Cookie Cutter

by Jo Richardson

  However . . . “Not tonight.”

  She nods. “Fine, hoarder.”

  “What?”

  “I feel like you know so much about me already and I know nothing about you, that’s all.”

  “There’s isn’t a lot to tell, Iris, believe me.”

  We come to our first stop, which is the dart throw and Iris let’s go of my arm to go talk to the person handling this game. It strikes me as funny how flustered this guy seems, considering no one is waiting to play, but he swears he needs help replacing the popped balloons that once adorned his wall so more people can play the game. She helps them open up a new box of balloons and starts blowing a few up. I help. Once all the empty spaces on the wall are filled again, she gives the guy a hug and we continue our path behind the scenes.

  Next, we make sure the beta volunteers she gathered to help out have water and snacks. We hit up the cotton candy machine, the popcorn vendor and the ticket takers, where Iris offers to take when they’ve already collected to the bank. I’m glad when one of the women insists she doesn’t have to. Iris hesitates to leave them but eventually caves and when she sees her daughter a few booths away; she slows, then finds a free table to lean up against for a minute. She has a far-away look in her eyes and I wonder out loud. “What are you thinking about?”

  “I’m debating letting her go to that party she wants to attend so badly.”

  Surprised, I nod in approval and find a spot to join her. “Yeah?”

  “Mmm Hmm. Only I’m too worried she’ll get hurt or left, or . . . raped by some jock-head in a back room somewhere.”

  “Will it help if I throw some statistics at you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Did you know that only point ten percent of girls who attend parties actually get so drunk they’re not in control of themselves?”

  She tilts her head. Interested.

  “And only five percent of them are actually under age.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugs. “I have no idea. I made that shit up.”

  She laughs.

  “What I do know is, the bad things that happen these days are very rare. The news just likes to replay them over and over for dramatic effect.”

  She thinks it over as she watches her daughter. “I didn’t go out much when I was her age.”

  “No kidding,” I joke and she bumps me with her hip.

  “I met James in high school, we went to the same college, he asked me to marry him, we planned out exactly when we’d have a child and,” she points, “there she is.”

  “You only wanted one?”

  She shrugs. “I wanted more, but Ally was a difficult labor, and James . . .”

  I don’t ask her to finish her thought. I feel like I’m intruding if I push, even though I have to admit, I’m curious.

  “Anyway,” she says. “It’s hard to let go, I guess.”

  “Why do I get the impression there’s more to that story than you’re letting on?” I throw her own words back at her from earlier.

  Iris snickers. “Isn’t there always?”

  “True that.” Even though we’re talking about two entirely different things – Iris about her daughter and me about a career that my father wanted for me more than I did for myself.

  She steps away from the table. “Well, it’s now or never, I guess.”

  We walk over to where Ally’s standing at her booth but she’s not really paying attention to anyone that passes by. She’s chit-chatting with her girlfriends who are huddled around her.

  “Ally.”

  “Oh.” She stands up straight. “Hey mom, I---” She stops in mid-sentence when she sees me with Iris. It doesn’t surprise me but the look of disgust on her face kinda hurts my feelings a little bit.

  “Hi girls,” Iris says to her daughter’s friends and they all say ‘hi’ politely and all, but boy does every one of them look at her like they are just dying to beg her to let Ally go to that party.

  Little do they know.

  “Um, honey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Ally nods and tells her friends she’ll be right back. She tosses the baseball she’s holding to a fellow carnie. “Take over for a minute.”

  Iris and Ally step aside and I’m left standing with a group of fifteen year olds who look like they’d rather be doing anything else than getting caught with some old dude who’s hanging out with the enemy. Ally squeals in delight and does that jumpy-clappy thing that teenage girls know how to do so well. She hugs her mom so tightly I think she might hurt her. The deed has been done and even Iris is smiling at the outcome. Ally takes her smock off and throws it at the poor girl left to handle the booth for the remainder of the evening alone and runs off with her friends. Then they all squeal and jump up and down and head toward the exit of the carnival.

  “You did you good thing there, Iris.”

  She breathes in deep and lets it out. “I sure hope so.”

  “She’s fifteen, she’ll be fine and she’s with friends.”

  Iris nods. “Yeah, fine.”

  I try my hand at distracting her. “Hey lets go ride something.”

  “I’m coordinating this event, Carter, I can’t go and . . . have fun.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” she starts, trying to come up with a reason but she’s got nothing. She’s knows it and I know it. “I just can’t.”

  Lame.

  “It’s not gonna kill you to be an active participant in the carnival, you know.”

  “I know, I just . . .” She looks away.

  Clearly I’m going to need to push a little harder here. “Look at this way, you’re coordinator, you have to make sure the rides you’ve rented are safe, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “So, let’s . . . test them out.” I smile huge and waggle my eyebrows for her. Then I hold out the string of tickets I purchased earlier before I headed off to look for her. “I’d hate for these to go to waste.”

  She smiles and I know I’ve convinced her – for now at least. We run to the Ferris wheel and I give the guy three tickets each, then we slide into our seat and as we rise above the grounds. Iris has the rail in a death grip.

  “You okay?” I chuckle.

  She shakes her head. “No, yeah I’m fine. I get a little nervous being this high up, that’s all.”

  “Fear of heights, Iris? I never would have guessed.”

  “It’s not exactly a fear, more like a . . . healthy skepticism of carnival rides.”

  I let out a loud laugh this time, not even trying to hold it in. She is too much.

  “Here.” I put an arm around her and pull her close to me. “I’ll make sure you don’t go anywhere.”

  She lets me hold on to her but she tenses beside me so I try not to make anything of it. “We’re just two friends riding a Ferris wheel, Iris, relax.”

  “Yep, just friends,” she says and I get the feeling that I’ve offended her. So I correct myself.

  “We’re more than friends though, don’t you think?”

  “Well we’re not lovers, that’s for sure,” she jokes a little too loudly.

  “More than friends then,” I say with a squeeze to her shoulder. “Less than lovers.”

  It’s quiet after that and when the ride ends and I help her off of the platform. Then my phone rings and I can’t ignore it because it’s Spence from up at Maryland University.

  I stare at the screen as the ringtone sounds again, unsure what to do. I don’t want to ignore Iris, especially after my snafu up on the Ferris wheel, but I don’t want to ignore Spencer either. It could be urgent.

  “Are you going to get that?” Iris asks.

  “Um, yeah, I think . . . do you mind?”

  She shrugs, with a shake of her head so I take a few steps away from Iris and the noise of the event going on around us.

  “Spence?”

  Crackling sounds from the other end, then the call ends.

  I dial him back but get voice mail
, and now I’m worried, so I go find a spot on the grounds that has better service and try one more time. He answers this time.

  “Hey.”

  And I can hear him.

  “How are you, buddy? Everything alright?”

  “No, yeah, it’s good, but um . . .”

  “What?”

  “I got a letter from the dean of students today.”

  “About what? What’s wrong? Is it your grades? You’re not slackin’ again are ya?”

  “No.” He laughs. “But he um . . . said we . . . missed a payment, so---”

  I press a finger against my free ear to try and hear better. “Wait, what? Not possible, I sent it two weeks ago.”

  He breathes out, relieved. The kid hates talking about money with me. It took a lot for him to make this call, I’m sure.

  “That’s what I thought but he said it hasn’t shown up on the books yet and I didn’t know what else to do. Dude, I’m sorry I’m bugging you, I can tell you’re out somewhere.”

  “No way, Spence, listen, you call me whenever you need to okay? I’m always here.”

  “Sure, yeah, I know.”

  “I’ll call him tomorrow. We’ll take care of this. Don’t worry, you just go to class and get your degree, okay?”

  “Okay.” I know Spence; he’ll stress over this for days so I give him something else to think about. “I miss you buddy.”

  “You too,” he says, quieter now.

  “We’ll have to set up a visitation sometime soon when you’re free.”

  “You mean when you’re free.” And although he’s trying to come off like he’s joking, I know he’s not. I can hear it in his voice. It’s the same tone I hear in my brother’s voice when I’ve let him down. Only for some reason, this feels worse. I’ve been neglectful ever since leaving California. I know this. I’ve never been very good at apologies though.

  “Absolutely.”

  Spencer lets out another pointed sigh. “Okay, thanks, Carter. Sorry again for buggin’ you.”

  “Don’t even worry about it. We’ll talk soon.”

  “’kay.”

  “See ya.”

  The call ends and I need a few minutes before I re-join Iris. I don’t want this date to take a turn for the worse because I’ve got commitments and concerns on my mind. I take a walk around the grounds and find her again about ten minutes or so later. She seems different. Relaxed? High?

  “There you are.” She pets my arm and gives me a sly smile when I step up to the . . . bar?

  “Something I had to take care of. Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah.” She waves at the air. “I think it’s all just hitting me all at once and all of a sudden.”

  The way she says it makes me laugh. I’m pretty sure she just slurred her esses.

  “All of what is hitting you all of a sudden?”

  “The tequila.”

  Okay, so, not high. “You drunk, Iris?”

  She points at me, decisively. “Tipsy. Wow, this stuff strikes fast and hard.” Then she spits out a laugh. “Fast and hard.”

  I lift an eyebrow, confused. “I thought you didn’t drink.”

  “I had a thing with Captain Morgan for a while, after James left but . . .” She blows some air out through her lips, making raspberries. “That’s over now. I haven’t had much to drink in a long, long time.” She draws out the last part of her explanation and I try not to think about what she means by a thing.

  “Iris?”

  “Mmm?”

  “What kind of carnival is this anyway?”

  “Well, a few years back some of the dads were bored, I guess. They built this bad boy and became insistent upon including it the following year.” She pats the table top of the bar she’s standing next to. “It’s one of our biggest money makers.”

  “No doubt.”

  She orders another something-whatever she’s having that has tequila in it.

  “I was only gone a few minutes.”

  I look at my watch.

  Fifteen minutes, tops. Maybe twenty.

  “I only had a few shots.”

  My eyebrows go up, up and away. “Shots?”

  She puts her index finger and thumb about an inch apart, right up in front of her nose. “Yeah but they were just little ones.” She has a strong sense of being honest, I realize, when she adds, “I was nervous.”

  “How many?”

  She holds up two fingers. “Three.”

  Her next one arrives and she slams it back like she’s done it all her life. Except she hasn’t apparently. No wonder she’s sloshed.

  “Ohhh kay Marion Ravenwood, maybe we should get you home.”

  Iris sniggers as I pull her away from the bar and wave to the nice shithead that decided this was a good idea.

  “Who?”

  “Indiana Jones, she . . . never mind.” If she doesn’t know the scene, there’s no sense in my trying to explain it to her.

  “Oh look there’s Alex. Hi Alex!” she screams over the noise.

  Alex is standing with a dude who looks to be a boyfriend of some sort. She glances around until she sees me with Iris and then heads over toward us. I’m convinced this is not going to go down well until she’s standing in front of me, hugging our neighbor. I give Alex a puzzled look.

  “When did this happen?”

  She smirks. “Oh Iris and I had a nice, long talk yesterday.” Then she adds to Iris, “You okay, sport?”

  Iris gives her a lopsided smile. “Awesome.”

  Alex eyes me.

  “I had nothing to do with it. I swear,” I say. “But I am walking her home.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Oh, I can’t leave!” Iris steps away from me, or tries to anyway. “I have to take care of things, they’ll be lost without me.”

  I laugh and nod. “Uh huh.”

  Then Alex puts an arm around her and shows her the whole of the event from where we’re standing.

  “Iris, take a look around you. Look how smoothly this carnival is running. I’m sure they’ll be fine. You don’t have to be here until the bitter end. I promise.”

  Iris thinks on it. Then gets an idea. “Will you tell Meg to close up shop for me?”

  “Um, no.” Seems like interacting with Meg is a hard limit for Alex.

  “How about Todd, you don’t know Todd but he’s a good man, he’ll tell Meg.”

  “Okay, that I can do. Where is he?”

  She tells her and then Alex gives me back my date before shooting me one last look of warning before we go. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” I say, and then we leave the event all together, which is completely fine with me because I hate crowds.

  * * *

  “Okay, well, now that I know you’re home safe and sound, I’ll just . . .” I lean in and press my lips against the corner of her mouth. It’s meant to represent what we’ve agreed upon. More than just friends, less than lovers, but I don’t pull away immediately, like I should. When I do, Iris’s eyes are downcast. I can’t read her right now. I figure it’s safest to just go. So I do.

  As I turn to leave, she takes my hand. “Stay.”

  And now her eyes are on me. This isn’t the Iris I’ve come to know since arriving in Spangler. She’d never invite me in. Never. Not that easily. There’s only one explanation for her behavior right now.

  She’s drunk. Tipsy. Whatever. This is not good.

  “I should go, Iris.” I really should. And that’s probably that. She won’t ask again.

  If she asks again, I’ll stay.

  “Please?” She looks up at me like it took everything she had to say those words.

  Good enough.

  I nod. “Okay.”

  I follow her inside and turn on a light.

  “Too bright.” Iris groans. “Leave it off and I’ll light a candle.”

  She pulls the drawer to a small table in the foyer open and picks up a lighter.

  “Why don’t you let me handle that,” I says. “You . . .
sit.”

  Iris smiles this old black and white movie kind of smile, then moves to the couch. I find a few candles to light before I join her. She’s taken everything out of her pockets, and strewn them onto the coffee table. Her phone, her keys, some money . . . and she’s waiting for me to sit.

  “I’m not really sure what I’m doing here, Iris.” I take a seat next to her.

  I’m not an idiot, I know what I’m doing here. What I’m unsure of is why Iris is here with me. Right now. Like this. She stares at me, not answering at first. The subtle glow of her candles lighting the room are just enough for me to see a little more than the outline of her face. She looks so innocent. Naive. Still, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of her lips or stop thinking about how much I’d like to kiss them again. She slides down the couch toward me and stops only inches away. I have no idea what to expect and I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous too. I’d hate to start something . . . or for her to start something that neither one of us can stop.

  “You shouldn’t feel bad you know,” she whispers it like she doesn’t want anyone else to hear. The irony of the situation is that we’re alone.

  Aside from the fact that she’s sitting so close, I can smell her shampoo and want to bury my nose into her hair, push her back into the couch and see where things go, I’m confused. I don’t feel bad about anything. Not right this minute, anyway.

  “Why’s that?” I try to get my hormones under control but just as I begin to, Iris’s hand slides to my thigh. God help me.

  “I struggled my first night of spin, too, shhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

  The heat from her hand warms through my jeans. It’s distracting, but not enough to keep me from laughing slightly. Not only over the fact that she still thinks about that horrid incident, but that she has the ability to slur a shhhhh. It’s beyond my comprehension.

  She shrugs. “Of course, I didn’t pass out.”

  “I thought we established that was your fault.”

  She’s so close right now. So damn close. What am I doing?

  “And I do think you’re sexy.” She puts her fingers to my lips. Her eyes peek up at mine. “But don’t tell Carter I said that.”

  “Iris---”

  I’m not really going anywhere with that. I just feel like I need to say her name, that’s all. Maybe I’m supposed to ask her if she’s sure she wants to do this. Whatever this is. It doesn’t matter. In this moment, on this couch, in this house, Iris knows what she wants. My heart races as she leans toward me. I don’t move. Her eyes close just before her lips reach mine and when they do, my lids lower as well. She’s soft, and slow, and when she gets the reaction she wants from me, her hand moves from my thigh to my groin. Both my hands move to her neck and I hold her still as I deepen the kiss to tell her how good that feels. Iris moves and I might have the urge to complain except for the fact that she’s not getting up. Instead she’s hitching a leg over my lap and pushing me back down into the couch for better access.