Re: [No. 24 to No. 12: Iris & Sam]
The field of flowers felt like a bed, Sam thought, and that made her laugh. Because flowers weren't a bed, and it was a quiet laugh. It was the laugh of someone who knew this comfort, yeah? Who understood it in her bones. It wasn't a high, yeah? It wasn't that nasty coke buzz that she hated so fucking much. Nah, man, this was just perfection. It was this weird state of being where nothing was bad, and where nothing COULD be bad. Sam, she'd spent a lot of fucking time in this state. Here, none of her fears lingered and clung to her with hands cold. Here, she was whole, yeah? It was like that. Here, she was whole, and she had the momentary thought that she hoped Cris showed before it ended. Which, yeah, wasn't logical given the state of the evening. And, even without getting that shit was tweaked, she knew he had shit to do that wasn't hanging around a field with her.
She forgot Iris was there for a second, yeah? Even after telling Iris everything would be fine, but remembering shit during a nod was kinda hard. And that was what this felt like, yeah? Like an extended nod. Like that feeling drawn out and perfected.
But Iris dropped onto the grass and flowers, and Sam rolled over onto her belly and propped her chin in her hands, elbows in the dirty and her getting clean clothes filthy. The long ends of her hair trailed in red and green and brown, and she thought this entire field would make an amazing painting. "Like Van Gogh, yeah?" Which she said aloud. "But I won't add zinc white. It makes the flowers fade." Seriously. She said that seriously, a nod of her chin, and like she was imparting important artistic information.
And Iris was talking about Manning, fingers walking over Sam's shoulders, and Sam giggled young and pulled a flower from its place in the earth. She rubbed it light and sweet against Iris' nose. "You liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike him." All drawn out, yeah? Like a girl teasing a best friend. "What do you like best about him?" Knees bent and feet up behind her and kicking lazy in the night air.