I shook my head so quickly.
“The Army? Nope. No way. Austin and I always said we wouldn’t.”
I sounded like one of those twins you read about in sappy books where they make lifelong promises to each other. One lives in the shadows and the other has to live out their twin’s legacy. I didn’t want to think about which role I played in that saga.
“Why not? Just not your thing?” Kael asked.
“I don’t know,” I started.Careful, Karina,I warned myself. I didn’t want to offend him, but my mouth was known for spitting out words without my brain’s approval. “We agreed on it one day. I don’t remember what even triggered it. My dad was deep into his third deployment and . . .”
I could picture the smoke as it billowed through the hallways. I smelled the fire before I saw it.
“And my mom made . . . well, let’s say she made a mess in the living room. A charred mess.”
Kael looked at me, puzzled.
“She said it was from a glue gun, like for crafts? But it was a cigarette. She fell asleep on the couch with a lit cigarette in her hand and had barely woken up when I came rushing down the stairs to find the room filled with smoke. It was crazy.”
As I was telling Kael this, a few people came out of the house, a few people went in. Party traffic. The last guy to come out was wearing a plain white T-shirt with a red stain on the chest. I stopped talking when I saw him and kept my imagination from turning a pizza-sauce stain into anything else. Kael kept his eyes on me the whole time. It was intense, the way he looked at me. The bottom of my tummy ached, and eventually I had to break eye contact with him. Pizza-stain guy walked down the steps and got into his car. I recognized him from the kitchen. He was one of Austin’s quiet friends. The quiet guys always left first.
“And what did your mom do when you found her in the room full of smoke?” Kael encouraged.
“She was walking toward the door, straight ahead, like she was going out to buy milk or some orange juice. She didn’t yell for us. She didn’t look for us. No . . . nothing.”
Kael cleared his throat. I gauged his expression to make sure he wasn’t uncomfortable with the details.
“So . . . you know those quizzes where they ask you what you would save if your house was on fire?” I looked at him.
“Not really,” he answered.
“I guess that’s a Facebook thing. They ask what possessions you would save if your house was burning down and your response is supposed to reveal your personality. If you say you’d save your wedding album, that says one thing about you. But if your choice is to save your vinyl collection, that says something else.”
Kael raised his eyebrows, as if he hadn’t ever heard of anything so absurd.
“I know, right?” I continued with my story. “Anyway, it’s so insane, but the smoke was growing and as I rushed up the stairs to get Austin, I remember thinking,That quiz is the most ridiculous thing ever. Who would even think about possessions at a time like this?But there I was, in the moment, thinking about that stupid quiz—so what does that say about me?”
“I think it says that your mind was keeping you from panicking. I think it says that you have good instincts.”
I let that sink in for a moment before continuing. “When I got to Austin’s room, I shook him awake. We ran downstairs together—he was leading now, squeezing my wrist so hard, and when we got outside to the lawn, our mother was standing there just watching the smoke. She hadn’t tried to set the house on fire, nothing like that. But oddly, she wasn’t alarmed. More like she didn’t even realize what was going on.”
“Karina . . .”
“It was like one of those old movies, you know, where the madwoman starts the fire and gets mesmerized by it, like she goes into a trance—” I laughed a little, not wanting to be awkward. “Sorry, all of my stories are over the top.”
“Karina . . .” God, I loved the way he said my name.
“Oh, it’s—” I was going to say,It’s okay.That’s what I always said when I told this story. Not that I told it often. But the thing was, sitting in the dark with Kael beside me, urging me on, listening, not judging . . . Well, I knew that it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all. I could have been killed. Austin could have been killed. It was so not okay. But what was not okay was usually my reality.
“You’re a good storyteller.”
That was a kind thing to say. Not,God, your mom sounds like a wackjob. I was a good storyteller. I liked the sound of that. I liked the certainty with which he said it.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know what even got me started talking about this . . .” I did that a lot, told long tales with lots of sidetracking and other mini-stories in between.
“You not wanting to join the military,” Kael reminded me.
“Right.” I pulled myself together. “I mean, my dad was gone so much of the time and coming home from deployment but still being constantly absent while training. He was always so unhappy. My mom, too. The lifestyle basically broke her. You know . . .”
He nodded.