47
I can’t seem to remember the last time I went to bed at my normal bedtime, with my usual bedtime routine. After dropping Daniel off, I drive home on surface streets—my windows down, blasting Max Richter, letting the summer night air wreak havoc inside my car. When I get home, it’s well past midnight and I’m wide awake.
I brew myself some chamomile tea and mix in a generous dollop of creamed honey. Betty perches on the edge of my armchair as I take sips of the steaming drink and look out into the dark hillside. I can’t help thinking about Ellis, even as Daniel’s sad eyes linger in my mind. I need sleep. Just one night of normal sleep, please, before I decide what to do.
Instead, I wake up in the middle of the night to the world moving. Shaking.
Betty is screeching and I fumble out of bed, my body on autopilot in its half-asleep state. I’ve been doing earthquake drills since preschool and head straight under my vanity table. The room continues to shake in a queasy, swaying way. Sometimes earthquakes are like being shaken hard in a box, other times it’s like being tossed around in the sea. It feels like it goes on forever, and I start to panicslightly. Will my little house fall apart around me? Is Betty going to be okay? Are my grandparents okay? I think of the giant chandelier they have hanging in their master bedroom and feel serious regret at letting them install that years ago.
But then the earth stops moving. I think. For a few seconds, it still feels like it is, but it’s just a case of vertigo post-quake. I wait to see if there are any aftershocks. When there aren’t, I immediately run into the dining room to check on Betty. Other than being annoyed as hell, everything is fine. Her water bottle is crooked and some of the shavings in her cage have fallen out, but that’s the extent of the damage. I give her a treat for her troubles and her feathers stop ruffling indignantly. I take a look around the house, checking on ceramics, shelves, and light fixtures. Some books have fallen over, and things have shifted in the cabinets, but otherwise all is well.
Back in my room, I pick up my phone to check in on my grandparents. Even if I’m furious at them, I will always need to know they’re okay. There’s the usual slew ofOmg earthquake???texts from friends and I’m going through them when my phone starts blaring at me, startling me so badly I drop it. It’s a series of alerts from the office’s security system app.
I open the alert to see that there’s smoke detected in the office. Oh my god. For a second I am stuck in my body—my brain screaming at me to do something but my muscles and bones are incapable of movement. The surface of my skin feels like it’s buzzing, my hands feel like claws as I hold my phone, staring at the flashing alert.
Then I realize something: I have a plan for this. Of course I do. My heartbeat slows down as I tell Siri to open my emergency file in my notes app. It pops up—a folder of plans for all emergencies in my life. I open “Office Fire,” and there are my step-by-step instructions. It immediately calms me. First step:Call 911 in case the app doesn’tsend an alert to the fire department.I do that and my hands and voice shake as I give the operator the address, which I’ve also typed out in the note in case my mind goes blank under pressure.
I throw on a jacket over my pajamas and get in my car, headed to Beverly Hills, heart pounding. The rest of the instructions involve calling various people, including my family. And even though I am still feeling betrayed by them, hurt and angry, I find that at three a.m. after a fucking earthquake and our family business on literal fire, it doesn’t matter as much. I call as I drive.
“Hello?” Halmoni answers instantly, her voice worried over my speakers. “Cassia? Are you okay? Did something happen in the earthquake?”
The panic in her voice is a shot to my chest. “Yes, I’m fine. But I got a notification that there might be a fire at the office. I think we need to meet there.”
“Oh my god,” Halmoni says. I’ve never heard her sound like that. “Okay, we’re going now.”
I call Sunny and relay the same message.
As I drive over, I think of all our family photos. The furniture and heirlooms handed down from generations. The altar in our reading room. The pictures of Mom going up in flames. The air in the car feels choking and oppressive, and I roll down the windows to take large gulps. At this point, I am running on pure adrenaline. I don’t know how many life tests I can handle in one week.
I make it to the office in record time in the early hours of the morning. The small window of time when L.A.’s freeways are empty.
I hear the sirens before I get there. Helicopters are flying overhead and the street is blocked off before I can reach the office. When I see the flames, a sob gets caught in my throat. I park quickly and wrench the car door open and approach the police cars, fire trucks,and ambulances. The blaze has engulfed the entire second story—where our reading room and Halmoni’s office are. I am absorbing the horror of this when someone calls my name.
I find Sunny and Stu in the crowd that’s gathered and rush over to them. Sunny’s in glasses, a sweatshirt, and no makeup. “Cassia!” she cries out when I get close, her face etched with despair. She pulls me into a fierce hug. We’re both crying, holding on to each other tight.
“I can’t believe it,” I choke out. “Do you know what happened?” I ask when we finally pull apart.
“I spoke with one of the firefighters and they think the earthquake made something electrical spark? The fire is contained upstairs,” Stu says. “But that’s…”
We look at each other silently. That’s everything. The cupboard with everyone’s fates, our reading room. The family altar.
My grandparents and Emoni rush up to us through the crowd. I haven’t seen them since I found out about my dad, and for now, all of that is put aside. I need to see them, to be with them. It’s Halmoni who I want first, and we both push through the people to reach each other. Her hands are outstretched, her expression desperate. I run to her, like I’ve run to her my whole life. My safe space. My protector.
We fold into each other, her smaller, frailer body tucked into mine.
She pets the back of my hair as I start crying again, comforting me, as she always has. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she says soothingly. “We’re all okay and that’s what matters.”
I nod, even though I’m too old now to believe that everything will be okay. I let myself be comforted by her, and I feel Halabuji rub my back, too.
“Did anyone get hurt?” Emoni asks tearfully. My bighearted Emoni, who always, always looks out for other people first.
Sunny shakes her head. “No, luckily it was too late for the cleaning staff. And no other buildings have been affected. Just…ours.”
We all turn to watch as the fire rages—our entire life’s work going up in flames against the night sky.
—
A couple hours later, the fire is put out. We’ve all been sitting across the street, watching. As soon as it seems safe, I find the fire chief and ask him about the damage. He wipes his forehead, parts of his skin covered in a sooty layer. “Well, we managed to stop it before it came downstairs. We think it might have been an electrical issue upstairs.”
