Barry pulled a few of his shirts off the racks, and stuffed them into his overnight bag. Later, he'd return for the remainder of his items but this would do for now. He just knew that he couldn't stay with Patty like this. She was enraged, understandably so, and it's not that he couldn't take her anger, he could. He knew that he deserved to endure her at her angriest, but the longer he stayed around, the longer it would take them both to heal — especially her.
And there was no point in prolonging the inevitable.
It was clearer than ever to Barry that he should have never entered into a relationship with, much less married, Patty unless he was absolutely sure he could live with his feelings about Iris.
Love was a complex emotion, and it wasn't something that could be turned on and off at will. But that doesn't mean that he couldn't have learned to live with those feelings and eventually moved on into a healthy relationship with Patty. He did love her. The thing is, he hadn't actually dealt with his feelings for Iris. The moment he saw her, they had sprung back up from the pit of his stomach like they'd never left. And now, to know that there was a chance that he could have the woman he'd been in love with for 20 years, he couldn't allow anything to get in the way of that.
Not even his marriage.
It wasn't an easy decision. Depending on who you'd asked, it wasn't even the right decision but he had to follow his heart.
Barry slammed the closet closed and turned. He jumped slightly when he saw Patty, who'd been sitting stone-faced on the couch after their blow up. standing behind him, arms folded.
"So you're really leaving, huh?"
"Yeah. Patty. I'm leaving." Barry walked across their bedroom, over to their chest. His eyes caught one of their wedding photos sat atop it. He thought for a moment if he should stuff it inside of his bag, for the memories, but figured he couldn't bear the sting of the salt on his fresh wounds.
"So blunt. Just 'I'm leaving' like we're two bros who had a fight. Not like I'm your wife," she said, voice dipping in and out her woman scorned diatribe after every other word. It was an obvious act, probably one to keep her from breaking down entirely.
He exhaled deeply, and decided that it would be best if he didn't respond. He proceeded with his original task, pulling out his top drawer. All khakis. He hated khakis, but khakis would be better than having to stay here any longer than necessary. When he didn't respond, Patty laughed, forcefully, the pain reverberating through the room.
Barry sighed and turned, offering at least, "You told me you didn't want me to apologize anymore. So what do you want?"
"I want you to fucking be honest with me! You were like a whole other man with Iris, don't bitch out on me now."
"Fine!" Barry flung his open bag onto the floor, the force of which caused them to spill out. He didn't even notice, because her incessant need to make him hit her in the face with the painful truth was angering him. He charged towards Patty with her crossed arms and her wicked scowl, but when he was face to face, her stern upper lip melted into a jumbled mess on top of her lower one, trembling weakly at once. A wave of guilt washed over him, and his own anger subsided, leaving the very overwhelming urge to draw her into a tight hug. "Patty," he said, softly.
"Come on!" Patty beckoned, fixing her face again, this time, no sign of the broken woman standing before him.
"Okay," he said, bringing his voice back down to a normal level. "I fell in love with someone when I was a child, and that love only grew as we both got older. When they moved away and got married, I felt like I was dying. I'm pretty sure I actually did cross over into the spiritual realm the moment she said 'I do' and kissed her husband, but God pushed me back onto earth because he was not about to deal with me sulking for an eternity. And when the opportunity presented itself, I got caught up, and I cheated on you with them. It was wrong. And I wish I had handled things differently. That is the truth."
Patty rolled her eyes. "Oh great. The child's version."
"What are you talking about?"
"'Someone. They. Her. Them'" There wasn't a single pronoun in those texts," she said as she pulled her phone from her pocket.
"Wait. Wait?"
"Oh, you think I didn't screenshot .Message and email them to myself?"
A harsh chuckle followed, and Barry realized that in their two years of knowing each other, he'd never truly seen Patty hurt or in pain, especially not this hysterical pain that had her acting so out of character.
He sighed heavily. "I'm not doing this." Leaning down, he scooped his clothes back into his bag. When he stood, he looked back at Patty with pain in his eyes, "And I know you don't want to hear it, but I am sorry. You don't deserve this."
Patty scoffed. "No. If this is the only chance I get to say my peace, you're going to listen to me!" she yelled, pushing a forceful finger into his chest, each prod more painful than the last. He tried to move past her, but she blocked him with her body. "Give me that much, you owe me that much!"
Barry resigned, shifting his weight from one side to the other. Pattu was right, he did owe her that much. When she was sure he wouldn't flea, she opened up her Gmail app, and scrolled until she found the screenshot messages. "'I never knew what wholeness felt like until you told me that you loved me. It felt like the most impossible, improbable dream had come true. And when we kissed, it was as if each agonizing step I'd been taking on my journey to happiness had finally been worth it.' Um OUCH."
"Patty, why are you doing this to yourself?" He asked, shaking his head.
She raised a hand in protest, scrolling more until she arrived at her next destination. "'You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life.'" Patty chuckled. "At least that's one thing you didn't lie to me about. You've never said those words to me. Sure, I was 'beautiful,; or 'pretty' or 'sexy' But 'most beautiful' she said, using her free hand to emphasize the words with air quotes. And this one is my favorite," she sang out in that pained drawl that he'd never be able to forget: "I will never forget the look on your face when I trailed my hand in between your legs, and you eagerly parted them for me. We'd been cuddling, and trying so hard to not rip each other's clothes off after dinner," Oh, what date was this? Yes, that's what I thought. There I was trying to find pockets of time to call you, while I was studying because I felt like I was neglecting you. But no. You were restraining yourself from fucking Iris. She continued, 'But then you casually mentioned that you hadn't had sex in over six months, and I felt it a travesty that a body as beautiful as yours, go without pleasure that long.' Whoops. Guess that didn't last long. Meanwhile, I haven't been touched in a month, but a few kisses and some heavy petting had you writing Iris an erotic novel. God, what are you 16?"
"So, would you have rather we'd had full on sex? Is that what you wanted?" He asked voice raised slightly.
"No! I wanted you to not cheat on me!" Patty yelled, accompanied by a toss that sent her phone clean across the room. "I wanted my fucking husband to honor his vows. And if by chance, he was dealing with complicated feelings, to at least talk to me before he dove into making out, and fingering some random bitch!"
"Iris isn't a bitch, Patty." He spit back angrily. Justified or not, Iris didn't deserve to be called out of her name.
"Oh my bad, she's the 'love of your life. The woman who made you finally feel alive, and the person you'd been wanting your entire life,' if I remember correctly. And to that I have to say, fuck her. Because in my story, she's the villain, the adversary, and the home-"
"Enough! It's not Iris's fault, it's mine! If you want to villainize someone, villainize me. I was going to love Iris until the day I died, and probably beyond that too, whether or not she ever confessed her love to me."
As Barry continued his candid admission, he could see Patty, as she stood there, attempting to keep her back straight as the honesty she'd had to pry out of him pummeled her in waves, that only grew stronger with every breath he spoke. It wasn't an easy scene to witness, but this is what she wanted, and she deserved to know the truth, however painful, so he continued: "The love I feel for Iris is apart of me. It fuels me on bad days, even when she's partially the reason I'm in pain. I wouldn't have survived without her all of these years. Even when she wasn't physically here with me, she was always here, in my heart, and my dreams, and my fantasies. I knew this when I met you, on every single date we had, and even the day I married you. I just hoped that I could learn to love you the way that you deserved because you really are amazing, Patty — "
"No," she said cutting him off. "No. you can either hurt me or you can heal me. You cannot do both. If you're leaving, and by now it's pretty clear that you are, then just do that!" Every word was accompanied by trembles from the pit of her stomach. That searing anger in her eyes that had threatened to slice through his very essence had been extinguished by pain that would settle in permanently until time, and that alone, was able to edge it out.
Barry pressed his eyes shut tight, just for a moment to shut out the sight of his wife, who was on the brink of a breakdown. When he opened them, she was still there, this time grazing her fingers soothingly over her forearms not looking at him or anything in particular — waiting for his next move, perhaps to tell her that he'd made a mistake, that he didn't really love Iris, that she was the only person he wanted. But he couldn't do that, so he turned and started his slow, painstaking trek towards the door.
He felt like someone had strapped weights to his ankles, but at least he knew that each step away from her would put them both one step closer to living in their truth, something that neither had been doing over the years.
Just as Barry reached the door, he caught his reflection in the mirror by his bed, and he realized he was still wearing his wedding ring. With his back turned to Patty, he ran his finger over the White gold band, and the engraving of his and and her names, side by side. It was a beautiful ring, one now tarnished by his infidelity and the lies upon which his marriage was built. He didn't deserve to wear it; it had no place on his finger.
A flash of lightning later, Patty, the ring, and the rest of the items they'd picked out for what was supposed to be their life together, was left alone in the room.
One Week Later
It was well after midnight when Iris approached the front door of her father's home. Even though she'd just spend the last hour wiping down tables, and locking up Jitters, she was in a pretty good mood. Though not ideal, she could be doing much, much worse jobs-wise. She made a decent wage, her manager loved her, and the customers always tipped her generously. Between that, her therapy sessions, being back around her family, and seeing a few old friends — Linda Park in particular — she was beginning to feel like her old self again.
Of course, her heart still ached for Barry, but just like when she was in Keystone, the distance between them helped to numb the pain. With each passing day, it was becoming easier and easier to live with her feelings for him. One day, hopefully soon, she would be able to think about him without feeling anything at all. She just hoped she'd be able to find something healthy to fill that void he'd leave.
Once inside of the dim lit home, Iris stepped down into the living room, removed her coat, and tossed onto the couch. As she moved past it, towards the kitchen, she saw a figure stir underneath it.
"Sorry, dad, I didn't see you there," she said, chuckling slightly at the thought of Cecile, who barely came up to his chest, putting her father out of their bedroom — again. Iris leaned down to retrieve her item of clothing. Her breath caught when the jacket gave way, not to her father, but to pale white skin and bloodshot eyes. "Barry," she said, shock overcoming her. "What are you doing in here?"
He looked up at her as if he was surprised to see her. Then, noticing the look of concerned curiosity on her face, tried to blink away the evidence that he'd been crying. In haste, he sat up. "I'm sorry, I know you don't want me here," he said, scrambling to put his shoes on, "I wasn't supposed to stay this long. I just needed to talk to Joe, but I guess I lost track of the time." He looked around for his own coat and remembered that, for once, he'd actually hung it up on the rack. As he rushed towards the door, Iris could see him patting the tears from his face.
When his hand reached the doorknob, the fact that he was really leaving hit her like a ton of bricks. She shook her head, slightly angry that the very immediate need she had to talk to him was threatening to override all of the progress she was making. Just a moment ago, she was envisioning the day when she could think about him without her heart fluttering with love, or palpitating in anger, but it pained her to see him hurting like this. When he twisted the knob, she wrung her hands, knowing that she should say something, but what could she, after spending the last five weeks ignoring every plea he made to her to talk things out, to forgive him, to love him?
When he cracked the door open, and the rush of the midnight air envelop her on all sides, she panicked. "B-Barry," she said, just loud of enough for him to hear. "Don't leave."
Barry stopped in his tracks. When he turned the glow from the streetlight emphasized, even more, the pain on his face. "What?" He asked as if he couldn't believe her ears.
"Stay. Please."
"Are-are you sure?" He asked, running a hand up and down his neck.
"Yes. Please. Come in," she said, still standing in her spot behind the couch. She didn't know what to say beyond that, partially because she could feel her heart jostling around in her chest as if it was trying to free itself from the strain it was about to endure. But she saw the relief that washed over his face. And that was worth its weight in gold.
Barry closed the door, then slowly returned to his seat on the couch, this time sitting upright. Iris followed, taking a seat on the other side of him. Both of them kept their eyes straight ahead, almost like they knew that the moment their eyes met, all attempts to filter their emotions would be thrown out of the window.
Iris fiddled with her hands, Barry with the collar of his shirt as the deafening silence between expanded, threatening to suffocate them, and treat them to a slow, silent death.
"I'm sorry," they eventually both blurted out, in unison.
The laughter that followed was fleeting because, when their eyes met, the levity was washed away by years and years of unspoken words, especially on Barry's end. He looked like death and sadness, and it was absolutely gnawing at her heart.
"Me first," Iris offered, extending a hand to rest on his knee. It was impulsive, surprising even Barry but she couldn't bring herself to pull it away. She'd spent many nights fantasizing about being able to touch him again, though in vastly different ways.
He placed his hand on top of her own and gave it a squeeze, and for the first time that night, she saw that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring anymore. She gasped softly, and looked up at him, relaying to him, with her eyes, words she wasn't brave enough to speak.
Barry nodded gently, and flashed her a pained smile, as a single tear flowed freely from his left eye. Soon a steady stream spilled from both eyes. His hand left hers, pressing firmly against his eyes, like hands on a bleeding wound. But it did nothing to stop the flow.
"Oh, Barry," Iris said, voice breaking. She rose up to her knees, and made her way closer to him. Lifting the hem of her shirt, she wiped his tears away. When she felt his hands wrap around her waist, she fixed her mouth in protest, but when he pulled her into him, and rested his head against her stomach, she realized the depth of his pain.
He needed her so badly, possibly more than he'd ever needed her before. If she'd gotten in ten minutes later, he would have been gone, and she never would have known. She sniffed, her own dams giving way. Resting her head on top of his as her own tears spilled into his hair, she ran a hand up and down his back.
Barry's sobs soon became audible, growing louder and louder, the tighter he pulled her into him.
"Barr. Barr," Iris, whimpered. She lifted her head, and untangled herself from his grasp. "We're going to wake up the house, baby." Her eyes grew wide at her flub. "I mean, Barry. I, well, actually I don't know what I mean. God. Things are so hard," she said, before standing up. "This should be easy, why isn't it easy?"
"Iris wait," Barry said, grabbing her fingertips in his, just gently enough to get her attention. "Please don't leave me, I need you," he said, voice hoarse. "And I know I messed up, and I know I don't deserve you, but I love you so damn much. Stay with me tonight. Please."
Iris looked back down at him, into his beautiful green eyes, laced with hurt and pain, and sighed letting her head fall backward, averting her gaze above her. "I love you too, Barry," she said, at the ceiling, as tears ran backward from her eyes, into her hair, and down the back of her ears. "But I have been doing so good lately. I've been in therapy; I've started a new job." She continued, "As much as I missed you, spending the night with you is going to set me ten steps back."
Silence fell between them. A beat later Barry nodded slowly. "Of course," he said, shaking off her rejection. He released her hand and rose up from the couch. "I'm so sorry. I-Joe actually mentioned that. It just slipped my mind," he said struggling to find some unidentified object. When he realized he had everything he needed, he swiftly wiped away his own tears. "Let me get out of your hair," he added attempting to move towards the door.
"Barry. You didn't let me finish." It was her turn to grab his hand. "Even though I know this isn't the best decision, there's no place I'd rather be tonight than with you."