“Iris.” I pull out my phone and nod to her bleeding shoulder. “I need to call nine-one-one.”
“No.” She fires the word like a bullet, the last one in her barrel as she looms over Caleb. “Don’t call yet.”
“But your shoulder—”
“It’s fine.” Her soft mouth lopsides in a bitter smile. “I have a high tolerance for pain. Isn’t that right, Caleb?”
Her gaze is locked on his—on the last vestiges of life draining from his eyes, from his body.
“As long as he’s alive, I’m not safe and neither is my daughter. He tried to kill me.” She draws in a long breath, her eyes narrowed. “So we wait.”
She’s my Iris, but I’ve never seen her like this. I thought I had seen all her sides, loved all her sides, but I’ve never seen this. Ruthless and beautiful and bloodied, she emanates all the strength and determination it must have taken her to survive.
And I’ve never loved her more.
We stand in silent vigil for the few minutes of life Caleb has left. His moans and his pain don’t move me—they don’t bring me satisfaction either. It’s simply a necessary end. He deserves so much worse, but at least Iris gets to watch him die.
The absolute stillness of death settles over him. His gaze is vacant and fixed on Iris. I pass a hand over his eyes, closing them; denying him, even in death, one last glimpse of my girl.
I call nine-one-one and then turn my attention back to her. I take her face between my hands, aligning our eyes.
“He’s gone.” I press my forehead to hers, and the blood on her face smears against mine. I don’t care. I wish I could share her pain as easily. I wish I could wipe it away like it had never happened.
“Yes. Yes.” Her fingers dig into my hair and her head drops to my shoulder. She kisses my neck. “I love you.”
I pull back, tilting her chin and erasing her tears with the back of my hand. Carefully, I kiss her, tasting her blood and her tears and her pain.
That night we first met, we couldn’t have known what lay ahead. If she had only kissed me—if I had only pressed for more. If the night I won the championship, I’d managed to convince her that even though we’d just met, even though she had a boyfriend, even though it didn’t make sense – we should take a chance. If I had looked closer and hadn’t missed the signs. Life isn’t a road that forks or a line of numbered sliding doors. There is no alternate universe filled with only right choices. There’s just this one—just this life, and we go where our choices take us and grow wiser from our mistakes.
Standing on the porch waiting for the paramedics, I glance up at the blackened stretch of Louisiana sky. Life is a constellation of decisions, connected by coincidences and deliberations, painting pictures in the heavens. During the day, when things are brightest, we don’t see the stars, but they are there. It’s only in the contrast of night, when things are darkest, that the stars shine.
Iris is my constellation. She took the darkness as her cue to shine. It only made her brighter, stronger, and tonight, her hard-won glimmer lights up the sky.
OVERTIME
“I have been bent and broken, but - I hope – into a better shape.”
-- Charles Dickens,Great Expectations
Epilogue – Iris
“Shitbag!”
I’m literally pulling my hair and grinding my teeth.
“Motherfucker, are you kidding me with this?”
I pace the floor and clench my fists at my side.
“Just . . .” I punch the air. “Ugggghhh.”
My Lakers are playing. And as usual, I’m at war with the refs.
“Grrrrr.” Another bad call.
I’m trying to keep my voice down. August is in his guest room reading to Sarai. We have these little “sleepovers” at his place from time to time, my concession since I haven’t decided to move into his condo yet. I’m especially keen for these semi-regular events at times like this when he’s coming off a long road trip and we haven’t seen him.
The Lakers score.
