I started my morning with a latte except I wore a scarf over my mouth and nose and a pair of blue light glasses. Dust particles coated the back of my eyelids and my pre-existing cough got significantly worse. My part-time job stayed open even though the air quality maintained a steady range of 150-470. I’ll take my $9.99 top with a healthy dose of air pollution, please.
The stories I heard were sad. Two women bonded over the loss of their homes in the Palisades while discussing which hotels they were staying at and how old their kids were. My co-workers shared stories of people buying large amounts of items and bawling about how they lost everything.
I was surrounded by fire but it wasn't close to me yet. It’s like waiting for the ball to finally drop. A deep-rooted feeling in your stomach telling you that the power going out for two hours last night wasn’t that big of a deal. The smoke smell in the air is something that we’ll get used to. The devastation is enormous but it’s bringing people together, right?
I got a notification on my Apple Watch when my one hour lunch was about to begin. The Hollywood Hills were on fire. 10 acres, 20 acres, 40 acres, 60 acres. I got a call from my boyfriend about 15 minutes later with a pounding on the door coming through the phone. “Evacuate. Now.” I run into the room where my managers were talking and said plainly, “I need to go home.”
I don’t know why I went into work today when something told me I shouldn't. I don’t know why I went into work when everyone called off. I don’t know why, but I did. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to prove that I’m financially responsible. Maybe it’s because I want to be dependable in the eyes of the people determining my probation period in retail. When I got that call, I regretted absolutely everything.
“You need to get Cleo out, please get Cleo out.”
“I’m getting in an Uber now, please stay on the phone with me.”
I tell my Uber driver, “can you please get me home as fast as possible?” He says no very blankly before realizing where I’m headed. I start crying. I need my cat to make it out and I need my boyfriend to make it out. Please let them make it out. I had no information, there wasn’t a fire in sight but it was an impending doom to my home and to the things that I loved.
Nothing can give you a worse feeling than when you’re not in control. I’m sitting on the side lines asking questions wondering WHAT is going on. How my life got to this point where I’m sitting in a strangers car choking on my own words trying to figure out when I’m going to get in the immediate area of where we needed to meet.
My cat got into the car with boys she had never met on her way to North Hollywood with my roommate and my boyfriend waited for me near our local 7-11. I’m dropped off a block away and have never been so relieved in my life to see another human safe, carrying bags of our things with foggy orange in the distance.
I never packed a bag. I assumed I was safe and that our apartment would be the refuge of friends who sought shelter from the danger. Now I can call my parents who have been trying to reach me since I last talked to them. My dad is booking flights, my mom is trying to calm me down. I just want to see my cat. She has to be terrified right now. I’m terrified right now.
We start walking South assuming the traffic would somehow become less the further we got away. It never really let up for long enough. Crossing the street was life or death in the sheer state of panic. It’s time to go North even when I’m unsure anywhere will be totally ok in the moment. One small ember has to climb the hill and it’s over for so many people. It’s over for me.
I walk into the apartment I’ve never been to before. It’s dark, there’s no power. My phone is at 22% and I’m coming down from the non-stop panic attack. I don’t think I’ll be comfortable again until we’re all out of Southern California. I’m in between checking the fire map, turning on the flashlight to make sure my cat is still within my reach, and putting my phone on airplane mode to conserve the battery.
Now there’s 2 missions. One, we have to get a smaller carrier so Cleo can fit underneath the seat during take off and two, possibly think about going and getting the things I never got the chance to collect from our possibly burning down apartment. The dilemma of knowing that so many family pictures, my mom’s jewelry box, and my medication are teetering on the edge of extinction is something I hope no one has to understand.
I put my boyfriend on the phone with my mom in hopes that we’ll come to the decision of going straight to the airport and waiting a million hours for our plane to board than risk everything for what could be nothing.
Now I’m on the floor at a gate, hoping I’ll get coffee in my system soon. I’m fighting sleep and my cat is way too chill for all of this. She’s the one being brave, not any of us. I’m praying that I’ll have a home to come back to after all of this is done. I’m praying that people get out in time and have the resources they need.
The city is on fire and we are all awake.
