Page 147 of Crystal Iris
“Whatever you do, make sure it’s worth it.”
I nod. “Perhaps I need closure too.”
I’m returning a few books to the library when I see James looking at me.
“Hi, James,” I say as I walk by.
“Iris.” The directness catches me off guard. I don’t correct him. I never mind students calling me by my first name. I glance at what he’s holding: Machiavelli, Tolstoy, and one of my favorites,One Hundred Years of Solitudeby Gabriel García Márquez.
“Nice selection you have there,” I say. “History fan?”
“I was born in the wrong century.”
I often think the same thing. “I don’t meet many students who read those books for…”
“Pleasure?”
Something about his tone makes me uncomfortable. I look around. Nobody seems to be paying attention.
“Yes. It’s a shame, really.”
“I agree.”
“I’ll see you in class, James.” I walk away.
I have no food at home; I close the fridge door for the third time.
I’m browsing through dinner options, reminded of how many choices the city offers. I settle on Thai when Aaron texts me:Saturday night?
I stare at the message. I have no idea what to do about him. Iwant him to be happy, to move on. I would have done anything to avoid the mess I’ve created.
Fine, only dinner. Tell me where and when.
I’ll pick you up, Saturday at seven.
I’m showing the classThe Hunters in the Snowby Pieter Bruegel when James enters the room. I didn’t know he was taking this class too. I check the student list.
“You’re not on the list, James.”
“I switched classes. You impressed me yesterday.”
I don’t know how to respond to his tone. “Well, I’m glad to see you. Take a seat.”
“This painting of such a mundane activity—hunting. Why did Pieter bother to paint it?” I ask.
Nobody answers.
“This wasn’t a good day for the men in the painting. The hunt was unsuccessful. See this one?” I point to the man looking down. “His defeated pose… Even the dogs seem sad, with their drooping ears.”
“How do we know they aren’t just tired?” Ray asks.
“See the small fox on this man’s back? Looks like it’s all they got. And the tracks in the snow suggest other prey had escaped.”
“I still don’t know why he wasted time on this scene,” Luna says, chewing gum.
“Let’s look at the tiny people ice skating and playing hockey. Perhaps Bruegel wanted the viewer to focus on that. Maybe the hunters were merely a way to guide our eyes to the center of the painting.”
“But the name, it saysThe Hunters in the Snow,” Ray says.
