Chapter Nineteen
On Monday morning, the day before my sister flies out to Europe, Amelia and I have breakfast with our parents, then clear the table to play Rivalry, dusting off our old Red Witch and Twilight Elf character kits.
Amelia toys with her dice, clueless about how to set everything up.
“I don’t remember most of the rules,” she warns me.
“That’s okay,” I say, shuffling my cards. “Easier for me to win.”
She narrows her eyes, holding her magnifying app over one of her action cards, then reaching out to ask to look at one of mine. “Except my witch is infinitely more powerful than your elf.” My sister finishes reading the details, then waves the card in my face. “Look at the damage this action does!”
“Only if you get the chance to use it,” I tease, sitting back and letting her familiarize herself with the deck again. It’s not going to be the quickest of games, but I don’t mind. I’m just happy to be playing with my sister again. “Don’t worry, I’m ready whenever you are.”
I sit patiently as she finishes setting up her station. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse through the kitchen window of a plane flying across the sky.
When I turn to look right at it, it disappears from my sight.
.....
A week later, there are nearly a hundred people gathered in Peyton’s backyard for her graduation party, with more arriving through the gate, a mix of classmates and family.
Elizabeth and I are glued to each other’s sides, following Peyton around as she makes the obligatory hellos and thank-yous to grandparents, aunts, and uncles.
I’m already nostalgic about the time left with my friends before we all scatter in our different directions for college soon.
“Wait, Iris, when exactly is your new board game going to be ready to play?” Peyton asks, stealing a few moments away from family.
“Not until the end of summer!” I call after her as her mom beckons for her to interact with a few new arrivals. I turn to Elizabeth. “We’re not going to see her much today, are we?”
But Peyton turns back and points to the corner of the yard, where lots of our classmates have gathered, and says to Elizabeth, “Go ahead and tell her my surprise. I’ll meet you over there in a bit!”
“Did you know she sent out a few more invites?” Elizabeth asks me.
I shake my head. “To who?”
With a sly smile, she says, “Not just people from our school…”
It’s not hard to guess who the extra guests are.
My friends have been very insistent about me getting back in touch with Declan, but I haven’t known what to say, or whether it would be good for me to say anything to him at all yet.
I don’t want to cut him out of my life completely, but strolling back into Roll Again to play against him like nothing has happened between us doesn’t feel right either.
But Elizabeth leads the way across the party to where the invited crew is hanging out. “Hey there,” she says, waving hello. “All right, who’s going to teach me how to play board games?” She nudges me for introductions.
“Elizabeth, this is Leslie, Shakir, Roy, and…Declan,” I say, unable to restrain my frown as I lock eyes with him again.
His shoulders are slouched, and he’s almost cowering among the crowd of friends, offering a kind smile, but there’s obvious panic in his eyes at what I’m going to say next. “Who I did not know would be here.”
He takes a deep breath and shrugs, maintaining levity. “Turns out we both know Peyton. What are the chances?”
If the others are confused about why our interaction is so strange, they don’t let on. Even though, to me, it feels like it must be painfully apparent.
“Yes,” Elizabeth says, nudging me toward him, “and Peyton thought you two ought to celebrate your game creation victory.”
“We’ve been on emails,” I say, avoiding looking at Declan.
But since we don’t take the hint to go somewhere else to talk about what’s bothering us, everyone else clears out around us, leaving just Declan and me standing here near the bushes.
“I wouldn’t have come if I knew it would bother you,” he says.
“It doesn’t bother me.” But I’m looking back at the party trying to plot my getaway.
“How are things with your sister?” he asks.
I take a deep breath and face him. “Good. She apologized that night I got home for ditching me in Iowa. And we played Rivalry together for the first time in a very long time.”
He nods. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says genuinely.
It’s only been less than two weeks, so I doubt much has changed with his family situation, but I ask, “What about all your packing? And your parents?”
“Still a lot. But Grady is stepping in to play mediator now, and he’s much better at it than I ever was.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah,” Declan says, not taking his eyes off me even though I keep fidgeting and looking around.
“Um, Iris.” He reaches out and hesitantly touches my arm, reminding me of how we held hands while walking up to the stage at the expo.
Not like I could have forgotten. Except maybe it seemed like I did, because after we got off the stage, we went home and haven’t seen or talked directly to each other since. “I miss you.”
My stomach sinks. No, no, no.
I’ve had enough time to sit with this to realize that I can’t go back to being friendly with Declan no matter how much I may want to, and if he’s somehow about to ask for more, I can’t be with someone who can be that cavalier and fickle with my emotions, especially not right now.
Not when everything has changed.
To be fair, no one knows except me.
I’ll tell my parents, obviously, soon enough.
We’ll get the eye exams booked and everything that comes with that, and the diagnosis I feared was on the horizon will officially be here.
Yet for now I’m going to keep this to myself.
To sit with it since there’s no immediate urgency.
To figure out how I want this all to unfold.
When thinking about the possibility of this diagnosis, I’d usually waver between catastrophizing and considering that nothing would be any different.
The reality turns out to be somewhere in the middle.
Like a new pair of shoes that takes a while to get comfortable but I eventually wear every day without a second thought.
I’m just not there yet.
It’s still fresh.
I wake up each morning unsure if I feel any different, but honestly, I haven’t had time to figure out how I feel yet. What’s the next step in life once the scary thing you worried would happen actually plays out?
Now here stands Declan—adorably wide-eyed and hopeful, seemingly eager to rekindle what we started on the road trip—and a big part of me wishes I could say yes when he asks, “Iris, do you think we could get together sometime?”
Hasn’t this been lurking in the back of my mind this entire time? Haven’t I been desperate to hear him ask me exactly this? Isn’t my heart doing somersaults at the prospect of us being together again?
I stand on my tiptoes and plant a soft goodbye kiss on his cheek. “Now really isn’t a good time.”