I Am Iris

Chapter Twelve: Invisible Socks and Banana Jelly

I pulled a baggy orange sweater checkered with black cats over my head and then rolled up the sleeves. I was wearing leggings covered in the image of a crowded, twinkly city with sky scrapers. I tied a high, frilly and lacy collar around my neck that looked like it belonged to a porcelain doll. Lastly, I slipped my aching feet into a pair of tall heels that added several inches to my sad height. I had painted them myself so that the blues transitioned to purples and then back again, and then I had doused them with glitter. Oh, how I love glitter.

I walked into the living room and threw my body to a chair. "Merry Christmas," I sung to my grandparents as I flung my hands above my head. "And a happy new year!"

After eating ice cream that was formerly a person, I felt oddly... happy. Who knew I'd ever even smile again?

"Christmas is tomorrow," Gran told me in annoyance, but perhaps amusement, as well. I had almost gotten used to my uptight grandparents. Emphasis on almost. I learned to keep to myself for once was probably a better way of stating things. I would watch documentaries all day and then read classic novels all night until I grew drowsy. I wouldn’t sing, I wouldn’t dance, I wouldn’t do any of that. Television, books, sleep. That’s it. But, today was Christmas, and I didn’t care if an old lady yelled at me, I was gunna sing my fudgin’ buttocks off.

Gran was wearing a red Christmas sweater with a creepy image of Santa Clause stitched onto its front and Grandpa had on a (far less terrifying) grey button down shirt. Gran was crouched over a cardboard box, which was overflowing with a beautiful assortment of shining silver, bright red and powder blue ornaments shaped like spheres, diamonds or hearts. Draped across the plastic Christmas tree's artificial green were lights blinking white.

"Duh." I wasn't an idiot. "I'm just filled with Christmas spirit," I explained as I weaved my fingers through my hair. Walking to get my hair brush seemed like too much work on the eve of a holiday.

"Hmm, okay..." Grandpa chuckled as he hung a green ornament on a wilting branch of the tree.

I couldn't help but notice the very small box near trunk with a card taped to it with 'Iris' written in large letters. It was wrapped tightly in metallic silver paper, just like Moth used to cover my present in, too.

For the past few years I would open my single, small gift and all I would find were crisp, green slips of paper. The next day I would always go to the nearest Wal-Mart, steal a metal shopping cart, and then run to my favorite thrift store. I would come out carrying arm loads of vintage clothing, dump it in my clinking cart, and then push my finds to the costume store. Once I was done exploring there, I would head back to my apartment building. The cart would remain abandoned and empty in the hallway, a mystery to everyone but me.

Maybe some things wouldn't have to change, I hoped as I stared at the present. I picked the box up and shook it, and was pleased to find it was light in weight and made no sound.

"Can I open it today?" I smiled at my grandparents. "Please?!" I begged.

Gran shook her head immediately, but then Grandpa shot her a look.

"C'mon!" I pled. "Please, please, please with sugar on top and whipped cream and sprinkles and-"

"Fine," Gran sighed. "But don't expect this every year."

"Thank you!" I squealed. I ripped the wrapping paper from the box immediately and then threw it to the ground in crumples, where the light bounced off of it and glistened.

My smile faded. All I could see in the box was a pair of thin, white ankle socks. They weren't covered in glitter or even colorful! Who knew they even sold white socks?