As Caitlin looked past them at the smoldering remains, she bowed her head in defeat. After returning home and realizing this was where she wanted to live, someone stole her dream. "Why? What I have done to deserve this?" Caitlin asked.
"Nothing, sweetie. Bad things happen to good people. Come on." Garrett held out his hand for Caitlin.
She refused to take it. "This must be what the person meant about business. Only he never gave me a chance. What kind of business deal is that? We were supposed to have a meeting on Monday. Why did they do this now?"
Garrett motioned for her to get into the truck. She took another look at the pile of ash and then climbed into the truck, ignoring his offer of help. A jolt signaled her to look behind. There was the trunk. "At least I have that," she thought, though it offered little consolation.
In the twenty-minute drive to Garrett's house, the tears never stopped. Exhaustion left her immobile. She glanced at his house and shook her head. Somehow it did not seem fair. Why did loss keep finding its way to her? Would the streak ever end?
"It's time to go inside," Garrett said standing at the passenger door. He offered his hand, which she reluctantly took, and let him lead her inside. But the place, which had once felt like home, now seemed foreign. It was like the fire had burned away all emotions and feelings. After the shock wore off, would she return to her old self? Or did part of her die in that fire?
Garrett ushered her upstairs and got her a towel and clean clothes. Before getting into the shower, Caitlin looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a raccoon that had fought ferociously but lost. The woman, who stared back at her, eyes full of pain and despair with little to no hope for the future, was unrecognizable. She looked away, not liking what she saw.
The hot water washed away the soot and ash, but it did not cleanse the pain or loss. Caitlin showered a long time, washing her hair a few times, hoping to rid herself of any evidence of the night's events. She knew it would take days, weeks, and months, before the loss was bearable and understandable.
Stepping out of the shower, Caitlin looked again in the mirror. Now her cheeks were red but clean. Her eyes were red and swollen from the smoke and crying and her throat burned. Every time she coughed she tasted smoke. "I hope whoever did this is happy at seeing someone's misery. What a cold, hard world."