Talks
Barry tried his best to ignore all the worried glances Iris kept giving him, but it was difficult. She was looking up from her dinner plate every five seconds it seemed. He, however, just wanted to pretend like nothing had happened.
"Okay," Joe said, breaking the silence, "Are you two going to tell me what's going on?"
Barry and Iris both looked over at him.
"It's nothing," Barry muttered, looking back down at his dinner.
Iris sighed and didn't say anything. Barry had made her swear not to tell Joe about Tony's prank, and she had reluctantly promised she wouldn't.
Joe gave Barry a surveying look.
"Okay," he said slowly, "How about instead you tell me about the call I got from the school today?"
Barry looked up at him again, eyes wide. Had the school told him about the posters?
"You want to tell me why you were truant for half the day today?" Joe asked seriously, his eyes piercing into Barry.
Barry sighed and looked back down at his plate.
"No," he whispered.
"No, what?" Joe asked in a hard voice, "No, you weren't truant or no, you won't tell me?"
"Just tell me how long I'm grounded for," Barry said impatiently, still not looking at Joe, "I don't really feel like being interrogated right now, so just get it over with and give me my punishment."
Joe's eyebrows furrowed darkly at him.
"What?" he asked dangerously.
"I don't feel like playing your detective mind games," Barry said irritably, "I don't want to talk about it, so just punish me already."
"What has gotten into you?" Joe asked incredulously, "Barry, I know you're going through a hard time right now, but one thing that I will not tolerate in my house is attitude. I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Why did you ditch school today?"
Barry ran a hand through his hair and sighed heavily, not knowing what to say.
"Dad," Iris said desperately, "Just let it go."
"Stay out of this," Joe said firmly to her, "I'm asking him, not you. If one of my kids is skipping school, I deserve an explanation for it."
"I'm not your kid," Barry muttered under his breath.
The angry look slid from Joe's face and morphed into an expression of hurt for a moment. It hardened again, though, as Joe continued to press him.
"Do you want to tell me where you were today?" he asked seriously, "Where'd you go when you were supposed to be in school?"
"Nowhere," Barry said stiffly, "I just went home."
Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face.
"So, you didn't go to Iron Heights then?" he asked knowingly.
Barry took a deep breath and let it out slowly before looking at Joe, a blank look on his face. He had fallen for one of Joe's most basic tricks: asking Barry a question that he already knew the answer to.
"You checked the visitation records," Barry said blankly.
Joe nodded, his expression dead serious, giving Barry his famous Joe West face of disapproval.
"You forged my signature, Barry," he said seriously, "You know you're only permitted one visit a week."
"Dad," Iris said in a strained voice, but Joe put up a hand to quiet her, staring a hole through Barry as he waited for him to say something.
"I'm not going to apologize," Barry said flatly, "If that's what you want me to do, you're going to be waiting a long time."
Joe's eyes flashed menacingly.
"Barry, I know I'm not your father," he said seriously, "But I am your guardian, and believe it or not, I know what's best for you. This isn't you. Skipping school. Lying to me. Breaking your visitation agreement."
Barry's hands clenched into fists in his lap.
"I don't give a damn about your stupid visitation agreement," he spat, "I only ever respected that agreement because my father wanted me to."
Joe's mouth became a thin line as his nostrils flared.
"Go to your room," he said quietly then, "We'll talk about this later, and I expect the truth. The full truth. Go to your room, Barry."
"Gladly," Barry gritted, standing up from his seat at the table.
Iris gave Barry a pleading look, but he just shook his head at her before exiting the room.
Joe let out a heavy sigh as soon as Barry left. He ran a hand over his face before looking over at his daughter.
"What do you know about this, Iris?" he questioned seriously, "What happened today?"
"Nothing," Iris whispered, looking away from him.
"What does he not want you to tell me?" Joe demanded, "Tell me right now, Iris. What did Barry do?"
"He didn't do anything," Iris said angrily, "And maybe if you didn't always jump down his throat he'd be more open to telling you things."
"I'm not trying to be the bad guy here," he said firmly, "I'm just doing my job. This is what parenting looks like. Do you think I enjoy this?"
"Some parent you are," Iris said angrily, "Have you really not even noticed that Barry's hardly said a word all night?! That something's clearly wrong?! He's had tears in his eyes all afternoon!"
Joe's expression softened considerably as he considered her words. He gave Iris a serious look then.
"Tell me what's going on, Iris."
…..
Barry sat on his bed and stared at the wall. He knew he should have just told Joe what happened. Joe would probably be more understanding if he did. But he really didn't want to tell him. Not only was he embarrassed and just wanted to forget about the whole thing, but he also didn't want Joe to worry even more than he already was. He wanted Joe to think things were getting better with him, not worse.
All Barry could really think about at the moment, though, was tomorrow. How was he going to walk back into that school? The posters had all been torn down, thanks to Iris, Cam, and Matt, but people weren't just going to forget about it in a day. Oh, God. What did Becky think of it?! She had to have seen it. Was she embarrassed? Was she ashamed to be dating a "murderer's" son? She had already known about his dad, of course, but when she started dating him, she probably hadn't thought it would bring her this much negative attention. Barry flipped open his phone and checked to see if he had any messages or missed calls from her. There were none.
He had a bunch of texts and missed calls from Iris, Cam, and Matt, but none from Becky. He didn't know what to think about that.
Barry set his phone down and looked over to the door when he heard a quiet knock.
"Barry," Joe said quietly, slowly opening the door.
Barry sighed and looked away from him as he entered. Joe moved and sat down on the edge of the bed next him.
"Iris told me," he said quietly, "She told me about Tony's prank."
Barry looked at him then and opened his mouth to speak.
"I forced it out of her," Joe said quickly before Barry could say anything, "I used my… 'detective mind games' on her."
Barry sighed and looked down at his lap.
"Why didn't you just tell me, Barry?" Joe asked sadly.
"I don't know," Barry muttered, "I didn't want you to worry, I guess."
"You never used to hide the things Tony did from me before," Joe said gently.
"Yeah, well, that was when he used to beat me up," Barry reasoned, "I had no choice but to explain where I was getting the bruises and black eyes."
Joe nodded sadly.
"At least he's not beating you up anymore," he pointed out.
"I wish he was," Barry said, "That was easier. Publicly humiliating me is so much worse than a punch to the face."
"This will blow over, Bar," Joe assured him, "People don't remember these things. It'll pass."
"It's high school," Barry said bitterly, "People remember everything."
Joe stared sadly at Barry for a moment, and Barry's hands clenched into fists.
"I know what you're thinking," Barry said in a strained voice, "You're thinking I brought this on myself."
"No, Bar," Joe said quickly, "I wasn't thinking that."
"Really?" Barry said skeptically, "You weren't thinking, just a little bit, that I brought this on myself by telling people my dad's innocent? By still continuing to visit him?"
Joe sighed.
"I know it's not your fault, Barry," he said quietly, "You never asked for any of this to happen to you. You…you believe your dad is innocent. Of course you would try to convince others of it."
Barry felt tears welling in his eyes.
"My dad really is innocent, Joe," he said softly, "Just…just once I wish you would listen to me and hear me out."
Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face. He then looked at Barry with a sad expression on his face.
"I'm all ears, Bar," he whispered.
Barry's heart leapt. He hadn't been expecting those words to come out of Joe's mouth. Really, the only time Joe had ever listened to him was that night at the precinct when he was getting Barry's statement. There had been cameras and a table and other detectives present. Joe had never sat down, just him and Barry, and actually tried to hear Barry out.
"Okay," Barry said quickly, his heartrate picking up.
Joe was listening to him!
"I've already told you about the man in yellow and about the lightning," he said quickly, "The lightning was surrounding my mother, filling our entire living room. It wasn't just in my head. My mom saw it, too. She told me to stay back."
Barry watched Joe's face closely, but it was unreadable. His expression remained neutral as he listened quietly. Barry could still see the wheels turning behind his eyes, though.
"My dad came downstairs then," he continued, "He grabbed me and shouted at me to run. The next thing I knew, I was twenty blocks from our house."
"You ran," Joe whispered.
"No," Barry said firmly, "I didn't run. Something grabbed me. There was a flash of light, and for a second, it felt like I was flying, and then I was suddenly on Roosevelt Street. And by the time I got back to the house…"
Joe sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. Barry waited anxiously to hear what he was going to say. He had told Joe all of this before, but it had always been in arguments. They had never sat down to calmly discuss it.
"Barry," Joe said gently, "Can I tell you my interpretation of this?"
Barry nodded, his mouth dry.
"I mean it, Bar," Joe said seriously, "I've listened to you, and now I need you to listen to me."
Barry took a deep breath and nodded again.
"Okay," Joe said softly, "I think…you came downstairs and walked into the middle of an argument between your parents."
Barry opened his mouth to say something, but Joe held up his hand to silence him.
"Just hear me out, Bar," he pleaded.
Barry closed his mouth and nodded, tears filling his eyes. He knew where Joe was going with this, and it crushed him.
"I think your dad was in a rage," Joe said gently, "He was tearing the room apart, breaking things, and your mother told you to stay back."
Barry shook his head slowly as Joe was speaking, but he didn't say anything. He listened quietly the same way Joe had for him.
"Your dad lost control then," Joe said sadly, "His anger got the best of him and in a moment of rage, he stabbed your mother. I think you saw the whole thing, but it was too much for you. You say you just appeared on Roosevelt street, but I think you ran there, and somewhere along the way, your mind just…snapped. You were traumatized, Barry. You had just watched one of your parents kill the other. It was too much for your young mind to handle, and your brain did what it could to protect you, to help you cope with what you saw. It blocked the memory and replaced it with something else."
Barry sniffed and wiped a tear from his face.
"It's called dissociative amnesia," Joe told him quietly, "It's very common with post traumatic str—"
"I don't have PTSD," Barry said firmly, "I'm not post traumatic, Joe."
"Barry," Joe said sadly, "You have all the symptoms. Nightmares. Anxiety….depression."
"I'm fine," Barry whispered.
"I've heard that before," Joe said sadly.
Barry knew instantly what Joe was talking about. In the entire first week that Barry came to live with them after his mother's murder, "I'm fine" had become his go-to statement. He had said little else.
"It's okay to not be fine, Barry," Joe said gently, "You've been through a lot. You don't have to be ashamed of your PTSD. It's normal for what you've been through."
Barry sniffed and wiped the moisture from his face.
"You're never going to believe me," he whispered, "Are you?"
Joe sighed and put a hand on Barry's knee. Barry just looked away from him, more tears falling down his face.
"Regardless of whether I believe you or not," Joe said firmly, "I'm still here for you, Bar. I love you."
Barry looked at him with watery eyes.
"I love you, too," he choked.
…..
Joe had been thinking over his and Barry's conversation a lot over the course of the weekend. He replayed in his mind all the things Barry had said, not just about his mother's case, but also with how he had responded when Joe mentioned his PTSD. Like always, Barry had been defensive about it, had tried to deny it, but he had stayed calm this time. There hadn't been any shouting. Tears, yes, but no shouting. No big argument. Barry had sat and listened to him calmly—maturely. It made Joe think that maybe now was the time to have another talk with Barry, a more important one. Barry seemed like he was finally open to it—he was ready—and Joe didn't want to miss his window.
Joe stood outside the door to Barry's room, hand poised to knock. Normally, it wasn't like this for him. Normally, he was able to walk confidently into the teenager's room and talk to him about whatever it was that was bothering him. Not now, though. Now was one of the few times Joe was nervous to have one of these talks. He'd honestly rather be giving Barry the sex talk again than have this conversation with him. Really, maybe he should do that instead. Give Barry a refresher of that talk since he had a girlfriend now. No. No deflecting. Joe was going to talk to Barry about the more pressing issue.
Going back to therapy.
Really, Joe was just nervous because wasn't sure how to bring it up again. He didn't know what to say to the boy. This time of year was always a very…fragile time for Barry. It was similataneously the perfect and the worst time to bring up therapy again. It had to be handled right. Joe didn't want to say the wrong thing, but he also couldn't say nothing. He and Barry had barely talked about what happened at the school this last week, and Joe was determined to not to run away from the issue.
And it was an issue. Barry was trying to brush it off like it was nothing, but it was far from nothing. The bullying the boy faced on a weekly basis took its toll on him. It chipped away at his spirit. Normally, Barry dealt with it just fine, his optimism trumping any cruel things those kids could throw at him, but this time of year…
As Joe raised his hand to knock on the door, he paused again, not because of his nerves this time, but because of what he heard coming from the other side of the door.
…Just singing in the rain
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark up above…
Joe sighed. This wasn't the first time he had heard Gene Kelly's voice coming from Barry's room, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Joe lowered his hand and didn't knock. He knew by now that this wasn't a good time. It was impossible to get through to Barry in these moments, and it was better to let him have them in peace. Joe sighed again and made his way down the stairs.
"Did you talk to him?" Iris asked as soon as he walked into the kitchen.
"No," Joe said sadly, "He was watching another musical."
"Barry's been watching musicals?" she asked quietly.
Joe nodded.
"He has been all weekend," he said sadly, "Yesterday, it was 110 in the shade."
Joe and Iris shared a silent look with each other. They both knew what it meant. Barry only watched musicals when he was missing his mother—when he was feeling sad.
"It's normal for him this time of year, Iris," Joe said quietly, "It's when he does it other times in the year that we have to worry."
"You're right," Iris sighed, "I just don't like it. I don't like it when he gets like this."
"After everything he's been through, it's completely normal for him to get depressed sometimes," Joe said reasonably, "And after what happened at school the other day…"
"You're not going to make him go to school tomorrow, are you?" she asked, "Can he skip again, like he did on Friday?"
"I already gave him the option," Joe told her, "He said he wanted to go."
Iris sighed.
"I suppose that's a good thing, right?" she asked sadly.
"It is," Joe said, "At least he's trying to face everything head on. He's not trying to hide from it."
"No, he's just hiding from us," Iris said bitterly, "He's been in his room all weekend. He wouldn't even talk to Becky when she finally stopped by."
"This will pass, Iris," he assured her, "It always does."
"Yeah, but I just wish he didn't have to go through it every year at all," she said sadly, "There has to be more that we can do for him."
"Well, I…I found this new doctor…" Joe said gently.
"Don't," Iris said seriously, "Dad, please don't do that to him. How many shrinks are you going to make him see before you realize it's not good for him?"
"I don't know what else to do," Joe said sadly, "He needs to talk to somebody, Iris, and he's not talking to us."
"And you think forcing him into therapy is going to make him trust you and want to talk to you?" his daughter asked angrily.
"I think if he would just give it a chance it would help," he said surely, "He can't keep going through this cycle, Iris. If it's not the anxiety, it's the depression. One is always replacing the other, and I just want to see Barry happy."
"I do, too," she assured him, "But this isn't the way. Making him feel like he's damaged is only going to make him more damaged. If Barry goes back into therapy, it has to be his choice, not yours."
"Barry will never choose to resume therapy," Joe said sadly, "Even if he thinks he needs it, he won't go."
"Because he doesn't want to feel like he's crazy," Iris said quietly, "Dad…you're always constantly telling Barry he's crazy."
"I have never said that to him," Joe said defensively.
"You may as well have," Iris said angrily.
"Well, what do you want me to do, Iris?" Joe asked impatiently, "Pretend I believe him about his dad? Encourage his delusions? I'm not trying to make Barry feel crazy. I'm not trying to put him down. I just want him be healthy. And locking himself in his room watching musicals all day is not a healthy thing to do. I don't like the thought of sending him to some shrink any more than you do, but Barry needs to talk to somebody, and I'm not a therapist."
"Barry doesn't need you to be his therapist," Iris countered angrily, "He needs you to be his dad."
"He doesn't want me to be his dad!" Joe nearly shouted.
Iris gave him a pained look, and Joe took a deep breath before speaking more calmly.
"Barry doesn't want to accept us as his family," he said quietly, "And I get that—I really do. It just…"
"It hurts," Iris said sadly.
Joe nodded.
"I'm doing my best," he said quietly, "I'm doing everything I can for him, but the truth is…I don't always know what to do. I'm not equipped for this. Barry is…special—in more ways than one—and I'm just a single father. I…"
"Do you regret taking him in?" Iris whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
"No," Joe said firmly, giving her a dead serious expression, "Never. Not once have I ever regretted taking that boy in. It was the best decision I made in my life, and I would readily make it again."
Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face.
"It's just…it's hard," he said, "I don't want to mess this up. I don't want to say or do the wrong thing that's going to make him worse."
"Then don't do this," Iris begged, "Don't force therapy on him again. Please."
Joe let out a heavy sigh.
"I have to," he said in resignation, "I would be a horrible parent if I didn't."
"Dad," Iris pleaded, her eyes filled with tears.
"I'm going to do it right this time," Joe assured her, "I'm going to talk to him the right way about it, not just force it on him like I have in the past. I read in a book about PTSD—"
"Not those stupid books again," Iris said angrily.
Joe frowned at his daughter.
"Listen," he said seriously, "I know every situation is different, Barry's in particular, but the books aren't completely useless. Barry's special, I know, but he does have a lot in common with the kids mentioned in the books I've been reading. There are a lot of different ways people handle different types of trauma, especially with traumas that happened when they were young."
"What's your point?" Iris demanded.
"My point," he sighed, "Is that I'm not as clueless about this stuff as you think. I've read up on it. I see traumas every day through my work. I'm not saying I know everything, but I do know that Barry needs to be in therapy if he's ever going to move past this and live a healthy life. I know you don't like it, and I certainly don't like it either, but it's the right move. I'm the father here, Iris, and it's my call to make."
"He's going to hate you," Iris said quietly, tears spilling over, "You're going to make Barry hate you, dad. He's always going to resent you for this."
"Maybe," Joe said sadly, "But it's what's best for him, and one day he'll thank me for it."
…..
I hope the PTSD stuff didn't seem too forced. I had to post this today, though. Today's the anniversary of my own trauma—four years—and it seemed appropriate. I was diagnosed with PTSD over a year ago, and I can say from experience, it's not an easy diagnosis to accept, especially when you're just trying to move on. Everyone else is only trying to help, and I get that, but it's a little hard to move on from everything when everyone's constantly trying to tell you how broken and not okay you are. It just seemed fitting to apply the situation to teenage Barry.