Fire Starter [FICTION]

"My mother always told me not to play with fire." 

I tried to follow her advice. Well, after I grew older and realized the wisdom in benefitting from her experience, I did. Of course, she chain-smoked for most of her adult life, so you can’t blame me for neglecting this one nugget of wisdom.

I didn’t set out to perform an impromptu circus act. My dear friend Carlotta will assure you that I am just a magnet for unique life events. Then she’ll say something tragically dark, roll her eyes, and skulk off to hide in the shadows.  In fact, had she not done so that evening, I might not be around to tell this tale.

“Telle, stop being so dull,” Carlotta rolled her eyes and flicked some lacquer at me.

“I was born dull,” I frowned at her, regretting my choice to help her refinish cabinets in her store instead of catching up on my pile of books.

She smirked, “That’s not what your mom said.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I have the shoulders of a linebacker. I know.”

Like most moms, mine found cause to remind me of every time I broke her heart, particularly around Mother’s Day. What better fuel to earn more thoughtful gifts than a painful delivery?

“Well, I love that you use those broad shoulders to help me out, so get to work,” she flicked a little more paint my way to motivate me.

“Do that again and your luck will run out,” I mumbled as my focus returned to the shelf before me.

“Where did you find that painter’s smock anyway? It looks like it got lost on the way to the 70s.”

“Be nice to Smockie. She was my mother’s.”

“Your mother was way too cool to name her clothes.”

I stuck out my tongue.

“Which leads me to believe you didn’t let her know you named this treasure.”

“Hmmph!” She wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to admit that aloud.

We resumed our work. As the project neared its conclusion, I stopped to stretch my aching muscles. The Fates picked that moment to taunt their favorite mortal—me. The store plunged into darkness.

“Hello, darkness, my old friend,” Carlotta whispered at my side.

Startled, I squealed and dropped my paintbrush. It clacked against the wood floor at my feet. Reflexively, I bent to retrieve it, plunking my hand into the bucket of paint thinner we pulled out for cleanup.

“Seriously?” I hissed.

“What did you do?” Carlotta’s voice carried a surprising nuance of concern.

“Found the paint thinner,” I offered cheerfully.

“Maybe you should look for a light instead.”

“It’s your store.” I fired back.

“Yeah. It isn’t stocked yet. I saw how many pockets that smock has. See what your mom left you.”

I wanted to protest, but I had only remembered the smock and pulled it out when Carlotta roped me into this project. Luckily, remnants of perfume clung to it more than the ashy aroma of cigarettes. I systematically patted the pockets, relieved to find a familiar shape in the third one I tried.

“Matches!” I exclaimed in triumph, opening the pack to tear one off and strike it.

Those keeping track will remember some details I forgot. I already had splashes of lacquer on my clothes. Then I doused my hand in paint thinner and rubbed it all over myself as I checked my pockets. I didn’t produce the soft glow of a single match. I turned myself into a human torch.

As I lit up her store, I saw Carlotta with her mouth half open to tell me not to light that match. The terror on her face fueled my own. My bare feet carried me through the front door. My hands tore at the ties to my smock and the wraparound dress underneath until I could cast the fireball onto the asphalt.

And that's how I ended up in the middle of Main Street—naked.

~~~

Sometimes I have to resurrect Carlotta. She was very popular or at least infamous in the creative writing class I keep alluding to. Of course, my fictionalized version of myself has a charm all her own and a few habits I don’t share. Those who really know me have an idea of what I mean.

And, of course, I had to mention mom with Mother’s Day having just passed. You could say Mother’s Day is in my blood and you wouldn’t be wrong. If you missed your mama this past weekend, I promise you were not alone and she misses you, too.