Chapter Thirty-One #2
Part of her wanted to wrap her arms around the small group and hold them close forever, safe in the belief that she’d finally found people who loved her, who cared about her, who weren’t about to turn around and date her shitty ex and act like she was the problem.
She wanted to know them and ask a million ridiculous questions.
With Barrett, she never worried they were running out of conversation, and she wasn’t particularly concerned that Barrett would hate the more bizarre questions she wanted to ask.
Maybe her friends would be the same. Or maybe she’d scare them off forever.
Making friends as an adult was tricky.
“Are you good?” Anya asked, amused and concerned in equal measure.
“Yes. Sorry.” Iris shook her head, shaking the thoughts away like a fog that lingered on her clothes. “Just thinking about life, I guess.”
“Yeah. Things have been weird lately, huh?”
Iris shrugged. “Kind of, but when has life ever been simple? I don’t think it comes in that setting.”
Anya laughed. “Maybe, but there have been easier moments than having Natasha back in our lives.”
Natasha felt like a bucket Iris carried with her, one that was filled with water that threatened to spill at any moment, coating everything in her life. She was getting bored of carrying it.
She sucked in as deep a breath as she could manage. “I’m sorry. About all of it. For dating Natasha and bringing her into your life. For telling you too much about what happened and not enough to explain it all, and now ruining your friendships. It’s a lot and I’m sorry.”
Anya’s hand whipped out, thwacking loudly into Iris’ coat. “What the fuck? Iris, you aren’t the one who needs to be apologizing! That’s on her. You were doing the best you could and she abused you.”
Iris winced. She still struggled hearing that from other people, feeling like it needed to be somehow worse to be worthy of that label.
Or as if Natasha had to be more universally hated to be an abuser.
“Still. I brought her into our lives. I should have… left earlier or something. Kept you further apart.”
Anya grabbed Iris’ arm and dragged her into a doorway out of the flow of pedestrians.
Staring purposefully into Iris’ eyes, she said firmly, “Abusers are very good at what they do. That doesn’t make it your fault.
It was never your fault and it never will be.
Even if you’d tried to keep her further from us, she’d never have let you get away with that.
All that would have happened would be you being completely isolated and I never want that. ”
“But I didn’t even explain—”
“You aren’t required to. You told me enough and I saw enough. I might not know every little thing she did, but I know you well enough to see the way she was killing you.”
“But Jemma…”
Anya waved her hands helplessly. “She’s making a ridiculous decision, but, sometimes, people do. We can’t control what everyone else does, you know? She needs to make her own mistakes.”
“But if she gets hurt, it will be my fault.”
“No. It won’t. It will be Natasha’s fault. She’s the one who hurt you and she’d be the one hurting Jemma. Though, I really hope she doesn’t.”
“Me too.” Iris shook her head, looking down the street for comfort that was never going to come. “I wish I’d been better at opening up.”
Anya looked doubtful. “Abusers are also really good at making sure you don’t do that.”
“I guess.” It made sense. Natasha had worked really hard on keeping all of that secret, on keeping Iris quiet.
“Look. I can’t promise things wouldn’t be going differently right now if you had told us all exactly what happened, but you told us enough. It doesn’t make any sense to me that Jemma would go anywhere near Natasha, but here we are. And we’ve just got to let her do it.”
“I don’t know. I feel like I should reach out to talk about it. I mean, she messages me constantly.”
Anya shrugged. “If you get to the place where you want to do that and are able, I’m here for you, but, again, you’ve told us enough. We all know Natasha is a fucker we shouldn’t be messing with.”
Jemma didn’t. But Iris truly could not change that. Even if she did tell Jemma exactly what happened, there was no guarantee she’d break up with Natasha. But maybe she should try?
She huffed. “It’s just hard, you know? Seeing Natasha again, remembering it all, losing my friends, worrying about them still… and trying to navigate all of that while Barrett and I…”
Anya lit up, smiling like that was the news she’d been waiting for. “How has Barrett been about the whole thing?”
“Actually great.” So great it made Iris want to sob and scream at the same time. There were a lot of conflicting emotions wrecking her body these days. “Better than I deserve, for sure.”
“Not for sure. She’s exactly what you always deserved.” She clapped her hands onto Iris’ shoulders. “All of us who love you are here any time you want to talk, about anything you’ve been through or are struggling with. And relationships that are worth your time will be sensitive to your needs.”
It was a good way to describe both how Barrett was with her and how she felt about Barrett. But it was so easy it felt like it couldn’t be real. Yet… somehow it was?
“Iris.” Anya’s voice was serious, almost warning.
“The things you’ve been through aren’t a burden to those of us who care about you.
I know it feels like this impossible weight you’ve been carrying for a long time, but it’s not like you’re punishing your friends by existing and having baggage.
We’ve all got baggage, and you love us through it.
Why the hell would it be any different for you? ”
A stabbing pain in Iris’ ribs had her breath coming in a gasp. She couldn’t hold Anya’s gaze, and she couldn’t swallow correctly either. “I don’t know.” She was too tearful for what should have been a simple question.
Natasha hadn’t enjoyed the emotions, the crying, the questions that bounced around Iris’ head when she knew things weren’t right but couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong. And, if she’d never been able to figure it all out how could she promise she wouldn’t mess everything up again?
“Come here.” Anya pulled her into a tight hug. It was nice.
“Sorry,” she murmured into Anya’s puffer jacket.
“Don’t apologize for existing.”
That got a sob out of her. She’d spent so long being required to do exactly that. Trying not to was impossible, believing people just wanted her to be alive and in their lives without an apology felt alien.
“Would you still love me if I showed up at your door at three in the morning, sobbing?” Anya squeezed even tighter. The pressure was grounding, reassuring.
“Of course.” There was nothing Anya could do that would make Iris hate or dislike her. She was one of Iris’ very favorite people.
“And if I accidentally spilled black paint all over your cream couch?”
“Yes.” Her voice was somewhere between a laugh and a sob now, but at least it was moving in the right direction.
“And if I took up trying to feed you with my feet?”
“Yuck. Please don’t do that.”
“But you’d still love me if I did.”
“Of course I would. I just wouldn’t eat any of the food.”
Anya laughed, pulling back to look at Iris. “There is nothing you can do or say that’s going to make me wish I didn’t know you.”
Of course, there were always things people could do that necessitated not having them in your life, but Iris understood the point she was making. It was, sadly, a point she desperately needed to hear.
“The same goes for Barrett, you know?” Anya looped her arm through Iris’ and started them moving again.
Iris barked a laugh. “Sure.”
It was a fine idea on paper, but romantic relationships were fraught with traps, with a million things she could do wrong and that would send Barrett running from her life.
Because, at this point, what would be the point in denying she wanted anything but a romantic relationship with Barrett?
And what was that going to cost them both?
Anya shot her a doubtful look. “She’s not Natasha.”
“I know.”
“You should give her a chance to show you that.”
She’d been showing Iris exactly that the entire time they’d known each other. Maybe it was time to start really believing it, even if she wasn’t sure how to make her nervous system do that.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll change her mind when I walk in late, looking like a mess.”
Anya gave her a quick once over. “We’re only going to be a couple of minutes late, you’re fine. And you look beautiful. Barrett’s gonna love it.”
Iris spent the rest of the walk really hoping so, and even she had trouble arguing any other alternative when they walked in and Barrett’s gaze found hers.
It was an incredibly cool, kind of witchy bar filled with low, cozy sofas.
And Barrett’s gaze darted to the door like it had been doing that since the second she’d sat down.
A beatific smile took up residence on her face and she replied to the person she was chatting to without even glancing away from Iris.
Nobody in the world had ever looked at her like the entire room was incomplete without her before, but that was precisely what Barrett was doing.
Iris’ insides were going gleefully up in flames.
Anya nudged her. “Told you so.”
Iris had, honestly, forgotten Anya was even beside her, forgotten everything other than Barrett and how at peace she felt upon seeing her. She laughed in response to Anya’s comment, but she didn’t look away from Barrett either.