Page 119 of The Games We Play
I remind her when I cry in front of her for the first time. After I’ve handwritten letters to the families of those I lost that day in Kabul, saying what I needed to, and when I start to get responses that fix what’s broken inside. Responses that Iris assures me affirm everything she already knew. That I’m a good and caring man who made a positive impact on those he served with.
And I’m right. We are undefeatable.
Because we love each other.
It’s as simple as that.
EPILOGUE
TEN MONTHS LATER
“They’re looking at us like we want to kill their children and eat them,” Clutch says as a group of parents stand by the wall of the lot with their kids all dressed in their best party clothes.
I snort. “They do. But they’re making the effort for Iris.”
In my head, it was a bit more of a party than this. My brothers stand on one side of the lot, where the old ladies have done us proud with the spread. The scent of slow-cooked ribs is making my mouth water. Their kids are mostly hanging out in the clubhouse.
Michael is with Niro, asking him a million questions about barbecuing. To be fair to Niro, they’re actually the same three questions asked on repeat.Is it hot? Will it burn? Do you go ice camping?But Niro answers every time like it’s the first time he’s been asked. Iris once told me that Michael doesn’t always ask questions for the answers, but he does it for the interaction.
He’s been living with us full-time for five months and loves coming to the clubhouse with me, where he spends ages polishing chrome for anyone who needs it. They all pay him twenty bucks an hour because I told them to and because he works hard. Bikes have replaced trains as his big vehicle interest, but I’ve also seen so many snow camping videos now that I feel like a fucking expert. First snow this year, Niro and I are going to take him. I bought the tools, a tent, a portable fire. Iris thinks I’m mad, but also gave me the best fucking blow job when I told her what we were planning to do.
And on the other side of the lot are Iris’s students. Took me a fucking age to track them all down. Spoke to the principal, who helped me out. I went to each of their houses to hand out the invitations personally. Told the parents to keep it a secret from the kids because I know the fiercely loyal little blabbermouths would tell Iris for kicks if they saw her at the store during the break.
Once they are all here, I’ll have a surprise for them.
“Gwen told me Iris graduated from therapy. She good now?” Clutch asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Fucking proud of her, man. She’s dealt with that shit and has decided with her therapist that she wants to try and go it alone now, knowing she can always return if something triggers her.”
It took her four months to open the door if she didn’t know exactly who was outside. I had to install a lockable metal gate that stayed in place when the door opened to get her comfortable again. Friends had to call to let her know they were standing there, despite us having cameras from every angle. Gray vans were also a big no. We had to drive across town to shop at a different grocery store after I forgot and parked near one once.
It took a month for her to want anything more than light kisses. The first time we had sex, she had a panic attack part way through. I held her through her shakes and reassured her that I loved her, and that we had all the time in the world.
Last night, she asked if I would tie her up and rail her hard because she was feeling stressed and wanted to get out of her own head—all in one confident sentence. It was hot as fuck. The asking, and the railing. It’s all progress.
And in watching her deal with her demons, I became less embarrassed about dealing with my own. Before, I would give her unlimited comfort but wouldn’t give myself an ounce. Now I’m learning to be a little gentler with myself. That’s Iris’s superpower, making you feel it’s okay to embrace every part of yourself.
She does that so well with her kids, too.
“Thema,” I hear a parent call out, but Thema skips her way over to me, ignoring her mom.
“Mr. Spark?” she asks.
Mr. Spark.
Melts my fucking heart.
“Yeah, sweetheart. What’s up?”
Wide brown eyes look up at me. “Archer and Shanice were wondering when we can have some food.”
I glance over at the two smiling faces. Shanice giggles into the back of her hand.
“Tess,” I yell to Track’s old lady. “You got a bag of those chips not in dishes yet?”
Tessa throws one to me, and I hand it to Thema. “Don’t spoil your dinner though. We got ribs and potato salad and shit.”
Thema grins. “You just said a bad word again, Mr. Spark.”
