Black Irises

Liam felt a creak as the middle-aged man collapsed onto the pew. The man, still catching his breath glanced at Liam who quickly returned to his study of the floor. The church lacked the hushed whispers, and conciliatory glances found in a warm family, leaving a palpable tension. Liam looked around at the well dressed, dry eyed room, then down at his patched jacket. 'How did you know Aunt Iris?', the man broke. Jarred slightly, Liam stammered 'I ah, I was her neighbor across the street', to whom must’ve been Arthur, Iris’s nephew. 'Oh yeah, get stuck hearing her drone on a bit, did you?', Arthur replied with a half chuckle, stuck between facetious humor and thinly veiled discontent. 'Oh no, we got on very well, I spent a lot of time...', Liam was cut off by the minister. 'Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to say farewell to Iris’, the minister started, sending a silence through the crowd. 'Unfortunately, I didn't get to spend much time with Iris. Although we all miss her, we may at least take solace in knowing that she passed gently and met death with an outstretched hand. She was a tough woman, always willing to let her thoughts be known. She was a worldly spirit, and she jumped to explore it whenever and with whomever she could'. Arthur scoffed under his breath and whispered something to his partner. Liam's eyes searched for anything that could occupy his attention to escape his repulsion of the man. His gaze caught the memorial leaflet, a middle-aged Iris on the cover, her mild expression in agreement over her nephew’s reaction. Liam recognized the photo, Iris was wearing her fluffy pink cardigan, sitting in front of to her terrace house in Melbourne. The photo had sat in the middle of her living room wall, a timeline of her life describing her adventures with her husband. They had met in Kyoto and lived around the world together for 20 years. The photo had been taken when she had returned alone and bought her first house back in Australia in her forties. Anyone who really knew her, and knew that expression on her face, would never have used that photo at her funeral. Liam knew why they had used it, it was the only photo on that wall without her Japanese husband. Realizing again the room he was in, made fresh cuts into Liam. To calm himself he imagined sitting in the living room of Iris's house, sipping her French earl grey, listening to the birds. After his parents had died in a car crash, he regularly spent time there. That day Iris had seen him struggling with groceries and had offered to help him. When he told her, he didn’t know how to cook, she had brought over a recipe and missing ingredients. 'I've always wanted to learn how to cook', she joked. That gentle support meant the world. Liam fondly remembered sitting in her living room, listening to her stories. Iris would always be jotting down in her leather diary as they reminisced on her adventures. Her university exchange to Japan where she met her husband. Her exciting trip to Morocco where she was arrested. The story always ended the same way, 'And that prison cell is where I learned to never rely on my family. Don’t trust the people in your life you didn’t put there Liam', she always said. Everyone slowly stood, startled Liam followed. The entire ceremony had passed while he was in his memories, but he thought it much better time spent saying goodbye to Iris than a sterile sermon. ‘How could such a loving, open-minded woman, be related to this family’, Liam thought. As her coffin was walked between the crowd Liam felt a pang of anger, they didn't deserve a woman who to Liam, had been like a mother. As the ceremony ended, Liam picked himself up, and moved for the door. A hand on his elbow stopped him. 'You must be Liam', an elderly woman's voice said. Liam turned around to see Iris's sister Mary. 'Yes, and you must be Mary, thank you for organizing such a lovely service for her, she would have loved it, especially the irises', he replied. 'I would have done some things differently, but Iris wanted this. I needed to let you know, the probate is tomorrow at 11am, at my house and apparently Iris requested you be there', she said, a chill in her voice. 'Oh, thank you, I'll be there’, Liam replied, off guard. 'See you tomorrow', Mary closed, and began slowly walking away. Liam turned and continued towards the door, incredulous at her matter-of-fact ness, and thankful the encounter was over. 'Be wary of Mary', Iris's voice echoed.

The next day came slowly, a dreary overcast morning. He arrived at Mary's house early but felt himself lingering. The dashboard read 10:58, late for being early. He sat in the cars struggling heating, a coffee in his hand with a dribble down the side, the cold exacerbating his shaking hands. The loss of Iris was never going to be easy, but her emotionless family made it much worse. Nevertheless, he had still brought chocolates. ‘Never turn up empty handed’, he always said. Liam finished his cold coffee, anxiety bubbling up in the last sip, knowing what was happening next. He opened the door of his faithful Honda with a tortured metal screech, 'I know', Liam said to the fragile car. He stood, readying himself for whatever reception awaited. He took a deep breath, compassionately slammed his door, crossed the lawn, and ascended the stairs. The door snapped open interrupting Liam’s knock. Arthur stood in the doorway, a flat expression on his face. 'Come in Liam', he said. 'Good morning Arthur, good to see you', Liam said squeezing past into the foyer. 'Living room on the left', Arthur replied shortly, taking the chocolates. Liam walked to the living room and found 10 people all facing him, exclusively Iris's family. Apparently, they had wanted to start early and didn't appreciate his outside presence. Arthur passed Liam and muttered, 'No more seats, you'll have to stand', then sat in the last free seat. Liam stood in the corner at the back, missing the relative warmth of his cars choking heater. A suited man was seated at the front of the room by the coffee table. Liam spotted Iris's leather diary on the table. 'Now that we are all here, shall we start?', said the official. 'My name is Robert, the administrator of Iris's estate, as no executor was listed. Thank you all for coming, this shouldn't take long. The purpose of today is to explain the last will and testament of Iris Margaret Albright. It should take about 10 minutes as her will is rather short. Then we can have questions about how we proceed. Any questions before we start?'. The room answered with silence. 'Ok, let's begin'.

'Friend and Family, I have had the privilege of a well-traveled life and of my experiences I have written numerous books. Some of you may have even read them as I published them under a pen name. I am the writer, Ian M Right'. Liam's eyes widened at the name. He recognized the titans work but hadn't read it. The room filled with sharp whispers and seemed ready to descend into gossip at the news, but the room's tension prevailed. 'I'm sure this comes as a surprise, and I'm sure that those of you familiar with my work are wondering what is to be done with what is likely a considerable estate. Pause for effect’, ‘I'm sorry, she actually says that’. Liam smirked. 'Over my years you have all proved your selfishness time over. You made it clear you didn't consider me a part of this neurotic family. As such I will be disseminating my wealth elsewhere. I am doing you a service that will escape you all, much like throwing meat to starving animals, you would eat each other over parts of me. There is only one person here who genuinely passed my trials’. Liam saw Arthur turn in his chair towards him. 'How dare she!', snapped Mary. Liam, feeling suddenly vulnerable, didn't know where to look. Robert carefully continued, 'I am leaving $20,000 to Liam Whittig, the man likely in the back of the room knowing him, and the remainder of my estate, to St Mary’s Orphanage'. The room gasped. Liam’s eyes went wide with shock. The tempestuous silence hung in the air. Robert continued, 'I am also leaving you my diary Liam', Robert gestured to her purple diary on the coffee table. 'I'm sure this comes as a shock to you all, but as you didn't care about my dealings when I was alive, why start now’. 'How dare she!', Arthur exploded, facing Liam, 'This is disgusting, you swindled an old lady out of her money, you get out of my house you snake!'. Liam made a panicked look to Robert who gestured him over. Liam walked swiftly through the leering gauntlet. 'You should leave, take this, contact me later'. Liam silently took the diary, turned, and walked out of the room with his eyes scrutinizing the shaggy carpet. Liam hurried from the house into the gentle rain, the purple book in his hand. Liam walked to his car and collapsed on the grass beside it. He felt a panic attack rushing in, overwhelming him. He began to sob gently against his car. He felt like Iris had thrown him to the wolves and that he was completely alone, yet he still found himself missing her. He missed the sound of her stirring tea, he missed hearing her articulate all the thoughts he couldn't muster in himself. He missed who she brought out in him. ‘Did that ME, die with her’, he wondered. He stared at the little leather book in his hand, the last thing she would ever say to him. He sobbed louder, as he opened the purple cover.

'I'm sorry for that Liam, what I just did to you must have felt horrible, but it was the last thing I can accompany you through. I wanted to show you that although you lost your family when you were young and didn’t get time with them, I never had a family to spend time with either. You became my family by being a good person, and there is so much family out there in the world for you, you just need a gentle push to find them. I have something to confess to you. All those stories of mine that we discussed together, well, while many happened to me, some stories were the basis of my books. You happily listened to all my life stories with such excitement, I ran out of my own experiences. I hoped that by seeing the world through my old eyes and through the eyes of my characters I could convince you to take your own steps. You always were the most perceptive person Liam, despite your colorblindness, ironic really. You always saw me when the world kept looking through me as the old lady waiting to die. But it is time to stop watching the world, and time to live in it. So, to push you into life, I’m giving you some profits from the stories that brought us together, and this book where we discussed them, our little black book ;). You can always find me in my stories. Love Iris'. Liam sobbed as he put the book down on the grass. He choked out a laugh to himself, 'You saw me didn't you'. Liam looked down at the book, to his teary color-blind eyes, a black book, in the red grass next to the black irises in Mary’s front yard. She saw his world, and she had known what it needed. The cool rain continued, diluting his tears, and soothing his heart.