May All Your Irises Be White

I pissed off Amanda again. What’s new? I could never satisfy her. To be honest, I don’t even think I ever tried to. As the first child, she had to look up to me. I never had to request validation from her. But this argument was different. She wanted to partner up and move forward with the I Hate Rachel Herrmann Company. I simply could not. While the company promotes trauma recovery through the use of dark humor, I’d rather leave the more serious tasks to the professionals. Amanda believes the standard mental health treatments are corrupt and that this company will start a reform movement. She acts like Rachel Herrmann is the next Dorothea Dix. I could never have so much faith in just one person alone.

The emotional baggage from this past year became overwhelming. This argument with my sister was my breaking point. Everyone in the house was asleep or too high to even notice if I was gone. I turned my location off on my phone and went on a walk. I wanted to be alone, to clear my mind, with no attachment to technology.

There was no significant destination I had to approach. My only goal was to keep moving forward until I was calm once again. My feet obeyed the commands of my brain. At a steady pace they brought me across Outer Drive, leaving Allen Park behind.

The streetlights became softer as I entered Melvindale. Almost every building complemented each other with a variety of shades of brown bricks. Allen Road went from busy with traffic to a ghost town once I entered into a different city. It’s a bit eerie, walking alone in the dark, but I am determined to forget about my problems as my journey continues.

Oakwood Boulevard divides the city in half. This is where I find the courage to abandon the main road. I make a right turn down Henry Street, hoping to disappear in the dark. After about three blocks, the street ends. An empty parking lot calls my name, Hannah. I relate to it. Spotlights everywhere just to show everyone you’re empty and full of cracks.

A picnic bench welcomes me to sit and take a quick rest. Why would there be a place to sit at the back of a parking lot? Oh well, I shouldn’t question it. I’ve been walking for almost two hours. I need to take this moment to relax.

Five minutes pass, and I bring myself up to keep walking. I have a long walk home, so I have to continue moving. There’s a foul stench in the air. I was never great with geography, but if I had to make a guess, I’d say I am near the Rouge River.

I keep left to stay on a poorly marked path through a small collection of trees. Down below I see the running water. One wrong step and I’m tumbling down into the sewer stream. If I turn back now, I can head back to a nice warm home. I glance forward one more time to reflect on my surroundings.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the streetlights glisten as a reflection on the water. Brightness encompasses this secluded area. My curiosity piques interest, and I am compelled to find out why.

Ten more feet exist until the path ends. My only choices are to turn around or climb upward to a makeshift trail. It looks as if someone was sick of being lost in a corn maze and just cut through to get out. Answers wait for me there. The road less traveled is greeted by me. That’s what they encouraged me to do in school, right? Thank you. Robert Frost, for validation during a quite possibly self-destructive decision.

Railroad tracks stretch out across a bridge. Gravel and patches of snow-covered grass line the sides of the tracks. I creep to the edge of the barriers to see the world down below. Imagine how many people come here because they feel so alone. You can’t see this bridge from the road. No one can save you, to stop you from doing the unthinkable. Yet here I am, flooded with all these difficult emotions. It’s like I entered the suicide forest in Japan, looking for answers only to be left contemplating my very existence.

I unlock my phone to see if anyone has realized I left home. No new messages were to be found. Tears roll down my cheeks as hopelessness engulfs my heart. Is this how Rachel Herrmann felt the night of her failed attempt? My thoughts are so heavy; I’m convinced if I give in to them, the pain will go away. After all, no one is looking for me anyway. I take a step back as I scan the area to make sure I can successfully move forward with my plan.

I trip over pieces of broken wood. The tracks were deteriorating just like my will to live. Was I meant to fall? Oh God, if you’re out there, please show me a sign. The crisp air blows aggressively, making the sensation of my tears dripping from my eyes much more intense.

“Come on, Hannah, get it together. Are you so convinced to prove Amanda wrong that you’d be willing to jump?”

I wiped the tears from my face. And there it was, my glimmer of hope. To the side of me, near a patch of snow-covered grass, I saw life trying to grow during extreme conditions.

Shitamoe. A plant sprouting from the soil, now peeking through the snow. I see now why the Japanese find beauty in such a thing. I applaud myself for retaining that information from last month’s book club selection. I opened an app on my phone to help me identify what plant saved me from myself.

What? It can’t be. There’s no way an iris flower is sprouting on some random bridge during the winter.

The band chat is blowing up again. Ugh, does no one understand that Rachel is just feeding her insecurities and is just partaking in attention-seeking behaviors? It's quite annoying if you ask me. I turn off my notifications and head back out to that flower of hope. Maybe I’ll go check on it. Maybe it needs me.

It’s almost Christmas time, but there is no music to be heard. There’s no caroling in the streets. A corrupted thought enters my mind. Rachel loves the song, “Iris,” by The Goo Goo Dolls. I started to sing to myself to make the time go by quickly on my long walk to the iris on the bridge.

“And I don’t want the world to see me. ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand.”

Ha ha ha. I crack myself up.

The iris flower seems to be a bit perkier today. From the distance I can see something yellow next to it in the snow. Oh man, please tell me no one sprung a leak on this poor innocent flower.

The object is solid. My hands grasp it to give it a further examination. It’s a wrapped candy cane with yellow stripes. But it was placed upside down, displaying the letter, “J.”

Why was I meant to see a “J”? Clearly someone is playing a game and wants me to crack some Christmas code. J….J….J… oh you’ve got to be kidding me. John Rzeznik? The guy who wrote the song, “Iris.”

On the third day of enjoying the incredible growth of the iris, its leaves began to grow. And yet another candy cane was placed in front of it in the shape of a “J.” This time the color of the candy cane was green with red stripes.

Oh okay, I get it now. The band kids are messing with me. This must be Jillian playing games. She was the one who got the band to play her and her sister’s game of zoo.

On the fourth day of iris viewing, white petals began to reach towards the sky. This time, the flower enjoyed the company of a green and white striped candy cane. Allen Park colors in the shape of yet another “J.” Go Jaguars!

On the fifth day of Iris, my true love gave to me… nothing. There wasn’t a candy cane in sight. I began to sing “Iris” to this beautifully fully bloomed flower.

“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now…”

My palms gently stroke its petals as if they were giving this sign of life a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered to the blessed plant and proceeded to walk away.

I hear a soft thud behind me. My body spins around to investigate. Lo and behold, a pink striped candy cane lands, presenting a “J” in front of the iris flower. Of course! How could I not have known? The bridge… Iris… the letter “J.. “ it all leads back to Rachel. Oh come on, this isn’t funny. Leave your ex alone. This has to be part of some sick revenge she’s trying to play. And I won’t have it. I’ll expose her at the band holiday party. That way we can all move on from her as the new year approaches. A fresh start for everyone.

Footprints track the snow. This is my chance to stop this nonsense. But all I was left to find was some writing in the snow that read, “and may all your irises be white.”

December 27, it’s the night of the band group holiday party. What made you celebrate a holiday with a Herrmann? To prevent her from trying to start more beef in the chat. This psycho needs serious help. I need to convince the group to stop enabling her.

Amanda enters the Winky residence first, and I follow her lead. With no surprise, Rachel greets us with upside-down candy canes. These ones are decorated with traditional colors.

Once every guest has made their way downstairs to the bar area, Rachel gathers everyone’s attention to make an announcement.

“Please do not eat your candy canes just yet. They are required for the games to see who will win custody of THE SPIRIT CUP!”

Now is my chance.. I have to do this.. I interrupt the infamous Rachel.

“Why did you hand us the candy canes upside-down?”

“Oh Hannah, I’m so glad you asked. An upside down candy cane presents itself as the letter ‘J.’”

“And what exactly does the ‘J’ stand for?”

“OH MY IT’S FOR JUAN DUFFY!” Miranda screams.

“Jesus. From the legend of the candy cane.. Now, I know what you may be thinking… Rachel’s trying to force religion on us. No, quite the opposite actually… as you are all aware, I use dark humor to cope..”

Here it is. The truth is about to come out. I know there’s a twist. Just like how red stripes twist around the candy cane. Rachel’s actions are always strategic.

“Back in 2013, I was friends with Kristi Reed. And she always told me how much she hated anything Christmas because her dad left them around this time of year. Even though her dad was still very much active in her life. But whatever, I avoided the topic with her. At school, I handed out my Jesus candy canes and posted about it on social media. Kristi thought it was absolutely funny and it made her smile. From then on I would never let her live it down that she actually enjoyed Christmas time.”

“But what about the candy canes by the iris flower on the bridge? How does that relate to Kristi?”

“Oh, I kissed Kristi on top of that bridge.”

I couldn’t help, but laugh. And every person in the room followed suit. That woman is absolutely hilarious.

Mr. Winky pours me a drink. I lift my glass in the air to raise a toast, “To Rachel Herrmann! May all your irises be white!”

“So like, can we all go caroling to the bridge singing, ‘Iris?’”

Collectively the marching jags alumni yelled, “No! We love Rachel Herrmann!”

~ from the perspective of Amanda~

The crowd starts to resume their activities. I motion for Rachel to follow me outside. I stop in front of her lit Cherry Blossom decoration. She doesn’t hesitate to approach me.

“You knew my sister went to the bridge and didn’t tell me?!?”

“Hey, if I knew I could make it to this very day. I knew she could too. The Fray taught me, ‘How To Save A Life’ and I didn’t let anyone down, did I?”

“Rachel, this is serious. You can’t play God. You know damn well if something happened to her, you would’ve felt responsible and would’ve followed suit.”

“Amanda, sweetie, relax. She knows I saved her from herself. She feels like she owes me. And I only asked for one thing from her… that you get permanent possession of the cup.”

I shrieked with excitement. “So how the hell did you get an iris flower to grow in the middle of winter?”

“Mr Goo is responsible for all Christmas miracles. I can’t take credit for that.”

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and brought her closer to me as we returned back to the party.

As the festivities came to an end later in the evening, the Winkys set up an area for me to spend the night so we could go on our winter vacation tomorrow. I returned from the bathroom after getting dressed in my pajamas. Both of them seemed to have already gone to bed. By the fire, I see the cup halfway filled with water and a white iris. There was a note tied to the stem that read. “And may all your irises be white. Love, Rachel Herrmann.”