Iris & Mason

1. Iris

Did you know that a butterfly only lives about a year? Think about it. One shot, one year to achieve everything you want to be.

Did you know that I just made that butterfly fact up? And that despite the fact that I have no idea how long a butterfly's life expectancy is, you probably believed it anyway? People are so quick to believe everything they hear.

Having a name like Iris, I had to learn pretty quickly that people actually believed me when I told them that yes, I was named after a part of the eye, even though my delivery was soaked with sarcasm.

I had this theory in high school that I could say the most ridiculous thing, like my middle name was Retina and my last name was Cornea, and people would just assume that I was telling the truth because I didn't appear to be the type of person that would lie.

And they were right, I wasn't. I was one of those girls who didn't socialize nearly as much as I studied, and spent lunch in the library. People must've figured I was such a good girl that I didn't have it in me to say such misleading things. And I think that was exactly what drove me to do it. I could get away with it.

People thought my name was Iris Retina Cornea, and would be very confused when my real last name, Webber, was called out during attendance, and I would respond. I actually remember telling a group of people that my parents were optometrists, hence the name. The next thing I knew, I was being asked by my career education teacher if my parents would be willing to come and speak about their jobs. The problem was, I actually had a single dad who was not an optometrist, but a marketer for some boring business.

My mom died at my birth, and because of that I always felt some sort of resentment coming from my father. I knew he blamed me but would never show it. At least he tried to love me.

The situation I was in made it all the less difficult to leave home after I graduated and move into my own apartment in the city. I quickly found that people had much weirder names than Iris outside of my small down.

I actually can recall seeing the name tag of a server at a fast food place who, I swear on my life, was named Acromycra. Either her parents were professional disease namers or comedians.

Once I was on my own, I managed to get a job at a small record shop just a short walk away from my apartment. It was the type that hipsters would go to just so they could say to someone, 'So this afternoon I was at the record shop and-'

Lots of different types of people came though the shop, some old, some young, some teenagers just buying records to hang up on their bedroom walls for decoration. I found that quite stupid. What a waste of music.

As time went on, I made friends with another employee that worked most of the same shifts as me, Delilah.

She was a hippyish girl, no doubt. The way her long hair was unruly and cascading past her waist. Once in a while she would throw a flower behind her ear just to spice things up. She was always in some kind of maxi dress or skirt, never caught in closed toed shoes. The fact that we were the same age was irrelevant because she was such an old soul. Her hair was also a silvery platinum blonde. Sometimes I made fun of her my calling her Grandma.

So there I was, working my shift at the record shop with Delilah, waiting for my lunch break to come. It was empty at the moment, the only sound being the low hum of an old Frank Sinatra record playing. My favorite was Fly Me to the Moon for sure.

"Iris, we have to reorganize the sale section. All of those teenagers thrashed it when they stopped by." Delilah said to me.

"Sure thing, Grandma." I smirked, walking past her to take care of the mess. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes.