Iris

I saw them for the first time when I turned seven.

It was strange. It didn’t scare me, necessarily. Not really. Not then.

I saw them a lot more as I aged. It would just change, and I saw them. Then, not long after, it would change again, and they would disappear.

When I first began to see them, I would try to draw them. I would take my colored pencils and draw long lines, spiraling or dancing from one end of the paper to the other. My dad said it wasn’t really there, and that I was imagining it. My mom had always said I had a brilliant mind. That I was smarter than everyone else. That I was a miracle, and that they were lucky to have me. She said, “You will make me proud, Iris. One day. Someday.” She never talked about the lines.

But, I still saw them. Clearer than day, sometimes. Whenever I got bored, they would come into view. Everything else faded away, and it was just me and those lines. Everywhere I looked around me, those lines were playing. Some pulsing, some sad and wilting, and some dim and hollow. Then the lines would disappear, and I would once again see everyone else. People just how they looked. Not who they are.

I first understood what the lines meant when I saw mom die. I saw her line, or her cord, as I like to call it. I don’t know how I know whose cord is whose, but I just do. I can flicker between worlds now, and I can see who has which cord.

My mom’s cord has always been mostly pink. However, there is a lot of green in there too, and white, and yellow. The other colors are smaller, but still there. If I move closer to the cord, I can see them. But if I look from far away, it looks pink and green.

I decided that the colors must define someone’s personality. My dad’s cord is blue mostly, but streaked with grey and gold. He is a deep thinker, and a wise person. That must be why the cord is blue and grey and gold. My mom is loving and nurturing and sensitive. Must be the pink and green.

Well my mom’s cord grew dark one day. She came home and she cried all night, and dad did too, and I saw her cord’s brightness dim. The colors also, they grew more grey somehow. I never knew what was happening then, but I cried all night too. I stayed in the cord realm that night, and watched as my mom’s cord turned grey. My dad’s cord was spiraling around her’s, both their cords entwined.

She died a month or so later, of cancer. And so her line stopped. The other cords kept moving forward, but hers stopped. The gleam that tipped each cord died with her, and she was left behind. Dad’s cord grew greyer too, and kept spiraling around the empty blackness like mom was still with him. Even though she wasn’t. The gleam that tipped his cord was still there, silently moving forward. Time hadn’t let him fall away too.

I see him now, his sad eyes and his grey cord. Eventually, he had stopped spiraling around the nothingness like mom was there. He was next to my cord, however, and always stayed close to mine. That’s how I know he loved me.

Sometimes when he got really grey, I would go into the cord realm, and I would touch his cord. I would think to myself, be happy. His cord would then pulse a bit, and I would know that it worked. I would then see him, his real body, and he would be smiling to himself. He didn’t know that I helped him. He still didn’t believe I saw any lines.

My class thought I was crazy. My teacher, Ms. Tenna, said I knew things that I shouldn't know, that I was never taught. I don’t know how I know them either. I told her that. She didn’t believe me.

Ms. Tenna always had a grey cord. I don’t know why, or what happened, but her cord was always fringed with grey. It was also dark blue, like dad’s, and green, like mom’s, but there was more grey. Most of the other students were bright and vibrant cords, and so her’s contrasted greatly to theirs. I asked her why, one day. I said, “Ms. Tenna, why are you so sad.”

She looked at me with surprise. “Sad? Why do you say that?”

“I can see it in you,” I said. I had given up a long time ago trying to explain the cords to people. I was nine now, and still no one believed in me. “In your eyes.”

Her cord pulsed sharply, a clear sign to me of frustration. “Just you mind your business and go back to your seat.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to frustrate you. Can I help you with anything? Could this be about your son?”

Her cord was always close to another, smaller magenta one. I had learned it was her son, a young teenager who began to make his own path his own way.

She struggled to catch her breath, and looked at me like I was sent from below. “You stop talking right now!” She said, getting to her feet. Her cord flashed with orange and red. I know the red was for the anger, and I think somehow the orange meant fear. I flickered away from the cord realm and looked back into Ms. Tenna’s eyes. “You stop talking, and you make your way out of my room! Now!”

I stumbled backward. I caught a sob in my throat. I didn’t mean to make her angry. I just wanted to understand why she was sad. I just wanted her to know that I could help her.

“Why are you still standing there?” She yelled at me, teeth clenched. She took a shuddering breath. “Into the hall, now!”

I panicked. I moved into the cord realm and I quickly moved to her cord. I held the tears from my eyes as I hugged her cord, and thought to myself, be comforted. I hugged her like this for a long while before I dared to go back and face her physical self. She was crying, standing dumbfounded at her desk. I found that I was crying too, staring back at her. Ms. Tenna moved forward, and hugged me tightly. This time for real. “Silly girl,” she said to me. “Silly girl, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Her cord was greyer than ever, and I watched sadly as the small magenta cord continued to slowly turn away from his mom’s.

I walked home that day, kicking a small rock all the way home. My dad must have gotten caught up at work again. I didn’t mind. He liked his work, building computers. Or whatever it was that he really did, that's all that he told me. I could see his cord, still so close to mine despite the fact that he is so far from me in reality. I was content with that. As long as his cord was there.

In the distance, I could see a young girl walking towards me. She seemed familiar, and had an ethereal appearance about her. She looked, no rather, felt lost. I tried to see her cord, but I didn’t find one. Usually I could look at them for real, and then try to find their cord and it would show up right away. This time nothing showed. She was still walking towards me, just without any cord. I know I’ve seen her before. But never in real life. Just in my dreams, or in mirrors.

“Hey.” A voice said, breaking my focus. I turned to the voice, someone next to me had stopped in their car. “Hey, Iris. Would you like a ride home?”

Jasper. The old town firefighter. I’d known him longer than my mom, I think. He’s friends with my dad, and he comes and visits every now and then. Not so much anymore. I was sad to see his and my dad’s cord slowly part ways. Neither of them ever parted far from my cord however. I was grateful for that.

“Yes,” I said, walking to the car. “Please,” I added as an afterthought. His cord was a low red that almost looked like rust. There were clear, unmistakable gold streaks though, playing within his cord. That’s how I know I can trust him. Not very many people have gold. But his cord was dim. There was an inconsistent flicker to his, like he struggled hard all the time. And his cord, it waved and spiraled. Like it didn’t know where it wanted to go.

I climbed up the passenger seat of his small pickup truck.

“Your dad still working late?”

“I think so,” I said as the truck rumbled forward. After a pause: “Thanks for the ride.”

He grunted, eyes fixed on the road.

Jasper didn’t talk much anymore. He used to. Back before the fire—before he ran into a collapsing house and came out with a limp and two kids in his arms. People still talk about it, like a legend the town keeps retelling so they don’t forget what courage looks like.

He never brings it up himself. But his cord limps the way he does—flickering like it’s still dragging something heavy behind it.

I tried once to tell him how much that meant to people. How if someone didn’t love him, there was still respect. Always respect.

“I made Ms. Tenna cry today,” I said to him, swallowing slowly. “I didn’t mean to, but I made her cry.”

He was still for a second. “How’d you manage that?”

“Because. Well, I said I was sorry for her and that I wanted to help her, you know? Like, her son is turning dark inside, and it made her sad inside, and I wanted to help her.”

He cleared his throat slowly. She knew he was not surprised to hear her talking about other people like that, like she somehow knew everything. If anyone believed in her ability to see, it was him.

“Ms. Tenna has gone through a lot in her life. Her husband walked out on her a while back, and she struggled to care for her only son.”

He paused again, like he was working out something internally. His cord was more gold now, than grey. There was also a small tinge of dark blue that surged throughout. Something he didn’t have before. Just like Ms. Tenna.

“It shows the type of character…” he said finally, stumbling on his words. “It shows the kind of person you are when you go through that and you still teach at a school and care so much about the people around you. I… Well, I…”

He went silent. He remained silent for the rest of the ride home, and let out a barely audible grunt when I said goodbye. His cord had slowly dimmed again during the rest of the ride. He drove off slowly, the engine struggling faintly.

There was the girl, again. Walking towards me. I searched again for her cord, and again found nothing. She scared me, somehow. My heart raced and I panicked as I saw her come for me. I felt inside that there was something I’m forgetting. Something that I’m--

“Iris!” A bright, radiant voice chimed. I turned around, and saw the overjoyed face and bright, yellow cord of young Sara coming towards me. She hugged me tightly, sharing her positivity with me. I could tell that my own cord pulsed, like she had touched it and thought be happy.

Sara would be in the class above me if her sister didn’t think that she should be homeschooled instead. I didn’t blame her sister either, dear Marianne. They were orphaned. Marianne took care of Sara. They lived in the apartment next door to mine.

Sara’s cord was bright yellow, of course. She was always happy. I loved that about her. Marianne, however… She was a dusky lilac. Silver pulsed through her, emanating with powerful energy that felt unique to her and only her. She always had a vivid, bright glow. I knew that she was confident in herself. And with the lilac, she portrayed a creative, determined, and yet still nurturing energy. It wasn’t something she held within herself, she shared this luster willingly with any cord close enough to feel it.

She held very closely and tightly to everyone around her. Sara meant the world to her. There was also another man in Marianne’s life. She was spiraling around his cord like my parents were spiraling around each other.

I hesitated though. While my dad was spiraling around my mom, my mom was also spiraling around him. With these two, however, it was different. They had never really done that. Instead Marianne spiraled around him, and he simply went straight forward. She put in far more effort to dance with him, but it drained her to do so.

I followed Sara inside, and to her apartment. What we did, I don’t remember. I just remembered that I loved it. Marianne came home before my dad, with an exhausted expression on her face. Her cord was pulled tight, and was frayed on the edges. She smiled warmly anyways when Sara ran to her, and pushed away all those melancholic thoughts of the day. For Sara.

I wandered back home, and let them go over what Sara learned today. As I left their apartment, I saw the same little girl, standing at the far end of the hall. My heart skipped a beat, and I caught a sob in my throat. I don’t know why, but I turned away and went into my room. I left her behind, and I knew that that was what I wanted.

Dad came home late and apologized. He pulled out something for both of us to eat, and then locked himself back into his office. He said he really needed to work right now, and that he would come out soon. He never did that night. In the morning, he drove me to school and disappeared again.

I saw the magenta cord before I saw the disheveled young man. His cord had grey, unmistakably, but it also had turquoise. Turquoise was good. Turquoise meant that he still dreamed. I didn’t see enough turquoise.

But there was also a lot of black in the cord. And black wasn’t good. You have to do bad things to get black. His cord was also pulsing erratically right now, and tinged with red. Always a sure sign of anger. He walked heavily out of the school front doors and onto the street.

“Sir!” I yelled, running back after him. He passed me while I was in the cord realm and I didn’t even know it. “Sir, please stop!”

He kept going, like he didn’t hear me. His cord was still frayed and pulsing wildly, and he was clearly battling wars inside.

The bell behind me rang. I stopped, and watched him walk away. Reluctantly turning, I walked back into the school building and to my class. Ms. Tenna wasn’t there when I walked in. Her cord, though, was greyer than ever. Her glow was flickering, like a dying light bulb. And still, the small magenta cord slowly pulled away.

I only wanted to tell her son that he’s hurting her. I only wanted to make it better.

She was staring at me from the door through the whole of class. None of the other students saw her, and even Ms. Tenna walked right past her when she came into the room. It was like she didn’t exist for any of them. It was just like the cords -- only for my eyes. She was standing in front of a mirror that was on the door. I couldn’t see her reflection, though, only her.

When class ended, I stayed in my seat. Ms. Tenna had walked out before any of the other students, and she looked exhausted through the whole of class. All the other students excitedly filed out as well. Soon it was just me and her, the other small girl, left in the quiet of the room. She just stared at me.

“What do you want?” I said, still sitting. I wasn’t angry. I was just confused, and sad. Deeply, overwhelmingly sad. I felt, in some deep part of myself, that I knew what she wanted, even while I asked the question.

“I want to come home,” she responded. The voice was just like mine. Deeply sad, and confused. She was lost. The perfect word to explain it.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t know where your home is,” I said. She knew I was lying, and I knew I was lying. Tears started to play behind my eyes. I stood up, and walked towards her, facing her.

“Please,” she said, desperately. “I just want to come home.”

Suddenly, she seemed to fade, like an extinguished candle flame, leaving me staring at the mirror behind her. And it was then that I understood why she looked so familiar to me.

There she was, still looking at me. Or at least, there I was still looking at her. I didn’t know which. Both were true, perhaps. Even though she just disappeared from before my eyes, she was still standing in front of my eyes. And she began to cry when I began to cry.

I left eventually. My dad was working late again, I knew. But I didn’t mind walking home.

I thought about Ms. Tenna, and her issues with her child and my heart hurt. I thought about Jasper, and his loneliness, and I thought about Marianne and her struggles, and still my heart hurt even more. I thought about my dad, and my heart hurt the most.

The truck came to a stop quickly. I saw myself briefly staring back at me through the window as it rolled down, replaced with the worried expression of Jasper. His cord was grey and gold now, strangely. Those didn’t often directly pair up.

“I need you to get in the car,” He said, slowly. His eyes were filled with despair, and his hands were shaking. “I have something you need to know.”

I didn’t know what was happening, or why he was so sad. I opened the door, climbing up to sit on the seat. I quickly visited the cord realm, looking for why he was so sad. His cord seemed to be rippling, like waves. They were going backwards, though, not the same way the cord was going.

I stayed silent, and he did too for a long while. When he parked in front of my apartment, he turned to me. His gaze shifted, couldn’t focus on me. “It -- it’s about your dad.”

I swallowed, and quickly shifted my gaze to the cord realm.

“He was driving, and seems to have taken a wrong turn--” Jasper was saying, as I searched, frantically, for that blue cord. For the beautiful, grey blue cord.

“...he was gone before help came, and…”

I blocked out the real world. How? Why was this happening to me? Why was everyone so sad? Why was I losing everyone in my life?

There was no sound, none of the ringing in my ears that I became so accustomed to. Just nothing, and me, and the cords. I looked behind me, floating in the open nothingness, and saw my dad’s cord. The glow had faded, and it fell behind, floating loosely and uselessly compared to the ever moving cords all around me. I knew it was still dad, even though it looked nothing like him.

I didn’t have eyes to cry with. I didn’t have a mouth to yell with. I didn’t have legs to run away, or a body to curl up with. I didn’t have a heart to feel pain, so why did it hurt so much?

I flew away from the cords. As fast and as far as I could, I left. I left them behind, and they grew smaller and smaller, and you couldn’t tell which ones were still moving and which ones had fallen behind because it was all one cord now. Because all those individual strands of color had come together to create one strand, that still spiraled and danced and frayed and greyed and died and came to life all at once.

“It’s beautiful,” a voice behind me said. I didn’t have ears to hear, but I still heard that.

The same small, little girl came up from behind me. The same small little girl that I had left behind in the small truck with Jasper.

“It's horrible,” I said, looking back to the strand. “There is so much sorrow, and so much death, and so much loss.”

“Yes. And there is so much joy, and so much happiness, and so much hope.”

I looked at her. “Have you been here that long?”

I was not there for her to look back at. “Yes. And I know that when I go back home, I will forget it all. I will just be a nine year old girl, again.”

“Without parents.”

“Yes, without parents.”

“How? How do you want to return? How do you want to go back when everyone you cared about is either dying or is dead?”

She thought for a moment. “I think you know better than I do.”

I turned away from her, and almost yelled into the nothingness.

“Of course I know better than you do,” I snapped. “I’ve seen it happen thousands of years upon thousands of years. I’ve seen people lose their life, I’ve seen people gain their life, I’ve seen people give up, and I’ve seen people gain hope. I’ve seen it all thousands of times!”

The little girl, still staring at the single cord that binds all the other cords, paused. “Can you really see them all?”

I hesitated, before responding.

“All of them.”

“And that’s your cord?”

I stared at the single cord. The single line that bonded all of life and joy and sorrow together. “That’s me. I was never given a chance like any of you, I was just there. Always there.”

“So why did you take my chance?”

“Because,” I said, weakly. “Because, I just… I can see it all. And I can change it, and I am it, and I hate it…

“Because I longed for it. I longed for a chance.”

Silence fell, for a long moment. Both the little girl and I stared at the cord longer, watched as it changed and moved, and how lights sparked and died away.

“Can I come back home?”

I looked at her again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-- I shouldn’t have taken away what was yours.”

“It's okay,” she said, “I just want to come back home.”

I soared back, into the truck. Jasper looked worried, and he was on the phone talking urgently. Marianne came running out of the apartment building, towards me, followed by Sara. I looked at the reflection in the glass window, and I saw her staring back at me.

So I let go.

I let go of that beautiful, little girl and then I stared back at her from inside the window reflection. Iris blinked rapidly for a moment, and looked around. She looked confused.

Marianne opened the truck door and hugged Iris tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said, in between tears. “I’m so sorry.” When Marianne let her go, Sara moved forward and hugged her tightly as well. This time she didn’t let go. No words were spoken.

I saw as Jasper nodded thanks to Marianne, and pulled out onto the open road. Marianne walked Iris and Sara back into the apartment. I saw the magenta cord, leaning against the side of the building, staring at the little girl who was now an orphan. He blinked rapidly, took a deep breath, and turned away.

And so I moved back into the cord realm. I looked, now, and I found the cord, the dusky lilac of Marianne. I stole the black and red cord that Marianne was dancing with, and ripped it from her. I found the bright yellow of Sara, pulled it close to Marianne, found the rusty red of Jasper and pulled it close as well. I found the dark blue of Tenna’s and held her tight with the rusty red. I grabbed the fleeing magenta, and drew it close to his mom’s, and I held them all there. All five, I held and I began to speak to them. Be comforted, I said. Be happy, be joyful, be brave, be honest, be humble, be kind… I continued, holding tight to the cords.

Be together.

And I let go. Of the five cords, and of beautiful little Iris.