Prairie Fire

by Djuna Shellam

  The table erupted into hearty laughter and a clamor of well-wishes, prying questions about a possible new addition, and the gushing one would expect over such announcements.

  Em immediately all but disappeared, becoming the fly on the wall, a role she relished. As she sat and observed the interactions between her new housemates, she couldn’t believe she was already participating in a huge family moment on her first night. And the funny thing was, even from way at the end of the table, isolated by her shyness, her wheelchair and her crippled state, it felt right. It was truly the happiest she’d felt in a long, long time.

  THIRTEEN

  Sharing Is Caring

  13.1—Who Are You?

  The parklike area in-between the hospital buildings teemed with patients and hospital employees taking their lunch breaks under a rare Los Angeles cerulean sky. The air was crystal clear and a comfortable seventy degrees with just a slight breeze—a perfect early winter day in Southern California.

  Prairie and Em sat at a table in the middle of the outdoor area, finishing their bagged lunches, lovingly made by Gwen. They had eaten in complete silence, but without the tension normally present between them. Three weeks had passed since Em had moved into the house with Prairie, and though the tension was not as thick, there often remained a considerable lack of ease.

  Em was happy to be outdoors and away from rehab and the hours of waiting between sessions with Prairie. The seemingly endless waiting should have been motivation enough for her to get out of her wheelchair sooner than later—but it wasn’t. How many times had she dreamed of getting up and just walking away during the interminable waiting—just to be by herself, even if for a few minutes? The only time Em was alone was when she was sleeping, and even then, Prairie was across the room from her, sleeping in her own bed. Em let out a sigh. The fresh air and change of scenery was a blessing.

  The silence between them didn’t bother her, but Em could sense Prairie would prefer some type of interaction. The ball was in Prairie’s court as far as Em was concerned. She didn’t want to be the one to speak first, though the silence was beginning to feel a little awkward. As if reading Em’s mind, Prairie broke the quiet.

  “So Em… Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Prairie asked

  Em shook her head, no.

  “What?” Prairie exclaimed. “Are you kidding me? No sibs at all?” She was incredulous.

  Em shrugged. “Only child.”

  “Gosh, what’s that like? I mean, I have a bunch of ‘em, and I always wondered what it would be like to… you know, to be just little old me.”

  “It’s okay, I guess. I don’t know any different, so I can’t say.”

  “Wow. I mean, I love my sibs, but sometimes, you know? I’d think, gaaaaah! Go away! And then I’d fantasize about being an only child.” She laughed out loud, then took an enthusiastic bite from her baloney sandwich.

  Em wanted to know more about Prairie’s siblings, concluding already from Prairie’s references there were more than a couple, but didn’t ask. She wasn’t an inquisitive person when it came to people’s personal lives.

  “I have four brothers and two sisters,” Prairie declared proudly, as if she were responsible for creating them herself.

  Though Em’s surprise was evident on her face, she didn’t respond.

  “Yeah. I have twin older brothers, Birch and Lake,” Prairie continued, content to carry the conversation. “They’re just fourteen months older than me. Even though they’re Virgos and I’m a Sagittarius, we’re a lot alike. We look alike, we think alike… well, except they have dark hair. They were both Army Rangers, and now they’re Forest Rangers up in Montana. They’re really into that ranger thing.” She smiled. “They gave me so much shit when I joined the Air Force instead of the Army, but…” she shrugged. “The heart wants what the heart wants, right?” Prairie hoped for a response, but Em continued to eat in silence, listening intently, but not contributing.

  Prairie shrugged and continued. “Then there’s August, he’s two years younger than me, and he’s a Leo. And man,” she chuckled. “He’s all Leo. He looks like a Leo with his crazy wavy, sandy-colored hair—we call it his mane; he thinks he rules the kingdom, and somehow, we’re his subjects. It’s so annoying at times.” Prairie snickered to herself, noting just the slightest upturn of Em’s mouth.

  “Auggie’s a high school history teacher in Missoula, married to his high school sweetheart, Leila Jo. She’s a housewife, and they have a little boy named Rain Michael, and a baby girl named Skyla Jane.” Prairie took a breath filled with joy. “God, I love those little critters, especially Rainy. He calls me Annie Pray.” Prairie giggled. “It’s supposed to be Auntie Prairie, but he’s only three, so…” Prairie allowed herself a moment to think of her niece and nephew before she continued.

  “Skyler is our black sheep,” she continued. “He’s twenty-two, and he and I share the same birthday, which I’m cool with but he’s not. He’s been bitter about it since the day he was born. Me? I don’t care. I mean, if anyone should be pissed about sharing a birthday, it should be me. After all, it was my birthday first. But I really don’t. Care, that is.” Prairie shrugged and took a swig from her canned soda.

  “He left home at eighteen and hasn’t been back since. He sends a postcard to Auggie from time to time, but he was always marching to his own drum. I think he might be in Seattle right now. Who knows? We were never close growing up. He’s not close with any of the sibs except Auggie.” Prairie paused for a moment, thinking she should ask Auggie if he’d heard from Skyler. “Skyler favors August in looks, but that’s where the resemblance ends. They’re really different—polar opposites—but for some weird reason, they get along the best. Auggie was always studious and a hard worker, and takes his teaching quite seriously. Skyler’s a moody poet… guy… or something. He thinks he’s some kind of philosopher.” Prairie scoffed. Even though she shrugged him off, Prairie always wished they could have been closer. Growing up she tried her best, but she was always rebuked.

  Em listened to Prairie prattle on about her family, enjoying Prairie’s enthusiasm for them.

  “Anyway, next is Autumn,” Prairie continued. “She’s my little redheaded sister—just like me, but hers is lighter, more of a ginger color. And her hair is really long, all the way down her back. She’s nineteen and a Libra. Ugh, she’s so… she’s so Libra,” Prairie emphasized “Libra” with exasperation. “Actually, she’s a triple Libra—Sun, Moon and Rising. Everything has to be in balance or she completely freaks out. She’s kind of exhausting. Anyway, balance, as you’ve probably figured out, is not my strongest suit, which drives her crazy.” Prairie chuckled. “So… we don’t get along that well. I mean, we’re okay, just not super close.

  “Autumn’s in Missoula at the University of Montana right now studying biology. She wants to be a research biologist, which I think is kind of cool. I mean, why not?” Prairie wadded up her paper napkin and shoved it into the brown paper sack.

  “Then there’s my little baby sis, Christy. She’s sixteen—a junior in high school and I swear, she’s a younger version of me. Kind of, anyway. She’s dark-haired like the twins, and takes after my dad’s side of the family—taller, more wiry, but personality-wise? She’s all me—through and through. We’re the closest of all my sibs because when she was born, I was eleven, so I took care of her.” Prairie puffed up with pride.

  Em continued to listen quietly. Surprisingly, she enjoyed listening to Prairie talk. This was the first time Prairie had spoken of her family in such detail.

  “I basically just took her from my parents.” Prairie smiled deviously and then softened. “She was like my very own real baby doll. I hated dolls, actually, but I loved her. Go figure. She was all mine. Christy’s a real smarty pants, too. Way smarter than me, and she wants to be a doctor. Though now she’s talking about wanting to be a veterinarian or a military doctor, though for the life of me…” Prairie’s eyes opened wide with feigned shock. “Oh, and she’s a Capr
icorn, born on Christmas day—poor thing.” Prairie chuckled, shaking her head out of amusement as Em watched, curious and silent.

  “Yeah… my parents…” Prairie continued chuckling to herself, because this was always the point in the conversation when people gave her the look. The look that said she was the spawn of nut birds. The look Em had on her face.

  “Yeah… They’re kind of kooky,” Prairie continued. “Not really hippies, but yeah… in a way, kinda. We all have these unconventional, earthy names, right? Which by themselves are pretty crazy, but my parents weren’t happy with just odd first names. Oh no, they had to take it a step further with our middle names, too. So Birch’s middle name is… wanna guess?” Em shook her head, then shrugged. “No? Okay, it’s Tree. Yep. Birch Tree Vaughn. Lake’s is Tally which is the lake my family goes to all the time, Lake Tally. Haha. Mine’s Fire. Get it? Prairie Fire?” She pointed to her flaming hair and laughed. “It was supposed to be Prairie Sky, but then all this red hair popped out, so… Then there’s August Moon, Skyler Blue, Autumn Leaf and, drumroll… Christmas Day.” She laughed heartily.

  Em’s surprise was obvious.

  “Ha! You thought Christy escaped my parents’ weirdness, huh? Yeah, everybody does.”

  “What’s that like?” Em asked, so intrigued by Prairie’s family she had to inquire.

  “Having weird names? Or do you mean having a shitload of siblings?”

  “That many…”

  “Unfettered chaos,” Prairie interrupted, then chuckled. “That’s all I can say. And my parents… they’re practically kids themselves, so, think of a household of nine people, er, make that nine kids. Insane. We used to joke whenever people came over, you know, our friends and stuff, if you come in sane, you’ll leave insane.” Prairie laughed a slightly evil laugh. “Oh, and lots and lots of great food. Always.”

  Em pondered the possibility that Prairie’s family were Mormons, but would never ask—it was an extremely personal question.

  “People used to always ask us if we were Mormon ‘cause of all the kids. You know, well, I don’t know if you know, but Missoula has a lot of Mormons,” Prairie added, as Em immediately wondered if Prairie had read her mind. “We’re Lutherans,” Prairie stated proudly. “Clearly my parents love kids, a lot. That, or they had a terrible and faulty birth control method.” She smiled and winked. “They’re chomping at the bit to get their hands on more grandkids, but…”

  “Do your parents have… um… different names, too?”

  “Nope. Mike and Jane. Boring, right?” Prairie guffawed. “We’re all thankful they didn’t decide to name us after animals or stars or some shit. They were going to change our last name to Cosmos or something nuts like that, but we all begged them not to do it. Thank goodness we outnumber them!”

  “What do your parents do? For work, I mean.” Em asked hesitantly. She always thought it was rude to ask about people’s professions, but for some reason, Prairie gave her the sense it would be okay.

  “Oh…” Prairie hesitated, almost shocked that Em was being curious about anything. She wanted to have some fun with Em. “Um, well… They own a company called… Junk Dummies. Yeah. My mom, um, collects pieces of junk, goes around town in the dead of night, and dad turns it all into weird ventriloquist dummies,” Prairie said matter-of-factly, nodding her head affirmatively. “They’re quite famous for it all around the world,” she added with seriousness. “You haven’t heard of them?”

  Em tilted her head, trying to process the entire concept.

  “No? Huh. I’m surprised,” Prairie said, withholding the laughter that was bubbling up.

  Em stared at her and shook her head, words escaping her. What could she say to that? Really?

  Prairie was about to burst watching Em’s futile attempt to hide her brain exploding. It took everything she had not to laugh. Her body began to shake as she suppressed her laughter. When she could not continue the ruse a moment longer, she came clean, laughing out loud, while skirting the edges of hysteria.

  “Oh my god… I’m just kidding! They’re chefs,” Prairie admitted as she giggled with absolute glee. She held back the strong desire to give Em a solid ribbing even though every fiber of her being wanted to do it. “I’m sorry, I was just messing with you, Em. Your face…” she laughed with delight.

  “Not nice, Prairie,” Em huffed, trying to be mad, but she couldn’t. It was kind of funny, and she could just imagine her own face. “Did you just make that up? Just now?”

  Prairie nodded her head, suppressing the urge to howl with delight. “No, but seriously…” she said while snickering. “My pops is a pastry chef and my mom is a chef,” Prairie continued, “though sometimes they both do everything. They run a sort of catering business together. Pops has his clients, and Mom has hers. They have about five acres just outside of Missoula, and around ten years ago they built a building for their business with a super great commercial kitchen. They work really well together, though a lot of their jobs are separate. Keeps it interesting for them.” Prairie beamed with pride.

  “They’re really great parents,” Prairie bragged. “Crazy as all hell, but you know, they instilled a strong work ethic in us. For some odd reason, though, they did not pass on the cooking gene to any of us. Not one. Weird, isn’t it? None of us can boil an egg without completely and utterly destroying it.”

  Em shook her head slightly, thinking she and Prairie had something in common after all—their parents’ children did not follow in their footsteps. Were Prairie’s parents as disappointed as hers?

  “They’ve never seemed to care, though. Whatever makes us happy makes them happy—thank goodness!” Prairie laughed again and then added, “They always kept it fun—still do—and encourage us to be who we are, or who we want to be.”

  Prairie immediately missed her family. She sighed heavily, wanting to talk about something else. “What about yours? Your parents. What are they like?” Prairie asked innocently, immediately regretting it from the look on Em’s face.

  Em stiffened and said quietly, “Oh. I’d, uh, oh…” She exhaled. After Prairie being so open about her family Em didn’t want to be impolite, but she did not want to discuss her parents—at all. “I’d rather not… talk about them.” She could see the disappointment in Prairie’s face. “I’m sorry.”

  Awkwardness immediately ensued until Prairie blurted out, “No, hey, it’s fine. I probably bored you to tears going on and on about my ginormous family. So…” She quickly glanced at her watch and jumped up, gathering up their trash. “Well, time to go. We have a lot of work to do.”

  13.2—Everything

  At only half past nine on a Friday night, the entire Hill Top house was quiet as each of the roommates had retired to their respective rooms for the evening.

  In the downstair bedroom den, Prairie and Em were on their beds reading. Em was engrossed in a paperback novel, and Prairie was studying from a book on anatomy, though she was having trouble concentrating. It had begun to bother her that she didn’t really know Em very well, if at all, though they shared almost every waking moment together. After reading the same sentence over several times without comprehension, Prairie finally closed her book. She stared at Em for a long while, wondering if she should interrupt her. After changing her mind numerous times, Prairie made the decision to wade into unfamiliar, and perhaps even hostile, territory.

  “Em…”

  “Uh huh,” Em replied as she continued reading.

  “Um, y’know, I’ve been wondering. I mean, I… This is going to sound as if it’s coming out of left field, but…”

  Em laid her book down on her chest and looked across the room at Prairie. “What?”

  “Well, it’s been kind of bothering me that you never… you’ve never once mentioned your accident. Ever. It’s like the thing that put you here never happened. And yet…”

  “Yep. That is right out of left field.”

  “I know…”

  “You’re right. I don’t talk about it, be
cause it was awful and I don’t want to think about it or remember it,” Em said matter-of-factly. “What would be the point? Will talking about it change this?” Em gestured almost with disgust toward her leg. She nonchalantly picked her book up and started reading again.

  “No. It won’t. I don’t know, Em. It’s just that… Okay, it’s like, I don’t know anything about you but what’s in your file, but you know pretty much everything about me. I want to know things about you because I want to know you, my friend, not the one-dimensional patient you let me see.”

  “I don’t… talk about myself or the past, Prairie. There’s never an… there’s no… upside.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Well, okay.” Em shrugged. “You’re free to do so.”

  “You don’t ever talk about your family, what growing up was like for you, why you’re mad at them, school, friends, nothing. It’s kinda weird. We are friends, aren’t we? Don’t you think that’s weird? I kinda do. I literally know nothing about you beyond what I’ve personally experienced with you. I want to know you, Em. Keep this up, and I’m gonna start thinking you’re an alien from outer space.”

  Em sighed. The last thing she ever wanted to do was talk about herself, especially her past where most of it was unhappy. But Prairie was right. They had become friends, and it was true, Prairie was mostly an open book with Em. It wasn’t fair.

  Em sighed again. “Okay. Fine. You win. What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  13.3—Rich Girl

  Em remained silent as she pondered how much to reveal, if anything. Life was so much less complicated when she didn’t have to talk about her past, when the past was relegated to the deepest recesses of her memory. She could feel Prairie’s impatience boring into her from across the room as she mulled over her reply.