He was beaming. Modest noises were coming out of his mouth, but it was clear he was loving it all, as the two women loved him, in ways that were generous and large-spirited. And I thought that poetry must be love, or maybe love was poetry. My head was muzzy with wine. The table was an island lit by glowing lights. Those of us who loved Viridian—because I was coming to love her—those who she loved, we were all, at this moment, poets. As were Ed and Doug playing their jealousy games, even scary-looking Anders, waiting silently at Sacha’s elbow. I hitched my chair closer to Aaron’s and waited for him to turn in my direction.

The kitchen door slammed, and Barb ran up to us, wheezing, out of breath. “Somebody call 911! The fence caught on fire!”

Fire

Aaron and I looked at each other, dumbstruck, oh shit, vaulting out of our chairs. We raced around the back corner of the house, the others behind us. Fire was eating at the tall board fence between the courtyard and the neighboring property. The wood was scorched and smoldering along its bottom edge. Lines of bright flame climbed upward.

We hadn’t put the top back on the firepit. It was nobody’s fault but ours. Mine.

Aaron got to it first, kicking at the base of the fence. He shouted at me to get a shovel, hurry, and I ran to my truck. The truck was parked in one corner by the gate, out of the fire for now, though shit Aaron’s car and a couple of others were way too close. There was nothing to keep the flames from spreading.

I grabbed the planting spade and a heavy rake and ran to join Aaron. Oscar threw what was left of the ice bucket on the flames. The oyster shells scattered on the bricks.

Aaron took the spade and dug into the narrow border of earth between the bricks and the fence. “Smother the fire, pack the dirt onto it,” he yelled. Wherever I piled on dirt the smoke billowed up, dark and choking. My sandals were useless, I kept sliding out of them. Somebody got the garden hose going but the water pressure was pitiful, and the stream barely reached the flames.

There was a lot of shouting and people yelling one thing and another, to wait, to be careful, to step back. The smoke made it hard to see. Anders was next to us, swinging a broom to knock embers out of the air.

Sirens, and the fire truck came in at the gate, its lights whirling. Aaron pulled me back by one arm. “Watch out!” I stamped my feet on the bricks. The bottom of my shoes started to smoke. “Are you all right?” I nodded, though I wasn’t all right, not really. His face was sooty, streaked where he’d wiped at it. I must have looked the same.