Iris

Epilogue

The Cole Brothers Circus introduced the first clown car act to the world in 1950. I feel as if I can now say- with conviction- that I was there.

It’s just Lorelei and I in her car, but all her stuff makes up for the fact that there are no other living, breathing, entities with us. I almost expect to go home to a barren room when I get back to Amherst, and that’s not just a hyperbole; her stuff is piled as high as possible in the backseat, allotting only room for her to use the rearview mirror, and the trunk barely shut- I’m half expecting her stuff to have been completely crushed inside. To complete this act, the spare mattress (mine) is securely fastened to the roof.

I would say she’s quite insane for trying to bring all this stuff, but I’m not too fond of hypocrisy, as it’s probably my own insanity that’s just rubbed off. In a much less explosive way, yes, but rubbed off none the less.

Or maybe we’re just both slightly nuts because of genetic thing through Damion.

I roll my eyes. It’s much too nice a day to be considering my questionable sanity. It’s much too nice a day to have Lorelei leaving as well, but that’s beyond my feasible reach.

I turn up the radio and roll down the window. The wind whips my hair around, and everything is shrouded in a fiery gold in my eyes. I laugh and Lorelei does as well, but then hits the button to put the window up again. I pout- it’s not like the wind in her car was any worse than it ever was on Peter’s motorcycle.

I think Peter is one of many reasons I qualify as insane- who dumps their perfect boyfriends? Only insane girls like me. I remember that I’m not questioning my sanity at the moment, though. I’ll have time to question his for dating me- both initially and again- later.

“We need gas,” Lorelei groans. She gives the highway a quick once-over and realizes that we are presently driving in the middle of no where, with no gas stations in sight. "Watch for a gas station," she tells me, like a tornado is going to dump a gas station down out of no where. I wonder if Aunt Judith would be the Wicked Witch of the West, or the dead Wicked Witch of the East- she's certainly no Auntie Em. I wonder if I'd get to be Dorothy... Eh, weirder things have happened.

Two miles later we exit into a hamlet so remote that it makes Amherst look highly populated. Lorelei finds a gas station and we pile out. "Are you thirsty?" I ask her, because I am. She nods as she fills up the little silver bug, and I step into the convenient store. The grungy yellow lighting of the store's sparse bare bulbs reminds me of the wan, jaundiced lighting from the hospital. I shudder involuntarily and then roll my eyes at my own aberration.

Drinks are in a freezer at the back. The glass doors of the freezer are grey with dust and things I would rather not discern, and I wonder if drinking anything from there is sanitary. Most of the freezer is empty, save some grape juice, bottled water, coke, and beer. Of the three legal choices I have (though I doubt the hick who runs this place would really ID me), I get two bottles of grape juice. They look relatively safe, and nothing's better than Welch's anyway.

I pay for the two bottles and pretend to be forbearing as the old man, with his grey, uncombed hair and wax-like face, makes change for my five. "You girls on your way to Boston?" He asks, his voice as shaky as his dilapidated hands. I nod. I'd feel bad for him if he weren't so vaguely creepy.

Outside the store again, I feel a layer of disease slide off me. Thank God for pure, natural lighting. Lorelei's done with the gas and is getting her receipt. "This place gives me the heebie-jeebies," she murmurs, surveying the surroundings so desolate they rival a ghost town from a Zane Grey novel. I can't help but concur.

We get back into the car without reluctance to be crammed into such a small space for another half an hour. I have an inkling that even claustrophobia wouldn't be an issue at the moment. We get onto the highway rather quickly after that, then cruise comfortably along the blank highway. "Remind me to fill up on gas before I'm on the highway next time, please," she says.

I nod. "I'm in no hurry to visit Lurch ever again," I add and she laughs. She's been laughing more since she broke up with Aidan- she's become more carefree. It's a welcome change from the timid, terse way she was before. "You seem happier," I note verbally.

She smiles bashfully. "I guess I am. I'm so nervous about going to college right now, though."

"Pearce's just on the other side of Boston, only a subway ride away," I remind her.

She sighs. "I know, but the city feels bigger. And what if everyone hates me?"

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. She still worries too much. "No one will hate you. You're sweet and caring, and you're a great friend."

She's still worried, and chews her lip. "But what if my room mate is weird?"

She's so worried that if she weren't genuinely nervous, she'd be annoying. "If your room mate is a freak, just move in with Rochelle- she likes you. Everything will work out. You just worry too much about everything," I pacify her, wondering how truly miniscule her ego is.

She grimaces. "But I'm not even sure about my major," she persists.

I roll my eyes again. "Like anyone else does either. Just don't take any classes for a specific major until you have it figured out."

"Pearce said that, but I'm still worried. I mean, I think I'll be a psychology major, but what if I'm awful at it?"

I grin broadly, thinking of her as a physiologist. "You won't be," I assure her. "That's the perfect major for you." And it really is; she's not a real people-person, but she's not presumptuous and respects privacy. Unless they teach her how to be a loser like Dr Cyril, she'll be a great physiologist.

"But..."

"Lorelei, you have every right to be confident in yourself. You are smart and nice, and everyone will love you. If you keep doubting yourself, though, you will annoy people," I tell her frankly.

"Thanks," she lifts her gaze of the road a moment and gives me a relieved smile, all her worries momentarily appeased.

"Yeah yeah, eyes on the road," not that anything would happen if she stopped paying attention- she drives so slowly. Not in a grandmother way, but in a cautious way. It suits her, but it takes forever to get anywhere most of the time. At least she's good company.

I hadn't imagined her like this. Not just driving slowly, but everything. I had inured myself against all prospects of having an amicable with my half-sister, thinking she would be the Benedict Arnold that my 'Aunt' Judith had turned out to be to my mother, but she wasn't. I'm still not sure what it is that makes her different. We're only a prefix away, and yet we're real friends. Maybe it's the fact that there's more than a marriage between us, that we're blood relatives. Maybe it's the fact that we're just closer in age, being only two years apart rather than twelve. Maybe it's the fact that Lorelei just nice while Judith is just awful. Whatever it is, Lorelei's not what I expected... and in the best way possible.

I roll my bottle of grape juice in my hands as I contemplate exactly what we are. It catches the light and sparkles, a brilliant ruby red rather than just purple. It looks like an incandescent blend of blood and water. That's what Lorelei and I have, I think- we've got more than blood between us: we've got friendship as well. I know I told her shortly after arriving in Amherst that she didn't have to be nice to me because we weren't really sisters, but she was and maybe now we are. Blood and water... maybe like sisters and friends. It's possible.

"What'd you get us to drink?" She asks, ripping me from my thoughts.

"Grape juice," I tell her. I pass her a bottle, and the liquid glitters again. "I propose a toast," I say on impulse, raising my own plastic bottle. "To friends," she smiles, and raises her bottle, knocking it against mine as I add, "and to sisters."