“You don’t want to remember?”

For some reason, I can’t look at him anymore. Maybe because I’m ashamed, maybe because there are some parts that I truly couldn’t remember—whatever it was, I didn’t intend to figure it out. My head hung low and I forced myself to hold back the tears that had formed in my eyes.

Pitiful, such a pitiful sight you are.

I expect to hear more questions from Iris, asking what had happened to me, why I didn’t want to remember. I’m prepared to answer them—I’ve always been prepared—but he doesn’t ask anything. Instead he smiles at me and raises his hand. He rests it on my head and says, “It’s okay.”

I don’t want to look at him but I do anyway. His eyes sparkle with what I thought he had lost—hope—while mine are glossed over with tears that are waiting to fall. He moves his hand slowly, petting my hair. It’s strange but it seems to be his only way of comforting me. “It’s okay if you don’t want to remember,” he starts again, smiling softly. I try not to stare as much as I wait for him to continue. “There are some things the mind doesn’t want you to remember for your own sake. Maybe you’ve chosen to block out those memories of your life because you didn’t want it to affect the person you are now.” He lifts his hand from the top of my head and moves the strands of hair away from my face. “You must have had a painful past, hm?”

His words are quiet, calm, familiar. They leave me at peace. But despite that, his words make the tears I had held back fall. “Oh no,” he says, chuckling. “Daisy, don’t cry.”

“I–I’m sorry,” I mumble, closing my eyes. “It’s just so hard.”

“You don’t have to remember,” he says, watching me as I turn into even more of a mess before him. He doesn’t seem bothered by my crying however. Actually, now that I think back on it, he never seemed to be bothered by me at all. “It was never your job to remember,” Iris continues. “Your job was always to live happily, whether you can remember your past or not. You can still be happy without those memories.”

Iris’s words bring me comfort, almost as if he’s hugged me. They make me feel warm inside, but hearing them doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Poor Daisy,” he says, holding my face gently in his hands, the same hands he uses to care for his flowers. “You can cry. Just let it all out, I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. Let’s be here for each other, okay?”

I nod, sniffling as I let out a sob I had been holding back. “O–Okay,” I say and that’s enough for me to break down. My head falls and I clench my fists, choking on my sobs as Iris comforts me, telling me that everything would be fine. Normally, I would never believe a word like that—it was so obvious that it was a lie. But that wasn’t who I was anymore.

Spending all that time with Iris had changed me from the person I used to be before and I hadn’t even realized it.

“Now, now,” he says softly, wiping the tears away. “You’re okay, I’m with you now. I’ll share your pain with you, okay?” I nod again and continue to cry—because it seemed that I still wasn’t finished.

We remain in that position for what I thought had been hours. When I had finally finished my crying, Iris looked at me. He was still smiling, just like he had been before, and was looking at me so lovingly, even with his tired eyes*.* “Come on now,” he says, moving away from me. “We’ve got some flowers to take care of!”

“Right,” I mumble and sniffle, wiping my face on my sleeve. I turn back to the flowers I had neglected and start to water them and Iris does the same. More time passes and as we complete our tasks, I steal glances at him, watching as he smiles like nothing had happened, as if I hadn’t just broken down inside his shop. When he looks at me, it’s not a look of pity either—it’s more than that, something I can’t explain in words.

You never fail to surprise me.