Chapter 21 #2
Once we got to the shop, I held the door for her.
She murmured, “thank you” as she walked in.
A bell tinkled, announcing our arrival. The owner called out that she was here if we needed anything.
Iris drifted over to a shelf of mugs. I looked around and found that they sold overpriced candles and cutesy mugs with sayings like, “But First, Tea” or “This Might Be Wine.” The air smelled of freshly ground coffee, vanilla candles, and something citrusy.
It was a little too clean and perfect in here for a guy like me.
I was a bit too tall and a tad too broad for all the delicate china and shiny crystals on the shelves around me.
I was almost worried I would accidentally break something.
I gently trailed my fingers over a bright blue mug that read, “Fixer of Everything.” Iris laughed when I showed it to her and then she picked up a pink one and held it out.
It said, “Chaos Coordinator” in bold purple letters.
We finally settled on a turquoise handmade mug that was a little lopsided and had the words, “I told my therapist about you,” painted on the side of it.
I almost made a joke about it being messed up, just like me, but the words got stuck in my throat as I watched her hold it up to proclaim how much she loved it and admire how cute it was.
The sound of her voice wormed its way into the little pockets of my heart.
I didn’t even have the energy to try to stop it.
The sun chose that moment to drift its rays through the window, framing her perfectly, warming her skin and glinting off her hair.
I stood there, watching her, and the moment felt like it meant way more than it should have.
Once we were ready to pay, I watched as the woman at the cash register wrapped the mug in shiny gold tissue paper and placed it into a black gift bag.
Iris took it with a soft smile and a warm thank you.
I handed the woman a twenty and turned when I heard the man behind Iris comment on how expensive a silly mug was.
I didn’t say anything but seeing Iris’s smile when she had examined the mug and embraced all its imperfections made me feel like it was worth every penny.
Back outside, the cold air hit us again like a slap. My head was still buzzing. The broken mug and its replacement felt like a metaphor.
“So,” I said, stuffing my hands in my jacket. “If you had all the money in the world, what would you do with it?”
She gave me a sidelong glance, looking surprised at what I could only assume came across as a very random question but one that had come to my mind from the man’s comment on the cost of the mug. “Why do you ask?”
“I just wondered. You give off ‘I’m really-responsible-with-my-money-vibes'.”
She laughed. “I’d buy a house. Pay off my student loans.
Start an organization that helps people deal with their past and learn to embrace living in the present.
Maybe start a scholarship fund for kids in the system.
” She barely had to think about it. Big thoughts and plans about her future didn’t seem hard for her to come up with.
“Damn,” I muttered. “That’s almost too wholesome.”
She nudged me with her elbow. “What would you do if you got a lot of money?”
“I have a lot of money,” I mumbled, rummaging around in my pockets just to give my hands something to do, acting almost embarrassed by it.
Or maybe it was the shame of how I had acquired the money.
“But if I’d actually do something big with it, I’d buy a billboard that said, “Live fast, die whenever the hell it finally works.”
She stopped walking and I almost bumped into her. “That’s not funny, Danny.”
I looked over at her, surprised. I had never been able to get anything out of her other than calm questions, real happiness, and empathy.
But I finally heard something else in her voice, and it sent a thrill through me.
Her face was soft, almost sad. And it was obvious to me that she really cared. Probably more than she should.
“I’m joking, just Iris,” I lied and shoved her gently with my elbow. She stumbled and I caught her with my hand before she fell.
“Jesus, I should not be allowed around people,” I joked, flushing.
“You’re doing just fine.” Her smile was forgiving. Much more forgiving than I was of myself.
We parted ways on the corner, Iris to her office, and me to pick up dinner before going to my apartment.
“I’m sorry for today,” I mumbled as she walked away.
“Don’t be. I’m not,” she called without turning back around. I watched her go, a smile playing on my lips.
When I got home, I sent Carter a message.
DANNY
Can you find me a lawyer? I need to do some paperwork.
CARTER
Not if it’s to plan your funeral fucker.
DANNY
Already did that. Envelope with instructions is in my dresser drawer. So you know.
CARTER
(Middle finger emoji).
I didn’t say what the paperwork was for.
I wasn’t even sure myself yet. But something inside of me had shifted and I finally felt peaceful with my decision, versus the frantic feeling I sometimes got when I thought about…
the after. I finally had a plan other than just wanting to die, and it felt right.
As I fell asleep that night, I heard Iris say, “You’re not a project, you’re a person.” It was the closest I’d ever come to feeling seen.