Upon opening the jar of coconut oil (for cooking, hair, and skin care), right when my finger makes contact with what is too solid for comfort, I think of Iris and her graduation party, which was an utter calamity. Iris and I had attended kindergarten together, but it was by the grace of my cousin’s status as a pretty blonde girl that I even knew about any of the parties. From the moment we arrived, it was clear that it was a mistake for anybody to be there; at least for those who had received invitations to other parties. I couldn’t tell on which side of the pause my cousin belonged, but she had in her eyes the boredom of a person who has choices.