The Midas Touch

Ch. 22

Merry Christmas Eve! Shorter, but more heartwarming for the holiday season. Have a safe and happy holidays.

One year ago

~

I was so excited to come home. After a long ass tournament all day, and then having to babysit Rhea, I was looking forward to crashing. My other family members, besides me and Iris, were going to my grandparent's house.

Iris had mentioned some excuse about hanging out with her friends. My parents got really mad at her for not wanting to go, but they didn't want to fight any more than they felt was necessary, so they let Iris stay home.

I had convinced them to let me stay home as well because of the tournament. I wasn't supposed to stay home, but I finished that last game, took one look at them, and they gave me a look that said "do not bring your dirty ass into grandma's house."

So now I'm coming home. Current plan is to walk in, say hi to Iris, and then nap. Oh, maybe I could continue watching season three of Dexter.

I parked my car, pocketed my keys, and opened the door. I didn't even yell out a greeting, simply just took off my shoes and waddled in to the house. Jogging up the stairs, I hummed to myself as I passed the bedrooms, when I noticed the bathroom had a light on.

I could've sworn that Iris said they would be hanging out with somebody, but that could've just been an excuse to rot in bed more. Honestly, I would've done the same thing.

I heard rustling on the other side of the door, and then a thud. I knocked on it, "Iris? Is that you?"

No response.

"Iris? What's up? Why're you in there?"

Again, no response. This was usually. Unheard of. While I respected privacy, I at least needed a confirmation of life.

I knocked again, furiously this time. I jiggled the doorknob. Locked. I was panicking at this point. Why wasn't Iris responding? "Iris?!"

Now I was determined to get into this door. I slid my fingernail into the small divot on the lock, cursing my short nails. I finally got a good hold despite my dirty game-worn fingers, and the door unlocked.

I opened it and screamed.

~

The plastic chairs were incredibly uncomfortable. I felt like I needed a back cushion, and the lack of air conditioning made the backs of my legs stick.

I reminded myself that this was worth it, and I have nothing to be complaining about. After all, it wasn't me who was in the hospital. It was Iris.

Two weeks. It'd been two weeks since I last saw her. Would she be any different? I didn't even know how these kinds of things worked. Would she be cured? I didn't even know if what Iris has going on can be fixed.

Chronic depression.

It's not like I'd never heard of depression before, but it was the chronic that concerned me. After Iris had been transferred here, my parents had sat me down and discussed the diagnosis with all of us.