The Puzzle Master (16 page)

But she didn’t budge, and did what she had planned on doing. She kept him down by sitting on him. It was a new move for Iris, and the image of it alone almost made him stop protesting.

“Where’s your inhaler?” she demanded. He watched her curls frame her face, and hang down toward him like life-saving ropes. He nodded his head no, and mumbled random words. But she didn’t listen. She continued to sit on top of him and reached into his pockets.

She found the inhaler and brought it to his lips.

“Now breathe Marshall!” she said.
“Breathe!”
and she depressed the inhaler. Marshall gulped in the cool air, and it showered his lungs with freshness.

“Marshall,” she said climbing off of him, “You are the stupidest kid I’ve ever met!”

“Me?” he asked in shock. He moved his fingers open and then into a fist and back open. He could feel his legs. Everything was returning, well, everything except for his bike. It was in a heap by the curb.

“Do you think I want you to die? You
have
to use your inhaler.”

“But I haven’t needed it in weeks,” Marshall retorted. “I’d made it up the hill before without it and I was fine.”

“You weren’t fine there,” and she pointed at the bike. She was mad; furious. He’d never seen her like this before. In fact, he had no idea she could get so angry. “If you ever do that again, I won’t let you go anywhere with me without having a backup inhaler. Do you realize that if you hadn’t had this in your pocket you could’ve died?”

“You don’t know that Iris, I just needed to get off of the bike is all. Besides, you could’ve called on a neighbor’s phone or something.”

She didn’t respond and got up to get her bike.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. “I mean really, I’m fine. You don’t have to be so angry.”

“I’m angry because you’re being stupid Marshall!” she yelled. “You’re the only thing I have here. You can understand that, can’t you?”

He was an idiot. She was right. “I’m sorry. I won’t …” Marshall fished for the right words, but Iris found it.

“You won’t let your pride make you do stupid things.”

“I won’t let my pride make me do stupid things,” Marshall repeated.

“You better not.” Marshall picked up his mangled mess of a bike and inspected the rim in the back tire. It
was bent
in half. He sighed in frustration. Now they couldn’t go down the hill, all because he didn’t take a breath on the inhaler.

They walked down the hill, past Jerry’s house and his pool, past the Williams twins’ house to his house. He parked his bike in the garage, and frowned.

They hadn’t spoken to each other the entire trip back. Her silence was irritating and only reinforced how careless he had been.

“You still want to
come
trick or treating with me later?” he asked, when Leila danced through the garage happy to see Iris, and flitted back in to eat her egg salad sandwich. “If you don’t come, she’ll be broken hearted. She likes you, you know.”

“If I don’t go, it’s your fault Marshall. Don’t pin this on me.” She crossed her arms. Her eyes were still flashing, and she looked like she could hit him. “She likes me because she’s smart—unlike you.”

Marshall put his hands up in defense. “Fine, I know. It’s entirely my fault.” He sighed and bowed to her. “I apologize, Dr. Iris. Do you accept my apology? Or do I need to do penance and finish the puzzle by myself?”

A flicker of a grin spread across her face and disappeared. “Yes.
As long as you always take my medical advice.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Marshall extended his hand and she grasped it. It was cold and clammy and felt perfectly comfortable in his hot and sweaty one. And she left him to ride back to the store promising to meet him later that night for Leila’s sake.

***

At seven o’clock, when Iris should’ve been at the house, he got a phone call.

“Marshall, it’s me.” Iris’s voice sounded hurried and hushed. “I can’t make it tonight.”

“What? I don’t understand. Are you still mad at me?” he asked.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I wanted to be there. But uncle, well, he’s been coughing so much tonight that I’m forcing him to go to the emergency room at the hospital. I’m really worried about him.”

“Okay, that’s alright. Take Luke. Go. We’ll be fine. I mean,
Sheesh
, it’s
my
sister. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said quietly, “But you have to promise something. You have to promise me that you’ll take me down Devil’s Hill soon. I want to go down it.”

Marshall laughed. “Of course I will.
Tomorrow.
I’ll talk to you and we’ll go down it with my inhaler and everything. I’ll use Mason’s bike too.”

She chuckled, but her laugh sounded strained, as if it hurt her to talk.
“See you soon,” she said.

“See you.”

There were no goodbyes, because none
was needed
. Iris had always said that goodbye sounded sad and stupid, so they stopped saying it. Instead, it was “see you soon,” and “talk to you later.” No bye, no goodbye. And that was it.

Marshall left with Leila and they hit all the houses until nine o’clock that night. Afterwards, Leila spread out her candy loot on the floor, and divided it in half.

“This is for you Marshmallow. You’ve earned it.”

Marshall grinned. “Thanks. Are you sure?”

“Yup.
Absolutely.
 You look sad. I want you to be happy. I think this will help.”

His sister was more insightful than he had thought and he
unwrapped
a piece of chocolate and tossed it into his mouth. She smiled and skipped her way to her room. His mother mouthed a “thank you” at him and he headed to his room. In a way, tonight had been like old times, when his dad had been home more, and they used to go fishing.

Marshall lay down on his bed and rolled to his side. He couldn’t stop thinking about Iris and about the
way
her voice sounded on the phone.

She had sounded so far away.

Chapter 12: Thanksgiving

By November, things were cold. The rains had started and it had made the week before Thanksgiving miserable. Because of the dry summer, the playground was a muddy sinkhole, and every trip to Luke’s was like walking through a trench. The ground was so ready for rain that it made mud of out anything and everything and it covered Marshall when he got there.

Most days, he and Iris would walk there together and talk about the puzzle. They had almost two thirds of it finished and Marshall was so ready for it to be over with he could literally feel the fishing rod in his hands, ready to cast off into the river.

Iris would update him on how she felt uncle was faring, and whether or not death was calling him.

“He looks awful you know,” she’d say as if it was common knowledge. But Marshall honestly hadn’t noticed. Luke looked the same, for all he could tell. And as for the cough, it hadn’t sounded any worse. He wasn’t sure what Iris was getting at, or if she could just tell things better than
him
because she was practically a doctor.

Due to the cold weather, Luke had a coffee pot going all the time in the back room.

“You’re free to have a cup of that stuff anytime,” he’d tell them, but they never could bring themselves to drink it. Iris once picked up the glass container and poured some of it into a Styrofoam cup. It was so thick and dark, it looked like syrup. They took turns smelling it, and she even dared him to take a sip, but he couldn’t do it. He knew the burnt rubber band smell had to be far worse going down his throat than the smell coming up his nostrils.

“It might interfere with my breathing,” Marshall said with a smile, and handed the cup back to her.

Iris smirked. “Yeah, okay.” But she never took a sip either, and most times, they made themselves instant hot chocolate. The back room was cold all the time now, and the heat wasn’t hooked up
like
it was in the main room. But they didn’t care. What mattered was that they had their own room, with their own puzzle that was almost finished.

The Tuesday before Thanksgiving break, they
were bundled up
in their coats sitting in their chairs with a small load of pieces left to assemble. Iris insisted that she wasn’t cold, but Marshall thought otherwise. She had on two coats, plus a sweater and a long sleeved shirt underneath that plus her jeans and boots, and she was shivering as if she was sitting in the snow with wet hair. He was going to bring that little portable heater that was stuffed in the hall closet at home next time they met.

“I can get you a blanket,” Marshall offered, watching her try to muffle the shivers but failing miserably. “There are several for sale in the room.”

“No, I’m fine, really.” She looked back at her pieces, intentionally changing the conversation. “So what are you doing for turkey day?”

Marshall sighed. “Well, for one thing, dad will be home. That’ll be sort of weird.”

“Why, because he’s been gone so long?”

“Yeah,” Marshall shrugged and effortlessly placed one sky-colored puzzle piece next to another. He smiled. “I guess, he was traveling for the first two weeks this month, then he left yesterday, but he’s supposed to be home tomorrow and stay home through the weekend. My Aunt Jean is coming for dinner that night too; she’s dad’s sister.”

Marshall couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Jean though, and wondered what she was like now. He hoped she wouldn’t make him hug her, or make him talk to her all night.

Iris found another piece and connected it, hissing a small “yes.” She moved onto another section.  Marshall realized he hadn’t asked her about dinner; maybe they didn’t have plans? Maybe she and Luke could eat with them?

“So, what about you?
Are you here for Thanksgiving? ‘Cause if you are, you could come over to our place and share. It would be awesome.”

“Oh, that would be awesome,” she said, “But Uncle and I
are
going to visit Aunt Norma who’s stuck in the nursing home. We’re taking her out to her favorite restaurant and getting Thanksgiving that way. But thanks. You know I’d be with you if I could.”

Marshall did know that, but he couldn’t help feel disappointed.
“Sure, but if things change, just let me know.
Mom would love to have you.”

Iris smiled and her warm brown eyes made him feel comfortable and happy. He didn’t want to leave that room ever. And for the next hour, they worked on the pieces, with visions of fishing poles dancing in Marshall’s head.

***

Thanksgiving was boring.
Mostly because it was all so odd.
That Dad was home felt foreign and strange. And Aunt Jean was practically trying to be his best friend. Leila was telling on him for everything—including when he felt like going out back for a breather away from everyone—and his mother forced him back into the house. It didn’t help that the first big storm happened upon the city that night either. There was lightning and everything. Marshall just wanted to be out in it, to watch the sky light up like a Christmas tree.

But he was sitting in the living room with everyone eating pumpkin pie. Mason was on the phone half the time, talking to a girl. He was insistent on telling everyone that she was his girlfriend. But that Marshall hadn’t even heard of her until that night didn’t make for a very good case. Iris was more of a girlfriend than this
girl
.
Sheesh
, what a joke
, Marshall thought and snickered at his brother’s antics.

Finally, when Aunt Jean went to her room (with Leila) and the rest of the house went their separate ways, Marshall went to his bed and stared at the ceiling. He wondered what Iris was doing, and hoped Luke was feeling well enough to take care of her. He also hoped Iris was taking care of Luke. Both of them needed to be okay.

Mason found his way to his bed, but with the phone still glued to his ear. Marshall covered his head with his pillow. All he could hear was Mason laughing and making jokes, and talking about how great he had been his last season at football. It was all so gross. Why did he have to share a room with his brother? He’d almost rather share one with Leila so he didn’t feel like he needed to throw up all the time.

Eventually, Mason hung up, and picked up his guitar. He strummed a few chords, and tuned it, but it still sounded bad.

“You know, you sound like a dweeb on the phone,” said Marshall still under the pillow.

Mason strummed some more.
“Not any more than you, little lover boy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You and that dark-haired girl, you know, Rose or Clover or…”

“Iris.”

“Yeah that’s it. Iris. She’s totally a girlfriend; I mean you see her every day.”

Marshall scowled. “Not
every
day.” But that word had a wonderful ring to it; it made his stomach flutter when he thought about it.

Marshall
was stuffed
with turkey and pie, he was certain he wouldn’t have to eat for about a hundred hours, and be just fine. He also knew he’d sleep well after the food, and was as tired as anyone could be after talking to Aunt Jean for four hours. But when the lights went out, and Mason began to snore, thoughts and images flooded his mind. He couldn’t get Iris’ face out of his head.