Born from Ash: One Week Later

One week ago, on Sunday July 31st, Robb tinkered with his Harley shovel head in the garage that begged to be called a man cave. I of course was annoyed at the sound of the engine chug chugging, so I did the only normal thing a fiance would do when her mechanically inclined man is inclined to be mechanical at 10pm on a Sunday night. I flicked him off with my right hand because those fingers are longer and of course he made a sad face with lips formed so bent upside down you'd be inclined to hang a bucket from them. Then he smiled as he happily continued to tighten up the bike, properly nicknamed "Beasty". I accepted defeat, and gladly made my way to the only room that was air conditioned.

It was probably around 9:30pm when I went into the bedroom. Funny, I remember the exact time at which I walked the dogs that day (6:42pm-I had looked at the clock because I was wondering if it was time for my Lean Cuisine dinner yet. The diet was going well.), but could not for the life of me tell you what time it was when our lives changed so drastically.

The bedroom was the only room in the house that had air conditioning, so all the animals were in there hanging out. Vinnie and Leeloo we slamming their heads into each other tangibly excited to be chewing on my gym sock. Bad dogs. My gym sock.The cats Peter and Piper were unimpressed by their temporary imprisonment. I think Peter may have pooped in my shoe.

I had probably been in there for a half an hour, watching some awfully decadent Tv on BRAVO whilst texting my good friend Liz about hiking plans for the week. She and I were on a roll for a while, but I had been overwhelmed with poor time management that I had failed to make my way to Big Boyd for any sort of exercise. It was because I was so focused on minimizing the size of the spare tire I carry around my waist daily, that I was actually annoyed when the fire alarm went off. I thought Robb was burning one of my lean cuisine pizzas in the oven. I needed that pizza, it was 350 calories and absolutely delicious. Bad Robb. My pizza.

I jumped out of bed and swung the door open ready to let Robb receive the verbal equivalent of the ultimate fighting challenge (Battle to the Death). It was when I swung the door open and stepped forward that I was met by an immense body of black smoke. This body had definitely been training for The Ultimate Fighting Challenge since lighting struck a pile of dry shrubs outside a caveman's man cave.

My stomach dropped and I could feel razor blades of terrors streaming up along my back. My blood was ice but my skin felt like the sun. I felt as though I could vomit, ducked my head below the boiling virulent smoke that almost gently hung 3 feet from the ceiling. I could see well enough into the kitchen no make my way to the cool tile and scream from Robb. He met me in the kitchen sweaty and more terrified than I can honestly remember ever seeing anyone.

"The house is on fire, Jules!" he screamed, as I could see the fire breathing from under his motorcycle. Was this the fire that caused all of this smoke? Could we fight this fire? Robb disappeared. "I am going to try and put it out!" He yelled. Surely this is not happening. Surely we can put this out ourselves and just have to deal with the smoke damage.

I ran to the bedroom. The dogs were no longer laughing and the cats tails were fluffy with anxiety. I grabbed the dogs. They were too scared to move."Good dogs. Good dogs. Let's go for a walk. Good dogs, come on babies." I cooed to them. The smoke was dropping deeper into the hallway, and we ducked lower to keep our mouths free. I am sure the dogs did not consciously do this, but there is no way to explain how they actually crawled out of there.

We made it to the front door. I cannot remember if it was already open or not. I do know that the closer we got to the exit, the more I notice that it was darker inside of the house than it was outside during the night. The smoke was like a black hole.I did not see Robb. I did not have leashes. How big was the fire now? My car door was unlocked. I put the dogs inside. Sanctuary. Saftey.

I am not sure of the order in which I did things next. I know that I could see the flames glowing through the yellow garage door. I knew Robb was still inside. I knew the I could not see inside of the house because smoke was roaring from the doorway. Piper showed her face in the doorway. I picked her up and put her in the car with Leeloo and Vinnie.

I turned on the hose. The measly hose that barely had enough pressure to wash away a Brown Marmorated Stink Bug. A potted plant was sacrificed and thrown threw the glass in the door next to the glowing garage door. I sprayed, drizzled, dripped water through the shattered window. It was too late. I only saw flames, breathed smoke, sweat ash. Thought of Robb.

I don't know how I found him inside, but the next thing was we were back in the fresh air. Eyes burning. Robb grabbed the hose and tried to put out the savagely growing orange and red beast. He was too close to the flames. Why I ran back in the house I don't know, but I was holding my breath and squinting my eyes and arrived right at the cordless phone. Back outside. Fresh air. Sticky air. Hot air.

The 911 call was very calm. Then very erratic. "Hi. This is Julia Conroy. My house is on fire. I live at 3321 Fishing Creek Valley Rd." I told the dispatcher. He asked is everyone out. "Yes". Is everyone okay "Yes." He told us not to try and put it out ourselves. I lost it. "Robert!!!! Getting away from the F***ING FIRE!!! He said not to try and put out the fire!! Put down the F***ING HOSE!!".

He was so close to the flames. I think I threw the phone. I was in my bare feet, in purple short spandex and a bright green tank top. He was only in shorts. No shoes. No shirt. No Robb. I saw his eyes and he was just looking straight through me trying to spray the house with our sad little hose. I think the hose was crying more than anything.

Robb just stood there. I started to hit him. To push him away. I punched his chest and screamed in his face. I wanted him to come back to me. I kept hitting him and backing him from the fire with my rage and fear. He looked at me and turned towards the house. "I have to go in and get the dogs." He was so quiet. I followed him screaming that I had already lead the dogs out. But he went in anyway.

I will forever replay what happened next. I stood on the stoop as he crossed the black clouded threshold and grabbed him by his shorts. I grabbed him and swung him around. I threw him out of the house and onto the ground. He hit so hard. I knew I hurt him. I was crying. Peter was inside but I would not tell Robb.

I grabbed Robb as he tried to go inside again. I turned and Peter snuck out of the doorway. I shooed him (while I held Robb by his shorts) hoping he would run away and he did. Everyone was out. Everyone was safe.

Robb's car was between my car and the garage only a few feet from each. The dogs and Piper were in my car and Robb's car was on fire. We had to get the animals.

I lead Robb to the car and showed him they were okay. We held the dogs by their collars and I scruffed Piper. Peter was no where in site but he was out. We walked to the far side of our front yard and I yelled for help. I could see our neighbors but they could not see us. Shock resonated from their faces. They were scared too. I heard loud horrible sounds of terror. It took me a little while to realize it was me screaming for help.

Our neighbors found us and helped us across the street. It was from that side of the road we watched our home burn. It could not have been more than a few minutes since I heard the smoke alarm. We were safe an sat there for a couple of hours and watched as firemen quieted down the storm that raged through our home. Robb visited the ambulance for a laceration and minor burns.

Robb had enlightened us to the fired starting from his bike while he was working on it. It wouldn't be until day or so later that we would learn the bike had fallen on top of him while he was working on it. It had trapped him beneath it while it leaked gas and caught fire. He can remember watching the fire spread around him while he lay under 800 lbs of metal. He cannot remember how he got out from beneath the bike.

It was in the ambulance that I realized how close he had been to the fire. Paint from the garage floor had melted onto his toenails. His legs, arms and shorts were smudged with paint. With pain. He was alive.

Later that night. Before we would travel the quarter mile down the road to my parent's house, I would find Peter hiding, uninjured in the tree line. He, or course, ran past me and tried to make it through the wreckage back into the house. Thankfully, I learned to tackle animals and sibling when I was little. Peter had no chance. He was mine.

Today, a week later we are making our way through the wreckage. We are thankful for all of the love and support we have received not only from family and friends, but from people we barely even know. This is only the first entry in our blog. Please follow us along, as we try and figure out how to be Born from Ash.