No, Roach wasn’t pregnant; in fact, Aunt Flo had made her presence known shortly after we’d arrived at the house party. Exactly why Roach went ahead and drank her face off.
She’d been having a bit of an I’m-not-preggers celebration.
The rest of the ride home she told me how she and Preston had consummated their relationship two days after she’d met him. All that time I’d been going on and on about losing it and Roach had been scared to tell me because she didn’t want to burst my bubble about already popping her cherry.
I’d safely dropped Roach off at her house, snuck her inside without waking her parents, and then walked the few blocks to Monty’s - in the freezing snow. The chaos that met me when I dragged my boots along the sidewalk only added to the what-the-fuckness of the evening.
I froze about twenty feet from the house, my heart pounding.
A fire engine was parked on the curb, lights flashing. An ambulance too. The raucous cry of a fire alarm screamed through the front door propped open by one of Monty’s heavy wood dining room chairs, and then fell eerily silent.
A crowd of bathrobe-clad neighbors stood on the street, watching the movements of a few firefighters walking around the front lawn. Keeping the spectators at a safe distance.
“Hold up, there,” one of men in uniform made a grab for me as I tried to dart by.
“That’s my grandfather’s house. He’s at home and his dog—”
The fireman relaxed his grip. “Your grandfather’s fine, come inside, the EMTs are with him now.”
An excited bark made me pause, and I spied Mona huddled under the snow and shrubbery at the edge of the front yard, illuminated by the light spilling out of the house. She edged toward me.
“Come here, girl.” I held out a hand, beckoning her closer, but her wild eyes darted to the fireman and she crept back into her hole. “I’ll be right back for you.” I told Mona.
I ran up the front steps.
“Monty?” I called as soon as I was inside. Now I could smell the smoke, and the ominous scent grew stronger as I walked down the hall. I was barely aware of the fireman who’d accompanied me into the house. Finally, I made out the rumble of his voice over the drone of others and I bolted for the kitchen.
And there he was, sitting at the kitchen table while an EMT took his blood pressure. Monty looked up when I entered, watching me like a frightened child about to be scolded.
The kitchen window was wide-open, the lace curtains black and singed. A frying pan rested in the sink with gusts of smoke billowing up from its blackened surface.
“He’d had a grease fire and tried to put it out with water,” the fireman at my side explained. “Got to the drapes when a neighbor noticed the flames in the window and called 911. When we arrived, they’d managed to cover the pan with the lid and put it out.”
I nodded, but couldn’t take my eyes from Monty. I could have lost him.
Quick strides took me to his chair. “Monty, are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you burned anywhere?” Monty couldn’t respond. I knelt beside him and after checking his hands and face for injuries, and finding none, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight.
I opened the door as the last of the EMTs left. Mona burst from her hiding spot, bolted between my legs and scrambled down the hall, her nails clattering. When I caught up to her she’d skidded across the kitchen floor and jumped into Monty’s arms. He pressed his face into her fur.
“We’re okay, Mona,” he said, voice muffled by Mona’s wriggling body. “Charlie’s here now and we’re just fine, see?”
I dropped into a chair. I couldn’t so much as blink as I watched M&M. They were safe. We were all safe. This time.
I jerked my head to the sink. “There’s a black layer of crusty goop an inch thick on that pan. What were you making?” Call it morbid curiosity, but I wondered what meal was worth dying for.
Monty’s eyes were wide and pale. “I don’t know.”
When I finally convinced Monty he should go to bed, I couldn’t hold the truth in any longer. I was in over my head. Monty was asleep in minutes with Mona curled at his feet.
There was only one thing left to do.
I picked up the phone.
“Grace?” Her name was a sob. “I need you.”
I pulled on another of Monty’s heavy coats, killed the porch lights and sat on the front steps, watching the meteors rain down. I cried for each and every second of the fifteen minutes it took for Grace to pull up to the curb.
Then she sat with me on the stairs and I told her everything.
Then Grace put her arm around me and said it would be alright. That we’d figure something out.
Together.
Fuck that’s a beautiful word.