The Becoming

I'm just about to disco

"David? You're back home?"

"Never mind that. Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to the beach. Why?"

"Get here as fast you can."

"You're at the cottage?"

There's a brief pause. “What's left of it.” His voice softens. “There's been a fire."

Chapter Seventeen

A fire?

I drop the phone and concentrate on driving. I've just passed Grand Avenue when I see the smoke. Panic twists my stomach. I'm a half-mile away, but I can't get closer because fire equipment blocks Mission. I leave the car in the parking lot of a Seven Eleven and start ru

I see David first, standing with a group of firemen. Only the firemen aren't holding hoses or wielding pick axes. In fact, they aren't doing anything at all except standing around chatting with my ex-football player partner.

It makes me angry. Why aren't they fighting the fire? I open my mouth to yell, but something stops me.

I look down the street, toward the cottage.

I know now why the firemen are clustered in their little circle, with David holding court. He may as well. There's nothing left of my home except smoldering debris.

I stop short, heart hammering so hard I think it will burst my chest.

Nothing left.

I feel someone touch my arm.

"A

It's David.

But I turn away from him and walk toward the burned shell that used to be my grandmother's cottage. I hear him call out to me, but I don't stop and I don't turn around. I can't.

There are two firemen picking through the rubble. One of them notices me and comes over. He's young, but his eyes are somber, and his voice full of compassion when he asks, “Was this your home, ma'am?"

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from his partner. He's moving through the debris, dousing little tongues of fire that lap to the surface here and there as the air hits.

"Is there anything left?"

He shakes his head. “Won't be able to tell for a day or so. You'll have to wait until things cool off and our investigation is complete before you can go in. There'll be security posted, to protect the integrity of the scene. Offhand, though, I'd say it's pretty much a total loss. I'm sorry."

A total loss.

David is at my side again. This time, he opens his arms and gathers me against his chest. I let him, though I don't have the strength to raise my own arms and hug back. I can only stand there, eyes on the ruins.

Finally, he pulls back and looks down at me. There's a flash of surprise, and I know it's registering that all traces of my wounds are gone. He doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, he makes a gesture toward the uniformed policeman approaching us from the sidewalk. “They have some questions for you."

I nod and let the policeman lead me over to his car. He's middle-aged and paunchy, with a kind face and sad eyes. He opens the door, and I slide in sideways on the passenger side while he kneels down in front of me.

He asks all the usual questions and takes copious notes. I answer the best I can, though shock is begi

No, I was not home last night.

No, I'd rather not give the name of my companion if it's not necessary at this time.

No, I don't know why anyone would do this.

Yes, I have insurance.

The interview drags on until another policeman approaches. He touches the arm of the cop interviewing me, and they both move to the side, out of my hearing. In a moment, they are back—thanking me for the time, assuring me that they will be in touch.

David draws near, offering me a hand out of the car. Like an automaton, I push myself off the seat.

"How could this happen? I don't understand,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I don't either. The fire chief thinks this was no accident. They've already started an investigation. They can pinpoint the origin of the fire, and it seems to be dead center in the cottage. They've found traces of an accelerant."

He pauses, an uncomfortable silence stretching between us as I see him bristling with a question he's suddenly afraid of or unsure how to ask. His hands clasp and unclasp at his side.

"What is it?"

David lets out a breath in a noisy rush. “Where have you been, A

"Jesus, David. You didn't say anything to him about what happened, did you?"

"No,” he snaps right back. “But I should have. You lied to me in the hospital about calling him. I don't understand what's going on with you. And now this. Do you realize how scared I was when I got here and saw the fire? I didn't know if you were alive or dead."

Alive or dead. That comment brings a bitter smile to the corners of my mouth. I can't help it. The irony of his statement is lost on him, of course. David doesn't understand.

I don't either, really. I close my eyes and fight back the panic. David rages on.

"What's the matter with you? Are you in shock? Is that why you're acting so crazy? I told Dr. Avery you shouldn't have been released from the hospital. It was too soon. After everything that happened, he should have kept you there longer. I should have insisted. Or I should have stayed here with you."

He looks and sounds as if he's just getting started, but I can't take anymore. I take a step back and hold up a hand. “This isn't helping, David. I'm sorry you were worried. I'm sorry I didn't call. I can't explain it. I don't want to. All I have energy for now is seeing if there's anything left of my life to salvage."

His face reddens, though I can't tell if it's because he's embarrassed or still angry. Suddenly, weariness washes over his features and I'm instantly ashamed of my outburst. He's been my friend and partner for two and a half years and I haven't even asked him how he is feeling. Of course, his house hadn't just burned to the ground. Still, in all the trauma of the last two days, I'd completely forgotten about David and that he was involved, too.

I take a tiny step toward him. “How are you? Why did you come back so soon? I didn't call you because I thought you'd be spending time with Gloria. I didn't mean for you to worry."

His expression shifts again, lines hardening around his mouth. “Turns out she had a modeling job in New York. She figured if she got me to LA, she could talk me into accompanying her. I told her I couldn't leave you—not with all that's happened."

He pauses, confusion softening the lines on his face. “But look at you, A

I don't know how to respond to that. It doesn't matter, though, because he just keeps talking.

"I know what the problem is, A

I put a gentle hand on David's arm to stop the tirade. “It's not Dr. Avery's fault my house burned. And you may not want to hear this, but you're wrong about him. He's been—” I suddenly find myself groping for the right words. “Well, he's kind of taken care of me the last day or so."