Was going to post this much earlier but I just kept on falling asleep 😴🙁. But it's here now! Longer than usual and yess it will offer some answers but I'm pretty sure it's going to leave you with alot more questions.
****** Cliffhanger Warning ******
Iris looked down at the test in her hands and took a few deep breaths. Each inhale and exhale saw her sinking deeper and deeper into her mattress, like the seriousness of the matter weighed her down the more she considered it. No matter how many times she looked away and looked back at the little stick, the result didn’t change. It was always positive.
She didn’t know what to feel. What to think. How to act. Her hand rose, tentatively, to her stomach and she let it rest there over her navy blue sweater as her mind raced through thoughts of Barry.
The man she loved. The father of her child.
A smile spread over her lips as was often the case when she found herself thinking of him, something she also did quite often. Her love for Barry was unlike any other teenage crush she’d been through. It was the kind of love that consumed. That melted into your senses till you felt incomplete unless the object of your love was within reach. There for you to smell, hear, see, touch and taste.
It was the kind of love that only happened once in a lifetime.
And now he was inside her. A piece of him anyway, perfectly blended with a piece of her, growing inside her. Taking form and gaining life in the little space that laid beneath her palm. Tears blurred her vision as an incomprehensible joy washed over her, partnered very closely with a hint of fear.
Her phone rang and as she watched Barry’s name flash on the screen the fear grew. Doubts crept out from the dark recesses of her consciousness and soon Iris was trembling.
What if he doesn’t want the baby?
What if he’s not ready to be a dad?
After all she was only nineteen and after a year of traveling both her and Barry were ready to take the next step into adulthood and start college. Having kids didn’t seem like the first step, it seemed like a leap. She should have been shopping for stationery and dorm hunting instead of picturing herself shopping for strollers and car seats.
The ring persisted so Iris swallowed the knot in her throat and answered the call.
“I love you,” his voice echoed into her heart and vibrated through her body, extinguishing any and all doubt from her mind. It was a little something special between her and Barry, always greeting each other with an “I love you” instead of a “hello” or a “goodbye". She found it sweet at the beginning of their relationship, like he’d been holding off from telling her how he felt out of fear of scaring her away but after he finally confessed he couldn’t say it enough. She asked him about it once it felt like they’d been together long enough that no question proved awkward. His response:
“Hellos seem to always be followed by goodbyes, goodnights, see you later or see you soon and I never want to say any of those things to you. I never want to feel like there’s a chance you might be walking away from me, not even with the certainty that you’ll be coming back. An “I love you” is eternal, it’s a promise that no matter where either of us go we will be with each other. It says that no hellos are needed because this isn’t the awkward beginning and no goodbyes are necessary because there’s no end to you and me.”
The memory made her tear up and brought her all the safety she needed. As insecure as she felt at that moment, the one thing she was certain of with every fibre of her being was that Barry Allen loved her. That’s all she needed to know.
“I love you too,” she whispered out trying to hide the shake from her voice but…
“Are you alright, babe?”…he picked it up.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her first lie.
“Just woke up,” Her second.
“Oh I’m sorry, can you still catch your dream if I hang up now?” he asked apologetically.
“You are my dream,” she confessed truthfully and she could practically hear his cheeks tint.
“What’s up?” She asked, saving him from having to come up with a corny comeback to out cheese her cheesy line.
“I just wanted to hear your voice,” he answered and her heart melted.
“Well since I’m up how about I do one better? Meet me at the tree?” She asked, her resolve hardening.
“I kinda have something I wanna tell you.” Her eyes flickered to the pregnancy test in her hand.
“Are you sure you’re OK?” he asked yet again and she chuckled.
“Barry I’m fine. Just meet me at the tree in fifteen OK?” She waited as he decided whether or not he wanted to believe her when she said she was fine but soon enough he gave in.
“Alright, see you in fifteen. I still love you.” He greeted.
“I still love you too.” She replied and ended the call.
The floor was white as far her eyes could see except for the shovelled pathways that offered a hint of gravel grey to the scenery. For some reason Iris had bundled herself up even more that afternoon, almost as if she didn’t trust her body to insulate their child against the harsh temperatures of the Central City winter. Unlike her, their favourite tree was barren of any leaves and provided no shelter from the slowly falling snow but despite this she knew that it had to be there. This is where she had to tell him that their lives were about to change, and not just because they would both (hopefully) be going off to college that spring. Her hands moved in the warmth of her jacket pockets, rubbing her still flat belly and filling the silent place with the sound of stuffed nylon being rubbed.
The cold had kept the children at bay, giving the park an isolated quality. It couldn’t be any more perfect. Iris heard the wet crushing of the snow behind her and closed her eyes before his hands squeezed through her bent arms and wrapped around her waist. He kissed her cheek and she smiled warmly at the feel of his arms around her stomach. It felt right.
“You been waiting long?” he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder and swaying gently.
“No, just had enough time to take in the scenery.”
“Yeah it is something. Second most breath-taking thing I’ve seen all day,” he said and gave her cheek another kiss to make it clear that the first thing was her. Iris chuckled and turned around in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and smiling brightly up at him.
“Barry Allen, ever the charmer,” she teased and he grinned down at her.
“Only for women I find irresistible,” he responded.
“Oh really?” she challenged with her eyes wide open. “So how many of us are there?” she asked knowingly.
“Mmm,” Barry closed one eye and pretend to think about it.
“Just one. You.” He answered and leaned in to steal a quick peck but Iris held him there, parting his lips with hers and deepening the kiss. It wasn’t a hungry kiss, on the contrary it was soft and she gingerly played with the hair at the back of his neck that stuck out between his scarf and his wool hat. She gave him a final peck, tugging on his bottom lip, and he rested his forehead on hers.
“What was that for?” he asked, his eyes still closed as her warm breath melted the cold on his lips. She smiled.
“For saying I’m the only woman in your life right now. Besides your mom that is.” She justified and he chuckled though the happy sound had a hint of sadness in it as was the custom when the topic was his mother.
“It’s true,” he reassured her.
“There isn’t and I fear there never will be another woman in my life. You’re it for me.” He promised and her eyes searched his.
“You really mean that don’t you?” She asked, her eyes growing moist.
“With every fibre of my being. I’d go to the end of the world to prove it to you. Even if that meant declining both my scholarships.” He said and grinned knowingly as her eyes grew wide.
“You got them?” She asked a smile teasing the corner of her lips and he nodded, happy to see the twinkle of pride in her eyes.
“Oh my gosh, Barry! I’m so proud of you baby!” She said and covered his face with a dozen enthusiastic kisses. He laughed, his entire chest shaking merrily from the action.
“Thank you,” he said once she seemed to be calming down, the smile on her face making his own smile grow till his cheeks hurt and he could barely see from squinting.
“I knew you were gonna make it. You’re a talented athlete and have the greatest brain in the city. They’d have to be blind not to see that.” She gushed over him and his cheeks tinted further than the blush offered to him by the cold weather.
“And yet you’re still the most important part of me.” He said and pulled her closer, he just never quit.
Then suddenly her stomach dropped as she looked into his eyes. For the first time, his undying love and devotion filled her with a prickle of dread.
“I’d go to the end of the world to prove it to you. Even if that meant declining both my scholarships.”
His words rang through her brain and the infatuation in his gaze told her he wasn’t kidding.
“So what did you have to tell me?” he asked and she couldn’t help but think that his timing couldn’t have been any worse. How could she bring herself to tell him that she was pregnant, knowing exactly how he’d react?
How much he’d be giving up.
Because that’s just how Barry was. He was the type of guy who took responsibility for his actions and valued family above everything. She saw that in how close he was to his twin brother and how much he looked up to his uncle. She could only imagine how proud they both were of him. All the plans they must have for his future. But Iris also knew that he loved her, with every bone in his body. So telling him would be ripping away that future. Snuffing out the flame of his dream and Iris couldn’t bring herself to do that. So she answered:
“Just that I love you. But I wanted to give you the opportunity to kiss me when I did so.”
His eyes shrank as he smiled and she was surprised that the snow around them didn’t begin to melt with the brightness of it.
“I love you too,” he said before leaning in to taste her lips.
And her heart broke a little as she wondered how many more times she’d get to hear him say that before she had to walk out of his life for good.
Iris’s eyes fluttered open slowly and her entire body felt heavy, like gravity had taken particular interest on her that day. She was completely numb from the waist down and as her foggy mind tried to make sense of her surroundings she grew more and more confused. Nothing about the pale white room or the cold decorations in the space brought about the smallest whisper of familiarity. Then as her mind cleared, small wisps of recollection floated through her brain and suddenly the drugged nightmare she thought she was in became all too real. As her eyes painfully adjusted to the fluorescent lighting, the windowless space with its bland furnishings began to look more and more like the prison she’d grown accustomed to the past few months.
But something felt wrong that day and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. All she knew was that whatever it was, it wasn’t just the room. It wasn’t the white, steel and glass décor nor the sterile smell or unnatural lighting. It was something inside her. Something within her had changed, shifted. Something was missing.
The cry popped into her head and her hands automatically flew to her deflated stomach. Some of its swelling remained but it felt different. It felt empty. She started to panic and her breaths shortened as she moved her hands frantically up and down her abdomen in search of some sign of life. Her eyes widened and grew teary as she searched her mind (and body) for some form of explanation as to what had happened. When she felt under the plain white shirt that fell loosely around her torso, she found a thin line of scarring skin stretching across the bottom of her stomach just above her midsection. Blurry memories came to her at the feel of it:
The sharp pain in her pelvic region. A nurse telling her to relax. A heavy exhaustion dulling her senses. The blurred out sparkle of what looked like an operation room in use.
Then suddenly the possibility dawned on her like an unwanted thought:
And something inside her snapped.
“Where are my babies!” she yelled to whoever was keeping her hostage in that tastelessly decorated room.
“My babies!” she screamed, the thought that the place was sound proof escaping her mind in her panic.
“My babies! Give me back my babies!” she shouted, flaying her arms around like a mad woman, the fact that she couldn’t move the bottom half of her body, infuriating her further.
As the tears began their trek down her cheeks a knock echoed from the door. Iris swallowed down her tears and fell silent. The round door knob turned slowly and Iris watched it intently, her heart racing. In stepped two women, dressed in blue scrubs and each holding a tiny blanket wrapped bundle in their arms. Iris sucked a hopeful breath in and held it as the women approached.
“Good morning Ms West. Glad to see that you’re finally awake. These two little angels have been dying to meet you.” One of them spoke with a smile. She had fiery red hair and startling green eyes. Her friend wore a smile similar to hers that twinkled in her golden-honey coloured irises, her hair a glossy auburn.
“Let me help you up,” the dark haired one offered as she handed the red-head the baby she was holding before approaching Iris’s bed. She helped Iris sit up and adjusted the pillows behind her with the attention of a dedicated nurse, then she retrieved the baby from her friend (who had also approached) and gently placed it in Iris’s keen arms.
Iris exhaled loudly, relief flooding her body as she laid eyes on the perfect bundle of warmth in her arms. Judging by the blue attire, Iris assumed it was her baby boy.
Joseph Junior, she thought, her previous frustrations forgotten as she met her son. Joey, after my father.
The next baby was her baby girl, and a tear slipped Iris’s eye as her daughter moved in her arms.
Nora, after your father’s mother.
She named them silently and planted a loving kiss to each of their little heads as a half sob, half chuckle escaped her lips.
**********************************************
“I love you mommy,” Nora says, her voice distant and Iris chuckles. Knowing her daughter, Nora probably has her eye’s glued to a book and answered the phone distracted.
“I love you too baby. Always will.” Iris sighs her heart beat returning to normal. She hears the soft ruffle of pages being turned and smiles.
“What are you reading baby girl?” Iris asks, trying to contain the tremble in her voice as she steadies her breathing.
“What’s wrong mommy?” Her daughter notes, ignoring her question and Iris chuckles.
Like father like daughter, she thinks to herself. Both can read her like an open book.
“Nothing baby, mommy just needed to hear your voice.” Iris assures her and closes her eyes to commit every note and change in pitch to memory.
“Are you sure? Cause you don’t sound too good.” Nora insists.
“Yes baby, mommy’s fine. I just miss you.” She dropped Nora off at Anissa’s apartment this morning, like always, but the tightening in her chest made it feel like it’s been years. She can’t stand to be away from her daughter for long periods of time. She never could.
“I miss you too mommy. Will you come get me soon?” Nora asks, her voice tiny and hopeful.
“I will baby. I promise.”
“So can I stay up and wait for you tonight? We can read another biography together?” Nora offers and Iris chuckles. Despite being a mere five years old Nora has the brain of a teenager, and it was her heightened intelligence (and Iris’s extreme paranoia) that fuelled her mother’s decision to have her home schooled.
“No that’s alright sweety, go on and let aunt Nissa put you to bed. You need your sleep.”
“So do you mommy. According to your sleep tracker you only got four good hours of sleep last night and you know that you need at least double that to keep your body and mind functioning properly.” Nora lectures and Iris can’t help but smile.
“I know baby girl, I know. I promise I’ll get enough sleep tonight but for now it’s time for bed. I’ll pick you up in a few.” Iris promises.
“Ok mommy. Goodnight then. I still love you.” Nora whispers it like a secret and Iris’s heart flips in her chest.
“I still love you too.” Iris whispers back and laughs just as quietly.
“Goodnight baby.” She greets before Nora hangs up.
For a while Iris simply stands there in the darkness of night with the cool evening breeze whispering it’s travelled secrets into her hair. With her eyes closed she pictures her daughter’s sweet face. The soft caramel of her skin, the fullness of her little lips (like her mom’s), the roundness of her light green eyes (like her father’s) with a beautiful hint of honey, the cute roundness of her nose. She sighs out, content, though a bitter sweet taste lingers on her tongue. Despite the thought of her daughter’s perfect features making her heart swell with so much love and so much pride, it also serves to remind her of the other half that made that perfection. The other half of her heart. The man that was currently bleeding in her guest room.
Her fingers brush over her lips, remembering the brief seconds he’d pressed his to hers. It would have been so easy to give in, to kiss him back. To let herself be swept into his arms, let him love her again. To just march in there and tell him the truth, tell him why she left, that he’s the father of a beautiful, Einstein smart little girl who’s his biggest fan.
That he used to have a son.
Her throat closes up at the thought of her baby boy. Five years had passed but the memory of his innocent little face still made her eyes sting with tears of grief. Iris catches herself in time and blinks the tears away. She can’t risk it. She can’t tell him. He can’t know about Nora. Not yet.
Not before she knows the whole truth.
Her heart hardens once more and she walks back into her house, cold as ever. Iris prays that her poker face is good enough to mask her inner thoughts. As her bare feet land silently on the tiled floor she, wonders which version of her, exactly, she’s trying to hide from him. The girl he once loved or the woman she’s become.
He waits for her in the bathroom, his mouth dry and his mind a chaotic mess of thoughts. Mostly questions without answers.
Every time he closes his eyes he can see the inside of that room as clearly as if he were looking at a photo of it. The light purple walls were covered in posters of old musicals and diagrams of the solar system. The tiny white furniture, a child sized book shelf and a square wooden table with three matching chairs, looked delicate yet sturdy. The bed was neatly made with a lilac and white polka dot set. The stuffed animals, a polar bear, a turtle and a penguin, were neatly plopped up against the pillow and the ceiling was covered in glow-in-the-dark stars. It’s the kind of room he imagines his daughter would have, if he had one.
An opportunity lost. A future erased. Because the only woman he’s ever pictured himself starting a family with seems to have started one on her own. Without him.
I don’t remember seeing a ring.
How old is her daughter? Did she really get over me that fast?
Is it even her daughter? What if it’s a niece or something?
Iris walks in interrupting his whirlpool of thoughts as he pieces her life together in his mind without a single shred of evidence besides the child like room. He expects her to say something quirky, like:
“I see you’ve found the bathroom,”
“Let’s get you all patched up.”
But she, once again, proves that he no longer knows her by silently retrieving a first aid kit from the cabinet beneath the sink before giving his cheek more attention than she’s offered him in the short while since their reunion. He wants to speak to her, to ask her about the room. Ask her how she managed to move on cause he was still hurting as much as the day she walked – ran – away from him. How she could find it in her heart to love someone enough to give him a child so soon after their relationship ended. Did he mean nothing to her?
He flinches as she swabs a particularly sensitive area of his wound with the alcohol soaked cotton ball.
“Sorry,” she whispers and for a second the concern in her eyes takes him back to their high-school days. When this scenario wouldn’t have consisted of silent breaths after fleeing death but a relaxing bath for two that he would have drawn as Iris read their daughter to sleep.
And suddenly he finds himself wondering what the little girl might look like. Is she a miniature version of her mother? Beautiful chocolate skin and adorably big eyes? Are her eyes brown like Iris’s or are they the same colour of the lucky bastard fortunate enough to hold the place Barry once deemed as his in Iris’s life? Does she have soft curls? Pigtails?
“How old is your daughter?” He blurts out, not realising that he’s thinking out loud till the words are out of his mouth. Iris stiffens mid swab then hurriedly carries on.
“What makes you think I have a daughter?” She asks, trying to hide her nervousness but it pleases him to see that he can at least read her some of the time.
“I saw her room. When I was looking for the bathroom that is, I sorta stumbled into it.”
“Oh.” She answers without indication that she means to answer his question.
“So what?” She asks sternly.
“Are you gonna tell me how old she is?” he asks again.
“Five,” she answers, then adds: “And before you do the math…” a moment of hesitation and his heart fills with hope.
He can’t bring himself to ask how that was possible. Cheating didn’t cross his mind, Iris wasn’t that kind of woman. She hadn’t been that kind of girl. Yet the thought of someone else touching her as intimately as he once had, a few days or even weeks after she’d chopped up his heart and handed it to him in a paper bag, still packs a nasty sting.
But in his heart Barry can’t bring himself to doubt her love. An emotion of that magnitude can’t be faked, he couldn’t have spent three years of his life being fooled.
That’s what pounds through his mind as she cleans and dresses his wound.
As she gives him instructions to help himself to anything in the kitchen and to make himself at home. He is not to, under any circumstances, leave the premises without her and no take out, it will draw too much attention.
Barry can’t really explain whether its shock or fear that makes him go into auto pilot and silently accept her rules without the slightest bit of protest.
All he knows is that as he watches her walk away again, his heart seems to break a new. Only this time he finds no hope in himself to glue it back together.
Her stomach lurches as she looks over her shoulder at him one last time and notices the light fade from his eyes.
He’d been quiet after she told him Nora wasn’t his. Too quiet, and with every word she saw flash through his eyes and never make it out his lips, Iris found that the lie burned her insides like hot acid. As she steps into his car and drives towards her cousin’s apartment, she knows that she should have offered him an explanation but her mouth had run dry and with his silence driving her crazy she knew that if she opened her mouth it would be to tell him the truth.
So she matched him at his own game and let him make his assumptions. Surely nothing he came up with is worse than the truth. That she’s keeping their daughter away from him despite his history. That she’s lying to him without any shred of proof that he had anything to do with what happened to her six years ago.
What happened to their children.
That despite her heart refusing to paint him as anything but the love of her life, her mind and maternal instinct keep screaming at her to be cautious. She’s already lost one child, she can’t afford to lose another.
Iris stops at a red-light and fishes out her phone from her pocket to give her cousin a call. That’s when she realises that she has five missed calls from Anissa. A tiny voice inside her begins to chant that something’s not right but she pushes it down and calls her cousin back.
“Iris finally!” Anissa responds, her voice increasing Iris’s panic.
“What’s wrong?” Iris asks, her voice as solid as a reinforced brick wall.
“You tell me,” Anissa answered. “Your dad banged on my door a little after you hung up and told me he was taking Nora. I tried to hold him off but there’s only so much I ca-”
“Did he say where he’s taking her?” Iris asks, crossing the red light and making a violent “u” turn to head home.
“He said to meet him at home.” Anissa answers and Iris breathes out through gritted teeth. She knew that her father would want to discuss her little interference at the casino tonight but she hoped that he would leave the dagger throwing for tomorrow.
But he’s desperate, that’s the only excuse she can come up with for him using Nora to get her attention. As much as she wants to be respectful and hear him out she was already upset that he would go after Barry without consulting her and now she’s down right pissed.
So with smoke steaming out of her ears and her heart racing from the anger based adrenaline flooding her body she bangs open her parent’s door to find her father calmly sipping a cup of tea in front of the TV. His feet are up and he barely pays her grand entrance any mind, his nonchalant attitude increasing her annoyance.
“What the hell dad!” She screams and, with just as much force as she used upon entering, she bangs the door closed.
