IRIS
Christmas Day brings in a cold wind from the north.
Sol chops wood that morning so we can keep the fireplace burning.
We spend the day downstairs, with Violet playing Sol’s guitar and singing Christmas songs while Zinnia and Rose cook dinner and Poppy, Lily, and I play Crazy Eights and Rummy with a set of old, worn-out playing cards.
Sol has Growth Sessions with each of us that evening. That is his gift to us.
“I know the holidays can be difficult,” he says as we sit around the rickety wooden dining table.
“Especially for people like you girls, who’ve had loved ones abandon and mistreat you.
This can be a time of year when you face setbacks in your progress.
It’s easy to get nostalgic, to look back rather than forward.
I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.
We won’t celebrate material gifts that are ultimately meaningless or families that you didn’t get to choose.
Instead we’ll celebrate this family. And the bright futures that all of you have as you get closer to your perfect selves.
” He smiles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Sorry. I’ll get off my soapbox so we can eat.
One last thing: Just because it’s winter doesn’t mean the garden can’t prosper. ”
After dinner, Lily braids my hair while we all watch Elf and are called, one by one, back to Sol’s room for our Growth Sessions.
“I love your hair,” she says. “It’s so long and soft. How long’s it been since you’ve cut it?”
I beam up at her. “Thank you. I trim the ends, but it hasn’t been given a real cut in several years.”
“Mine would be a tangled mess if it was this long.” Lily wraps a hair tie around the end of the fishtail braid she’s just completed. “You’re lucky.”
Zinnia comes out of Sol’s room and throws herself onto the couch next to Lily with a dramatic sigh.
“What’s wrong, hon?” Lily asks.
“I asked Sol again if I can go into town. Just to go exploring. But he still says no.”
“Of course he did,” Violet snaps. She keeps strumming her guitar, though she stopped singing when Sol left the room a couple hours ago. “You know y’all ain’t allowed to leave the holler.”
Zinnia crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. “I wouldn’t cause trouble,” she says. “I just want …” But she trails off, as if finding it hard to articulate what exactly it is that she wants.
“Um, sorry,” Rose says, leaning around Lily to look at all of us. “Stupid new girl question—why aren’t we allowed to leave the hollow?”
“Just you younger girls,” Lily explains. “People might start asking questions about unaccompanied minors, and Sol doesn’t want y’all getting sent back to bad homes or put in foster care. It’s for your own good.”
“Exactly,” Violet says. “Sol doesn’t do anything without a good reason.”
Rose nods, but Zinnia just sighs again.
“Personally, I don’t mind staying in the cabin,” Poppy says. “It’s nice here. Nobody staring or asking questions. I always preferred staying cozy at home with a book.”
“Not me,” Zinnia mutters.
Sol pokes his head out of his bedroom door, just down the hall. “Iris?” he says. “It’s your turn, sweetheart.”
I hop up from my place on the floor and make my way toward him.
“Love the hair,” he says, looking at the braid. “Let me guess—Lily did that?”
“She did.” I reach up to toy with the soft ends.
“She’s good.” He grins and gestures to his own shaggy blond hair. “Think she can do my hair, too? Give me a braid like that?”
I laugh. “You might need to grow it out just a little longer.”
“Darn. Guess I’ll have to settle for second-best hair in the house, then. But come summer, when this mop is long enough to get styled real pretty, I’m coming for your title.”
“Bring it on.”
He chuckles and throws an arm around my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go talk.”
Just before I step into his room, I glance behind me, back into the living room. Zinnia’s no longer pouting. Instead, she’s shuffling the deck of cards, insisting everyone gather around for a game of Go Fish, her moping from just moments ago already forgotten.
I love days like this, when we are all together in this little cabin, when the house is filled with the sounds of laughing and singing.
This is the best part about life in the hollow.
There is always a shoulder to lean on or a hand to hold or an ear to listen.
You’re greeted with a smile in whatever room you pass through—except maybe if Violet is the one in said room.
In general, though, no matter what, someone is happy to see you.
Despite this—despite the lovely day and the Growth Session with Sol—I find it hard to sleep that night.
My thoughts keep wandering to Christmases past: snowman-shaped sugar cookies, a neon-pink Christmas tree from Walmart, Die Hard on the TV, and laughter—so, so much laughter.
When I do finally fall asleep, it’s full of painfully nostalgic dreams.
The howl of the cold wind outside the attic window pulls me awake. When consciousness settles in, I immediately feel the ache of the loss. Then, a moment later, the guilt comes.
I’m not meant to be thinking about the past. Sol says we have to move forward if we want to grow.
I roll over, suddenly aware that something is off in the room. I can hear the gentle breathing of Poppy and Zinnia from the bed, but the mattress a few feet from mine is empty. Rose is gone. In the last few weeks, I’ve already grown so used to her presence that her absence startles me.
I keep the blanket wrapped around me like a cloak as I quietly stand up and creep across the room, not wanting to wake the other girls. It does nothing to warm my feet, though. I shiver as my bare skin touches each wooden step. There aren’t always enough pairs of socks to go around in this place.
The orange glow of the fire in the living room calls to me like a siren song. And the shadow cast by the figure in front of it tells me I’m not the only one.
“Hey,” I say as I step into the living room. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Rose looks up at me from where she sits on the floor in front of the fireplace. Like me, she has a blanket wrapped protectively around her.
“The wind was too loud,” she says.
“It woke me up, too.” I look at the fire, then back to Rose. The warm glow of the flames lights her pale skin.
“Do you wanna sit?” Rose asks, hand briefly escaping the quilt to pat the spot on the floor next to her.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She scoots over slightly, making room for me. As we sit cross-legged next to each other, I am keenly aware of her knee touching mine.
We are silent for a moment before my nerves get the best of me and I let a question cut through the quiet between us.
“How did you enjoy Christmas?”
She glances over at me. “It was really nice.” Her face turns back to the crackling fire as she adds, “Maybe the first Christmas I can remember that didn’t end with at least one person crying. I was a little on edge all day, waiting for something to go wrong, and it just didn’t.”
“I felt the same way when I arrived,” I admit.
“Not about Christmas specifically. But when I first got here, as kind as everyone was, as reassuring as Sol was, in the back of my mind, I was still waiting for the crash. Like, I expected any day someone might tell me I’d done something wrong and ask me to leave. ”
“But it never happened?”
“No. Not at all. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever even argued with anyone here. Violet has gotten snappy with all of us at one point or another, but it’s just her personality. She doesn’t mean anything by it. Usually.”
Rose laughs. “It’s a relief to hear you say that. I thought she just didn’t like me.”
“Nah. I’m sure she likes you as much as the rest of us. That’s just how she is.”
“What about Lily? Is she always so sweet, or am I special?”
“Mmm.” I bite my lip. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s how Lily is with everyone.
At first, we shared the attic and she must have asked me how I was doing and if I needed anything at least once every half hour.
She only eased up on it when Poppy and Zinnia got here, then they had her attention.
I think she just wants everyone to feel welcome. ”
“Darn. And here I was thinking she might have had a crush on me.” Her hand comes out from the blanket cocoon again so that she can visibly clutch her chest with a dramatic sigh. “My heart, it’s shattered.”
I giggle. “Alas. I believe I …” The laugh fades, and I hesitate, the way I always do before saying it out loud to a new person, unsure of what reaction I might get. “I … think I’m the only one here who likes girls.”
Rose shrugs her shoulders. “Not the only one anymore.”
My eyes widen slightly in surprise. “Oh. You’re … ?”
“Queer? Yep.” Her hand slides back into the security of the quilt, and she pulls it tighter around herself.
“Not that I’ve had a ton of experience there.
I think I’ve kissed three people? And two of them were playing Truth or Dare when I was twelve, so I like to pretend they don’t count. But yeah. Definitely not straight.”
“Oh. Well … cool.”
I bite my tongue, annoyed by my own awkward response.
I’m used to being the one coming out to people, not the other way around.
I’m not actually sure what to say when I’m on the other end of this conversation.
“Congratulations” and “I’m so proud of you” are responses I’ve gotten from supportive friends in the past, but I’ve always found them a bit odd.
It wasn’t that I’d accomplished anything. I’d just rather kiss girls than boys.
Rose rescues me from the awkwardness with a question. “Do they know? Sol and the other girls? Are you out to them?”
“Yeah. They all know.”
“And they’re cool about it?”
“Mostly,” I say. “I told Sol during one of our first Growth Sessions. It didn’t seem to faze him. He just said that as long as I stayed focused on myself and my sisters here—as long as I put this family first—it didn’t matter who I was attracted to.”
“And the other girls?”