Prairie Fire

by Djuna Shellam

  ~/~/~/~/~

  By the time Em awakened the next morning, Fiona was gone. Having left no note, no forwarding address or a phone number where Em could contact her, Fiona had left Em completely and utterly behind. As Fiona would have said in her almost-British way, Em was gutted. She wanted one last “good-bye us,” big mistake or not, as did Fiona. No words were spoken, yet they both knew it couldn’t be. Together, Em and Fiona were as volatile as a gasoline soaked field, and a last good-bye was no less than a lit torch.

  Devastated, when she wasn’t wandering the house sobbing, or lost in a fog of emotions, Em slept. For the first week, desperate for the sense of Fiona again, Em stayed in Fiona’s room, barely leaving it, where remnants of her perfume, her essence, still lingered. Over and over again, as she had since their last night, Em relived every moment she could remember.

  “No… Fiona,” Em whispered urgently. “Don’t… I…”

  “Shhhh…” Fiona responded softly as she continued to gently kiss the scars on Em’s leg. “You’re beautiful, Em. Every part of you. I love you, and I love these.”

  Little by little, their last night together was slipping away from Em, leaving her with only traces, bits and pieces, of their last time together as lovers.

  Look at me… touch me… kiss me…

  Em needed to remember, to keep Fiona alive in her memory, otherwise, she feared it would become nothing more than a dream.

  Darling, love me again. Give me your mouth…

  Sometimes she’d dream, and every moment, every touch of that night came back to her, but by the afternoon, everything was gone.

  Almost… almost…

  Several times Em tried to write down what she remembered, but it was never right. It was always better in her head.

  Mmmm… Right there… don’t stop…

  Em’s entire being ached to be near Fiona—to hear her, to smell her scent, to remember the energy she felt anytime Fiona was nearby.

  Lay on top of me… yes, like that…

  She felt as if she was in the process of going mad.

  I don’t want this to stop… I want you forever and ever… Please don’t let it stop…

  Completely alone in her grief, Em didn’t know where, or to whom, she could turn. There wasn’t one person she could share her pain with because no one could ever know about her intimate relationship with Fiona, Prairie’s old friend. Everyone Em knew, she knew because of Prairie. Except for Dot, but Em couldn’t even tell her. Especially not Dot. The very thought of Dot judging her, thinking less of her, especially where it concerned Prairie was too much to bear. Dot had Prairie so high on a pedestal, it would upset her to think Em had been unfaithful to her. And so, Em grieved alone in a house paid for by her ex-lover, for her ex-lover’s friend and Em’s current former lover; and, unbeknownst to Em, Prairie’s ex-lover as well. She concluded she had to make a change. Somehow, someway, something had to change.

  26.3—For Rent

  The house was cute, turn of the century, white clapboard siding with an elevated porch and white pillars. The remains of morning fog—June Gloom—were nearly gone, slowly burning off with the morning sun. The street itself seemed quiet, older and established, with little daytime traffic. For blocks and blocks, hers was the only car parked in the street. The soothing sound of cooing doves was particularly pleasing to Em. She also noticed that although the street seemed level, all of the houses on one side of the street had raised lawns. She pondered the situation and concluded it was probably due to some needed correction in the hilly Los Angeles enclave of Highland Park. She half shrugged and filed it away in her mind as something to investigate at a later date.

  Standing on the porch, self-conscious, Em tried to build up her nerve to knock on the screen door, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Leaning on her cane with one hand, the other clutching the newspaper with the rental ad, the doubts about moving—the ones that came crashing over her like a giant ocean wave—began to overwhelm her all over again.

  Though the doubts were strong, so was her resolve to get out of Prairie’s house and away from both her and Fiona, or at least the memories of them. They were both gone now, seeking their careers in other parts of the country. Fiona was settled in San Francisco and would call from time to time to check in on Em, as did Prairie, but the painful reality was that she was alone. Alone in a house that wasn’t hers, that never really felt like hers, and with memories she no longer wanted.

  Prairie said over and over that Em could stay as long as she wanted, rent free, but it just didn’t seem right. Certainly not after The Unspeakable with Fiona. After Fiona left, Em felt abandoned—again—and being in that house was a constant, gut-wrenching reminder of it. She missed living with the roommates at the Hill Top house, but she knew she couldn’t go back. Not to live, anyway. They had asked her to move back there on numerous occasions, but she always said no. She visited often, but without Prairie there, she sometimes felt more of a visitor than one of the family. They didn’t share her sentiments—it was of her own doing—but she couldn’t help how she felt. Being at the Hill Top house, despite the wonderful family she had found there, was in the end, all about Prairie. To go back to live there would be strange and uncomfortable, and after Fiona, wrong. No, she had to move on—in her heart she knew that.

  Em didn’t need Prairie’s help anymore than she needed her parents’ help. She had secured a job as a script reader at Paramount Studios in Hollywood, and the insurance settlement from the accident had finally come through, affording her the luxury of her own place. If she could only just knock on the door and get the ball rolling. But she couldn’t.

  There were too many reasons keeping her from rapping her knuckles on the screen door. The house in the rear of the cute white clapboard house was practically in the same neighborhood as Prairie’s. She would be… what? A stalker, clingy… Co-dependent? Prairie’s house wasn’t even half a mile away. And what if the landlords were nosey, or meddlesome?

  Em had never really lived on her own in her entire life. But she had to admit to herself that she was already living alone, despite the ever-present ghosts of Fiona and Prairie. “Admit it,” she said to herself, “you’re a kept woman.” As distasteful as that concept was to her, this step felt too big for her to take. Em drew a deep and dispirited breath, shaking her head. She couldn’t do it. She wasn’t ready. That’s it, she had changed her mind. She needed to rethink the whole idea. Em was mid-turn, headed for the sidewalk, when the front door opened.

  “Hello!” a pleasant voice greeted Em. “You must be the young woman who called about the rear house. Mackenna Martín, is it?” asked the mid-50’s, mostly salt-and-pepper-haired woman. A small dog with long brown, tan and black hair yapped incessantly at her feet.

  “Yes, hi,” Em replied, adding, “It’s um… just Em.”

  “Em?”

  “That’s what everyone… calls… me. Well, except my family, that is,” she stammered, immediately self-conscious. “I actually prefer Em. So…” The little dog continued yapping, diverting the woman’s attention. “You’re Mrs. Risso?”

  “Shush, Angelina.” The woman bent over and scooped up the little dog into her arms. “Basta!” Once in the woman’s arms, the little dog was instantly calm. The woman smiled a warm and welcoming smile at Em as she opened the screen door, inviting Em in. She was careful not to ogle Em’s cane, but the slight flicker in the woman’s eyes told Em she had, in fact, noticed it.

  “In the flesh, but please, call me Pippa. It’s short for Philippa, but no one but my mama ever called me that. And this is Angelina, our little terror—perfectly harmless.”

  Pippa wore a floral patterned, belted dress that flattered her voluptuous figure, and her hair was a classic beauty parlor “big do.” There was a warmth in Pippa’s voice that Em was drawn to immediately, as well as the hint of a midwestern inflection. Em recognized Pippa’s accent as Chicagoan. One of her friends while she was stationed in Italy was from Chicago, and the dialect was unmistakable. As E
m entered the home, the aroma of baked goods and brewed coffee was strong in the air.

  “Mmmm… smells good,” Em said, almost to herself, but still audible.

  “Coffee cake hot out of the oven, and a fresh pot of coffee to wash it down,” Pippa confirmed.

  “Shall we look at the back house, first?” Pippa smiled and winked at Em.

  “Oh, sure. Of course.”

  Pippa held the little dog up to her face, kissed her on her black, wet nose, and said, “Now my little Angel, be quiet,” and then set her on the carpet. Angelina ran right to Em’s shoes and gave them a good going over.

  “May I ask… what kind of dog is that? I’ve seen that breed before, but…”

  “She’s a Yorkie. Yorkshire Terrier. Our little Yorkshire terror, we call her, Gianni and me. That’s my husband.” Pippa laughed heartily. “C’mon through here,” Pippa motioned for Em to follow her through the small but tidy and coordinated living room, into a clean and sparkling kitchen, and out a back door that led to a large driveway. Everything about Pippa seemed to say, “lady of the house.” As Em followed Pippa, she could tell it was clearly her domain. Her pride in how she kept her perfectly and tastefully decorated home neat as a pin was evident in every part of her.

  “You have a really nice home,” Em offered.

  “Thank you. It’s small, but comfortable.” Pippa smiled, pleased that Em recognized what she knew to be true. They exited the house onto a small concrete porch and stepped down onto a large driveway. A double-car garage perpendicular to the house was to the left of the drive, and at the back of the property sat the rental house.

  “Like the ad says,” Pippa said as they walked to the rear house, “it’s a one bedroom, kitchen, living room and a full bath. Lots of built-ins and closet space, hardwood flooring, linoleum in the kitchen and bath.” It was obvious to Em that Pippa had given this tour many times before. “The bedroom is a pretty good size. I always thought they could have made it a two-bedroom by making it and the living room a little smaller when they built it, but it’s still nice. I guess they had their reasons, hmmm?”

  “Do you know what the utilities run?” Em asked as Pippa fit the key in the lock.

  “Utilities are all included,” Pippa said as she turned the key and opened the door. She waved Em in. “Gianni just put a fresh coat of paint and revarnished the wood floors. You have gas heat and a gas stove. Go ahead, take a good look around.” She began to open the venetian blinds in the living room window, bringing extra light into the room. “You can park on the street, but there’s plenty of room to park your car in the drive. You just have to leave enough space for Gianni to get our cars out of the garage.”

  From the moment Em stepped into the rear house she loved it. She breathed in deep, feeling the stress leave her body. Despite its small size, it felt spacious. It had a lot of charm of the early twentieth century, and was Pippa clean. Em took a cursory tour of the house, imagining what type of furniture she would need and how her life would be living there.

  “What do you require to move in?” Em asked.

  “Just the first month’s rent. No last or deposit,” Pippa answered.

  “Really?” Em was incredulous. Everywhere else had required first, last and a security or cleaning deposit.

  “Gianni and I pride ourselves on our ability to choose the right tenants. We’ve never been wrong and we’ve been renting this house for over twenty years. Do you like it?”

  “Well, about the rent… it, um, says in the ad, two hundred and seventy dollars a month? That’s a misprint, right?” Em was afraid the amount listed was too low—a mistake—and now, standing in the perfect little rear house, she was sure of it.

  “Oh,” Pippa giggled. “Actually it is. It’s actually supposed to be two hundred and fifty. The nitwit at the paper doesn’t listen. We’re not looking to get rich. We just want good tenants. Everyone who’s lived here has become, well, sort of family. You see how close the two houses are. And we never want someone to leave because they’re not able to afford to pay us, which they never have. All of our previous tenants only left because they bought their own homes. We like to think we helped them do that.”

  “Gosh. Well, then… it’s settled. I’ll take it,” Em exclaimed. “I mean, if… you know, I qualify.”

  Pippa laughed. “Yes, honey, you qualify. If you want it, it’s yours. Move in right away if you’d like.”

  “Yes!” Em beamed.

  “Oh, good! Welcome to the neighborhood and hopefully our family! I told Gianni I liked your voice right off on the telephone.” Pippa rubbed Em’s arm in a gesture of friendship. “Let’s go inside and have some coffee and cake. What do you say, Em?”

  “Sure.” Em was completely taken with Pippa and how friendly and welcoming she was. She wasn’t sure how she’d enjoy the Rissos knowing all of her comings and goings which they obviously would, but she was already falling in love with Pippa.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  “Gianni’s at work right now,” Pippa said as she poured coffee from a chrome coffee percolator into fine china cups, decorated with a delicate floral pattern, that sat on matching saucers. “He works at the college. Occidental. It’s practically down the street from here. He works in the athletic department, and he’s a coaches’ assistant during basketball season. He’s also the night manager at the bowling alley in Eagle Rock. My Gianni likes to keep himself busy.” Pippa laughed heartily. “There’s sugar and cream—don’t be shy, doll.”

  “Thank you.”

  For the next hour, Em was peppered with questions from Pippa about where she was from, if she had any siblings, what she did in her spare time, if she had a fella, and just about everything under the sun, except for Em’s cane.

  In turn, without having to ask, Em learned Pippa and Gianni had been married nearly thirty-five years, and that they moved from Chicago twenty-five years earlier. They had three grown children; Sonny, a police officer, Daniel, a high school history teacher, and Paula, a fireman’s wife.

  They had five grandchildren; Johnny, Susan, Phillip, Sandra, and Molly. Sonny and Paula moved out of the area once they had their children. Sonny went up north to the Bay Area, and Paula went to San Diego. Daniel still lived nearby and taught at the local Franklin High School. Pippa’s mother, Nonny, lived with them—she was ninety-one—but was currently visiting Pippa’s youngest sister in Chicago. Pippa had been a housewife until ten years earlier. Once her youngest, Paula, got married, Pippa went to work part-time at Iver’s Department Store on York Boulevard in Highland Park.

  Em marveled at how open and sharing Pippa was with her. She’d never known anyone so affable. She’d also never felt so willing to share herself, though Pippa would tell it differently. Pippa thought Em kept everything personal to herself. She would be shocked to know how much more she had learned about Em in one hour than anyone else ever had over the course of months, with the exception of Fiona.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  “Just let us know when you want to move in,” Pippa said as she opened the front screen door for Em.

  “I will. I should know the exact date in the next day or so. I’m thinking next weekend?” Em queried.

  “That’s just fine, honey. I’m sorry you missed Gianni.”

  “I am, too.”

  “I think you’re going to love it here. And you’re welcome to visit with us anytime we’re here. We love company. Since the kids left home, it’s been too quiet.”

  “Oh, thank you so much, Pippa. I’m a little nervous about living by myself, but with you and your husband here, I think I’ll be just fine.”

  ~/~/~/~/~

  Em eased herself down into the 1964 Meadow Green Corvair Monza convertible she bought with some of the insurance money. She still had a “hitch in her gitalong” as Prairie would say to her, making getting in and out of the car a bit troublesome, but she was ever more independent and stronger every single day. Being able to get herself around was the greatest joy she’d experienced in a long time. As she drov
e up the residential Avenue 56 to Prairie’s house, there was something about the gentle wind blowing through Em’s hair that soothed her soul, reminding her again how much she loved her car and the independence it gave her. She took in a deep breath and smiled—there was change in the air.

  She was excited about the prospect of moving into her own place, but trepidation painted the edges of that excitement. Em was uncomfortable with change, generally speaking, but this entire situation seemed perfect. The neighborhood was the same, the commute to work would be the same, all of the stores she frequented would not change, either. The only thing that would change aside from the location would be that she would no longer be dependent upon Prairie for her housing. Oh, there was one more thing—she would be out from under the sad, suffocating, memories of Prairie and Fiona.

  Eager to start writing in earnest and begin a new chapter in her life, Em began to mentally plot her move. She could envision herself sitting in her house, writing unencumbered by any distractions—real or imagined—and she didn’t want to waste one minute reaching her goal.

  Prairie had helped Em change her life in so many ways, resulting in a small amount of guilt for being so gleeful about leaving her control. Prairie had pulled her out of her self-destructive slide, helped her walk again, introduced her to people who had become her extended family, and ignited a certain spark in her she never thought she’d ever have again. Em was so grateful to her so many ways; and yet, there was an underlying sadness she felt while living in Prairie’s house.

  The zest for life that exuded from Prairie was practically seductive in itself, but added to the sensual fire that smoldered just below the surface of Prairie’s personality—she was almost irresistible. Em often felt as if she was the moth and Prairie the flame. It became clear, though, that it was Prairie’s attraction to her that kept pulling her in despite knowing with near certainty that Prairie wasn’t the one—and that was how she felt before Fiona.