What’s Left to Burn

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

MIA

T he smell of fresh ink and old paper clung to me as I stepped out of the museum, Charleston's evening breeze sweeping away the weight of the day.

The air carried the briny tang of saltwater, mingling with the faint sweetness of jasmine drifting in from somewhere unseen. Spring wasn’t far now. The first hints of it whispered in the soft warmth of the breeze, promising blooms and new beginnings.

I adjusted the strap of my bag over my shoulder, the faint ache in my feet reminding me I’d been on them since morning.

“Mia! Wait up!” Tonya’s voice cut through the quiet sounds of the street as she jogged to catch up. Her heels clicked against the cobblestones, a feat only she could manage with such grace after a twelve-hour day.

“You didn’t have to run,” I said with a smile as she joined me, slightly breathless. “Where are you even parked?”

“A block over,” she said, waving off my concern. “But you’re not getting out of dinner tonight. I’m starving, and you owe me details.”

“Details?” I feigned innocence as we started walking toward King Street.

“Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what I mean.” Tonya’s grin was sharp, her dark eyes gleaming under the soft glow of the streetlights. “You’ve been thinking about him all day, haven’t you?”

I hesitated, but the truth wasn’t worth denying. “Maybe. A little.”

“A little?” Tonya scoffed, linking her arm with mine. “Girl, I’ll bet you were staring out the window during that entire donor seating meeting like you were trying to send him a telepathic message.”

I laughed, though her words hit closer to home than I liked. “Fine. Maybe more than a little.”

Before Tonya could press further, a familiar voice called out from behind us. “Ladies, wait up!”

We turned to see Jim Schklar hurrying toward us, his wire-rimmed glasses catching the light as he waved. His tie was slightly loosened, and he carried a messenger bag that looked older than most of the museum’s artifacts.

“Jim,” I said, smiling as he reached us. “Long day?”

“Long week,” he replied with a wry grin. “But if you’re heading to dinner, count me in. I could use a good meal and some better company. That is, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Tonya said, looping her other arm through his. “Come on. You can help me with the interrogation.”

Jim raised an eyebrow at me as we walked. “Interrogation?”

“Don’t ask,” I muttered, which only made Tonya laugh.

We settled on Poogan's Porch, a charming restaurant nestled in a historic Charleston home with a wraparound porch and flickering gas lanterns that gave it an old-world allure. The interior was just as inviting, with hardwood floors, pressed tin ceilings, and the kind of cozy, timeless décor that made you feel like you’d stepped into another era.

We opted for a table on the porch, where the balmy evening breeze carried the faint hum of conversation and the occasional clip-clop of a passing carriage. The soft glow of string lights overhead added to the atmosphere, casting warm shadows as we glanced over menus brimming with Southern classics. From our spot, we could see King Street come alive, the bustle of passersby a living, breathing part of the evening’s charm.

As we ate, the conversation shifted from work to lighthearted teasing. Jim shared stories from his early days at the museum, his dry humor balancing Tonya’s sharp wit. For a little while, I forgot about everything—Sage, the dreams, the restless pull in my chest.

Jim set his fork down and leaned back in his chair, glancing out the restaurant’s window toward the harbor. “Have you all seen the Navy destroyer that made port here? It’s been all over the news. A real crowd magnet.”

Tonya perked up, setting her wine glass down. “Oh yeah, I saw it on my way to work this morning. That thing looks massive. Kind of ominous, but impressive.”

“It’s drawn a lot of chatter from the museum visitors,” Jim said, his tone thoughtful. “Charleston’s always had a deep connection to the military. It’s part of the city’s identity. We owe a lot to the people who serve, even when we don’t always agree with the decisions that send them into harm’s way.”

I paused, surprised. Jim and I had been friends for several years, but we’d never discussed anything remotely political. “I’ve never thought about it like that before,” I admitted. “I guess I just wish the world could find a way to be at peace. That war could end.”

Jim nodded, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “You and me both, Mia. But until that day comes, I’ve got a lot of respect for the men and women who step up to serve. It’s not an easy life.”

Tonya leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “You think the museum would ever do an exhibit about Charleston’s military history? I mean, with the Naval Weapons Station, the Air Force Base, the Citadel, and everything else, it seems like a natural fit.”

“We’ve had some proposals come across the table,” Jim said, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of his glass. “Nothing’s been finalized, but I think it’s only a matter of time. Charleston’s roots run deep when it comes to the military, and it’s a story worth telling.”

I sipped my drink, my mind turning over his words. Growing up in Asheville, I’d been surrounded by a very different narrative—one that wasn’t exactly military-friendly. “I guess I just never saw myself with someone in the military,” I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Tonya’s eyes darted to me, her interest clearly piqued. “Why’s that?”

I shrugged, fiddling with the edge of my napkin. “Growing up in Asheville, most of the people I knew were pretty anti-war. There was always this underlying sentiment that being in the military was just … following orders, no matter what those orders were. I didn’t meet a lot of people who saw it the way Jim does—as something bigger than the politics behind it.”

Jim smiled softly. “It’s not uncommon for people to think that way. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that the individual service members aren’t the ones making the big decisions. They’re just doing what they can to serve and protect. That’s worth respecting.”

I nodded slowly, his words sinking in. I’d truly never thought about it that way before. Maybe that’s why Sage had felt like such a contradiction—he didn’t fit into the narrow stereotype I’d grown up hearing about. And yet, that only made me more cautious.

Tonya leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “You know, I grew up in Asheville too,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “And it wasn’t always easy being the only Black girl around. People had their assumptions, their stereotypes. But I learned pretty quick that people are just people. You can’t lump them all together, no matter how easy it seems.”

I looked at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. “I never thought about that,” I admitted. “I mean, I knew Asheville wasn’t exactly the most diverse place, but?—”

Tonya waved a hand, cutting me off gently. “It’s not about blame. It’s about perspective. Growing up there taught me that every person’s story is their own. You’ve just got to give them the space to tell it. That’s why I don’t waste time with assumptions anymore. I figure, if someone’s worth my time, I’ll take the time to know them. If not, I’ll keep it moving.”

Her words settled over me, quiet but profound. Maybe that was what I needed to do with Sage—stop overthinking, stop assuming, and just let myself see who he really was. If I could be brave enough to take that first step.

After dinner, Jim excused himself, claiming an early morning meeting as his reason for heading home. Tonya and I lingered, finishing our drinks as the night deepened around us.

“Come on,” Tonya said as we left the restaurant, nodding toward Waterfront Park. “Let’s sit on a swing for a bit. The night’s too pretty to waste.”

We made our way to waterfront, where the distant sound of waves mingled with the quiet chatter of couples strolling hand in hand. The big swings hung empty beneath the open-air shade structures on the pier, their supports creaking softly in the breeze.

I sank into one, letting it sway gently as I stared out at the water. The moonlight danced on the surface, casting silver streaks that seemed to stretch forever.

“All right,” Tonya said, breaking the silence as she took a seat beside me. “Spill. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I hesitated, tracing a pattern on the pier with the toe of my shoe. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“I figured as much,” she said lightly. “What is it about this guy? What makes him different? You were in his presence for what … twenty minutes? Thirty, at best?”

I shook my head, frustrated by my inability to put it into words. “I don’t know. It’s like … like I’ve known him forever, even though I don’t. Does that make any sense?”

Tonya studied me, her expression softening. “Yeah, it does. And I think you’re scared because of it.”

I didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong.

Tonya’s voice softened. “Where do you think he is right now?”

My entire body tightened at the question. “I don’t know. Somewhere far from here, doing something dangerous, probably.”

“And that scares you.”

“Of course it does,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s more than that. It’s this … this feeling that something’s coming. Something big. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Tonya reached over, resting her hand on mine. “You’re stronger than you think, my friend. Whatever happens, you’ll handle it.”

I nodded, though her reassurance did little to quiet the storm inside me.

After a moment, I glanced at her. “What about you and Matt? Are you planning to see him again?”

Tonya smiled, her expression thoughtful. “Probably. He’s fun, and I like him. But … I don’t think it’s going to turn into anything serious. We don’t have that spark, you know?”

“The spark?” I asked, tilting my head.

“You know,” she said with a teasing grin. “The kind you and Sage have.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re smitten,” she shot back, nudging my swing with hers. “Don’t fight it. Sometimes, the best things in life happen when you stop trying to control everything.”

I stared out at the water again, her words sinking in. Maybe she was right.

The swings creaked softly as we drifted back and forth, the rhythm almost hypnotic against the backdrop of the water. I tilted my head, staring at the stars peeking through the soft glow of the pier’s lights. The breeze was steady. It was peaceful, but my thoughts refused to settle.

Tonya tilted her head, watching me with a knowing smile. “Let’s play a game,” she said, her tone light but curious. “If you could send him a message right now—just one—what would it say?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I … don’t know. Something simple, maybe. Like, ‘Be safe.’”

She wrinkled her nose. “Boring. Try again. Something real.”

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the edge of the swing. “I’d say … I hope he knows someone’s thinking about him.”

Tonya’s smile softened, her voice gentle. “That’s better. And I bet he’d feel it, wherever he is.”

I looked out over the water, my mind conjuring images of Sage and Matt in a foreign land—desolate landscapes, dimly lit rooms, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. “Do you think they’re somewhere like this?” I asked quietly. “Looking out over water, wondering what we’re doing?”

Tonya chuckled. “I can almost guarantee they’re not sitting on a swing, talking about their feelings. But maybe. Who knows? Guys can surprise you sometimes.”

I let the swing sway beneath me, the motion steadying even as my thoughts spun. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How connected you can feel to someone, even when they’re so far away.”

“Yeah,” Tonya agreed, her tone thoughtful. “Connection doesn’t care about distance. It’s just there. Whether you like it or not.”

I turned to her, curious. “So, you’re okay with the whole casual thing with Matt? Just seeing him when he’s in town?”

She shrugged, her expression easy. “Yeah, why not? He’s fun. He makes me laugh. But it’s not the kind of thing that’s going to keep me up at night, you know?”

“And you’re okay with that?” I pressed.

“Sure,” she said with a small smile. “Not every connection has to be forever. Some people come into your life for a season, and that’s enough. I’m good with a season.”

I nodded, though her words didn’t quite resonate with me. “I don’t think I could do that,” I admitted. “Not with someone like Sage.”

Tonya leaned back in her swing, studying me. “That’s because he’s not a season for you. He’s a spark. And once you feel that, it’s hard to settle for anything less.”

Her words hit like a truth I wasn’t ready to admit, but couldn’t deny.

I stared out at the water once more, my chest tightening. Somewhere, far from here, Sage was navigating a world I couldn’t understand. And even though we were miles apart, it felt like he was right there with me, like his presence lingered in the spaces between my thoughts.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “All of this? The uncertainty, the waiting, the … risk?”

Tonya reached over, her hand resting lightly on my arm. “I can’t answer that for you, Mia. But I think you already know.”

I let her words settle.

Spring was just around the corner, bringing with it the promise of renewal and possibility. Maybe that’s what I needed—a season of faith, of leaning into the unknown

The swing creaked softly as Tonya and I drifted back and forth, gazing out at the water. The breeze carried the faint sounds of Charleston's nightlife—laughter, distant music, and the occasional hum of an engine from the streets nearby. Across the way, illuminated by the glow of streetlights and its own deck lighting, the Navy destroyer loomed like a ghostly sentinel.

“Look at that thing,” Tonya said, nodding toward the massive ship. “It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie.”

“It’s massive,” I agreed, my voice quiet. “Scary, too. Like it’s waiting for something. Some threat we don’t know about.”

“Yeah,” Tonya said with a small laugh. “Makes me glad I’m just a lawyer. I can’t imagine what it’s like to actually serve on something like that.”

I turned to her, my gaze thoughtful. “It takes a certain kind of person, doesn’t it? To willingly put themselves in harm’s way.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “It does.”

The silence between us felt almost reverent as we watched the destroyer in the distance. Its presence seemed to underscore the fragility of life, a reminder of how quickly the world could change.

The peaceful moment shattered in an instant.

A deafening crash erupted behind us, followed by the sharp, unmistakable sound of metal twisting and breaking. I whipped around just in time to see a plume of fire shoot into the sky from Concord Street, the impact so violent it seemed to shake the ground beneath us.

“Oh my God,” I breathed, my body frozen in place as panic gripped my chest.

“Mia, come on!” Tonya shouted, grabbing my arm as she pulled me to my feet. We hurried toward the edge of the pier, joining the growing crowd of onlookers who had already started gathering near the scene.

Flames consumed one of the vehicles, the heat so intense I could feel it from where we stood. Smoke billowed upward, dark and choking, and the acrid stench of burning fuel stung my nose. A man staggered out of a car nearby, blood dripping down his forehead as he shouted something unintelligible. Another figure ran toward the burning vehicle, shouting for help.

“Someone’s still in there,” Tonya said, her voice tight with urgency. “They’re trying to pull him out.”

I clutched the railing, my heart pounding as I watched the chaos unfold. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second, but it felt like time had slowed to a crawl. The flames roared higher, and for a terrifying moment, I thought the vehicle might explode again.

A group of bystanders managed to reach the driver’s side, wrenching the door open as smoke poured out. They hauled the man out, his body limp and his clothes singed, just as fire trucks screeched to a halt nearby. First responders rushed in, their movements quick and practiced as they assessed the situation.

I felt Tonya’s hand on my arm, her grip steadying me as my knees threatened to buckle. “Mia,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts. “Look at me. Are you okay?”

I nodded numbly, though the adrenaline coursing through me made it hard to think, let alone speak. My eyes stayed fixed on the scene ahead—on the fire, the wreckage, the people fighting to contain the chaos.

The man who’d been pulled from the car was now lying on the ground, surrounded by paramedics. His chest rose and fell unevenly, but he was alive. For now.

“Stuff like this happens every day,” Tonya said, her voice low but steady. “You can’t control it. You can’t stop it. All you can do is keep living.”

I turned to her, my chest burning with fear and uncertainty. “But what if?—”

“Stop,” she said, cutting me off. Her gaze was fierce, her tone unyielding. “Whether it’s here or somewhere far away, danger is everywhere. You can’t let fear run your life. Sage doesn’t let it run his.”

Her words hit like a gut punch, raw and inescapable. As I stared at the wreckage, the sirens blaring and the flames flickering against the night sky, I realized she was right.

Danger was everywhere. But so was life.