of course you’re not okay.
iris.
iris come talk to me.
IRIS
just got done talking with my dad.
i’m exhausted.
don’t want to talk more. get some sleep.
yeah sleep isn’t gonna happen tonight.
what’d your dad say? anything that even remotely made you feel better?
An ellipsis pops up in her text box, then vanishes. She doesn’t respond.
Fuck.
i’m sorry. sweet dreams peep
I haven’t called her that in years. Since she made the brilliant or maybe terrible decision to wear a flower crown set with faux Peeps and it was one of the best gifts my sense of humor has ever been given. I only bring it up now as a Hail Mary.
I watch the ellipsis pop up again. This time:
IRIS
go to bed, grinch.
and i’m sorry too.
The room goes dark when I click off my phone. It’s a small consolation that she at least responded with the stupid nickname she came up with for me. So there’s levity there.
It doesn’t feel like it’ll do anything to help. It never does.
I toss my phone onto the table and stare up at my ceiling in the dark and eventually I fall asleep in my dress shirt and pants, sinking into a dreamless void that doesn’t give me any answers or even restfulness.
“Coal!Coal! Wake the hell up!”
I bolt upright and narrowly avoid smashing my forehead into my brother’s nose.
A tension headache careens over me and I double forward, fingers digging into my temples. “What time is it?”
“Nearly eight. Get up. Now.”
Kris is halfway to the door. He’s still in his clothes from last night too, and good lord, the sight the two of us make, like we crashed a wedding and passed out in our groomsmen outfits.
Wedding.
Marriage.
Oh, god.
“What?” I groan, head thundering.
Kris doubles back and grabs my arm andripsme out of bed. He throws my shoes at me. “Get. Up.”
