“I can’t believe you’d throw away five years of dating over something so stupid.”
Iris tossed and turned in a hazy gray cloud of memory, caught in a recursive loop with a fixed starting point at Valencia's coffee shop. Her limbs were heavy, and every movement dragged as if she were wading through thick pudding. Everything blurred around her, except for the clear sharpness of Ethan's wretched face.
“You’re misremembering things again.”
She remembered his face perfectly well, at least. It was a shame that he still looked so handsome, but Iris would not be tempted by his enticements again. After all his love-bombing and grand gestures years ago, he’d still abandon Iris for days or weeks at a time, with increasing frequency after the funeral.
“I’d be willing to take you back…”
For what? Would he get tired of waiting for her to pay more attention to him again? Her mind skipped back in time, from the fancy coffee shop to her last argument with Ethan.
“It’s been over a year already. She’s dead and buried… You’ve gotta grow up and move on. This’s getting pathetic… I’m embarrassed to be seen with you.”
Those were the last things he said before she changed the locks on her old apartment door without telling him. Did he even remember that happening? Not that it mattered much; Ethan didn’t bother showing back up at the apartment for four days, only to find that his key didn’t work. Her new apartment was much nicer anyway, with its biggest benefit being that Ethan didn’t know where it was.
“Tramp.”
There it was. The poisonous word, dripping with disdain, which choked the very life from Iris. Her wrist was still sore from his forceful grasp, and throbbed with white fire as she wrenched it away. If Mr. Cavendish hadn’t been there…
Would Ethan slap me around again?
Her eyes shot open to the late-night darkness and the vacuum of her body gasped greedily for air. A quick survey of the bedroom yielded a phone clock that read 3:39, a tattered blanket, and a snoozing Paxoram weakly struggling with his own nightmares.
Knowing how little sleep Zayzann had since breathing in the plate powder, Iris couldn’t bring herself to wake him. Instead, she crept out to the living room to find the reclining archfiend on a heap of bedding. The smell of fear seeped from her tiny, trembling body as Iris quaked at the foot of his nest. Traces of it filled Byxx’s nose, waking him from dreams of Chromaldus.
“Wassa madder?” Byxx forced one of his golden eyes open to determine whose fear had roused him. Iris hadn’t meant to wake him, and she shook silently where she stood. “Are you okay, honey?”
“I… had a nightmare.” Iris allowed the words to leak from her with a distressed whisper. “I was being held down, and I couldn’t get away…”
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” Byxx threw off his blanket to reveal his night clothes of shorts and a tank top. He patted the mound of bedding beside himself and scooched a pillow over for Iris to use. “C’mere.”
Iris crouched down and collapsed into Byxx’s open arms with a muted thud. His immense body was firm and warm, like a hot rock drenched in sunlight, and his arms loosely enveloped her in a comforting embrace. Under his protection, Iris fought exhaustion to speak with him before drowsing off.
“Byxx?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you teach me… how to defend myself?” Iris snuggled against the infernal heater. “I’m afraid…”
“No problem.” Byxx closed his eyes and smiled faintly. “You let me know when you’re ready, okay?”
“Thank you.” Iris muttered before drifting off to sleep.
The charging cellphone was still resting on the bedroom nightstand when its shrill alarm sounded at 6:30 that morning, scaring Zayzann half to death when it trilled. He managed to silence the device from its irritating musical trumpeting and hopped out of bed to search for his watch-mate.
Iris had heard the chime from her heap on the floor and slithered out from under the archfiend’s arm. Byxx was still asleep, and merely turned over and hugged the blankets where Iris had left them. It was a wonder that he hadn’t crushed her in the night from turning over on the bed. His subtle breathing mingled with another familiar presence.
A soft humming noise reached her ears from the nearby stool where Khazmine perched, offline and resting, with her charging cable snuggly fitted into the baseboard power socket. The only other sound was that of Zayzann padding in from the hallway. He flushed at the sight of Iris in her disheveled state, what with her hair a mess and her clothing rumpled from Byxx’s hug.
“Good morning.” Zayzann whispered, as he tried not to wake the others. “Your, uh, phone was ringing. Here.”
“Thank you.” Iris’s hand brushed against his as she retrieved the device. Zayzann bristled at the contact but said nothing. “Sorry if it scared you. Could you hand me the outfit on top of the dryer, please?”
Zayzann grabbed the shirt and trousers that were haphazardly folded and on top of the stack. He detected a strange, earthy scent that clung to the garments, but Iris hadn’t noticed when she reached for them.
“Thanks.” Iris shuffled to the bathroom to catch a quick shower before her coffee date, leaving Zayzann to forage for fish in the fridge.
Zayzann made quick work of two large, silver-scaled fish, rasping thoroughly at their savory flesh with an eager tongue. Their stripped carcasses landed in the kitchen trash bin as Iris strode in from the hallway. She spared a quick glance for the resting roommates and smiled at how peaceful they looked.
“You look nice today.” Zayzann whispered as he got caught up in Iris’s gaze. She gestured with an index finger for him to stoop lower. “What is it?”
“And you look nice every day.” Iris teased, her breath rustling the delicate down feathers by his ear. “Be good today, okay?”
Iris brushed her hand against the length of blue feathers that grew along Zayzann’s jawline, causing him to inhale sharply. He reminded himself that this human had no idea how sensitive those feathers were on a Paxoram and forced himself not to shudder at her touch. An alien, aloe-green eye twitched at the strain, but he otherwise remained still until Iris backed away.
“Bye now.” She gave a friendly wave and snatched the faux leather bag before departing out the front door.
Desperate for a final look at her, Zayzann ducked over to the front window and peeked through the blinds like a tiger on the prowl. Iris practically skipped out to the waiting black sedan, and cheerfully opened the passenger door for herself to climb in. Something about her in that moment struck Zayzann as odd, as if he were seeing some strange, repeating pattern unfolding. His eyes narrowed at this sense of déjà vu, until he remembered what happened.
Wait a minute, that’s it. Zayzann tilted his head in confusion. Those are the same clothes Khazmine wore last night. But why…
The sedan sped away into the bright and sunny morning, giving Zayzann an uneasy feeling that forced his ears back and tensed the muscles in his limbs. He would have to ask Khazmine about her nightly adventures later, as she was still recharging and unresponsive to his presence in the apartment.
The gilded door to the Luxe de Minuit coffee house swung open with ease, and a fresh-faced, affable server guided Iris and Mr. Cavendish to VIP seats near the dessert carousel. Luxe was, by far, the most exclusive and expensive must-see destination for premium coffee in the city, and Iris was overwhelmed as soon as she walked in.
Rich, luxuriant scents swirled around the lavishly appointed coffee shop, performing a delicate dance of decadent delights. The whole shop was intimately lit with dim bulbs, bustling with trendy acoustical jazz music, and flush with cozy, opulent furniture. It catered a generous buffet for the senses, seducing each affluent patron with a cornucopia of sights, sounds, and smells that washed away one’s worries for the day.
“We won’t be needing those, thank you.” Mr. Cavendish politely waved away the menus their server produced, partly to keep Iris from worrying about the prices. “They can make anything you want here.”
“Really?” Iris’s face lit up as she looked enthusiastically at their friendly server. “May I watch? I’d love to see how it’s made.”
Mr. Cavendish struggled with great difficulty to contain his amusement at Iris’s boundless enthusiasm for well-crafted work. She watched with great interest as their drinks and food were artfully prepared, poured, and plated right before their eyes. Her hands trembled with ghostly motions as Iris practiced the maneuvers midair as she watched. The beautiful beverages were delivered back to their table on a polished silver tray, accompanied by sweet pastries.
“This has been a real treat, sir.” Iris gushed at her Café Vienna served with fresh whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder. “Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Mr. Cavendish nursed his Americano and hoped that this breakfast would never end. “I’m glad we got to try again.”
Work took a backseat to friendly banter, as this wonderful place was a poor environment to dampen with heavy topics. Conversation meandered from their respective drinks to favorite foods, holidays, and even a few anecdotes from their college days. Time slipped away as Iris and Cavendish lingered over coffee, scones with blackberry jam, and flaky croissant. Before long, it was time to head back to GC&S for another challenging day.
Laden with an ample takeaway box in a brown paper bag, Mr. Cavendish carried leftover pastries for Iris as they departed. Iris had discouraged the purchase of so many extra sweets, but her companion had insisted, stating that it was only fair that she shared some of this bounty with her roommates.
“It’s no trouble, really.” Mr. Cavendish added. “It was worth it, just to see the smile on your face. That’s payment enough for me.”
For the first time in ages, she had no quip or reply to his comments, and remained silently by Mr. Cavendish’s side as they walked toward the elevators of the GC&S building. Full of warmth, gratitude, and pastry, Iris maintained a gentle, tranquil grin as they strode to the opening doors. The muted sounds of footfalls echoed behind them.
“Cassie!” A frantic voice called from behind.
Iris had barely managed to step inside the elevator when a hand tugged forcefully at the cowl of her cardigan, yanking her around with force. She turned to find a panting, red-faced hooligan still clutching at her clothing, as if she would disappear if he were to let go.
“Cassie!” Ryan Dämmerung filled the elevator to bursting with his overeager cry. “Wait, Iris?”
“Mr. Dämmerung, what the hell are you doing?” Mr. Cavendish boomed, causing Iris to wince at his volume. “Let go at once!”
“I- I’m sorry. I was confused.” Ryan unclenched his tensed hold, allowing Iris to back away from him. “You’re wearing the same clothes, I… Please, Iris, where is Cassie?”
Iris broke free of Ryan’s pleading stare and her entire body tensed as nausea set in.
Comments (5)
See all