Scorched Earth

She bought the jerry cans at Canadian Tire. No one looked twice. Three bright red plastic cans, a box of wooden matches, rags for the garage and she checked out without so much as raising an eyebrow. She'd taken inventory, kept notes, photographs. Anything left that held value was packed away in the back seat and her trunk. The broken doorframe, stains on the carpet, the burnt out element on the stove, she wouldn't miss those. Nostalgia no longer lives here. He left when the sheriff came, hopped into his car and peeled out of sight. She spent two weeks uncovering evidence of him in the most unsuspecting places. Razors in the back of drawers, socks buried in fitted sheets folded in the linen closet. He took the beer and bottle of scotch. Single malt, twelve years old. Left the tequila. She filed  a report, went down to the station. They took her statement; she could barely write it out her hand was so swollen. Sheriff said the order was for 500 metres but if she broke it of her own volition well, that would be a breach of the order and there would be nothing anyone could do to protect her, either in court or on her own property. She saw him driving through town the week after the incident. He had Paulie with him. She slunk down in the booth and lifted the menu up to cover her face but she didn't think he was paying attention. When he showed up on their front porch three sheets to the wind the next weekend she barely had time to make the call. They threw him in the back of the squad car, held him in the drunk tank, levied a fine but that was the extent of their jurisdiction. He'd have to kill you, they said, for us to really press charges. She slept with one eye open, a baseball bat in bed. He threatened to light her on fire while she was sleeping. That's when she knew she was free. She'd always wanted to see the Grand Canyon. Hoover Damn,  Cirque de Soleil. Passport in her purse, car packed and ready. She poured the gas throughout every room, soaking his shag rug. If he wanted scorched earth who was she to deny him? She tucked a rag into the last can and set it centre stage, on his favourite comfy chair. A lifetime of softball gave her a great arm. She lobbed the flaming tennis ball through the open window. Halfway down the road she watched a fireball erupt in her rear view mirror. Burn it all. Burn it to the ground.