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In this neighborhood, nothing surprises me. Then one of them zooms in on me through those wrap-around shades. He’s talking with his finger to his ear, so I start walking faster.
By the time it hits me they’re actually followingme, I hail a cab. I know, right? They’ll never catch me now. I’m in a cab!
After yesterday, last night… nothing surprises me anymore. I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for some guys in suits with earpieces driving the same way I’m going. That’s what I tell myself after trying not to look back every second block we pass.
It’s extravagant, I know. A taxi ride to work, and it’s my first official day off, too, but Phil sounded cut up about Iris. If she closed up early yesterday, shemustbe unwell. A nanna nap here or there is par for the course for Iris, but if it’s Phil ringing me, I know it’s got to be bad.
I’ve never had grandparents or even parents to worry about. It’s always been just me or whoever was the foster family for that year. Kinda got old after a while, but I like to think I treat everyone the same way. Being nice isn’t hard, and most people are nice right back.
Iris is like the queen of nice. So if she’s sick, then I’m going to go see if there’s anything I can do to help.
Don’t go thinking you-know-who’s not on my mind the whole time. That damned“loves me, loves me not”line has been on an endless loop in my brain, even while I slept, like a sound you hear so often you barely notice it anymore. When you focus on it, it’s all you can hear again.
I pay the cab fare with wide eyes, instantly deciding that walking is healthier and cheaper, even though I am flush with cash. I wouldn’t want to waste itallon cab rides, but that short ride a few dozen blocks feels like it’s already put a dent in it.
Phil’s lingering in the coffee shop doorway. The look on his face matches the tired, rain-soaked exterior of the ancient building. The little bit of sunshine peeking through this morning is someplace else right now.
I feel a sick sensation of my own, somehow just knowing that today might be crazier than yesterday, but in very different ways. Maybe not ones I’m going to like.
If anything happens to Iris, I don’t know what that would mean for me. I don’t want to sound selfish, but Phil’s not well either. I suddenly see, from looking at Phil, that the whole life I’ve made for myself could gopoof!at any minute. I suddenly don’t feel so in control, so clever, and go get ’em with my little business.
I gulp hard, almost slamming the cab door. I’m numb inside and creasing a smile for Phil’s benefit. I know he’s probably thinking the same things I am, but for different reasons. Without Iris, he’s lost too. And without them both, I know I’m… well…
I’m here for Iris right now. I ask Phil how she is.
“She’s sleeping now,” he sighs, a tremor in his tone. His eyes are wetter and weepier looking than usual. I think I might be overreacting a bit, but I can’t just ask him if she’s going to die now, can I?
“Oh, I got your flower delivery in this morning. Put it in the chiller for ya. You must’ve slept in?” he asks, forcing a smile that turns natural when I return it, blushing a little.
“Is Iris going to be okay?” I ask, watching his face fall before he sighs again.
“None of us know how long we’ve got, Jasmine,” he murmurs thoughtfully, almost as if he’s reminding himself—training himself for the day it comes.
“But Iris is a trooper,” he says suddenly, sounding more optimistic. Happier from seeing a friendly face in me, I hope.
“I’ll let you know when she’s up,” Phil offers. “I got you down here because… well… I don’t know… I thought she had a fever or something. Iris wanted me to tell you something,” he says. His eyes look past mine as if the words he needs to remember are printed on the sky behind me.
“She said, ‘I got it wrong. Tell Jasmine I was wrong. He’s not grieving… heisin love,’” he recites, looking pleased with himself he could remember it all.
Then he looks to me for something that tells him I understand what she means, which right now, I don’t.
At first, I think I agree with Phil. Sounds like Iris needs a doctor or a hospital if she’s raving like that. Or maybe it’s Phil who’s having a turn of his own. He’s been unwell since the day I met him and Iris. I could press the point and ask to see her, but I’m not a doctor. If she’s asleep, I don’t want to bother her.
“I’ll open up, I guess,” I shrug, eying my own little shop front, returning Phil’s vacant look when I don’t have anaha!moment once he tells me what Iris said.
I absently scan the street both ways. There is no sign of any James Bond types following me, so I think I might have a slight case of whatever I am catching today.
“I guess I’ll stay closed today,” he sighs, his shoulders sagging to the point of looking painful. He refuses my offer to pitch in and help him today instead.
“We could do both shops between us?” I feebly suggest.
Phil’s old enough to know his limits, and running between a coffee shop and a florist shop all day isn’t high on his bucket list. So I remind him I mean it when I tell him to come get me if he needs anything.
“Thanks for coming down, Jasmine,” Phil says, creasing a smile as he goes back inside. “You’re the closest thing to family we’ve got now… means a lot,” he adds, heading inside before he shows too much emotion.
A man of few words whose actions could fill volumes… that’s Phil in a nutshell.
Iris too, but she’s hardly a woman of few words, unless she’s ill, I guess.
