Chapter One
Rain
I made the greatest life-saving mistake of my life when I walked outside my new home and snapped some pictures for social media.
Some called my notions hunches. Others called them whims. I called them Fate. Out of nowhere, I decided corporate life wasn’t for me. I gave up on the fluorescent lights. The cubicles. The endless meetings that could’ve easily been handled with an email.
I blamed it all on my laptop screenshot. It changed week to week. Some days, it was a canyon or tropical island but, one day, it was a house, in the middle of nowhere. A wraparound porch. White paint and black shutters.
The picture and the idea of living someplace like that called to my soul. Silly to the few people I chose to share it with but, to me, it signaled the beginning of a life change.
I wasn’t one to wrestle and lose sleep over choices, either.
The next day, I tendered my resignation, foregoing the mandatory two weeks’ notice and quit on the spot. The bosses and managers objected, but by the time they figured it all out, I was long gone. In my truck with one tiny pull-behind trailer filled with my meager belongings.
This wasn’t the first time I’d made a decision like this, but somehow I had a feeling this move would be my last. The house I’d bought on the internet was almost identical to the photo of it on my laptop.
I saw a few pictures of the inside and had a Realtor go through it with me on video chat, but I never set foot in the place until a few days later when I walked inside for the first time.
By then, I’d already signed the paperwork. I was a saver for a reason. My whims, my notions, always required money.
I’d been cooking an idea for a consulting business for a while, breaking away from the company drudgery.
But until I saw that house, it had only been a dream.
Random writings in my notes app on my phone but nothing more.
No business plan, formally. No clients. But I spent the last night in my apartment coming up with a solid plan.
Made a simple website. Created social media accounts.
And now, I had emails coming in for potential clients.
The house needed some work to make it a reality, but all of that was gone now, thanks to a lightning storm.
I’d walked outside to take a picture of my new house, for social media, yes, but mostly for my parents. They supported my notions, my whims, but they were also concerned one of these segues would lead me to my own demise. They were good like that.
I’d taken pictures of the outside and intended to go inside when some dark clouds rolled in, seemingly from nowhere.
Ten minutes later, my house was up in flames.
The thunder cracked, and a forked branch of lightning appeared from the sky and took out part of my dream with one strike of electricity.
I fell to my knees. There was nothing I could do.
One second, I was happy, my chest surging with joy at my vision coming to life, and the next, my home was up in flames.
I had been on my way out to stock up on groceries and a few things from the hardware store, so my backpack was in my truck with the essentials.
Something that morning told me to pack my laptop as well.
I had only the contents of the truck and the clothes on my back.
Shaking my head to clear it, I called 911 and told them what happened. I had to consult my phone for the exact address to give them since I’d lived there less than a week.
Of course, my house was in the middle of nowhere, down an almost-deserted highway, so it took more than twenty minutes for the firefighters to arrive.
By the time they did, it was too late.
The older wooden house was made of all wood. It was like gas-doused tinder, and all it had taken was one flicker of a flame, or in my case, one strike of lightning.
“I’m sorry, sir. There is nothing we can do.” One of the firefighters clapped me on the shoulder. “You weren’t in there, were you? Having trouble breathing? Did you inhale any smoke?”
I’d already answered those questions when they arrived, but I appreciated the diligence. “I was out here—taking pictures of my new home.” I laughed and shook my head, but it was only at the stroke of bad luck.
Perhaps I’d read this notion all wrong.
“I’m so sorry. You have insurance, I hope?”
I nodded. It was the first time I’d thought about anything other than the fact that I had nowhere to live. I could go home, but that felt like giving up. I was a lot of things, but quitter wasn’t one of them.
“At least there’s that.”
“At least there’s that,” I repeated his words while watching the pitch of the roof cave in, finally giving up.
“Hey, do you have somewhere you can stay, Rain? Someone we can call to come get you? Anything?”
I snapped back to reality. “I just moved here. I don’t know anyone. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
“There are a few places to stay in the towns around here. Should I call them for you?”
I sighed. He was trying to help, but I’d always prided myself in being self-sufficient. Today was no exception. “I can call them. Just processing a little bit. Getting my bearings. You guys can go. There’s nothing you can do here, and I’m fine. I promise.”
They left after shaking their heads and shrugging. They came to help, but the house was already burned to the ground.
I stood there for a while after the fire trucks trailed down the highway, considering my options. First, I had to call the insurance and take more pictures, but, this time, not happy ones.
I had to tell my parents.
And I had to find somewhere to spend the night, several nights, in fact.
I put in a call to the insurance after pulling up the policy on my laptop while sitting in my car and uploading the pictures to the claim site. Then I called my parents who asked if I needed help. I declined, although if I’d said yes, they would’ve been here in a heartbeat.
Even though I didn’t need the support, knowing it was there for me meant everything.
Maybe this was a chance to make a house my own. To choose everything from the ground up. I had made plans to add some more bedrooms and an attached garage. This was a way to get those things done. To build the house of my dreams.
That was how I had to look at all this; otherwise, I might throw in the towel and cry.