Page 20 of Happy After All

This place. This place is what matters to me. The people in it. I don’t need things. I need to make sure everyone here is ready to go and that they’ll be safe if we have to evacuate.

This is my home.

Even if it’s 123 degrees. Even if it’s on fire.

I chose this place, and it’s my home.

That echoes inside me as I start to go around the rooms, knocking on every door. By the time I make it halfway through, the courtyard is mostly filled with residents looking at their phones.

There’s a level of anxiety in everyone. Though not Alice and Ruth, who are looking around with interest more than anxiety.

I can hear helicopter rotors overhead. There’s a large one flying over the mountains, headed our way, with a bright-orange bucket being hauled beneath. Full of either retardant or water, I’m not sure.

If there’s a lake around here with enough water in it for them to use, I would be surprised.

“Do you need help?” Nathan asks, observing the scene.

The temporary guests are particularly filled with anxiety, but I know they can just put their suitcases in their cars and drive off. It’s not the same for them as it is for those of us who have made our homes here.

“Nothing is happening right now,” I say. “Though I do have concerns if we have to leave. Because ...”

“The older ladies,” he says.

“Theydon’t have any concerns,” I say. “Ido.”

Smoke is starting to roll in our direction, and the blue sky is rapidly turning a yellowish gray.

“I need to get back in the air-conditioning,” Alice says. “I don’t have a smartphone, so I imagine you’ll keep us from burning to a crisp?”

“Yes,” I say. “I promise no one is getting burned to a crisp.”

Elise returns from packing and sits at one of the bistro tables by the pool, keeping an eye on her phone, watching for evacuations, watching for more information. The smoke has turned into an oppressive cloud. It’s too early for the sun to go down; the yellow, acrid smoke is simply blocking it out. The air is thick. It isn’t only smoke, but ash. Like being surrounded by a campfire you can’t escape. There is nowhere to move. Nowhere to go.

My eyes burn, and my lungs ache.

The fear I feel for my elderly residents intensifies.

Even if we don’t have to evacuate, how can we withstand this? It’s like being in hell.

“Everyone needs to get inside,” I say.

I make a move toward where the residents are sitting in the courtyard. “Get inside. All of you. If we need to evacuate, we’ll get a notice, but we can’t sit out here breathing all this in.”

“It’s bad enough that it isn’t like the motel ventilation is going to keep the air clean,” Jonathan says.

“Maybe not, but it might minimize the amount of ash you’re breathing in.”

“No,” says Gladys, planting herself firmly at the center of the courtyard. “I want to be able to see it. And I don’t have a view out my window.”

“We can’t really see anything from here,” I say. There’s a glow over on the horizon, far too close in my opinion.

“If you really want to, you can sit in my room,” Nathan says.

I’m surprised by the offer, but I feel like I shouldn’t be.

Yes, he can be difficult with me sometimes, but he has consistently been good to the older ladies. He’s consistently ... decent.

It’s like herding chickens, but I get Ruth to go to Alice’s unit and sit with her. Lydia and Wilma are finally persuaded to at least get into the lobby. Albert didn’t need to be told twice; he was off in the AC before I asked anyone to go.

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