Page 9 of Crystal Iris #1

Seven

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” – Pablo Picasso

H ow am I supposed to sleep after last night? I toss and turn until the clock tells me it’s reasonable to get up. I want to text Akira, but I don’t want to distract her from her family. She would only worry about my mental state. To her, I’m a fragile creature, just moments away from breaking.

I pack my bags, well aware that I’m not bringing enough. I’m probably forgetting something, yet my brain isn’t cooperating. I zip the bag up after checking that I have at least enough underwear, my phone charger, and my wallet.

The flight is busy with families, and I let myself doze off and on. Aaron is still replying to emails. There are bags under his eyes. I worry that he’s working too much. He needs this break more than I do.

New York is buzzing with all the holiday lights.

Aaron has picked a beautiful hotel for us to stay at, right across from the Rockefeller tree.

It’s hard to remember our childhood. It feels like a different life compared to all of this.

The room is large, with a separate living area.

A beautiful view of the city stretches across the glass walls.

I’m lost watching the people below when he walks over .

“Do you like it?” he asks, holding my hand.

“I do.”

“Who would have thought we’d ever stand together in a place like this?” His words describe exactly what I feel.

“Definitely not me.” I wonder if he knows how little it all means to me—the money, the extravagance. At the same time, I know it means a lot to him, so I try to enjoy it.

“Do these people ever take a day off?” I ask when he tells me he’s going to be right back.

“I’m sorry. Why don’t you use the huge bathtub to relax? I promise, this is the last work thing for a while.”

I’m left alone in the hotel room. It’s either take a bath or venture into the shops the day before Christmas Eve.

I drop the robe and step into the giant footed tub, big enough for two. I change the music a few times, searching for the perfect vibe. I want more than just to relax. I want to escape. If I can’t make it to the club, I’ll bring the dance floor to me.

I’m tired of holding back. I’ve been practicing my breathing and concentration since Salem. I guessed the prism was aligned to my feelings—if I can stay calm, steady, perhaps I can keep the energy in it calm too. I’m determined. I need to be in control.

I’m absorbed in the beat, letting my body move in the water when Hoyt comes to mind.

I’m about to push the thought away, as I’ve been doing for a while now.

But after seeing him yesterday, it’s almost impossible—he’s real, too real.

I’m not sure what scares me most: what I felt when I touched him, or the realization that the prism has led me to him before.

It’s a disaster. I’m getting married in a few months, and all I want to do is see him again. I have the urge to try again with the prism, but I hold back. I promised Akira I wouldn’t do such things alone. Though circumstances have changed—she doesn’t know that I’ve met him... She would understand.

“No!” I say it out loud.

He was more beautiful than I remembered: his eyes, the jawline, the messy hair. He looked sharp in the tux, yet so rough. I felt his callused hands in the brief moments we touched, and I ache for it.

I close my eyes, imagining what I wish he would do to me if he ever touches me again. I move my hands and pretend they are his. My prism glows with intensity as I let myself orgasm. Only to be consumed by guilt seconds later.

“Are you ready? We gotta go,” Aaron asks, returning an hour later than promised.

“Yeah, almost,” I say, tying up my hair.

“You don’t seem as excited as I hoped you would be.” He can tell—of course, he can.

“I am. I’m just a little… tired. But I am.”

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long. No more business until after the holidays.” He kisses my cheek.

“That sounds lovely.” I make sure to smile.

The ballet is one of those places I don’t mind dressing up for.

I never mind getting ready for art. It deserves to be appreciated.

Aaron is ordering us something while I watch the joyful people around us.

I’m not sure if it’s the holiday cheer or the event that gives them their glow.

Whatever it is, I wish I could bottle up that feeling.

I love everything about the performance.

My eyes tear up when I think about how much Mom would’ve liked it too.

I think of her twirling me around in the living room, wearing one of her homemade tutus.

She was a natural dancer, without training, yet so graceful.

There’s something about dance that will always hold a special place in my heart.

On the way out, I beg Aaron to stop for a slice of New York pizza, but he insists on eating at a proper restaurant.

“It’s been a while since we’ve talked. Let’s sit down,” he says .

Nothing would taste better than the cheap, greasy pizza from the corner joint, but I do want to spend time with him. We walk into an Italian place, and my stomach growls at the smell. I want everything on the menu.

“How does it feel to be done with work for a bit?” I ask, munching on the breadsticks.

“I don’t think I’m going to know what to do with myself, honestly. It’s been a while since I took any time off.” He looks extremely tired.

“It really has, probably since… Mexico.”

“No, or maybe… Wow, it has been a while.”

“Two years, Aaron.”

“I’m sorry, work has been crazy… but I didn’t realize it bothered you.”

“I’m okay with it if that’s what you want to do. You just look worn out.”

“Ouch.”

“You know what I mean. What do you want to do for your birthday this year?”

“I wouldn’t mind repeating Mexico… I just need to close a couple of deals before clearing a few days.”

“Cancun was fun.”

The waiter brings our food. I’m eating my pasta dish when Aaron suddenly blurts out, “I didn’t get anything for my parents.”

“Are you serious?”

He nods.

“We can’t show up empty-handed, not on Christmas. They already don’t like me as it is.”

“Iris, we’re getting married. You have to let all that go. My parents are happy about us.”

“Accepting it isn’t the same as being happy.”

“You’ve changed. You’re a Harvard professor now. They’d be crazy not to be happy about it. ”

“I didn’t change, I just… grew up. Do you think we can find a store open this late?”

“It’s New York City. Let’s enjoy our dinner, and we can get them something afterward.”

“I think this is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he says with a grin as we leave.

“You say that after every meal.”

“Only when you aren’t cooking.”

I stick my tongue out at him, but it’s true. I can’t cook to save myself.

We walk out of a shop with expensive wine bottles, a card, and some hope that it’ll be enough.

“It’s not like I didn’t buy them a boat six months ago,” he says, taking the bags from my hands.

“It’s because you did that for their anniversary that they’ll expect more than… wine.”

“Whatever. It should be enough that we’ll be there.”

It should be, yet I know it won’t be.

With the city glowing outside, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows.

I can still taste Aaron on my lips—guilty sex does that, it lingers.

Even though I didn’t do anything wrong, it was the fantasy of Hoyt that played in my mind as Aaron made love to me tonight.

My wedding is months away—how long will it take to sort through my feelings?

I love Aaron, I owe him so much, he’s my best friend, since…

always. Of course I love him for everything he’s done for me; still, is it enough?

Enough to say yes, until death do us part?

“When was the last time you drove?” I watch him fuss with the keys.

“It’s not something you can forget, Iris.”

I laugh at him, and that’s when I finally hear the engine.

“Stupid modern cars,” he mumbles as he puts on his seatbelt.

We’re lucky the snow isn’t sticking to the road. I make sure to remind Aaron to slow down enough times to hear him swear he’s never driving again.

We pull into the driveway, and Don greets us.

“Iris, it’s so good to see you, it’s been a while,” Aaron’s dad says, taking our bags inside.

“How are you, Don?”

“Oh, you know, getting old, but can’t complain.”

The house looks impeccable, as always—beautifully decorated but completely impersonal.

Exactly like their previous home in Massachusetts.

I still don’t understand why they had moved to New York, especially with their only son living in Boston.

Aaron mentioned it had something to do with an identity crisis after Don’s retirement.

Maria is wearing her signature outfit: a matching set of pants and sweater, pearls, and flats.

“How are you, sweetie? How was the drive? I hope the roads weren’t icy.” She eyes me from head to toe, and I immediately regret my choice of comfy leggings and sneakers.

Aaron responds before I can open my mouth. “No need to worry now, Mom. We’re already here.”

“I heard about Stanley and Rile. Everything under control?” His dad hands Aaron a beer before we even shut the front door.

“Please, Don, can I say hello to my son first?” Maria kisses him and immediately wipes the lipstick off his cheek.

“We’ll talk later, Dad.”

I’m making myself a plate from the table of appetizers when Aaron’s cousin Steve asks, “How’s Harvard treating you?” Steve is just a few years older than Aaron, though already going gray.

“As good as one can expect, I guess.” I bite into a piece of cheese. “How’s business?” I reciprocate the fake interest.

“Same old struggles. We can’t all be as lucky as the golden boy, can we?”

“Steve! Can you get your sons to turn off their games? They need to eat something.” Peyton waves at me from the living room, and I nod back.

I’m still snacking from my plate, glancing at the TV when Princess, the family Persian cat, brushes against my leg. I drop my hand to pet her, but she swiftly moves away.