A Slow Burn

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

My brother jumped, turning to me, his smile wiped clean off his face after seeing the anger and shock on mine.

“I––I was just––”

“Get inside. Now.”

I hurried to grab the hose from the side of the house, my fingers shaking as I fiddled with the nob to turn on the water. At the corner of my eye, I saw my brother run behind me, narrowly escaping the fire that was beginning to build in our backyard. 

Finally, I heard the water running. I yanked the hose forward and sprinted to the pile of burning leaves in the middle of the yard. The flames stretched toward the sky, composed of tendrils of orange and red and black that ate up the lawn inch by inch. It began to spread further and further, hungry for anything it could reach.

I pointed the hose and sprayed like hell.

Water spurted and gushed from the spout, drowning the fire. I sprayed and sprayed until the lawn was soaked with mud and grass; the fire disappeared in smoke. I turned off the hose, panting, staring at the watery, dirty mess in the yard. It looked like a pool of mud rather than a neatly manicured lawn.

“That little…” I threw the hose on the ground and stomped toward the house, hands clenched into fists, fuming. I yanked open the back door and shoved my way inside.

“Nico!”

I ran through the house until I saw him there, in the living room, perched on the couch, knee bouncing nervously. His head was in his hands.

“Nico!” I yelled. “Why would you do that? What were you thinking?”

His head snapped up, his big brown eyes wide and full of guilt. “I’m sorry––”

“You could have burned the house down! Or, worse––you could have been killed!” I paused. “You know what, after a stunt like that, switch that order. Would have been much worse if the house burned down.”

His eyes flashed angrily. “Would you just stop––"

“And, not to mention, Mom and Dad would have killed you if they found out––”

“Shut up!” Nico exploded off the couch, vaulting to his feet, hands curled into small fists at his side. His eyes blazed. “Shut up, shut up! Stop talking about Mom and Dad!”

I stepped backward in surprise. A memory of the burning leaves eating their way across the lawn flashed across my mind, and my resolve returned.

“No,” I snarled. “You know, I am sick and tired of looking after you every two seconds; if you’d just listen, and not go off––”

“You wouldn’t have to look after me if it wasn’t for them!” He shouted, angrily pointing to a picture on the wall. 

I followed his gesture to discover the family picture of the four of us. It was from last fall, at our annual Bonfire Gathering. We sat at the base of a clump of trees just beginning to change color for the season, near a large fire pit off to the side. Mom and Dad stood behind me and Nico. They smiled. So did we.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

I turned back to Nico. I cleared my throat, voice softening––slightly, anyways. “Don’t blame them, Nico.”

“Don’t blame them? Don’t blame them?” His voice only grew louder. “Why are you defending them? You wouldn’t have to spend all day here if it wasn’t for them!”

“That’s not what I…” I took a deep breath, trying to slow my heart. “Nico, all I’m asking is that you don’t set fires in the backyard. Mom and Dad might not be… here, but this house is. We need to keep it safe.”

“Who cares about this stupid house,” he snarled. He fell back on the couch, crossing his arms. “It’s not like either one of them is going to keep it after the divorce.”

“We don’t know that yet,” I said quietly. I sat on the opposite couch, facing him.

“And you know why we don’t know?” He asked, sniffling. “Because Mom and Dad aren’t here to tell us. They’re never here. They’re always off fighting somewhere.”

“I know,” I said, sighing. “I know it doesn’t really make sense right now. But it doesn’t help anyone to be mad at them. They’re getting a divorce and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“That you know of.”

"What? Care to repeat that?”

Nico glanced at me, and then looked away. “I had a plan. It was going to be great, until it got… out of control.”

I struggled to keep calm and not scold him again. “What do you mean, ‘out of control’?”

He just sat there, avoiding my gaze.

“Nico, please talk to me.”

“Why? All you ever do is yell at me lately. I don’t get it.”

I sighed. This time, I was the one to look away. “Well. Ben dumped me. Not that it’s an excuse; it’s not. I’m sorry that I’ve been so angry lately. It’s just… with the divorce… with Ben…” I feel my eyes water and blink furiously to keep the tears at bay. “It’s just been hard.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t yell at you anymore. Well, I’ll try not to.” I turned back to him, trying for a smile.

He returned it warmly, grinning. “Fine. Then I’ll try not to listen to you.”

“Fair enough.” I cleared my throat. “So… what were you doing, then? Outside? If you weren’t trying to set the world on fire?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was trying to… well…” he hesitated, looking away from me again. “I was trying to recreate the Bonfire Gathering. You know. With the fire, and the s’mores, and the games. I’d just gotten to the fire part. And it, well, it didn’t––it didn’t––”

“Go well?” I offered sarcastically.

Nico shot me a look, but his shoulders slumped. “Yeah. It didn’t.”

We were silent for a moment.

“Nico,” I start quietly, “I don’t think that would have brought Mom and Dad back together. I think it was a wonderful idea. But I don’t think they’re getting back together again. You have to understand that.”

He stared at the ground for a moment. Then, he nodded slowly. “I know,” he said quietly, the words full of mourning. After a second, he peered up at me, offering a small, kind smile. "I'm really sorry about Ben, Natalie. That sucks."

"It's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure."

We sat there in silence again.

“I have an idea,” Nico said suddenly.

“That’s not good.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine, fine. What is this grand idea of yours?”

“Follow me.”

///

"Gin."

"What? You have got to be kidding me."

"No-pie-one!"

"Huh? Say again?"

Nico swallowed his s'more, grinning at me. "Nope! I won!"

"Dammit," I said, scowling at him. I threw down my cards in defeat. "Fine. You shuffle, then."

"Don't mind if I do."

I rolled my eyes, laughing. Nico shuffled the deck on the kitchen table, where we'd accumulated all the candles in the house that we could find. Bags of marshmallows and bars of chocolate were scattered across the surface, along with the plastic knives that we were using to hold the marshmallows above the candle flames. We'd played over ten games of Gin Rummy and something told me we'd still be playing long into the night.

Nico had even made a little sign for our escapades, which he set against the candle sticks. On a notecard read:

Lawnfire Gathering: Family Edition