Black Iris

Our story

Gwen – five years later

The cafe smelt of coffee and freshly baked croissants, and the moment I walked in, I knew this was the right decision.

I had been going back and forth with the whole idea ever since my therapist had suggested it weeks before. I'd asked her if she thought I was ready. She said that only I could answer that question, but that I had all the tools I needed to handle whatever happened.

So, here I was.

"Mom, can I get a croissant?" A bubbly voice asked from my side.

"Of course, Jacky," I said.

"Mo-om," he whined in a singsong voice.

"Sorry, Jack," I corrected myself. He nodded, pleased. He had told me a few weeks ago during my visit he preferred going by Jack now, he was too old for Jacky.

My big baby, all grown up. It felt like each time I came back to spend time at the farm, he was a little bit older, a little more mature.

He had friends at school now, gushed about them each visit, and I'd met a few. He loved his teacher, and loved learning. Ma had helped me buy him a trampoline for his birthday, and he spent hours outside after school.

He was healing, just like I was. And though a part of me wished I could be with him all the time, I knew I wasn't ready for that. And it wouldn't be what was best for him.

So, once I had gotten out of the mandated rehab I'd taken as part of the plea deal with the police, I had moved in to an apartment in town near my parents place, and visited him as much as I could.

And he was happy. We were happy.

We joined the queue in front of the counter, and I scanned the cafe for the familiar face I was meeting. When I didn't spy her, I took a shaky breath.

Whatever happens, I have the tools to handle it, I told myself.

"Morning, what can I get for you?" A perky voice asked. I hadn't even realised we'd made it to the front of the line.

"One chocolate croissant please!" Jackson exclaimed.

"Chocolate?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. He grinned, to which I shrugged. "Alright, I guess that's right. And a small hot chocolate too, please. Plus I'll get a caramel latte."

The girl behind the counter nodded and jotted it all down, then told me the total. I tapped my card against the reader, watching until the green tick appeared.

I was still getting used to having my own card, my own money. I'd picked up some shifts at a book shop in town, and was working three days a week stocking the shelves and serving customers. Being back amongst books was a perk in of itself, as much as it gave me financial freedom. It was a novelty that hadn't quite worn off, even if it was taking some time to get used to managing my own accounts.

I took the table number the barista handed me when I told her we were having it here, and followed Jackson over to a booth by the window. He launched into a story about something that had happened at school that week, and I listened and watched the people pass outside.

Our drinks and Jackson's pastry had just arrived when I saw her.

She was laughing, smiling as she walked in the store, a girl trailing behind her. She looked around and spotted me, and her smile faltered slightly but didn't leave completely. She said something to her companion, who nodded and joined the line. Slowly, Ophelia made her way over to me.