PLANS

Caleb, Sarah and Arwen are a family. Just not in the usual sense. When their home town of Amaro, AZ burns to ash, the trio must leave the only place they've ever known.

PLANS

 

 

 

When I first met Sarah I was a lot younger than I am now. I had years and years ahead of me, and I had a plan for what to do with them.

            When Sarah first met me she was so young she shouldn’t have had to make a plan yet. But, of course she had one. And she was determined to see it through.  

            It’s funny how plans fall through sometimes.

            Sarah was an art student. A collage dropout. A young mother of an eighteen-month-old baby girl named Arwen (who she named after the Lord of the Rings character). She had been roaming around for six months, before I met her, searching for a place to stay. She was jobless, and homeless. She was bright, and funny, and though I don’t think she meant to be, Sarah was always the center of attention.

            Sarah and I really had nothing in common. I had never been out of the state. I lived quietly in Amaro, Arizona. The city in which I was born. I owned my own market. The only one in our tiny town. I lived alone, not even a dog to keep me company. I was shy and withdrawn from society. I grew grapes for fun.

I guess you could say that I was the polar opposite of Sarah. Which is, what I think made us such good friends to begin with.

            Nearly seven years have passed since that first day Sarah showed up at the store, begging for a job. Nearly Seven years have passed since I reluctantly agreed to let her into my life.

            And yet, here I am. I am almost completely unchanged. I still live in Amaro. I still work at the little market. I still grow grapes.

            The only difference is these past few years, Sarah has been helping.

            It was on one particularly hot and windy day in October that Sarah and I were planting the last of the grapevines. We had given up on the seeds. They never seemed to sprout in time.            

            “Damn these plants! They are so stubborn,” Sarah whined as she attempted to force a small grapevine into an even smaller hole in the ground.

            “Want some help?” I called over my shoulder. Sarah waved me off.

            “I’ve got it.”

            Of course she did.

            I think we had both decided that we were opening the store late that day because neither of us showed up for work in the morning. It was as if we had some kind of silent agreement. People would have to wait for their groceries. We had grapevines to plant.

            “I don’t know why you keep plantin’ them goldarned grape plants. They’ll just wilt with all this heat,” Josephine, my neighbor, shouted over our fence.

            To be honest, I didn’t know why I planted the grapevines either. I guess it was just…. A tradition.

            I shrugged, and smiled at Josephine who was fanning herself with a brochure for some vacation I knew she could never afford to take.

            “You should find some more suitable friends, Miss Sarah,” Josephine laughed, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

            “I know!” I shouted. “I’ve been telling her. She’s too good for me.”            Josephine laughed, before she turned and headed back into her house.

            I smiled, shaking my head as I finished planting my final grapevine.

            “Hey!”

            I looked up to see Sarah, standing over me in her muddy work boots, a bold grin in her face. 

            “I have to go pick up Arwen,” she said, dusting off her gardening gloves.

            “I’ll drive,” I offered, as I pulled my keys from my pocket.

            Sarah nodded as if she expected me to say that. Then she turned and rushed into my house rushing into my house. She returned a moment later with a bottle of wind and a large stack of paper cups.

 

“We’re having a picknick,” she decided, as I slipped into the driver’s seat of my old 70’s convertible. “You, me, and Arwen. It’ll be fun.”

            This was typical Sarah behavior. Spontaneity was her whole life. And I  agreed to everything she said. I think part of me was hoping that maybe spontaneity could become my life, too.

            Arwen’s elementary school let out at three ‘o’ clock. We arrived at one-fifteen.

            “She’ll just have to have an early day,” Sarah said, with a grin, as she jumped from my car, never bothering to open the door.

            I slowed the car to a near stop and watched her run into the school. Sarah ran like a child, fierce and reckless. People looked at her and thought she was crazy. Sarah didn’t care.

            I thought that was kind of admirable.

            I turned my attention to the small school yard at the edge of the building. There weren’t many kids out now. Just a few dotted here of their, tossing a ball back in forth, or jumping rope. One little girl sat alone on a swing, kicking up a dust storm in the sandbox below her.

            I smiled to myself.

            “Hey, Caleb!”

            I turned to see Arwen, running up towards the car, her little pigtails swinging.

            “Get in, kiddo,” I smiled, tussling her hair. She beamed at me as she buckled her seatbelt. She looked just like Sarah, I swear to it.

            “So where are we going?” I asked.

            Sarah shrugged. “Where are we going, Arwen?” she asked.

            Arwen grinned her toothless grin again. “The Cemetery!” she shouted, practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

            “The cemetery it is!” Sarah declared, loudly. “Caleb, take us away!”

            And with that we were off, leaving the familiarities of home. We passed the market, and my mother’s old house. We passed Valley Park where I used to play, and the pond where I taught Arwen to swim.

            When we reached the outskirts of town, Sarah turned on the radio. Like usual, she went straight for the news station. Sarah liked news.            

            The familiar voice of Chuck Braybee our local new reported was the first thing we heard.

            “Breaking news,” Chuck said, making Sarah sit a little straighter. She turned up the volume. “Valley Park caught fire just now. The 911 call was reported just minutes ago. So far there is no containment but firefighters say the fire is small enough that it should be out in a few hours. Michael Borris, the firecheif in Amaro, Arizona says he believes the fire was started naturally. However, people should be careful about working with an open flame. This time of year we see a lot of cross breezes coming in from California and those winds can help fires spread quickly and easily-“

            I turned off the car. We had reached the cemetery. No one seemed to notice.

            “How did Valley Park catch on fire?” Arwen asked, quietly, after a moment of silence. “We just drove by. Everything was fine then.”

            Sarah shrugged, gathering her things. “It doesn’t matter. It’ll be out in a few hours anyway. No big deal. Right, Caleb?”

            I paused before adding. “Right.”

            But I wasn’t so sure.

           

It only took us a moment to reach the top of the hill. Sarah and I opened the bottle of wine, pouring ourselves each a little cup.

            “Cheers,” Sarah said. We smacked our the cups together before taking the first drink.

            I watched as Arwen pulled off her little tennis shoes and left them beside her mother, a smile lighting up her face.

            Arwen was comfortable anywhere. Just like her mother.

            I laughed aloud as I watched her skip up to the top of the hill.

            “You can see everything from up here!” she exclaimed. “I can see our house! Oh, and there’s your house, Caleb! And look, there’s the market…” Arwen ticked off all the familiar places on her fingers and I slowly drifted off into what I think was a state of pure relaxation.

            “Oh!” Arwen shouted, abruptly. “There’s Valley Park!” she shrieked, hopping up and down. “It’s really burning…”

            Sarah and I glanced at each other, a look of unease on both of our faces. I knew Arwen didn’t notice, because she simply continued on, laughing a dancing as she ran through the field of graves that surrounded us.

            As I watched her twirl in little circles I knew. There was nothing to worry about. Everything would be okay…

            We sat there in that exact stop for hours I think, Sarah and I kept our thoughts to ourselves. We both knew what the other was thinking. Even little Arwen seemed to sense that something was wrong.

            And the sky slowly went from blue to gray.

            When we finally got back in the car, I knew what we would hear.

            “The fires in Valley Park are out of control!” Chuck said. Sarah sighed. “Firefighters are now saying that the ocean air coming in from California is making the flames virtually uncontainable. No one has ordered an evacuation yet. But, I’ll tell you, folks, it doesn’t look good.”

            For a moment I just sat there in the car and looked out at the city. From the place I sat I could see everything. Just like Arwen said. I could see the store, and Sarah’s house. The little pond, and my mother’s old place. I could see Valley Park, charred black and burning. I could even see my house, with it’s little grapevines in the backyard.

And for a moment I wondered. If they did order an evacuation, would I leave? Honestly, I couldn’t think of anywhere I would have rather been, to watch it all burn away.

 

By the time we got back down the hill, the fire department had ordered an evacuation. The town was chaotic. People were running in and out of their houses, rescuing their most precious possessions. Everyone was in a state of panic.

            I caught a glimpse of Josephine, packing her little car full of souvenirs from vacations I knew she never took.

            I stopped in front of Sarah’s house. We both knew what we had to do.

            “Get your things together,” I said. “I’ll wait here.”

            Sarah nodded, and told Arwen to stay put. Then she headed inside to get what she needed.

            “Caleb?” Arwen asked, once we were alone.

            “Yes?” I asked. And then I realized she was crying.

            “What’s wrong?” I asked, twisting around in my seat so that I could sit near her. She pressed her little head into my jacket and sobbed, staining the leather with her tears.

            “Shhh…” I hushed her. “Shhh…”

            “We’re gonna have to leave, aren’t we?” she asked, looking up at me.

            I sighed, looking down into her tiny, brown eyes. “Yes,” I whispered, and she sobbed again.

            After a while, I got out of the car and put the roof up on the convertible. I covered Arwen up with the little quilt I had in the trunk. I watched as Sarah walked in and out of the house, bringing out this and that. Books, and antique lamps, and photo albums. Things that meant something to her. Sarah didn’t bother with the television on the stereo. All the really cared about was what mattered. The important stuff.

            Arwen fell asleep for a while, and then woke up again while we were packing things into the trunk. She screamed when she thought she was alone in the car, and we both got in and sat with her until we couldn’t sit any longer. When it was all finished, Sarah ducked into her house one last time and brought out her old cat, Mittins. Sarah hated that cat. She really did.

            But, Arwen loved it, and she thanked her mother a thousand times for saving it as we drove away.

            “Your house next, Caleb?” Arwen asked.

            I shook my head. “There’s nothing I need to save.”

            As we drove down the familiar streets, I watched everything fade away. All the little houses. All of the stores.

            Sarah and I stopped for a minute to close up our own market. We grabbed a bit of food from inside, just incase. Sarah gave Arwen some soup from the can.

            Just as I was ready to leave Amaro Sarah shouted something.

            “Stop the car!”

            I braked, suddenly, and turned to face her.

            “What is it?” I asked.

            But Sarah didn’t answer. She simply opened her car door, and slipped out.

            “Sarah!” I shouted, jumping out of the car.

            Damn that woman. She was running straight towards the flames. Running like a child again, without a care in the world.

            “Mommy!” Arwen, screamed, desperately trying to escape her seat belt.

            Then I saw where she was going. My house.

            “Sarah, wait!” I ran into the abandoned, street, chasing after her. I could hear Arwen screaming from the car.

            I watched as Sarah ran into my smoking home. I coughed and staggered, chasing after her.

            “Sarah!” I choked out, as I stumbled through the door. I could hardly see anything in there. There was so much smoke. It was hard to believe that this was even my house. “Sarah.”

            I looked around, desperately. Where was she?

            I stumbled out into the front yard, desperate for air.

            “Sarah!” I screamed. My voice was hoarse. “Sarah!”

            And then I saw her.

            Sarah emerged from my backyard, looking as if she had just come from a war zone. She was covered in soot and ash, her eyes watering visibly. She was hunched over and coughing, but she had something in her hands.

            “Sarah!” I shouted, running towards her.

            Gently, she held out one, wilted grapevine in a little pot.

            “I had to save at least one,” she explained, as if she were afraid I’d be angry. “They’re important.”

            I just coughed and nodded, and took the little plant.

            “Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand. “We don’t have much time.”

            And so we walked. We walked down my familiar driveway, and away from our burning memories. We walked and walked.

            Eventually, the smoke became so thick we could only find our way by following the sound of Arwen’s screams.

Author's Note

Very, very old short story from middle school. Based on the song, "Grapevine Fires" by Death Cab for Cutie. I just wanted to make sure it was online so I wouldn't loose it in the future. Don't judge me. haha. I wrote this is 7th grade.