February 06, 2002 | 9:16 AM

5E)### Com Ave (Kenmore Square)*

The first fire happens in July. The next in August. As though one gives birth to the other. These fires are the axes upon which this summer turns and implodes, hurtling memories like meteors from that life to this. I am struck three years later by the last days of my own fierce youth before The New Age. Before all the compromises and my own dogged invincibility.

Ladies and gentlemen this summer of 1997 is my very own personal Planet Krypton.

It�s just another Saturday morning outside 80 Boylston. Cross-legged on the pavement in my fawn colored crepe sundress, flipping through Cocteau, smoking Dunhill after Dunhill. Waiting for John who has become The Boyfriend once again.

I�m thinking this is just another Saturday of waiting and smoking and reading and pretending and looking forward to a few Colt 45�s and dirty sex with John on the dorm room floor and dinner at Bennigans, then Mary Tyler Moore and bake in the sun and in my lungs, and sleep so long and full and back up again.

But not today. Not this Saturday.

Today Brett kneels down and takes my book away. He is crying.

Today is Fire #1.

You know Willie, right?

I nod.

He�s dead. Burned up. In the basement. Tried to climb out the window but he couldn�t. Matt was in Worcester. So he�s alive.

See, that�s what it comes down to sometimes. You stay at home, you burn to death. Ashes. Dead. Game Over. You decide to go to Worcester for the evening, congratulations-- you�ve got another fifty years on your plate.

The Game of Life indeed.

My eyes are saucers and I shake my head back and forth in protest.

NO

My hands fly to my mouth to keep the scream in.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

Brett gets on his knees and throws his arms around me and we both cry. I look up and Matt is there too. Matt is red and bleary eyed. He sits with us and we are all hugging and crying. Matt and Willie had been best friends since the 3rd grade. Now Willie is dead and Matt has no home.

Three days before, me, Matt, Willie, Brett and the rest of the Interviewers had been goofing off at The Stupid Company, spending lunch breaks at McDonalds, sneaking rum into our coke bottles on Friday afternoons while making inane phone calls to Liberty Mutual customers.

Now Willie is gone. Willie who dressed all in black but loved Dawson�s Creek, who made absurdist non-sequitor filled prank phone calls to ex-girl-friends while on the clock, who tried to convince everyone that Gummo was the best film of all time. Willie who would always roll a joint or ask you over for a beer. Who talked to everyone, who fed the ducks in Boston garden.

Willie who was everybody�s friend.

All the cliches hit you.

Life is so unfair

Such a tragedy

He was too good for this world

Blah blah blah.

How can such a person simply cease to exist?

Everyone else in the building had gotten out alive. If only the windows in that basement apartment hadn�t been painted shut. If only he had woken up in time and was able to get up the stairs. If only he had gone back to Worcester with Matt like he was supposed to.

If only. If only.

Matt had come back into Boston that morning to find his building burnt to the ground and his friend in the morgue. Now he and Brett were on their way back to Worcester where they had all grown up.

Beau, another childhood friend brings the car around for them. Matt and Brett give me their phone numbers at their parents� where they will be staying. Before getting into the car, Matt turns around and calls to me.

Anna, would you do me a favor?

I nod.

Would you call everyone and tell them what happened? I�d rather they hear it from you than from the news or something.

And so I have the horrible terrible job of Town Crier.

John takes me up to his Summer Conference dorm room, and I begin the round of phone calls.

I call my apartment and let Penny know. I call Kendra and Mike and Dana and Seth and Doug.

I call Angus.

Honey, I have some really bad news.

Pause.

Omygod you�re pregnant.

No. I can�t believe I�m saying this but I wish it were that.

So what�s going on.

I take a deep breath. My voice shakes.

Willie and Matt�s apartment burned down.

Jesus that�s awful. They�re both ok though, right?

Matt�s fine. He wasn�t there.

Pause

Angus...

He is choking back sobs.

What about...

I start crying all over again.

He didn�t make it, Angus. He tried to get out but the window was painted shut.

Neither of us speaks. We listen to each other cry.

I just drank scotch with him two days ago. He�s supposed to come over tomorrow and...

I know.

There is a long silence and then we say good-bye.

I get into John�s bed and crawl under the covers.

I stay there for three days.

*I know I�ve spent a lot of time on the Kenmore Square pad where I only lived for three months, but it�s sort of the turning point of my life.

Stay tuned for part the twelfth...

And if you�re interested in reading the whole saga from the beginning, click HERE