ChickLit             ... Prompt #13 (March 12th-17th) ... Word Prompt: The firefighters assured her that deep frying the turkey was not the best idea. (500-2500 words)

Everything was ruined and poor Raisa couldn't stop sobbing and hiccuping as she stood in the little garden courtyard looking at Ion's handiwork.

The trendy taupe siding on the house, which Raisa saved up for and had professionally installed 5 years ago, melted like wax straight up to the second story of the house. It happened almost as soon as Ion had dropped the frozen turkey into the pot of boiling oil.

When the turkey hit the hot oil there was a resounding hiss. The hissing was frightening but not half as frightening as the sudden explosion of scalding steam and fiery flames that burned nearly 18 feet in the air. The fire was so intense and persistent that it left an undeniable and nearly 6 foot wide black scorch trail right up the melted siding. The trail started about 2.5 feet off the ground, flared out and then tapered back in as it reached the 2nd story. There was no ignoring or covering up the damage with a good wash and a few pretty exterior wall decorations. The wall was ruined beyond repair.

Raisa's heart sank at the sight. How did she let Ion talk her into this? Why hadn't she done some research? Why hadn't she looked into deep frying turkeys first before she ever let it get this far? If she'd only gone on YouTube she would have known right away that this whole endeavour was never going to work - not with Ion at the helm.

Never, in her life, had she let her little brother run with an idea. Even at 34, he was still a walking disaster. Now, as Raisa stood in utter shock, looking at the damage before her, she wondered what had possessed her to trust him?

Feeling ill, Raisa's stomach churned continually as she calculated the cost of all this damage in her head. Oh, she had home owner's insurance and hopefully it would cover something like this. However, her mind was plagued by the sudden loss and if only thoughts, which were running amuck in her mind as the firefighters worked to put out all the flames.

Ion could not even bring himself to look in her direction. She knew he felt bad. She knew he'd been just as surprised and shocked as she was. She also knew that this was yet another black mark on the long family list of black marks against him. However, Raisa felt partially responsible. She should never have let him do this in the first place.

Not being able to look at the exterior wall one moment more, she let her eyes trek back down to the deck. Her heart sank anew. The sweet, floral patterned, outdoor, water-repellent and expensive cushions on her matching patio chairs and sofa set, which she had only got her hands on the summer before, had ignited in brilliant blue flames when Ion took the garden hose to the fire and tried to extinguish it in the early stages of this ordeal.

The water evaporated in the extreme heat and only caused the fire to explode onto her patio furniture. All that remained of her trendy and costly cushions was charred bits and pieces of melted acrylic fibers and thermoplastic synthetic polymer resin. The whole set was nothing but a memory. There was nothing left of it to salvage and she was never going to get her hands on that exact set again because it had been discontinued.

Raisa hiccuped and wiped futilely at the tears still streaming down her cheeks. Everything was ruined.

The actual scene of the 'accident' was awash in white foam. The turkey, the tall steel pot used to deep fry it in, the oven mitts Ion used while lowering the frozen turkey into the steel pot of boiling oil and the heavy rubberized rug from inside her patio door, which was initially used to help contain the fire, were all burnt black as tar and swimming in the foam the firefighters used to extinguish the extensive grease fire.

Raisa could care less about the pot, the mitts and the rug. All of those things were easily replaced. However, the turkey was a bitter loss. Perhaps even more so than her prized patio furniture or her new-ish siding.

The deep fried turkey was suppose to be the crowning jewel of the surprise party the family was throwing for her bunici's 75th wedding anniversary, which was scheduled to take place in just two hours.  Her bunic had always wanted to try the American tradition of deep frying a turkey. He'd seen it done on American TV and talked every American Thanksgiving, for years, about doing it one day.

Ion had convinced Raisa that this was the time to do it, that they would never get another chance like this to surprise their bunic and bunică. Raisa sobbed fresh new tears when she saw Ion poke at the frightening looking black carcass where it lay somewhat submerged in a sea of foam. It was ruined and there was no way to salvage it.

Everything was ruined! No deep fried American turkey meant no feature course at the anniversary party. It was like having a party without the guest of honour. It was a first class fiasco and the family would never let her and Ion live this down.

Raisa felt crushed with disappointment in Ion but mostly in herself. She should have done some research. She should have just taken a minute out of her busy schedule to look into deep frying a turkey. She could just kick herself now. 

Raisa's spirits dropped even further, if that were possible, when she noticed one of the five firefights was striding across the small courtyard garden to her. She dreaded the conversation (most likely a lecture & a hefty bill for the insurance company she guessed) they were about to have. And, it didn't help one bit that she was feeling incredibly self conscious about her looks after all the crying she'd been doing.

She quickly brushed her tears away and tried to clean up any evidence of her meltdown. Though, it was likely, even as she scrubbed under her eyes with her knuckles, that her face sported red blotches, blood shot eyes and cheeks practically running with black mascara. Her face was likely as ruined as her house and deck. The thought made her cringe and groan inwardly.

The firefighter was a man in his early forties at most. He had dumped his gloves, helmet and oxygen tank before approaching her. Raisa could get a good look at him now for the first time. And, what a look it was too.

His short cropped hair was skewed, like a bad case of bed-head, from the helmet, and yet, he still looked very appealing. He was too handsome for even a bad hair day to make much of a difference. Raisa admired his long narrow face, slightly pointed chin, trim nose and the slight stubble all over his jaw. It was all so appetizing. He was all too appetizing.

However, it was his eyes that had her melting in all the right places and forgetting the fire, the damage and the ridiculous looking turkey. He had the prettiest pair of light hazel eyes (almost golden) and they stood out beautifully because they were encrusted with the blackest, longest and thickest lashes Raisa had ever encountered on man or woman. His eyes were stunning.

Raisa blushed like an adolescent when she realized he'd been talking to her and she'd been so mesmerized by his eyes that she hadn't heard a word he'd said. Immediately she covered her face with both of her hands and half turned away from him for a moment. 'What was she thinking getting distracted like that at such a time as this', she reprimanded herself?

Lucky for her, he appeared to believe she was suffering from some sort of shock. He gently laid his hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. Raisa took in a few deep breaths, which she exhaled just as quickly, and then scolded herself for being such a ninny in front of this stranger who was just trying to do his job. It wasn't his fault he was dazzling.

By the time she had recovered herself and turned back to the firefighter, Ion had wandered over. He was looking excessively remorseful and kept watching Raisa anxiously. She knew she should reassure him that all was forgiven and that she was just happy he wasn't hurt but her regret was so fresh she couldn't bring herself to say anything at all. In fact, she was positive she would burst into tears if she tried to utter one word.

So, instead, she reached out her fingers and clasped his closest hand. That was the best she could offer him at the moment. He squeezed her hand affectionately as his eyes got glassy for a second. Raisa had to look away from him and concentrate on the firefighter with the exquisite peepers.

He was in the middle of saying, "The good news is that there is no irreparable damage Miss Moraru."

Raisa interrupted him with a wave of her long slender fingers, "It's just Raisa, please."

He gave her a warm smile and a little nod before continuing on with, "Your homeowner insurance will cover all of this." Here he stopped and made a small waving motion toward the deck and the exterior wall.

Riasa cringed and Ion gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. Raisa let out a defeated sigh when her eyes landed on the ridiculous looking turkey.

The firefighter had followed her eyes and he frowned regretfully. "I know I don't need to tell you this, but, deep frying a frozen turkey is never a good idea."

Raisa grimaced a little. "Hind sight is 20-20, Mister ..." she paused hoping he'd fill her in on his name.

"Oh, ah," he seemed a bit embarrassed.

Raisa thought glibly, 'Welcome to the club.'

But, before long he had recovered himself, giving her an inviting smile again. "It's Petru Ursu." He grinned at her when her eyes lit up hearing another Romanian name.

"Peter-the-bear?" Raisa asked with a little laugh. Her good humour was returning with each passing minute she stood in Petru's disarming company. Of course, having a Romanian name was like having an instant membership into the  Moraru family. Why even Ion's downcast face lit up at the introduction.

Petru smiled widely at her and gave a little nod. When he grinned like that a dimple appeared on his left cheek. Raisa felt like melting right there all over again.

'He was too handsome to be single', she thought with something very close to disappointment. Inadvertently she glanced down at his hand. There was no wedding ring. She chewed on her lip a moment. 'He must be divorced or possibly gay', she thought anxiously.

Her mother belonged to the Romanian Orthodox Church and would certainly disapprove of him, even with a Romanian name, if he was divorced. And, if he was gay, well, she'd be chasing her own tail if she decided to pursue her interest in him. 'Why did he have to be so handsome and so personable?' Raisa sighed to herself. 

Suddenly feeling quite hopeless about her house, her turkey, the surprise party and her non-existent love life, Raisa just wanted to escape from Petru and Ion for five minutes so she could salvage herself somehow.

Raisa's attention was drawn back to Petru when he asked with genuine interest, "What was the turkey for? It's not Thanksgiving for another 2 months."

Ion piped in quickly saying, "Our bunici are having their 75th wedding anniversary and the turkey was to be a surprise. Bunic has always admired American outdoor cooking and has been dreaming of eating deep fried chicken since he arrived here in the 70s and started watching American television." The two men laughed lightly. Raisa smiled despite how she was feeling.

"When's the party?" Petru asked.

Raisa pulled out her phone from the back pocket of her jeans to check the time. "In a little less then two hours."

"Is the party suppose to be here?" Petru asked with some alarm. His eyes immediately went to the fire and water damage and he frowned.

"No, no," Raisa reassured him, feeling grateful for his genuine show of concern. "It's a big family event, so we are having it at the Cultural Center."

He looked relieved as he smiled sweetly at her again. "Well then, let me help get the guys here moving so we can wrap things up and let you two get back to your party preparations."

Raisa gave him a little nod and a small but genuine smile.

True to his word, he and his crew were all ready and gone in less then 15 minutes. Raisa looked at her phone. She and Ion had an hour to get ready and be over at the Cultural Center.

There was no time to do anything about the turkey. She was going to have to buy a few rotisserie chickens from the local grocery store. The mătuşile would have to serve that at the party along with the traditional salami and sausage cold cuts, stuffed tomatoes, deviled eggs, meatballs, polenta, stuffed cabbage rolls, stuffed peppers and whatever else the mătuşile had cooked, baked and prepared for days before the grand feast.

Raisa cringed inwardly. She and Ion were never going to hear the end of this from their mătuşile. Nothing could save either of them from the countless disappointed looks, the lectures, the tsh- tsh'ing noises the older women would make every time they spied the pitiful rotisserie chickens. The mătuşile hadn't thought the American deep fried turkey was a very good idea to begin with. They would have preferred something a great deal more traditional. 'Something to do with pork most likely', Raisa thought with half-hearted laugh.

One thing was certain, not even meeting Peter-the-bear could turn this around for Raisa. Though, she couldn't deny that she'd be thinking, dreaming and drooling over his incredible hazel eyes for days to come - maybe even years.

Then she wondered, just briefly, 'What else could Ion set on fire in her yard?'

(2383)