“What do you mean arson?”

 

“The fire was intentionally started, ma’am, and that falls under arson. Your insurance policy doesn’t cover arson”, the perpetually chipper claim examiner. “We do apologize for the inconvenience but there is nothing we can do from our end.”

 

“Don’t give me that, are you kidding me? I’ve already filed a statement, carefully explaining the circumstances. The boy who started the fire has a developmental disability, he didn’t start the fire with intent to burn the building down.”

 

“I understand, ma’am, and I do apologize, but unfortunately there is nothing we can do from our end.”

 

There is not much on this Earth I can say I hate, but bureaucratic nonsense like this definitely falls on that list.

 

“Sir, is there anything at all you could do to help me? Anyone you could direct me to”, I plead.

 

After a long pause, they reply in the same sickeningly chipper voice. “You could try to appeal but even doing that, it is not guaranteed that you will be covered.”

 

“Thanks”, I groan.

 

“No problem! We hope we were able to help you with your concern today, is there anything else--”

 

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you! FUCK YOU!!!

 

“FUCK YOU!!!!”

 

“Is this a bad time”, I hear a raspy voice ask.

 

I turn around startled, to find that Devyn has been watching me break down over this insurance claim.

 

Her hoarse voice caught me by surprise, but my hot feeling of shame disappeared quickly as let herself in and ran to hug me.

 

“You sound like a blues singer”, I joke.

 

She smiles and hugs me tighter. “Yeah, who knew all I needed was to survive a fire to fulfill my dreams of going on tour with John Popper.”

 

“Is that going to uh.. Be permanent?”

 

Devyn shrugs. “Could be. Doctors aren’t sure yet, they said it’s too early to tell. But before you even think of feeling sorry for me, don’t. I lived through a fire that tore down a whole building. That’s pretty badass if I do say so myself. And now I can start a ASMR podcast or something with this voice.”

 

Typical Devyn. No matter how dire things appear, she refuses to look anywhere but up. I’m glad she’s stuck around for so long. Even a week in the hospital can’t stop her from being hopelessly optimistic.

 

“Speaking of that fire”, she starts.

 

I shove my finger in her face, “Nope. Nuh-uh. Can we… I can’t hear another word about the fire. I swear I’m going mad because of it. Reporters, claim examiners, the kids’ parents… I can’t escape it. All because some kid decided to bring a lighter and some hairspray.” I angrily ball my hands up into fists but try not to let the anger take my over completely. “Please”, I insist, “talk to me about literally anything else.”

 

The two of us stand awkwardly in silence while we wait for either of us to start a conversation.

 

Devyn breaks the silence. “I uh… I’ve been in the hospital for seven days, so I don’t really know what you want me to talk about, if not the reason I was put in the hospital, am out of  a job, and had to cancel my phone service.”

 

I fall back onto the nearest chair and groan loudly. “Devyn, what in the world am I supposed to do? All I ever wanted to do was help people and… all I did was put you in the hospital and a bunch of kids in state provided care centers. Where do I go from here? Do you think they’ll just let me open the facility back up? And even if they do, who would enroll their child in a daycare run by the person who let her previous daycare explode?”

 

“Hm. I certainly wouldn’t”, Devyn chides.

 

With Devyn around constantly cracking jokes, it’s difficult to stay upset about the completely reasonable things upsetting me.

 

“So what’s the plan? Let me in on it. Whatever you have planned”, she demands.

 

I scoff. “Plan, what plan? I’m going down shit’s creek without a paddle, Devyn. I was hoping you had a plan.”

 

“Well, I do, and I’m glad you asked”, she declares cheerfully. “I’ve got some friends with deep pockets and my church is great with fundraising, so I’ll try to orchestrate a way to pool money to rebuild the daycare.”

 

Fundraising. It wouldn’t be impossible to raise money this way but I don’t want to wait another three years to open up again. That’s three years that the children aren’t being given the attention they need and could potentially be getting abused by their so-called caretakers. I can’t wait that long.

 

“What about a GoFundMe”, I ask. “People know the story, it’s become a national story, for better or worse.”

 

Nodding her head, Devyn starts to form a smile. “So you think the publicity will help?”

 

“Hell yes. No such thing as bad publicity, right? If people know about what happened, they’ll likely donate to the cause. And whoever doesn’t want to donate might share the story, giving it another go-around through social media. The more people see it, the more money that could be donated.”

 

Goosebumps start forming on my arms. It’s a great idea.

 

“I’m going to get started on the page now”, I tell her as I open up my laptop.

 

“Attagirl! There ya go. That’s the Tessa I know!”

 

As I fill out the necessary information on the GoFundMe page, I ask Devyn to share the page with her church group as soon as I’m done with it.

 

“You don’t even have to ask, I’m doin’ it.”

 

It fills my heart to know that throughout the worst situations, I have someone like Devyn to count on. Even if it’s just emotional support, I’m appreciative of her and the impact she’s had in my life.

 

I stop typing but remain facing the laptop. “Did you get my flowers?”

 

She nods her head. “All seven bouquets, yes. And the nurses told me you came every day. I kinda remember you being there, but I was all conked out on morphine so it’s a bit fuzzy. Once I snapped out of it, though, I nearly cried.”

 

Devyn bends over and hugs me from behind. “Thank you, Tessa. You’re the best.”

 

I reciprocate her warmth and thank her for sticking by me through these hard times.

 

“Don’t you worry, I’ll always be here for you. Besides, I don’t know how likely my chances are of getting hired are now. I’m the person who let their student blow up a school.”

 

I turn around and release myself from her hug. “You are not responsible for what a child did. You shouldn’t have to go through every student’s backpack to ensure they don’t bring in dangerous items. They should know better and so should their parents”, I snap.

 

“I know, I know. I just… in my morphine-fueled daze, I couldn’t help but think about how I could have stopped… I don’t know”, she sighs mournfully.

 

“That’s right, you don’t know”, I state sharply. “We could have done a number of things differently, but we didn’t and now we have to deal with the consequences and learn from our mistakes. That’s all we can do. If we sit around thinking about the minor things we could have done, we won’t move on. Got it?”

 

I look up at Devyn and spot a tear traveling down the side of her face. She quickly wipes it away and clears her throat before saying anything. “Right, right. You’re right.”

 

“Devyn”, I say grabbing her face. “It’s not your fault.”

 

She wraps her arms around me once more and thanks me for assuring her that she did everything she could given the circumstances.