The first thing I noticed once I stepped foot in class was that Iris wasn't there. Why was her desk the first thing my eyes found once I sat in mine? Reasons unknown.
Again.
It felt weird. The classroom felt empty without her, and I told myself to wait till the second bell rang and that she might be late. Even though I knew it was impossible. Iris was never late. Iris was never absent.
Mrs. Shaw stepped inside, and I saw her lean against the whiteboard in a dark maroon pantsuit, and before she could take roll, she spoke, "Iris won't be attending the last few weeks of school with us. Her grandfather passed away last night, and in her culture, they grieve the deceased for forty days. All of her teachers spoke to her father this morning to find out what we could do to help. We all agreed to send her an online link for all of her tests so that she isn't behind and will be able to graduate."
I stayed quiet, and I think for a second I was in shock. Iris and I weren't friends, yet I felt sad knowing she'd be missing out on everything that was happening these last few weeks.
Senior Ditch Day.
The senior annual pizza party.
Prom.
A small, very tiny part of me was thankful she wouldn't be attending prom with that douche, Aaron. It wasn't any of my business, I mentally kept repeating, yet I ignored the rational part of my brain that told me to mind my own business.
"Will she attend graduation?" Will asked from the front row.
"No, she will not. But, she will get her diploma mailed to her."
"What's her culture?" Stacy asked.
"She's Armenian," I found myself answering.
Mrs. Shaw gave a sad smile as she nodded her head, "She is."
As she continued answering questions, I pulled out my phone and went to our messages together. I typed out a quick message, and my finger hovered over the send button as my eyes reread the message. 'I'm sorry for your loss.' It's what normal people tell each other when someone passes away, yet I felt like I wasn't close enough to send her something this personal.
Death was intimate, and Iris and I were anything but that. I erased the message and put my phone away, only to take it out a hundred more times during the day and rewrite the exact five words again. Honestly, it was almost pathetic how my brain and heart fought over how much I was invested in this particular girl.
I didn't know Iris from Adam, yet a part of me recognized something inside her. The pressure to be perfect, to get good grades, to push yourself over the limit, all for that prestigious Ivy League future. I understand that struggle, the mental war in your head, that beats down every strain of doubt and relinquishment you have.
I also didn't know her grandpa, but I knew how close she was to him. She brought him up in the few times we sat together to work on our project, and I knew she loved him. It was evident in the lightness of her voice, the smile on her face, and how her eyes shined when she spoke about him.
She told me his nickname for her was his little flower because Iris meant a blooming flower. That it sounded more beautiful in Armenian than it did in English. I remember asking her to speak it for me, and with blushing cheeks, she did. I remember thinking it was the most beautiful and romantic language I've ever heard, and I spoke Spanish.
Grief was a foreign emotion to me because I've never experienced the passing of someone close to me, so I couldn't even begin to understand what she was going through. I never met my grandparents, they passed away a few years after I was born. I didn't mourn them like my parents did because I didn't know them. Yet here I was, upset and heartbroken over the loss of Iris's grandpa as if he was my own. All I could think about was Iris and how she was dealing with his loss. Then, the heartrending image of her crying flashed right in front of me during the fourth period, and it hit me.
Hard. Harder than it should have.
Tear-stained cheeks, red nose, bloodshot eyes, and a trembling chin as she tried to hold it in, but then a memory of her grandpa flashes, and she gives up and into the never-ending abyss of sadness and grief. She sobs, her little body shaking as she cries, and my own heart gutted at the mere thought of her going through this. Why did I care so much?
Por el amor de Dios.
What was wrong with me? I was going to fail Trig if I kept at it like this. I had more important things to worry about that weren't Iris-related. I had final testing, my soccer scholarship, Stanford, and my parents to worry about. I needed to remind myself that I had a goal, and the goal didn't involve worrying about Iris. Iris wasn't anywhere near the goal.
AUTHORS NOTE: SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS A LITTLE SHORT. THANK YOU TO ANYONE THAT'S READING AND VOTING. IT MEANS THE ABSOLUTE WORLD TO ME. KEEP READING TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS!
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The Ache Between Us
Romance"Tell me what you want." He murmured, his finger trailing up and down my forearm. Goosebumps erupted at his touch and I shivered, my eyes fluttering shut at the trivial touch, and deep down I knew it was ridiculous that he still had any sort of asc...
