Page 22 of Fighting For You

"It's not much," she said. "But I hope it's okay."

"It's more than okay." I looked at her. "Thank you for taking me in, Gracelyn."

She moved to the kitchen, filled the kettle, and set it on the stove.

"So Ian's staying at his friend's house?"

"Yeah. Until we figure this out. Jesse's place is close to school, so it's better for him."

She pulled a box of crackers from the cabinet and put them on the counter between us.

"That's nice of his friends."

"He's a good kid."

She leaned against the counter.

"Any updates from the fire investigator?"

"They're saying it's arson. Some neighborhood kids."

She shook her head. "Kids these days."

I went quiet. Gracelyn didn't fill the silence. She reached across the counter and took my hand.

"I'm here for you," she said. "Whatever you need. You can stay here however long."

"Thank you, Gracelyn. I'll make it up to you."

"Don't think about it. It's nice to have someone in this apartment other than me." She let go of my hand and turned to the fridge. "And since I'm the host, I'm going to make you a welcome feast."

"A feast?"

"I'm Filipino. We don't let our guests starve."

That night, Gracelyn taught me how to make a few dishes from her hometown in her small kitchen, the two of us side by side at the stove while she told me stories about learning these recipes from her mother.

It felt different to be on the receiving end of someone's care. I wasn't used to someone fussing over me, and I didn't know what to do with it except stand there and let her.

A house fire doesn't just take your things. It takes your proof that you exist.

My driver's license, my Social Security card, my birth certificate, Ian's birth certificate, my nursing license, my BLS and ACLS certification cards, the deed to the house. All of it was in a filing cabinet in the hallway closet, and the hallway closet was gone.

I sat at Gracelyn's kitchen table with a legal pad and her laptop and started making calls. Everything required the fire incident report, which was still being compiled. Every replacement document required identification, and my identification had burned with the house.

I needed my license to get my birth certificate, my birth certificate to get my Social Security card, my Social Security card to get my license. The system assumed you had at least one piece of the puzzle to start with. I had none of them.

Every person I spoke to was sympathetic and unhelpful. They had their process. The process did not have a box for "everything burned."

I leaned back on the couch and closed my eyes. The list was two pages long and growing.

I picked up my phone and started scrolling through rental listings. I couldn't stay on Gracelyn's couch forever, and I couldn't ask Jesse's family to keep housing Ian. I needed to find somewhere for both of us.

I was looking through the photos of a listing in Fremont when a notification popped up.

KNOX

How's the new place?