Chapter 38

Iris

Arthur leaves after that, which is both a relief and a disappointment for reasons I’m not sure if I’m ready to admit. Miles is happily playing in the guest bedroom, so I leave him be and head straight to my studio, ready to get to work.

Over the next couple of hours, I slip back into my groove. The brush moves across the canvas like an extension of my arm, a dizzying array of black, sky blue, and gentle shades of pink.

The painting I’m working on first comes to me without even having to plan it ahead of time; it’s an impressionist depiction of a park bench beneath a lovely pink cherry tree, delicate blossoms fluttering down to the ground. On the bench sits a torn-up canvas, the shreds of fabric mingling with the pink and white petals.

I want to paint Selina in the background, hanging upside down from the tree like a bat with her eyes blood-red and her lips curled in that signature sneer of hers, but I stay my hand. Although, the thought of her looking like her true self—a life essence vampire—makes me giggle softly despite myself.

After a few hours, I take a break to rest my hands and wrists. I make three sandwiches and give one to Miles on our way down to the lobby to visit Cliff.

“Cliff,” I say as we cross the lobby, holding up one of the sandwiches. “I thought you might be hungry. And in need of a little fresh air.”

The aging security guard’s features light up, and he hops up from behind his desk, taking the sandwich. The three of us head out into the sunshine, veering toward the small park nearby where Miles greedily gobbles his sandwich before running off to play with the other kids.

Cliff and I take a seat on a nearby bench, and Cliff leans back, letting out a satisfied sigh as we eat our sandwiches and watch Miles hang upside down from the monkey bars. I’m sure Miles will make himself sick doing that right away, but he looks so happy I don’t have the heart to make him wait for his food to digest.

“This is sort of like old times, isn’t it?” Cliff says with a smile. “Of course, you have one of your own children now…”

I smile, but there’s also a tinge of bitterness behind the thought of ‘old times’. Back when I lived here, I used to share lunch with Cliff and Augustine and we’d watch the kids play on the playground quite regularly. But things are different now.

“Where is Augustine?” I ask, swallowing a bite of my sandwich.

Cliff sighs. “She keeps to herself these days.”

“I should visit her.”

He shoots me a knowing look. “Yes, you should. I worry about her sometimes. Ever since her symptoms began setting in, she started to isolate herself. She needs to at least get out to see the sun once in a while.”

I nod, polishing off my sandwich, and dust my fingers across my overalls. Cliff keeps an eye on Miles as he plays, and I make my way inside and down the first floor hallway to her apartment door. Taking a deep breath, I knock.

For a few moments, there’s no answer. I wonder briefly if she’s asleep, and push down the slight worry that she may have fallen and hurt herself. But then I hear her small voice call out through the wood, “Go away!”

I frown, confused. Augustine was never unfriendly when I lived here. She would have invited anyone into her apartment for tea and cookies, even to her own detriment at times. This isn’t like her at all; I wonder if it’s a symptom of her dementia.

“Augustine,” I call out, trying to keep my voice light, “it’s me, Iris. I know it’s been a long time since we last saw each other, but—”

“I said, go away!”

Her voice is harsher this time, even trembling slightly. She almost sounds… frightened. Either that, or angry. Two more traits that I never knew Augustine to have in the past. She was always fearless and utterly unshakable. I don’t think I ever saw her without a smile on her face.

“But Augustine—”

“Go away, Selina!”

I blink, surprised. She thinks I’m… her? I don’t think I sound like Selina at all. “I’m not Selina,” I reply quickly. “It’s me, Iris. Open the door and see for yourself.”

There’s a pause, and I think she might finally oblige. But she doesn’t. Rather, I just hear the chain go across the door. “I’m not falling for your tricks again!” she shouts, her voice retreating into the apartment. “Go away, and stop bothering me!”

I open my mouth to call out to her again, but stop myself. She must be having some kind of episode from her dementia. I decide to leave her be for now, and come back when she’s in a better mood. And maybe Cliff can help me get through to her.

When I return to the playground, Miles is running circles around the park bench where Cliff is sitting. Cliff looks up as I approach.

“Well? How did it go?”

I shake my head, suddenly feeling the need to blink back tears. “She thought I was…” I can’t say Selina’s name out loud right now, so I just shake my head again. “I think she got confused, that’s all. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Iris. She gets in these moods sometimes… But yes, do try again tomorrow. Maybe if you can bring something that will jog her memory of you, she’ll snap out of it.”

I nod, letting Miles play for a while longer before we head inside. On the way up to the apartment, I consider Cliff’s words, and recall how I used to have those book club meetings with Augustine.

I never did finish the last book we were supposed to read—I only got halfway through it before I left, and I mistakenly left it behind. I bet it’s still sitting on the shelf, actually. Maybe if I bring it to her, she’ll remember me and will want to talk.

In the apartment, Miles runs off to play by himself and I step into the living room where the tall bookshelves are. They stretch all the way to the ceiling, shelves upon shelves filled to the brim with books.

“Shit,” I mutter, biting my lower lip. It’s been so long that I don’t remember where I put that book.

Climbing onto the rolling ladder that’s attached to the wall, I begin to methodically make my way through the shelves in search of the book. There are a lot of titles that I remember reading before, and I fondly run my finger across the spines with a faint smile touching my lips. However, I can’t seem to locate the last book I was reading.

I slowly make my way down the rows of shelves, pushing the ladder along with my foot. It rolls easily, reminding me of the days when I used to peruse the titles in this very same way. My own home library. I wonder if Arthur ever got around to reading some of the titles that we purchased at used book stores on a whim.

Suddenly, as I’m extending my left leg to give myself a push to the next shelf, my foot slips. I gasp, losing my footing, my hand swiping toward the rung to catch myself a moment too late.

It all happens so fast. My stomach drops as I begin to fall the sixteen feet back to the floor, arms windmilling out to the sides. I fall like a sack of potatoes, bracing myself for a painful impact.

But then, suddenly, sturdy arms catch me with ease. When the panic subsides enough to make sense of what just happened, I blink dazedly up and see Arthur’s concerned face staring down at me.