Playing with fire

As I watched helplessly while flames engulfed the house in front of me, I couldn't help but wonder if this kind of thing went on your permanent record.

Frankly, I had no idea what that meant in terms of implications for my own life. Perhaps the next time I applied for a job, there would be a menacingly red "DO NOT HIRE" stamp embossed on my background check. "Set her date's house on fire after they went out…twice." As if it would have been a more reasonable offense had it happened later in the relationship. He could have at least had the courtesy to cheat on me or something before I burned down his house.

Maybe it was salvageable, I prayed. A window shade that had been teetering back and forth on its hinges, barely intact amidst the blaze, careened to the ground with a depressing thunk. I winced.

Sirens blared all around us, firefighters working to quell the disaster. Sleepy suburbia was probably desperate for some kind of freak accident like this, I told myself. I could only imagine there were at least four news outlets speeding their way here at this exact moment.

Really, truly, it wasn't my fault, I reasoned. I didn't ask him to stage an elaborate candlelit dinner that looked a bit more like a seance than I had the heart to tell him. And I definitely didn't ask him to put his hand on my knee without a warning - not that I minded. And I most certainly couldn't be held accountable for my lightning-fast reflexes causing my leg to take on a mind of its own and kick over the side table, igniting a chain reaction (both literally and figuratively) of candles tumbling down like dominoes in a Rube Goldberg machine designed solely to set the house on fire.

Abe was sitting a little further down the block, watching as first responders paraded in and out of his former apartment building. No one was hurt, thank goodness, but that hadn't seemed to soften the blow quite as much as I'd hoped. He was staring at the ground blankly, stacking rocks and stones from a nearby garden into a little mountain between his feet. There was something deeply depressing about watching a thirtysomething year old man reduced to such a childlike state amidst the chaos.

I made my way over to him as delicately as possible. "Hey," I offered, timidly, "Whatcha doing?"

Abe kicked the pile in front of him, sending a frenzy of pebbles flying every which way. "Reminding myself of the impermanence of life." He inhaled deeply before letting out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Yikes.

"You had told me you wanted to try out van life. Maybe now's the time?" I immediately regretted the suggestion, his instant scowl a clear indicator that humor was unwelcome at the moment. I wondered if I should add “Do you have renter’s insurance?” to my set of first date get-to-know-you questions. Lord knows I'd be needing them, seeing as this relationship just came to a screeching halt.

Someone bumped into me, pulling me out of my own thoughts. It was a camera person for what appeared to be a local news station I’d never heard of. She offered a quick apology before hustling over towards the scene of the crime, where a reporter was frantically adjusting her outfit, getting ready to go on air.

“Ok,” I admitted, sheepishly, “I’m not even sure how to begin to apologize for –"

The blaring ring of my cell phone interrupted my grand declaration. “Sorry,” I winced even more apologetically, seeing it was my mother on the line, “I really have to – Hello? Mom?” I shoved the phone up to my ear in desperation, thankful for an exit from what was sure to be a disaster of an apology.

“Honey!” My mom’s voice was a bit obscured by the sound of conversation in the background. “I’m just watching the news. There’s some kind of fire pretty close to where you live.”

Oh no.

“Yeah, about that –“ I started, quickly interrupted by her sudden gasp and the realization that I was staring down the barrel of a new station camera. I waved halfheartedly. “H-hey mom.”

A news anchor shimmied up to me, her gorgeous red curls mimicking the color of the glow beside us. “I’m here with two of the residents of the building,” she turned the microphone my way, “Ma’am, do you have any idea how this fire started?” Her piercing green eyes seemed to reaching into the depths of my soul.

I gulped. “Um, yeah, no,” I felt like I might pass out, remembering I was on the phone. “I…” I panicked and sputtered out ‘no comment’ before quite literally running away. I apologized profusely to my mother, assuring her I’d explain later before hanging up before she had the chance to respond.

“Smooth,” Abe had appeared out of nowhere, startling me.

I plopped down on the curb, a bit further from the apartment after my little getaway, cradling my head in my hands. He sat down beside me, saying nothing for a while.

Eventually, Abe patted me awkwardly on the shoulder before making a joke about how it was me should be consoling him.

“You’re not about to get arrested for destruction of property,” I groaned.

A fireman trudged over to us, spiky blonde hair coated with a fine layer of ash. "You kids ok?"

I eyed him curiously, certain he was a solid five years younger than either of us.

“So, are the police just going to come pick me up here, or...?”

To my surprise, he let out a laugh that was the most distinct guffaw I'd ever heard.

"You...." he caught his breath, "you think you caused this? No, no," he waved his hand, dismissing the idea, "there was a gas leak in the apartment above. Pretty sure their insurance is going to cover this one. If they haven’t hit their deductible, they sure will tonight."

Half relieved and half offended at the man's total disbelief that I could dabble in arson, I thanked him and watched as he jogged back to the rest of the crew.

“So,” I turned back to face Abe, feeling a bit less existential dread, “I’m guessing you don’t wanna go get some dinner right now?”

“To be honest,” Abe ran a hand through a mess of brown curly hair. He was biting his lip, clearly wrestling with whatever insult he was about to dish out at me.

My brain started filling in the blanks.

“I think it’s best if we don’t.”

“I’d rather run back into my burning apartment building.”

“I think dating you would raise my life insurance premiums.”

Abe looked me in the eye before catching me totally off guard.

“Sure.”

“Wait, really?” My attempts at playing it cool failed miserably, enthusiasm and astonishment plastered all over my dumb, klutzy face.

“But!" he held up a finger in protest, “Only if you promise to pay...,” Abe tapped the finger on his chin, gears in his mind turning, “for at least the next ten dates.”

“So what I’m hearing,” I had calmed down a bit, confidence restored, “is that you want to go on ten more dates with me.”

Abe smirked. “You burned down my house. That’s solid gold blackmail material. No way I can let that go to waste.”

I chuckled, “Well this sounds healthy.”

Laughing, Abe stood up and grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers in mine. I felt myself blushing – or maybe it was just the reflection of the flames in the distance.

“I’m just kidding,” he grinned, kissing me on the cheek.

As we sauntered off into the distance, the embers of what was left of the fire glowing behind us, I could have sworn I heard him whisper, “Mostly.”