My Apartment Burned Down. My Parents Said, “Not Our Problem.” Then the Fire Investigator Called.

what to do. They would come.

I pressed call.

The phone rang and rang and rang—eight rings before she picked up.

“Evelyn.” My mother’s voice was thick with sleep and something else. Annoyance. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Mom.” My voice cracked. “There was a fire. My apartment. Mom, I lost everything. I don’t have anywhere to go. I don’t—”

“Oh.” A pause.continue reading …