Page 8 of Crystal Iris #1

Six

“Color is my day-long obsession, joy, and torment.” – Claude Monet

I t’s the last week of school before the holiday break, and I have a mountain of tasks to tackle—grading papers, buying last-minute gifts, and picking out a dress for Aaron’s party.

At least this year, we’re going to his family’s place instead of hosting dinner ourselves.

But before I do anything else, there’s an email I need to send.

Hi Elena,

Congrats on the baby! And thank you for the book suggestion; I did find a copy in the library, though unfortunately, it didn’t have what I’m looking for.

I’ve narrowed my research down to necklaces, diamond pendants, geometric ones…

anything along those lines. I was asked to write about European folklore, and I’ve found myself in a rabbit hole that’s worth pursuing.

So, I’m letting myself stray a bit from the original theory.

You know how it goes—we have to scratch the itch sometimes.

I know this doesn’t give you much to work with, but any tips you can offer would be greatly appreciated.

Thanks again,

Iris .

I’m on my way to meet Akira. I’ve asked her to help me pick a dress; I knew she would say yes, even though our taste in clothes couldn’t be more different.

“How are you doing?” she asks as we enter the store.

“If you’re wondering if I’ve completely lost my mind yet, sorry to disappoint. Still sane.”

She smiles, raising an eyebrow. “Sane, my friend, you never were.”

I nudge her playfully.

“This store is so boring,” she mutters, running her fingers along every single dress on the rack.

“It’s a formal party, Akira. ‘Boring’ is the dress code.”

“How about this one?” the sales lady asks, holding up a dress.

I shake my head. “No thanks.” We keep searching.

I’m trying on the sixth dress when Akira asks, “You never told me—was the guy you saw with the candle hot?”

I cough. “What?”

“You never mentioned.”

“I didn’t think it mattered. He’s not real.”

“That hot then?”

I roll my eyes, my cheeks turning warm. “I’m getting married.”

“I know. I’m your maid of honor.”

I pause, eyeing her. “And have you decided who’s going to be your plus one?”

She grins. “I’ve got options.”

“You’ll have to settle down one day, you know,” I say, stepping out of the dressing room and eyeing myself in the mirror.

She gives me a knowing look. “And why’s that?”

I roll my eyes again, knowing this conversation is going nowhere.

“This is the dress,” she says as she zips me up.

I nod in agreement.

“I wish you could come to these parties with me.”

“When hell freezes over. ”

I laugh. “Stranger things have happened recently.”

I’m grading my last paper when I realize Darion hasn’t handed his in.

I haven’t seen him on campus since the day of our encounter by the river.

It’s odd for him to be gone for this long.

Did I have anything to do with it? He’s not a straight-A student, but he could probably still pass my class.

I can’t help but wonder what’s happened, even though a part of me hates the idea of seeing him again.

I email him like the great professor I am:

Hi Darion,

I haven’t received your final paper. Just wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost somehow.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Iris De Loughery

It feels good to be done with work for a while.

I’ve been extremely distracted this semester, and my job has fallen to the back burner.

Hopefully, things are slowing down now. I’m looking forward to the break, despite having to stay with my future in-laws for several days.

Aaron gave me my Christmas gift early—tickets to The Nutcracker in New York City.

He knows I prefer experiences over material things.

We’re staying in a hotel until Christmas Eve, when we’ll rent a car and drive upstate to his parents’ house.

I ask him why we’re skipping a driver, and he says he doesn’t want people to work on a holiday because of him.

I realize Akira’s new place is only a few blocks from my old apartment when she texts me the address.

I barely paid attention the last time I was there.

She’s catching a flight this evening, and Aaron and I leave in a couple of days.

Her parents live in Chicago, and she has a new nephew to meet this year.

I can see her excitement when she talks about the baby. She’s already a proud aunt .

“How long are you staying?” I ask, eyeing her place.

“Five days,” she replies.

“So, you aimed for… a bag a day?” I count her luggage.

“They’re all gifts.”

“Wow, you don’t do anything… small, do you?”

“Not my style.”

I laugh.

“Well, my gift now seems pretty pathetic.” I hand over my gift bag.

“Oh, stop it.” She’s already pulling at the tissue paper.

I’m not very good at buying gifts; I know that. I always opt for the plain things anyone could use—candles, wine, sweaters. The people I care about already have everything they need.

“I didn’t see you buying this; I love it.” She holds up the mug that reads Bewitched Bitch .

“ I snuck out when I left to get us coffee.” The Salem sales lady smiled when she rang me up, asking if I was interested in any of their scented candles. I ended up picking two for myself—one that smells like fresh pine trees and another that reminds me of an apple pie.

“And this will be handy when I’m supposed to look like an adult on Christmas Eve.” She holds up the sweater I got her to go along with the mug.

“Red is festive,” I say, almost apologizing for my plain gifts.

“Crimson,” she corrects me.

She had explained, what seems like forever ago, about her deal with color names.

My parents wanted more for me than they had.

They knew we had to move to America; it had been their plan since, well, forever.

They spent all their extra money hiring me an English tutor.

It wasn’t cheap for a low-income family in Japan to hire tutors, especially for a foreign language.

Sadly, they only had enough money for one child; they picked me over my sister.

I was younger; and they believed I had a better chance of assimilating than her.

I had to make sure I absorbed enough for both of us.

I would try to teach her everything I was learning, but she hated it all.

It affected her, not being chosen. She rebelled against studying; she was always out, hanging with friends my parents didn’t like.

They worked too hard, long days, and couldn’t restrain her.

I had after-school classes every day for years.

They said I needed to be prepared; we were moving soon.

Yet, it took them years to save enough. I was fluent by the time we finally left.

I don’t know if I would’ve made it to college if it hadn’t been for those classes.

Mrs. Turner was strict, but she drilled her lectures into me.

I was learning way more than the kids my age.

I was studying advanced geometry, calculus, and even physics—all in English.

Before the end of each lesson, Mrs. Turner would quiz me with a few interesting questions, some of them for fun, like riddles.

And the last question of the quiz was always a color.

“You must learn to notice all the hues if you want to learn to really see,” she would often say.

So I learned the names, and I still see them this way—each color hue for what they are, unique.

“Let me help you bring those bags down,” I offer.

“There’s an elevator here.”

“You still only have two hands.” We haul all the suitcases down, and I give her a kiss goodbye.

“Try not to burn anything down while I’m gone,” she says, half-joking.

I smile at her. “I’ll do my best.”

I’ve promised not to do any experiments again—at least, not alone. I leave holding Akira’s gift, a rare first edition of an art history book I love. Unlike me, she gives great gifts.

One last chore , I tell myself as I put on my lipstick. Aaron’s already waiting for me by the front door .

“It’s freezing,” I tell him as I pull my coat tighter.

“The driver should be here any minute.” There are lots of positives to having the kind of money Aaron has; never having to drive, find parking, or catch a cab is one of my favorites. The black car pulls up in front of us moments later.

The entrance to the party is nothing short of elegant, with the expected red carpet and valets opening doors. The lights reflect in all the shiny shoes and sparkling diamonds. I’m still shivering when I hand my coat over to be stored away.

“You look beautiful,” Aaron says as he touches my open back, moving us along the hall.

“Thank you.”

I never quite feel like myself in dresses and heels, but despite that, I like how I look in his eyes.

I’m wearing my new diamond earrings—the ones he surprised me with hours earlier.

“Another gift?” I had asked. “This one is more for me than for you,” he replied.

I smiled as I put them on. “Thank you anyway.”

He looks impeccable in a tuxedo. He belongs in those clothes.

“Try to have some fun,” he says as we enter the main room.

I look for a familiar face when we reach our table, but Lara is nowhere to be seen.

Aaron is already doing his rounds when a waiter passes by with champagne flutes.

I take a glass. Just one sip , I promise myself, breaking my “party-sober” vow.

Enduring the conversations is extra painful without a drink in hand.

Even when I pretend to be busy with my phone, people know Aaron, and I’m an easy target for anyone trying to impress him.

It’s hard to be left alone in a sea of sharks.

As soon as the alcohol touches my lips, I know I won’t stop at one sip. Just one glass , I change the promise to myself.

McKenzie’s wife looks like she needs a drink even more than I do as we both listen to her husband talk.

“I hear you teach at Harvard,” he says, sipping his whiskey. I want to trade glasses with him.

“Yes, I’m an art history professor. ”

“You like art? Miranda here likes to spend a good chunk of my salary on those things. Don’t you, hun?” He’s a large man with a solid mustache. She gives me a thin, embarrassed smile.

“No better way to invest your money, in my opinion.” I give her my condolences look.

The champagne helps as I talk to three other couples.

Jack and Cindy are like two hungry dogs, biting anything that comes their way.

New money, I make a mental note. Then there’s the power couple, Camilla and Paola.

They mean business; I could close deals myself if I wanted to.

And finally, Omar and Christy—both too drunk or high to make much sense, but I listen to them anyway.

None of them can hide their true intentions: They’re only interested in getting access to my fiancé.

I move on to playing arm candy, standing next to Aaron while he talks to his business partners.

An hour later, I excuse myself and make my way to the balcony.

I don’t care how cold it is; I need space from those people.

The champagne is starting to get to my head, and I have to concentrate to keep my senses from becoming overwhelmed.

I beg the prism to stay hidden, feeling it pulse under my bra.

Only a few people occupy the balcony, and I let the crisp air cool my nerves.

Through the windows, I can see people enjoying themselves, even if it’s all a mask.

They’re dancing, smiling, all in their beautiful fancy attire.

I’m so distracted by people-watching that I don’t notice the man standing next to me until he says, “They can be a little… suffocating.” I hold my breath at the surprise of the stranger so close to me.

I know those green eyes . He’s staring at me with such intensity that I wonder if he’s recognized me too.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks, his voice cutting through me.

I shake my head no. I’m still searching for words.

“I needed some… air,” I manage to say, my voice weak.

“First time?” he asks .

“It feels like it, but no. Yours?” I ask, trying to keep myself together.

“I have to do this sort of thing frequently.”

How could this be happening?

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I try to continue the conversation.

He snorts, letting out a laugh.

Waiters are coming our way, and I shorten the distance and pick up another glass. I don’t know how to handle my feelings. There he is, so… real .

“I’m Hoyt,” he introduces himself, and I shake his hand. As soon as our hands touch, we both pull back immediately, gasping. The heat almost burns our hands. I’m still holding my fingers when I look up and see that he, too, has felt it.

“What was… that?” he asks me.

“I don’t… know.” I can feel my prism pulsing, and I start to wonder if it’s going to light up even without water.

I need to walk away before I make a scene. I’m looking for somewhere else to go when Aaron finds me. I could swear he knows when another man is near me.

“There you are,” he says, glancing over at the guy.

Hoyt looks at me, winks, and says, “Good luck in there,” before walking away.

I can see Aaron’s hand curl into a fist. “Was he… bothering you?”

I take a deep breath. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

To my surprise, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Oh… Don’t you have more… negotiating to do?”

“Everyone’s drunk. They don’t really want to do business. It’s already the second part of the evening, when people are only thinking about their drugs in the bathroom.”

For the first time, I’m the one who wants to stay longer .