Iris Boys Box Set

by Lucy Smoke

  It was odd not being around the guys. As I swept and mopped, there was a sense of disconnect inside of me, like I was back in my life before I met the boys. Every time I worried that they might have just been a really sweet dream, I rushed back to my bedroom to hold my phone before sliding it between my mattress and box spring along with its charger. I was determined to keep it hidden in case my mom got up and came snooping around.

  I checked the old, mini-cereal box for the extra cash I had stored, noting that it was still almost full. I would have to ask one of the guys if they could take me to set up a bank account. A couple hundred dollars wasn’t much, but now that rent was a relieved burden – at least temporarily, thanks to a very generous Marv – I could start saving. For what, I didn’t know. It was strange having extra. I’d never had that before. If I hadn’t gone to the party with Marv the night before, it would have felt too much like charity, but as it was, I felt closer to them, a part of their team, like I was really working for something bigger than money to live.

  “Harlow?” My mom’s voice came from behind me as I straightened the living room and I turned to greet her.

  Her nightgown was pale and thin in many places. There were splotches of purple on the back of her right hand as she held it to her throat, overshadowing the age spots beneath. Her thin gray hair was left loose around her face, falling over one side as her dazed eyes bounced around the room before landing on me.

  “Hey, Mom, how are you feeling?” I finished throwing some old newspapers from the coffee table into the trash as I faced her. “Can I get you something to eat?”

  “Yes… I think that would be nice…” she said. She trailed after me as I strode to the kitchen and flicked on the florescent bulbs overhead. They heated and buzzed as I searched the fridge for something suitable. Spotting a few old, leftover containers from the week before, I decided to pour them out and see if there was soup in the cabinet. I sifted old chunks of meat and vegetables into the garbage disposal. One flick to turn it on and I realized my mistake. I quickly turned it off when the grinding sound hit my ears – still broken from the destruction of my last phone. “What’s wrong with the disposal?”

  I turned my head, my eyes wide. Did she not remember? “Um…” I finished throwing the leftovers away by hand before washing up. “It’s broken,” I hedged.

  “Hmm,” she replied, sitting at the dilapidated kitchen table. “Well, this house is old. Most things are bound to break every now and then.” I didn’t say anything as I opened a can of chicken noodle soup and heated it in the microwave. When I retrieved it the time flashed, 10:35. Knix would be here soon. I wasn’t even dressed yet. I placed the bowl in front of my mom, and kissed her head before rushing to my room to clean up and dress. I returned in another pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt that covered my butt pockets where I had placed my phone.

  “Why aren’t you in school?” She ladled soup into her mouth, watching me with curiosity.

  “Um…it’s a half day for seniors,” I lied, wiping down the counter. “A friend’s coming by to take me around 11 am.” The idea came to me when I realized that she would be curious as to why I was going to school so late in the day and why the bus wouldn’t be picking me up. She didn’t seem to care, and just continued to sip her soup.

  The seconds crawled by in awkward silence. We were two people who lived together, but we so rarely saw each other that it was difficult to make small talk. She left the house only for doctor’s appointments and emergencies. What was there for us to talk about aside from her illness? She seemed to be doing so well now that I didn’t want to remind her.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Mom started, drawing my attention. “This house is getting a bit older and things are breaking down.” She slid a glance at the disposal. “Maybe it’s time to move on.”

  “Move on?”

  “Yes…I’ve got some savings and with my disability check maybe I can get into a nursing home or just resign myself to staying in a hospital.” She finished the rest of her soup and pushed it away. I retrieved it and rinsed it in the sink, thinking.

  “Mom, I don’t know if we could afford that, even with your savings.” Her feet on the linoleum of the kitchen floor were quiet as she stood from the table behind me.

  “Baby.” She sniffled and I slowly turned to face her. Her eyes glistened. “I know, and you know, I’m not going to get any better. This will be the best thing for you.”

  It became clear. “You’ve already started something,” I said. I was surprised.

  She nodded. “When I went to the doctor last, I talked to him and he agreed. I should probably have 24/7 care, he says.”

  I knew she was right. I had known for a while, but I wanted to be that 24/7 care for her. I didn’t want some nurse who didn’t know her, didn’t care about her. I couldn’t stomach the image of her lying in hospital beds for the rest of her life. My throat rebelled. I was incapable of a response. I couldn’t be here for her. Even if I stopped going with the guys, I would have to pick back up at work, perhaps a second job to compensate for all I had missed in the last week or so. My hands shook and I sank into the chair across from her vacated one.

  “I know you worry, Sweetheart.” Her cold fingers brushed the side of my face, trailing from my temple to my chin as she flipped her hand over and rubbed the back of it against my cheek. She was so thin her fingers were nothing but skin and bone. “But you’ll be able to move out of here. Maybe go to college.”

  I was shaking so hard, my whole body panicked at the idea of losing her. If she went into a hospital, that was it, I thought. She wouldn’t come out alive. My throat expanded until words weren’t the only thing that couldn’t pass through. I couldn’t breathe. I held myself still, trying to inhale through my nose, but it wasn’t working. She was still talking, her mouth moving. It was the first time in a long time that I had seen her so animated, and I couldn’t hear a damn word. The phone in my back pocket vibrated; probably Knix telling me he was here. Mom’s hand touched mine and I stared at the purple splotch of color against her paleness. It was another bruise. They had been the first sign of her illness.

  “It’ll be okay, Baby. It’s gonna work out, you’ll see.” She kissed my forehead. “I’m tired, so I’ll go lay down for a nap.” She shuffled forward, heading towards the living room. “I’ll see you when you get home, Baby. I love you.”

  “I love you too…” I heard myself say as she disappeared around the corner. The phone buzzed again, but I was too numb to feel it. My arms tingled and I could feel my face turning cold. I still wasn’t breathing. How many seconds had gone by since I had stopped? It felt like hours.

  I opened my mouth and a squeak escaped as I tried to force my lungs to take in air. Cool oxygen rushed in and my vision blurred. The table was hard and cool on my skin as I leaned down and pressed my forehead to the rough surface. Hospital rooms. Nursing homes. Inhale. IVs. Hospital gowns. Medical bills. Exhale. The smell of disinfectant. Phone calls from nurses. Funeral homes. Don’t throw up.

  Even when my phone vibrated with impatience a third time, I didn’t retrieve it. I didn’t look at the messages. I just stood up and put one foot in front of the other until I was in the front hall. I stepped out onto the hot sidewalk, seeing the big, black SUV waiting just a little down the road when I realized I wasn’t wearing shoes. I went back inside and stared at the laces of my sneakers for several moments before slipping into flip flops.

  Knix met me at the front of the SUV, walking around to open my door. I got in the car and blinked at the windshield. He said something and I nodded in acknowledgement, though I didn’t actually hear a word. He closed the door and quickly got in on the driver’s side.

  “Little Bit?” I frowned. Knix sounded farther away than I expected. I swiveled my head. No, he was right next to me. Was I still breathing? Yes. Why did it feel like the SUV was caving in on me? Like my chest was squeezing in enough oxygen to keep me upright and conscious, but every other piece of me, body and soul, was sucked
dry of life. My heart beat slow, sluggish, almost nonexistent. I drifted. “–low? Harlow?!”

  I blinked when Knix’s hands gripped my shoulders. He had pulled over to the side of the road, his face covered in concern. He shook me slightly, staring at me with wide, panicked eyes. “Harlow, what’s wrong?”

  My shoulders shook. My heart rate picked up. Every bird, every car that passed, every slight wind was too much, too loud. My hands trembled as I grabbed onto his arms, holding on as though I might tumble away. I opened my mouth to tell him, but a sob poured from my chest and then another and another. My cheeks were soaked in my horrible realizations and everything that made life so unbearably cruel.

  “Little Bit.” Knix hauled me across the seat into his lap. His massive hand stroked my hair as I sobbed against his chest, the sounds shaking me so hard, and he just held me close.

  “It isn’t fair!” I screamed. “It’s not fair!” The stain of tears on his shirt grew bigger and bigger the longer he held me, but he didn’t flinch. Knix crushed me to his chest, his cheek on my head, his breath stirring through my hair. It hurt less that way. I didn’t feel so alone.

  “Come on, lie here.” Knix led me into a room that smelled like sandalwood. The floor shined beneath the dark-burgundy throw carpet. There was a double bed shoved against the wall between a table littered with tools and a nightstand. I sat on the bed instead of lying down. If I laid down, it would be too hard to get back up.

  Knix pulled a folding chair from his closet, placed it a foot or so from the bed and sat directly in front of me, his hands reaching for mine. His fingers engulfed mine, his thumbs rubbing along my knuckles to soothe me. My eyes found the floor and stayed there. I was embarrassed by how hard I had cried in the car. It was only when I had finally gotten over the worst of it that he had set me in my seat, buckled me in, and drove to the complex.

  “Little Bit…” I shivered under his gaze, flicking up across his face only to search out the details of his room instead. The walls were bare other than a few architectural designs tacked in different places, blueprints as well. His closet had a sliding mirror and I skipped over the horror of how I looked. Puffy splotches of red marks on my cheeks and eyes swollen from the tears. I sniffed hard and took my hands from Knix to press them to my face.

  I covered my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said through my fingers.

  “For what, Little Bit?” Knix’s warm hands came to my cheeks, drawing my hands away. The scent of sandalwood was on him too, all over him.

  “For…you know.” I kept my eyes closed.

  His breath fanned across my face. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Warm lips pressed to my forehead, surprising me. My eyes popped open. His chin lingered in front of my eyes as he kept his lips pressed to my skin for a few moments more. “Tell me what happened.”

  The command in his tone was gentle, but no less authoritative. Powerful. I found my lips opening and words spilling forth. “My mom’s dying,” I said, pausing for his reaction. He drew away from me, his blue eyes finding mine and holding. I continued. “She wants to move out of the duplex and go stay in a nursing home or at the hospital. Apparently, her last visit to the doctors didn’t go well. She thinks it will be pointless to stay when she thinks she’s going to end up there anyway.” I looked at him, begging him to help me, to guide me. I needed someone to tell me what to do, how to handle this. Would we be able to afford it? Would I be able to cope?

  Knix took a breath. His fingers brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen across my face. “What worries you?”

  “I-I,” I stammered. “She’s really sick. A tumor, and she has um…some other problems.” Bipolar disorder wasn’t life threatening. I stumbled through an explanation of her trips to the doctor’s, and the medications, and her mood swings. When I had nothing more to offer, he sighed and stood, scooting me over on the bed to sit next to me rather than in front of me. He leaned against the wall and pulled me to sit between his legs, my back to his front.

  “You’re scared,” he said. “She’s the only family you have and she’s all you know.”

  “I have Michael,” I reminded him. “My brother.”

  “Ah, but you never really see him. When was the last time you two talked?”

  “Just before I met you.”

  He nodded, expectant. “And when was the last time you saw him in person?”

  “Not since he moved out,” I admitted. “We’ve been alone since then.”

  “You are not alone, Little Bit.” His lips pressed to my temple. “If she needs to be taken care of, we will see to it.”

  I broke his hold and turned. “What do you mean?”

  His blue eyes glittered. “If doctors can’t help her, then we will make sure that she is comfortable.”

  “But…” They didn’t know her, had never even met her. “Why?”

  “Because she’s your family.” His fingers touched my neck, trailing down to settle on my shoulder. “And you are family to us – or we hope you will be.”

  I closed my eyes, my face tilting up, and my body angled to the side to rest against him. “I-I’m scared.” I didn’t want to admit it, but it felt safe there, in his arms. “I’m scared that once she goes to the hospital, she won’t come back. Not alive.”

  Knix’s nose nudged mine, urging me to open my eyes. I did. “Not everyone can get better, but we’ll make sure that she has the best care, comfort, whatever she needs. I know how you feel, Little Bit.” The rasp in his voice, the broken way some of his words ended, sliced me right to my core.

  “Who did you lose?” I asked.

  “My father was a strong man,” he said. “He built a lot of houses from the ground up. He drew some of these…” He gestured to the walls, leaning back and cuddling me closer as though needing his own blanket of protection against the memories. “He passed away a few years ago. Heart attack. Left me everything he had, but I would give it all up just for one more day with him.”

  Tears slid down my face. “Your mom?”

  “She and I don’t speak. They split when I was in high school and she used to hold me over his head. I never wanted to be his guillotine. I tried to please her, make her happy so he wouldn’t be miserable.” He smiled, but it was filled with bitterness. “You can’t make everyone happy. It wasn’t until I was eighteen that I realized I could have chosen to live with him the entire time and we both could have cut her out of our lives.”

  “You would have wanted that?” I asked.

  “Some women are born maternal,” he replied. “Some grow into it, but she never did. She was angry, bitter, jealous, and paranoid. She was the woman who gave birth to me, nothing more. If it made my father happy, I would have cut her out of my life and pretended she never existed.”

  The more he spoke, the more his eyes shined. His face was stark, cold against the thoughts of the woman who must have hurt him much deeper than any other because she was his mother – his blood. I cried for him. I cried for my mom.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. The hard edges of his expression softened as he looked back down at me.

  “I told you, Little Bit.” His eyes grazed along my cheek. “There is nothing to be sorry for.”

  Those blue endless pools stopped, frozen in time, and he leaned forward. I backed up, confused, worried. What was wrong? His hand landed softly on the back of my head, halting my retreat. He paused for a moment, but when I didn’t protest – I didn’t even think to – then his lips were on mine. Brushing over them. His kiss was soft, gentle. So unlike how he appeared in stasis – an unrelenting mountain. Now, he moved with me, trailing his fingers through my hair, turning me to face him completely, and bringing me closer until my breasts were crushed against his chest. My hands crept up to his shoulders, his mouth opened and mine followed. My heart raced in my chest, beating rhythmically, speeding up my breath. My eyes slid closed when his kiss became all consuming.

  “Harlow,” he whispered, drawing back for an instant. “Harlow.” He pressed h
is lips to mine once more. I breathed in the scent of sandalwood and gasped when his teeth tugged at my lower lip. How was this happening? It took what seemed an eternity for my mind to catch up with my body, but by then Knix was distracting me with something new. His hands lowered to the middle of my back, and he groaned. His tongue slid into my mouth. I reciprocated.

  It was like a game of tug of war. When I retreated, he advanced, but then he would pull back and I would follow, clinging to the sensations that he created as they washed over my skin. I needed him to keep going. I needed him like I needed to breathe. His shoulders were hard, encased in muscle and when he lifted me up to straddle his lap, I sat back on his knees, feeling something poke my stomach. The sensation was immediately lost when he kissed me again.

  Heat speared through me and I tugged on his shirt, sliding my hands beneath the fabric to feel his hard chest underneath. When he flicked his tongue across mine, my nails sank into his skin and he groaned. My head was a whirlwind, a fog of lust. Not wanting to stop kissing him long enough to yank his shirt up, I let go and my hands traveled up, my fingers sliding through his hair. The sandy blond strands stuck to my palms and I smoothed it back to look at his face when I finally pulled away. Our chests rose and fell, each of us breathing hard. I gulped as I gazed at him. His eyes were wide, stunned. I had never seen him so dazed. He always appeared in total control. Now, with his cheeks flushed and his skin warm to the touch, his lips full, he seemed wilder. Unabashed. Beautiful.

  Just as beautiful as Bellamy.

  I staggered away, nearly throwing myself off the bed with that thought. My butt landed awkwardly on the carpeted rug. He sucked in a breath and stood up, reaching down to help me. I just kissed Knix. I had kissed Bellamy. What was I doing?