Spicy

Iris glanced around the room as she pulled on the nitrile gloves. Grabbing the side of the book drop with one hand, she reached in deep with the other, groaning trying to get further inside. Sam walked over cautiously, head cocked to the side.

“Iris,” Sam said, with their hands folded politely in front of them. “How can I help you this morning?”

Iris slowly retrieved her arm and stood upright, adjusting her stance, blowing a wisp of hair out of the way.

“I accidentally returned a book with something important inside,” Iris explained matter of factly. “I just wanted to get it back by myself.” 

They nodded slowly and smiled. “Well why don’t we go have a look together?”

Iris looked around the library, her eyes not meeting theirs but nodding anyway. Embarrassed, she followed Sam to the front desk. 

“Title or author?” they asked.

Iris leaned forward and whispered as Sam clacked away at the keyboard.

Sam blew a raspberry as they said, “Iris, I’m sorry but someone has checked that book out already.” 

“Impossible, I returned it at closing yesterday and I’m the first one here.” 

“One of.” 

“Who then?” 

Sam cocked their head to the side and just smiled at her. “You of all people know I can’t tell you that, hon.”

“Well there is something in the book that I need, so you’re just going to have to tell me.” 

They glanced at the computer again, tapping their fingers on the desk and then looked back at Iris, voice lowering. “Look, I can’t tell you who, but I can tell you when, and it was literally less than ten minutes ago.”

Iris turned quickly. Her eyes darted around the library. She began to tiptoe away as she slowly removed her gloves, waving to Sam behind her without looking. 

Iris went from a tiptoe to a speed walk as she scanned the aisles, but she only saw an old man reading a newspaper and a young mom with a toddler.

Ten minutes ago? she thought. They couldn’t have gone far. She took off.

When she stepped outside she squinted, and held her breath as she looked around. Everyone around her seemed busy on their way to work or errands. Next to the library was a small coffee shop. Maybe the book thief was in there!

Iris slowly entered the cafe, blinking as she eyed the room. 

“Morning,” the chipper barista asked. 

“No,” Iris said without a thought, hunching her shoulders and stepping to the side.

The barista frowned, rolled her eyes and went back to the machines. 

Iris was glued to the wall of the coffee shop, blinking and checking the room. She mostly saw students, eating bagels and cram studying. Then suddenly she locked eyes with a young man at the pick up counter. He smiled at her. She averted her eyes and pretended to look for something in her bag.  Has enough time passed? Is he still looking at me? When she looked up again, he was gone. She watched as the door closed behind him, to-go drink in hand and his messenger back swinging. She felt a tightness in her stomach. He had it. Her book was in that bag. Something told her it was, and not knowing what came over her, she followed him.

Iris noticed as she quietly crept behind him that he had big headphones on, which she admired, since she read a recent study linking airpods to brain cancer. A small part of her wondered what he was listening to that put a bounce in his step but more importantly she needed to know if she was right, if it was there, if he had it. She kept her distance as he crossed the street to the university. 

Oh, no. Oh no no no. She exhaled as she continued her pursuit warily.

Mystery man went into the student center. Typical, she groaned. Her least favorite place on Earth. But as he stopped midtrack in the foyer, he did it, he confirmed it for her; when he removed his headphones and placed them inside his bag, there she saw it peeking out, her book, which had what she needed inside. She gasped and stayed hidden. She had to get it back. She would follow this guy anywhere to get it back. 

After he put his headphones away, he continued down the hall with Iris still on his trail, as subtle as she could, which was not easy for her and yet she was trying. Suddenly he opened the door to a small lecture hall. Shoot, she thought as she hung back. How long was this going to take? Why did he have to have it? Why did she have to leave it in the book? Before Iris could spiral into her intrusive thoughts any more, she put on her last pair of sterile gloves and she dragged her feet over to a chair, wiping it down with a wipe from her bag. She sat down slowly, eyes shifting as she looked around her. Her heart had been racing nonstop during this chase to get it back, but as she sat down she collected her breath, and tried to remember what the grief counsellor had told her last month. She closed her eyes and counted. After several deep breaths, she slowly opened her eyes and took in her surroundings.

When she looked to her two o’clock there was a couple holding hands and there appeared to be something wrong with the girl’s eyes. At her three o’clock a professor walked by them in a hurry, sipping from his thermos, dropping his cable knit cardigan and not realizing it. The boy from the couple picked it up and called out, handing it to the professor. The professor smiled and thanked him, then the girl hugged her boyfriend. Iris looked away, then her eyes darted again. At eleven o’clock there was a grand piano where someone was playing Debussy. At nine o’clock Iris saw a young girl reading. When she looked out the window she saw some students kicking a hacky sack and many others just walking, scrolling on their phones, backpacks bouncing, the day ahead, their future ahead. Iris had a backpack once. Now she only had an emotional one, filled with anxiety and obsessions and, at her most paralyzing, agoraphobia. She felt numb as she watched all the potential around her, remembering everything that had happened. It hadn’t worked before. Would it ever? She didn’t want to be there but needed to wait for this man, this boy, whoever he was, to give her the book back. 

Iris tried to tune out all around her, and sat frozen, eyes locked on the door of the classroom. The longer she stared the wood grains played tricks with her mind, the swirls reminding her of an Edward Munch painting. She blinked and twitched as she counted the ticks of the clock on the wall not far from her.

When the classroom door finally opened, Iris moved to sit in a way where she could see in her peripheral vision when the young man would come out of the classroom. She watched as he finally strolled on by and then she quietly stood up and began following him again. 

 This time the journey took them outside, through the town square and towards the bus stop. He unexpectedly jogged over to the bus just as it pulled up, barely making it, and before Iris knew it, the bus took off. Her jaw dropped. What just happened? She was determined to not have a panic attack, not here, not now. Snapping out of it, it suddenly hit her, what she had to do. She spontaneously grabbed a free tourist bike that was near her and sat on it. STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING IRIS YOU CAN’T HOLD THIS BIKE WITHOUT ANY GLOVES AND YOU CERTAINLY CAN’T RIDE WITHOUT A HELMET, she internally freaked out. Deep breath. Three counts. Iris, you need it back, so just do it.

She wasn’t as used to this voice in her head and was keenly aware she would lose him if she didn’t just go. Against her initial instincts she pedaled and began to follow the bus. 

When the book thief got off ten minutes later, Iris nearly crashed the bike as she hid behind the bush, clutching the bike handles, desperate he wouldn’t see her. He had his headphones on again and walked down the path, that stupid messenger bag slapping his legs. Be careful! Iris cringed. Her book was inside!

She jumped off the bike and smoothed out her clothes as she creeped behind him from a short distance. 

Mystery boy stopped and spun around, giving Iris no time to hide or run or do anything other than stare, wide eyed and mouth agape. 

“Can I help you?” she was asked for the second time that day, triggering her.

“Why does everyone always ask if I need help?!” she burst. “I DID need help, an hour ago - I sure could have used someone to show me how to order a coffee, or hand me some extra gloves since mine ran out, or give me a helmet, or to give me some common sense to NOT follow a complete stranger who could be a psychopath - but no, no, I’m FINE! Can I help YOU, sir?”

He raised his eyebrows. This girl was amusing and terrifying and he surprisingly loved it. His expression softened. She was harmless and he didn’t really care that she was following him, he was simply intrigued to find out why. 

“Ok let’s try this again,” he broke the silence. “I’m Jack.”

“No,” Iris shook her head. “No J names.” 

He chuckled, “What’s wrong with Jack? It’s classic. Ok your turn. Who are you and why are you…following me?” He wasn’t rude, he was calm and curious. He said it in the nicest way possible and when he spoke she wondered who his dentist was.

Her heart was racing. Not because this morning she had misplaced it, not from all the sneaking around, not from the bike ride but from this, from him, this kind and tall boy questioning her. The longer she looked at him the funnier she felt in her stomach. What was that smell? What kind of soap did he use? Why was he looking at her that way? 

She exhaled and put her hands together like she was about to pray. 

“I believe you have something of mine, and I’d like it back.” Her shoulders dropped, relief flooding her. That wasn’t so hard.

Jack adjusted his hold on his bag. “Huh.” Now it was his turn to make a scrunched up face. Headphones around his neck and other hand in his pocket, his gaze continued to make her feel uncomfortable. She had only seen his back all morning; now that she had a good look at his face, she felt attracted to him which was a scary, unfamiliar feeling.

Iris shook it off and realizing she was only two feet away from her book, she finally begged, “Can I please just have it back?” 

Jack was so amused by this mystery girl and smiled. “You’re the girl I saw this morning. At the coffee shop.” 

 Iris began fidgeting. “Yes, yes! Just give it to me!”

“Wait, how long have you been following me?” he inquired calmly. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, I’m sorry, but I think you got the wrong guy.”

“Give. Me. The. Library. Book,” Iris demanded, extending her hand, trying not to meet his eyes. 

It finally dawned on Jack so he reached inside his messenger bag and slowly handed it to her.

She grabbed the book from him and as her fingers shuffled the pages, the whirring got louder. The back cover snapped shut and she blinked. She flipped through it again. Where was it? Iris stood in shock not accepting that it wasn’t in there. It had to be. How could she lose it? How could she be so careless? Jack looked at her with kind eyes, wanting to help her, but not wanting to offer again or make any other sudden moves.

Iris was exhausted. She stared at the ground, defeated and downhearted, fighting back tears. She held the book back out to him, “Here, take it.”

Jack slowly put the book back in his bag.

Iris hugged her arms around her and stared at the constellation of pebbles on the ground, silently counting by threes.

“Is it any good, the book?” he asked.

“Of course it is, he is one of the greatest authors of all time.”

Jack smiled. “What’s your name?” He couldn’t figure out what it was but something about this girl had a hold on him. From the second he saw her in the coffee shop he wondered about her. He was secretly glad she had followed him, she didn’t scare him at all; he was riveted.

“Iris,” she mumbled. 

“Iris!” he exclaimed. “Wait, is this yours?” He reached inside his bag and handed her a small envelope labelled Spicy Iris. 

Iris shrieked and grabbed the envelope and hugged it close, tears stinging her eyes. 

She did it. She made it here, to him; she climbed a mountain and didn't fall.

And now that she had it back she would never let it go again. For the first time in a long time she felt at peace. She could get home easier now, breathe easier. Everything will be ok.

She wiped her eyes and looked at Jack. “Thank you,” she could barely get out. He could tell this was a big deal, that her journey had been a long one, and not just the events of the morning. He watched her, fixated. His phone buzzed and he ignored it, he was invested in THIS. He had to know everything about her. What did it mean, Spicy Iris? Why had she acted so aloof in the coffee shop? What was in the envelope that made her follow him? He couldn’t ignore what he was feeling and couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

She didn’t say goodbye as she slowly walked back to the city bike. She maybe would have under different circumstances, he was a J name after all, but he was really handsome. If and when she wanted to see Jack again, she knew now that he had a library card, drinks coffee from the coffee shop, that he has a class on Wednesday mornings in the place she still avoids. Despite the chaos of the day and what was at stake within the book, she discovered today she was capable of more than she thought. If she breathed through it, she could do it again if she really had to. If it came down to it Sam from the library would be able to help her; it wouldn't be the first time they had bent the rules for her. 

Iris did nod at Jack and give him a small smile of acknowledgement before she turned around and pedaled back to town. As he watched her leave, he felt weak in the knees. The distance she put between them quickly snapped him out of his daze and he headed her direction without thinking twice.

Jack had found his new obsession, and now it was his turn to follow her. 

He would follow her until they both got what they needed.