Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-four
The patter of the rain was loud on the hot shop’s steel roof over the couch where Iris and Gabe lay naked and entangled.
With her cheek resting on his sweat-slicked chest, she inhaled, filling her nostrils with the accord of their warm bodies, the sweet smoke of torched newspaper, and the smell of the rain, cooling and soft as a cucumber cocktail.
And indeed, Iris felt drunk, in the best way possible.
She felt utterly relaxed, her body’s strength satisfyingly spent and all her nervous energy burned off.
Only her thighs still vibrated, and her right big toe cramped.
With her eyes on the flames that licked the blow pipes, Iris began to tell the story she couldn’t in the car. “They blame me for what happened to Jacob.”
“Who does?”
“My aunt and uncle.”
“He died of a drug overdose. How could that possibly be your fault?”
“His addiction wouldn’t have happened if not for me. If not for what Jacob did for me. That’s why Clay asked me for money. Because I owe Jacob a debt. He might even be right.”
Gabe continued to rake his fingers through her hair, patient, letting her tell the story at her own pace. A story that had taken more than a year for her to tell Ben.
Iris took a deep breath. “I told you I lived through a childhood house fire that killed my parents, but I didn’t tell you how I survived.
My cousin Jacob saved my life. He was sleeping on the pullout couch by the front door, he could’ve run right out and saved himself, but he didn’t.
He ran to my room to get me. And he fell carrying me down the stairs in the pitch-black smoke and fractured two vertebrae.
And he still got us out, adrenaline I guess.
And when he got treatment for his back, they gave him oxycontin.
And from then on…” She trailed off. “So I owe Jacob my life. And saving mine cost him his.”
Gabe audibly exhaled, and Iris braced for his reaction.
“You don’t believe that, do you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, it’s crazy to think you, an eleven-year-old child, were responsible for the entire trajectory of a man’s life.”
“But if he—”
“No, I get the concept, you’re drawing some butterfly-effect kind of causal chain, but it’s just a story. The fire caused his injury. The medication caused his addiction. For various reasons, he wasn’t able to successfully recover. And the drugs caused his death. That’s what happened.”
Iris had never been challenged on it before. She felt defensive, or…seen. Maybe both at once.
“You were a child in danger on the worst night of your life. You didn’t ask to need saving any more than you asked to have both your parents killed in a horrible fire. It’s amazing Jacob was able to save you, yes, it was heroic, but no one should have refused that opportunity.”
Hearing him say the words, even if she wasn’t sure she entirely believed them, made her eyes film over, not with sorrow but relief.
“What happened to your cousin is sad and unfair. But you shouldn’t feel any guilt for accepting that help or causing his problems. It’s not your fault. At all.”
“Maybe I feel guilty because I cut ties with him. After the fire, I moved in with my mom’s parents, and we really didn’t see Jacob or his family anymore.”
“So you’re guilty of not being grateful enough?”
Her breath caught. She had never been able to articulate it so succinctly before in her life.
“Well, yes. Shouldn’t I feel more grateful to him?
What’s wrong with me? I couldn’t even make my fingers text him when his mom asked.
That’s what they really wanted from me today, they wanted my emotion, my grief, my gratitude.
And I had none to give them. Sometimes, frankly, I resent them.
And then I catch myself, and I’m shocked at my coldness.
Like, I should be in pieces right now, and I feel numb. It makes me ashamed of myself.”
Gabe squeezed his arms tighter around her. “How could you be grateful for the most traumatic event of your life?” His embrace eased. “Because I know that feeling. And it can be just as toxic.”
They sat up, Iris draped her legs over Gabe’s lap as he put his arm around her, and she let him open up.
“I mean, look, I have to say it to myself. I’m adopted.
I was asking for someone to save my life before I could talk.
And I know I’m lucky. All my life, people have told me how lucky I am.
Told my parents how good they are. And I’m not arguing that they aren’t!
But every other kid got born entitled to their parents’ love, but for me, it’s like a debt to repay, and a charity I have to make good on.
But what made me deserve being abandoned or being wanted any less than any other kid on the planet?
My parents, God bless ’em, they never made me feel that way, but the message gets in there.
” He pointed to his head. “The people I was born to, the ones who were supposed to love and protect me, didn’t.
Or couldn’t. Or nobly sacrificed me to a better future.
Or had me ripped from their arms by a corrupt adoption agency.
Or tossed me out like trash. I’ll never know.
And it doesn’t really matter, the result is the same.
I needed someone to step up. And someone did. ”
Iris put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you were a wondrous child to love. A gift to your parents. The most wanted.”
“What about all the moments I wasn’t?” He smiled tightly, his eyes glistening. “Or all the ways I haven’t made good on the gift of their love? Does that make me less worthy of it?” He shrugged, but his trembling lower lip seemed to betray his answer.
Iris shook her head no and kissed him.
He blinked away the tears, and his words came out steadier. “Every child needs love and protection. Even as adults, it’s okay to need someone to come through for you. That’s a bond, not a debt.”
They both were silent for a few minutes as the truth of it sank in.
“Have you been to therapy?”
Gabe chuckled. “I’ve just burned and broken a lot of shit.”