Chapter Fourteen: Honeymoon
Iris was 26 years old when she decided to marry Mikel. She was 28 years old when, at a school function, she introduced herself to him. She was a thorough study: what she hadn’t gleaned from research she was able to pick up from gossip around the punch bowl. He detested much, and tolerated little. That which he enjoyed - his notoriety, the resentment of the less well off, his sharp sarcasm - seemed to all hinge upon punishing others for not being him. Iris was met with her first ethical dilemma of the project: should she join with him and denigrate all those around her, or become his easiest, and therefore more enjoyable, target? It would be easier, certainly, to abet his cruelty and he might have enjoyed the companionship. His first wife was a target, Iris knew, and it had killed her. Still, Iris couldn’t abide adding more suffering to this story. She decided to become achingly, painfully vulnerable, a honeypot of inferiority that Mikel couldn’t resist. It worked.
Iris hadn’t anticipated Mikel’s children. She knew in the abstract that Mikel had fathered two girls but she fully expected the children had been hoisted on the grandparents after Miela’s death. Living with the girls didn’t fit with Mikel’s character. It would benefit him far more to be heralded as a grieving, devoted father without the extra effort of actually parenting. So, when Iris had successfully finished the paperwork to tie herself to this man and was standing in his - her - foyer taking stock of her choices, she was shocked when she saw two young women walk down the stairs.
“Bozho,” Iris smiled, tucking her surprise away, extending her hand. “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you two. My name is-“
“How old are you?”
Iris looked at the older of the two. She looked stronger than Mikel or her sister, broad shoulders weighed down under two or three layers of fleece. Her hair was long and unruly, pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes - her eyes! - for a moment Iris was struck dumb paddling in an ocean of pain and anger. She cleared her throat. “I am 29. What about you?”
“My dad is fifty. You married a fifty year old man - and now, after the ceremony, you’re meeting his kids. Didn’t that ever bother you? Did you ever think to ask where we were?”
Iris, still stumbling within this woman’s eyes, attempted her humble smile - the smile that calmed Mikel’s rages, soothed him into bitter satisfaction. It did not go over well. If anything, her new daughter in law seemed more irritated. Okay then, time to pivot. Her smile lost its dimples and gained an edge.
“Ora Amisigi. I’m glad to finally meet you. Thank you for asking the first sane question since this whole business began. I know he is fifty, as I am not an idiot-“
“You sure about that?” Ora muttered. Iris continued.
“-just as I am not a gold digger or a black widow. I am a librarian.”
Ora’s eyes flicked up, now showing a glimmer of something besides hate in there. “You’re a librarian? Where do you work?”
“Seneca University. I curate language acquisition and sociolinguistics.”
Ora folded her arms across her chest. Her little sister, still silent, peered from behind her. “No you’re not. My dad hates books. He hates people who read books. You’re bullshitting us.”
Iris relaxed, finally identifying what was under Ora’s pain in her eyes. Clear, shining intelligence - like none Iris had ever seen - lit up like fireworks at the mention of the library. Iris finally, finally understood why she was here. She needed a friend in this world.
“You two, more than anyone I suspect, know just how much your father can ignore inconvenient facts. We met at an auction for the library, he knows what I do, but he’s figured out how to excise that from his view of me. I know it doesn’t make much sense to anyone looking from the outside, but please believe me. I am devoted to this family, and to your father, and I am truly, truly pleased to meet you.”
Ora uncrossed her arms. “Okay. Kichaa.”
Iris laughed.
Iris hadn’t anticipated Mikel’s children. She knew in the abstract that Mikel had fathered two girls but she fully expected the children had been hoisted on the grandparents after Miela’s death. Living with the girls didn’t fit with Mikel’s character. It would benefit him far more to be heralded as a grieving, devoted father without the extra effort of actually parenting. So, when Iris had successfully finished the paperwork to tie herself to this man and was standing in his - her - foyer taking stock of her choices, she was shocked when she saw two young women walk down the stairs.
“Bozho,” Iris smiled, tucking her surprise away, extending her hand. “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you two. My name is-“
“How old are you?”
Iris looked at the older of the two. She looked stronger than Mikel or her sister, broad shoulders weighed down under two or three layers of fleece. Her hair was long and unruly, pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes - her eyes! - for a moment Iris was struck dumb paddling in an ocean of pain and anger. She cleared her throat. “I am 29. What about you?”
“My dad is fifty. You married a fifty year old man - and now, after the ceremony, you’re meeting his kids. Didn’t that ever bother you? Did you ever think to ask where we were?”
Iris, still stumbling within this woman’s eyes, attempted her humble smile - the smile that calmed Mikel’s rages, soothed him into bitter satisfaction. It did not go over well. If anything, her new daughter in law seemed more irritated. Okay then, time to pivot. Her smile lost its dimples and gained an edge.
“Ora Amisigi. I’m glad to finally meet you. Thank you for asking the first sane question since this whole business began. I know he is fifty, as I am not an idiot-“
“You sure about that?” Ora muttered. Iris continued.
“-just as I am not a gold digger or a black widow. I am a librarian.”
Ora’s eyes flicked up, now showing a glimmer of something besides hate in there. “You’re a librarian? Where do you work?”
“Seneca University. I curate language acquisition and sociolinguistics.”
Ora folded her arms across her chest. Her little sister, still silent, peered from behind her. “No you’re not. My dad hates books. He hates people who read books. You’re bullshitting us.”
Iris relaxed, finally identifying what was under Ora’s pain in her eyes. Clear, shining intelligence - like none Iris had ever seen - lit up like fireworks at the mention of the library. Iris finally, finally understood why she was here. She needed a friend in this world.
“You two, more than anyone I suspect, know just how much your father can ignore inconvenient facts. We met at an auction for the library, he knows what I do, but he’s figured out how to excise that from his view of me. I know it doesn’t make much sense to anyone looking from the outside, but please believe me. I am devoted to this family, and to your father, and I am truly, truly pleased to meet you.”
Ora uncrossed her arms. “Okay. Kichaa.”
Iris laughed.