Chapter Fourteen
Barrett shouldn’t have brought Iris breakfast, and she definitely shouldn’t have been disappointed that for, perhaps the second time ever, Penn had gotten to the office before her.
At the end of the day, it became apparent that they’d been in so early in order to leave early, but that didn’t help Barrett, who had given Iris food and not been able to distract her while she ate it.
Iris seemed to have managed it regardless, but Barrett didn’t like putting her in that position. She understood better than most that eating disorders didn’t understand the best intentions of others, and she had no interest in making Iris’ worse, even accidentally.
Plus, there was the annoying awareness that she’d just wanted to speak to Iris.
Of course, that was how she spent most of her mornings, and, after all this time, it seemed her day felt incomplete without it.
A small part of her was wondering whether Iris felt the same way.
She’d looked gutted when Barrett greeted Penn before her.
Barrett hadn’t meant it as a slight. It felt more like…
welcoming Penn into something that was theirs, something Penn didn’t belong to.
Those early hours that were just hers and Iris’.
She greeted the outsider first, because the star of the show, the focus of her attention, the most important person to her was Iris, and she was always going to bring their coffees out together.
They’d have chocolate pudding and coffee for breakfast and it would be theirs, nothing at all to do with Penn.
But, the second she’d seen the tension, hidden so very carefully, in Iris’ brow, she knew she’d fucked up.
Iris wasn’t in her head, she couldn’t tell how Barrett felt, and why on earth would she assume the best intentions?
How could she possibly have known Barrett saved her for later because she was the focus and Penn’s greeting and coffee were just things to get out of the way for politeness before she focused on Iris?
Mere days ago, Barrett had been nothing but Iris’ annoying colleague. Maybe still was.
And Iris had been holding tension ever since.
She was ramrod straight in her chair as she worked, jumping every time someone moved or made a noise.
And Barrett had been aware of it all, at a loss for what to do.
Even she wasn’t self-centered enough to assume it was about her, but she was aware enough to assume it was about the food.
Damn Penn for getting in early, and damn herself for not thinking things through better.
She could have made more of an effort to help.
She could have simply failed to hand the jar over.
It wasn’t like Iris was expecting it. But Barrett had a feeling she wouldn’t have eaten since that pizza last night, and she’d purposely made something easy to eat, sweet, so it didn’t feel too serious, and that had a lot of protein.
And she wanted to look after Iris. That part was particularly complicated with her conversation with Ruby still fresh in her mind.
Barrett couldn’t be relied upon. She’d given everything to her family and lost herself along the way.
She couldn’t be trusted not to bolt if Iris came to rely on her.
It would all feel a little too familiar, a little too claustrophobic.
But she also couldn’t stop herself from caring.
She liked Iris, even with all of her prickly edges and rigid posture and sharp glances in Barrett’s direction.
Iris was beautiful and interesting and Barrett liked being around her—always had, and, seemingly, always would.
The more Iris let her in, the more Barrett liked her.
The small morsels of her life that she’d been sharing lately, all made her so much more intriguing.
And Barrett cared. About her, about her well-being, about making her days easier.
While Iris didn’t want anything from her, it was easy to allow herself that indulgence. She’d do the same for any of her friends, it wasn’t really a problem. Especially not if she didn’t focus on the tender parts of her heart that ached when it was Iris she was thinking of.
But, when it was food… Food was vital. It shouldn’t matter how messed up her feelings were.
The point was helping Iris, her colleague and maybe friend, stay alive.
It was probably just the fact that she’d been talking to Iris about college, but she couldn’t avoid the tingling awareness that she was simply trying to repay something she’d been given once upon a time.
Her halls of residence had required a meal plan, one that had saved her life in many ways.
When she’d lived at home, food had been scarce, and she’d prioritized her younger siblings eating when it had been available.
Suddenly, food was there, regular, there was variety.
Most people didn’t go to college and claim to have a gourmet experience, but, for Barrett, it had felt like that.
She’d never had food so readily available before, never felt like it wasn’t in short supply.
Then, she’d moved out and panicked. She’d had to buy her own food, on top of other bills, on top of living.
And food was the first thing to go. She subsisted on the cheapest, most meager meals she could, and it quickly became apparent how much she’d needed that meal plan, that food.
Her body in her twenties wasn’t as forgiving as it had been in her teens.
She knew what it was like to be nourished, and she fell apart.
But knowledge was not enough to overcome the trauma.
She could know she was hurting and still not eat.
She’d needed help to claw her way out of that hole, to accept that buying food wouldn’t make her destitute.
With years between that version of herself and the present day, it felt like a particularly tragic existence.
But it was what it was. It was the only life Barrett had ever known, the one she’d been formed on, and you couldn’t get yourself out of that alone.
Which was why she wanted to help Iris—and why she worried about where that led.
Because she’d been that savior for people before, and it came at the cost of her health.
This time was different. Iris wasn’t her family. They were both adults with safe homes and incomes. Food wasn’t scarce, nor was it going to make either of them destitute.
The privilege she lived in now, no matter how hard she worked for it, felt bitterly precarious. As if, every day, she was one tiny misstep from falling back into that life, back into having nothing.
She pulled up her calendar and set a reminder to book an appointment with her therapist. It had been a while since she needed regular appointments, but that didn’t mean she was simply healed, fixed, good to go.
It meant that, most of the time, she was good, but occasionally, things would come up that triggered former patterns, things she would need help with.
And, now, she knew where to get that help.
And she could afford it. So much fucking privilege.
There was a tapping on the office door before it swung open and Ruby stepped inside, Deepti close behind her.
Barrett smiled, shoving down her complicated emotions and realizing that she and Iris had inadvertently sat in tense silence since Penn had left. She’d been planning to speak, to ease the pressure between them. Instead, she’d spent the time brooding.
“We’re here to collect the very important Mr. Oscar,” Ruby said, swaying as she waved her skirt around her legs.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Deepti added, looking around the office for him.
“Oh,” Iris gasped, turning in her chair to reveal him.
She seemed embarrassed, like she’d purposely been hogging or hiding him, but Barrett knew it wasn’t that. He loved Iris, and he worried about her. Barrett could relate. At least on the latter point.
“Iris,” Ruby gushed, as if she hadn’t noticed or expected her.
Barrett fought an eye roll.
“Ruby. Deepti.” She nodded stiffly at each of them. “How are you?”
Barrett shot her a reassuring smile without even really trying for it. She wondered how much Iris remembered from her previous interaction with them. Enough to know their names, but Barrett wouldn’t have judged if she hadn’t even remembered that.
Ruby leaned into Deepti’s side, looking down at them fondly. “We’re so good. And we cannot wait for a couple of hours of puppy snuggles.”
“Yeah,” Deepti agreed readily. “We read about this great cafe where they give you free dog biscuits if you order a coffee. So we’re going there, of course.”
Barrett laughed. “He’s going to be three times the size when I get home, isn’t he?”
She was aware that both Ruby and Deepti were talking like Iris knew the plan for tonight, like they’d fully expected Barrett to have told her to expect them.
The knowledge was a solid ball in her chest that her heart tried to beat around.
In truth, she’d been planning to. This morning, with no Penn in the building.
“That’s the risk when you let his favorite aunt take him out,” Ruby said, shooting Barrett a satisfied look.
“I don’t know if you get that title, actually,” Barrett said, nodding pointedly at where Oscar was still happily snuggled up with Iris.
Ruby snorted. “She’s not an aunt.”
“I’m definitely not…” Iris spluttered at the same time, and Barrett knew they each meant that in very different ways. Iris thought she wasn’t close enough to Barrett or Oscar for that title.
Ruby meant she was a second mother.
Barrett would murder her later.
“Well,” she said, her tone firmer now, “you two look after my baby.” She took him easily from Iris’ lap and he wagged his tail, licking her cheek the second her face was close enough, and she laughed, wiping it away. “And do not feed him too many cookies before dinner.”
“How about after dinner?” Deepti offered with a grin.