that?”
“God,” he said, shock still paralyzing him. “Iris...”
“Oh, shut up and get off me!”
He rolled off her and sat on the grass. He pulled his knees up and leaned his arms on them. “Jesus, what an asshole I must’ve been.”
Iris sat up. “Yes to that.”
“Iris, seriously, I’m sorry. I took advantage of you. Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and a couple of tears slipped out of her eyes. She brushed them away impatiently. In the moment, it had been like a dream come true! “Not physically. I think you were just moving on instinct and I didn’t stop you. I didn’t realize you didn’t know what you were doing. Or who you were doing it with,” she added with a bit of a choked voice. She looked away.
“Oh, I didn’t know what I was doing, but I must’ve known who I was with.” He shook his head. “I guess that explains the weird dreams.”
“What dreams?”
“Dreams about... Let’s save that discussion. It’s pretty embarrassing. Are you sure I didn’t force myself on you? Like a drunk seventeen-year-old moron?”
“No,” she said weakly. “I must admit I had stupidly been waiting forever for you to discover all those skinny, acrobatic cheerleaders weren’t right for you and you belonged with me, so...” She shrugged. “Thus, my broken heart. Then my anger. Maybe we can get over this now that you know. And you can leave me alone.”
“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”
She just shook her head.
He looked down at his knees. “It must have been thrilling for you,” he said sarcastically. “A teenage drunk climbing all over you.”
“Yeah, well...I’d always heard the first time is awful.”
“Jesus, Iris. I don’t know how I’m going to make this up to you. Sometimes it feels like every time I turn around I have one more stupid move to make amends for. This one is really going to take some thought.”
“Yeah? Well, listen, Seth. Let me make it easy for you because I have thought about it. It would be best if you just let it go, get on with your life and stop expecting me to be that girl again. I’m not, okay? I’m not your best friend anymore. I’m not going to be the one to pull your fat out of the fire every time you’re in trouble. You’re on your own. Just leave me alone.” She pulled herself to her feet.
“I don’t blame you for being angry,” he said.
“It wasn’t just the prom, you stupid shithead,” she said quietly, looking down at him. “It was everything. You used me as your tutor, your counselor so you could talk about your problems with all the pretty, popular girls, your playmate if you were bored. That night you said I was the only girl you’d ever really loved and then you just used me and tossed me out the next day.”
“Iris—”
“I’m over it, Seth. I’m over you. If you think I’m ever going to risk that kind of hurt again, you’ve lost your mind.”
Then she walked away and didn’t look back.
Iris wiped her eyes and blew her nose. She looked out her kitchen window and there he sat on the ground beside the lawn mower like the big dumb ox he was. Well, she was glad it was out. Now Seth knew everything that had pissed her off. Now he could go away because she was over it. Over him.
She made sure her doors were locked, then she threw herself facedown on her bed and smothered her cries in the pillow. She let all of the emotion out.
Before too long she heard the mower start up again. It ran for about ten minutes, then stopped and she was enveloped in silence. But the noise inside her head was deafening.
This was good, right? Getting it all out, all of it. Venting all the hurt and anger and feelings of betrayal. Because he hurt me so much. He’s been such an ignorant fool!
He’d been seventeen and stupid. And you were seventeen and not much smarter, her thirty-four-year-old self added.
Well, of course that internal argument was going to happen—she was a social worker, a counselor to young people. Young people who made mistakes every day, some that were hard to recover from, very hard to move on from.
Iris didn’t turn on the TV or her stereo. She cleaned house, literally. She cleaned out cupboards, closets, washed clothes, scoured the bathroom and the kitchen, threw away stuff in the refrigerator, filled bags and boxes with things she’d been meaning to get rid of for a long time. Clothes for donation were bagged, kitchen items that had been around since she was a teenager were boxed up—some to donate and some to pitch. She folded her underwear into little squares, rolled her towels and put them in an attractive wicker basket, changed the sheets, washed the rugs that fit into the washing machine. When the sun came out and the afternoon grew warm, she opened the windows to air out the house.
On Saturday night she had a glass of wine with her light dinner and put on an old movie—one of her favorite old chick flicks that always made her cry. She’d learned a long time ago that if there was a good cry growing in your chest and throat, a nice tearjerker could get it out of you without forcing you to dwell on the real issues.
What if she’d gotten pregnant from that spontaneous drunk coupling? she wondered. What would they have done? Would they have talked about it? Gotten married or something? Gotten married and given up their educations? Gotten married and maybe missed that fast car that had ended a prestigious football career? Gotten married because they had to and divorced later because Seth hadn’t been ready to be a husband and father, only a famous football player?
As it had happened, her period had started right away and she’d devoted herself to avoiding Seth. About a week after his reconciliation with Sassy, Seth had approached her. “You have any plans to go to the prom?” he’d asked.
She’d looked at him in horror. “You know I don’t, you imbecile. You said you wanted to take me, then you said you couldn’t because you made up with Sassy.”
“Hey, I would’ve taken you, Iris! I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you’d take that so seriously. I was just pissed.”
“Good for you,” she had said. “And now I’m just pissed. I hope you have an awful time!”
“What do you want me to do, Iris? Tell Sassy I can’t take her and take you instead?”
“I wouldn’t go with you if you were dying and it was part of your Make-a-Wish list!”
That was so vulgar of her, she thought. She’d been that outraged. It wasn’t like Iris to make cruel remarks like that. Although they hadn’t talked about it, she’d heard he had a miserable time at prom and the homecoming couple broke up again. That made her perversely happy.
Iris didn’t talk to anyone all weekend. She didn’t leave her now sparkling house until three o’clock on Sunday afternoon when she drove to a donation
