak to TJ so bad that she felt like she’d burst apart if she didn’t. And she hadn’t been surprised that Dean had already called and filled him in. She’d almost expected it.
“We’re safe. That’s all that matters,” Jen said to her mother.
Her mom was still staring up at the ceiling, and a tear ran down her face, trailing into her wispy hairline.
“I was so afraid, Jen.”
As she watched her mother’s lips tremble, Jen felt her own begin to do the same. “I know.”
Diane shook her head back and forth. “You don’t understand. I smelled the smoke, heard someone bang on my door, and I debated just not doing anything about it.”
“Mom.”
“The only thing that finally got me out of the bed was realizing that if my apartment was in peril, then yours was, too. And then—” She broke at that point, and let out a quiet sob.
“It’s okay, Mom.” Jen patted her mother’s arm. They’d hadn’t been affectionate in what felt like a lifetime. As a little girl Jen would be the one to initiate it, and her mother would reciprocate to a point, but it had never been enough. Eventually, she’d sort of just stopped trying. Right now, touching her on the arm felt like an intimate gesture. “We’re both okay.”
“If anything had happened to you, Jen…”
“I know,” Jen said, wanting to take her pain away. It was hard to process the fact that this was her mother—Diane Mackenzie—lying here and exposing herself in such a raw and emotional way. When Jen imagined the sight of her mother pounding on the door like a madw
oman, it was like she was witnessing an alternate reality, and although it was only hours before, it felt like days had passed.
Diane used her hands to wipe under both eyes. “Goddamn it.” She slapped her arms down on the bed. “I’ve never wanted a smoke so bad in my life.”
Jen winced. It was almost tempting to get up and go get her some after what they’d just been through. “You’ve come so far, Mom. I’m really proud of you.”
Her mother turned and looked at Jen, a partial smile playing at her lips. “Didn’t think I had it in me.”
“You’re strong,” Jen said, realizing she meant it. Her mother was—and was not—many things. But she was always strong as hell.
Diane groaned quietly, staring up at the ceiling once more. “What the hell are we going to do now? No home. No belongings. Not even a clean pair of underwear.”
Jen almost laughed at the change in tone. But it wasn’t that surprising. It wasn’t as if she thought they were going to hug and start making up for lost time.
“I don’t know. I guess we go see if we can salvage anything. I heard someone say all the sprinklers in each unit came on, so I’m guessing a lot is ruined.”
“The smoke damage alone will have destroyed everything in the building, I bet,” Diane said. “And we know those flames reached mine.”
“Yes.” The image of what was once her mom’s front door engulfed by fire was imprinted on Jen’s brain.
“You have renter’s insurance, don’t you?” her mom asked suddenly.
“I had to, but I know I got the cheapest option available.”
“Better than nothing,” Diane replied.
The sound of voices beyond the door caught Jen’s attention. “What time is it?” Jen asked. She knew it had to be late because, although the blinds on the window were pulled, the sun penetrating the cracks was bright.
Her mother turned to look at a clock on the bedside table. “Nine forty-eight.”
“Holy shit.” Jen sat up and rubbed at her face. “We’re being rude.”
“Jennifer, we were up all night watching our apartments burn down. I’m sure they understand us sleeping in.”
Maybe This Time--A Whiskey and Weddings Novel Page 16
