Reborn to Burn the Arsonist Who Killed My Mother

1.

Our neighbor Paulette James knelt in front of my mother, sobbing herself hoarse.

She said she'd fought with her husband and been thrown out, that she had nowhere to go, and she begged us to take her in.

In my last life, we were soft. We agreed without a second thought.

The moment she had our keys, she never left. She stayed over a year.

Then she said the place would make a good wedding home for her son, and told the two of us to move out and rent somewhere else.

"It's just the two of you anyway. What difference does it make where you live? We've been friends all these years. When you help someone, you help all the way."

My mother's blood pressure shot up to 180. She grabbed Paulette's things and started throwing them out the door.

That night, Paulette carried a jug of oil into the kitchen.

My mother was burned alive. I barely got out, but the smoke choked me into a vegetative state.

And Paulette played the kind neighbor, "caring for" my grandmother day after day, until she'd tricked the old woman into signing the house over to her.

The day the deed transferred, she came to the hospital to see me.

"I'm doing really well now, so I can't have you waking up and identifying me. You'd ruin everything for me!"

Then she slipped past the cameras and pinched off my oxygen line.

Reborn, she was on her knees again. "Susan, I really have nowhere to go. That animal threw all my clothes out onto the street!"

I pulled my mother back three steps and looked down at her, cold.

"Aunt Paulette, go find whoever threw you out. You don't need to kneel to file a police report."

...

Paulette stayed where she was, tears still streaking her face, her mouth working without a sound.

She'd probably assumed I'd be as easy to handle as my mother.

Three seconds later she wailed even louder, her face smeared with tears and snot. "Susan, I'm too old for this. I have my pride! You don't air your dirty laundry in public!"

"You want me to go to the police? How am I supposed to face anyone after that?"

The door wasn't shut all the way, and inside, her husband heard the noise and came charging out. He snatched the rolling pin off the kitchen counter and hurled it at the doorway. "You still think you haven't shamed me enough? Get the hell out of here!"

The rolling pin grazed the door frame and flew past.

Norma Finch was coming down the stairs right then and flinched back in fright. Carter Chavez from next door threw his arms around the man's waist, and it took four or five people to wrestle him back inside.

Once Norma had her footing, she turned and looked at me with pure contempt. "Phyllis Fox, this is wrong of you. Look how pitiful your Aunt Paulette is. She just needs to stay a few days. It's one extra pair of chopsticks. You won't even do that?"

Carter, still pinning Paulette's husband down, shouted over at me. "A young girl with a heart this hard. What has your mother been teaching you all these years?"

"Everyone falls on hard times. What's wrong with lending a hand?"

My mother stood off to the side, her face going red, then white.

She crouched to help Paulette up, and I stepped over in one stride and put myself between them.

I looked down at Paulette crying on the floor. "Aunt Paulette, you heard them. Everyone upstairs and down wants to help you. Go beg them. Surely one of them can squeeze you in."

Norma's face changed in an instant, and she turned and headed back up. "I live with my boyfriend. It's not convenient."

Her heels clicked away fast, like she was fleeing.

Paulette's crying eased a little, and she tried another angle. "Phyllis, you don't have to let me stay. Just lend me a few hundred and I'll get a hotel."

I drew my mother back a step through the doorway, my hand on the door handle. "Aunt Paulette, the emergency line will pick up just fine."

Then I shut the door with a bang.

After the door closed, my mother stayed in the entryway, not moving. She rubbed her hands together and paced back and forth. "Phyllis, what if... what if I just let her stay one night?"

I didn't answer. I dug a roll of tape out of the shoe cabinet and sealed the peephole shut from the inside.

Out of sight, out of mind.

My mother stared, stunned.

I dragged the suitcase down off the top of the closet. "Mom, I've got a work trip for a few days. Come with me."

She opened her mouth, then let out a sigh and started packing too.

She was always like this. She didn't understand, but whatever I said, she did.

We left that same afternoon. When I locked the door, I gave the bolt an extra turn.

The plane landed and I switched on my phone. The screen hadn't even fully lit before it started buzzing like mad. A dozen missed calls, all from the same number.

I called back, and the property manager's voice blasted out of the earpiece. "Miss Fox! Your place is on fire! Where are you? Get back here now!"

My mother's legs gave out and she went straight down onto the floor tiles of the terminal.

Her heart was bad. When I crouched to steady her, her hands were ice-cold.

"Mom, don't be scared, there's nothing valuable in there." I didn't dare mention Paulette. I walked her toward the exit while rebooking our flight.