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Her bottom lip wobbles. “But I love my apartment.”
“I’m sure there’s a certain charm about living next to active crime scenes, but you’ll get over it.”
“I live in Hyde Park, not a war zone.”
“Livedin Hyde Park. As in you are no longer a resident as of tomorrow.”
Her eyes narrow. “So that’s it? You snap your fingers and I’m supposed to do what you say like some obedient wife, no questions asked?”
“You’ve been practicing for years already, so there shouldn’t be a steep learning curve.”
My comment earns me a stress ball launched at my head and one wheezy laugh that can be heard all the way through my closed office door.
* * *
Think about your future.My right eye twitches as Iris hauls another potted plant into my house. At this rate, my home is going to be turned into a plant nursery.Spilled soil marks the hardwood floors to serve as a reminder of how my perfectly organized life is being turned on its head.
I walk around three other plants the size of small trees before reaching my front door. Iris speaks to one of the plants in a hushed voice, stroking one of its leaves while apologizing for uprooting its life. She’s insane. There’s no other way to describe someone who coos at plants like they’re children.
At least she’ll make a decent mother.
I mute my phone so the head of our auditing department doesn’t hear me. “Is that all? You’re letting all the heat out of the house.”I point at the open front door. On cue, a gust of wind batters against me.
Iris rubs her hands together before blowing on them. “You know, all of this would go a lot faster if you helped me.”
“I don’t do manual labor.”
“Then thank God we’re not having a child the old-fashioned way or else I’d be stuck doing all the work.”
Any rebuttal gets trapped in my throat, which only makes her laugh.
“You think you’re funny?”
“I’d rather be that than a lazy lay.” She runs out the door, obviously pleased with herself for stunning me into silence.
I almost forget about the person on the other line until they start speaking. Iris’s chaotic presence is already wreaking havoc on my life, and I wonder how I’m going to survive three years of her living here. My whole space is tainted with her shit, from the colorful blankets strewn across my pristine couch to a few framed photos of two women I’ve yet to meet.
I try my hardest to focus on the conversation, but I’m only half paying attention to whatever is said. My ability to concentrate has been severely impaired ever since Iris’s moving truck showed up in my driveway.
Twenty minutes later, Iris drops onto the floor in a heap. “All done!” Her two braids fan out around her, covered in snowflakes. A few spiral curls escaped the tight plait during the moving process and stick to her face. Her baby-pink winter jacket looks out of place—a complete contrast to my black suit, shoes, and soul.
I scan the perimeter, noting fewer than ten boxes. “You have more plants than things.”
She laughs up to the ceiling. “I’m a crazy plant lady. What else can I say?”
“Nothing is preferable.”
Her body shakes from silent laughter as she stands. “How does it feel to have someone in your space?”
“Loud.”
“Imagine how you’ll feel once you have a child running around here and screaming.”
“I’ll invest in a bark collar.”
She blinks. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. Of course I’m not being serious.”
