Chapter -21- #2
With his mom whispering, “One breath at a time, sweetheart. Just one.”
It rains the next day. And the day after. For three straight days, the sky is one heavy, gray weighted blanket over Atlanta, unleashing intermittent thunderstorms across the city.
All Denz can do is watch from his bed. He rarely moves from the ball-shaped lump in the middle of his queen-sized mattress.
He doesn’t talk to anyone. Only showers once, on the second day, when he permits Jamie to cuddle with him for an hour.
He somewhat misses human contact but is too afraid to ask for it.
Jamie never comments on Denz’s shaky breaths. He never asks where Braylon is. With his arms wrapped tightly around Denz from behind, he says, “Please don’t punch me, but you smell like a middle school boys’ locker room.”
“Fuck off,” Denz mumbles into a pillow.
“No, seriously,” Jamie says. “You smell like the alley behind a gay club during Pride.”
“And how do you know what that smells like?”
“I was curious.”
Denz doesn’t punch him. He does kick Jamie out of his bed, though.
“I’m being polite!” Jamie swears.
“By saying I smell like one of your sexcapades?”
“Don’t kink-shame me,” Jamie huffs. “I learned a lot of valuable techniques that night.”
“Well, you smell like a very specific cologne my cousin wears,” Denz accuses.
“We went for breakfast.” Jamie scratches the shadowy stubble on his pinkening cheeks. “Are we talking about this now?”
“No,” Denz moans, burying his face in the pillow. “I don’t have the energy.”
On his way out, Jamie says, “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, bro. You can have both.”
Denz rolls to his other side. No, he can’t have both. That’s not how life works. At least not his. He watches raindrops streak across his window, waiting for his bedroom door to click shut.
An hour later, his tears swirl with soapsuds down the shower drain.
All his phone notifications pile up like a car wreck. The missed calls, unread texts. A couple of Snapchats from Nic, which he’s certain are out of concern or death threats for ignoring her, depending on how she feels.
Underneath all the rubble, the social media alerts and family group chat rants, Denz knows what he won’t find:
Braylon .
There won’t be a new joke that he’ll pretend to hate, but will secretly read over and over, laughing himself into a stomachache. Merely this prolonged nothingness that Denz has accepted as his new default.
On Monday, he emails 24 Carter Gold’s offices. He CCs everyone of importance he can think of, including his dad. The subject line is simple: Mental Health Week . He doesn’t go into details. Short and to the point:
I won’t be in .
Five minutes later, a reply-all response from Kenneth L. Carter’s official CEO account comes in:
Take as much time as you need.
In the dark, hands shaking, Denz scrolls through the thread of messages from Formerly Known As Bray. He starts, then deletes new texts. One after another. Hello, then I miss you. Finally, I’d do it all over again, no regrets.
He never sends any of them.
He flings his phone across the sheets. He sinks into the abyss of his comforter. With every movement, the shattered debris of his heart rattles around his chest.
Exhaustion pulls him under every few hours before thunder startles his eyes open. Each time, he finds his pillow damp from more tears. He flips it over.
Denz stares out at a cement-gray Atlanta that still looks more colorful and promising than the void growing inside him.
He waits for the ache to start all over again.
It’s never late.
By Wednesday morning, after the sun finally peels the charcoal gray off the sky, Denz decides he needs real food: a blueberry muffin from Crema.
“Uh, Denz?”
It’s after 11:00 A.M ., and the café’s reasonably empty.
Which is good, considering he put zero fucks into his outfit choice: a faded University of Georgia T-shirt, black joggers, and old Nikes.
What he didn’t sign up for is the weird, surprised look Matty’s giving him from behind the bar.
He managed to shower without crying today. Denz is taking every win he can get.
Matty rereads the name on the drink he just finished. “You ordered a—”
“Don’t start with me,” Denz grunts. He grabs the cup, then pauses, sighing. “Sorry. Thanks, Matty. For the drink. And putting up with my shit.”
He walks away before Matty can reply. Or spontaneously combust.
Denz pointedly avoids that one corner table, settling for a circular one in the middle of the café.
Within seconds, the tightness in his chest returns.
This used to be his place. Monday muffin runs, afternoons taking photos for the company’s socials or client meetings near the picturesque windows.
Now it’s the bar where he ran into Braylon.
Weird stares from the barista he hooked up with.
The scent of blueberry-lemon scones he can’t stomach.
Denz rips into his muffin.
Whatever. One silly pretend relationship isn’t going to ruin him. He can go back to Unattached Denz. The man he was before January. But when he sips from his cup, he realizes asking Mindy to surprise him with a drink of her choice was a horrific mistake.
At the back of his throat, he tastes notes of citrus. The sweetness of honey. He turns the cardboard cup around to read what’s written on it:
D ARJEELING TEA .
Tears mist his eyes. He considers tossing the cup. Or hugging it close, just to have a piece of Braylon still. Denz does neither. He’s too distracted by who slips into the chair across from him.
“So,” Kenneth says, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he sits, “this is where the cool kids spend their lunch hour.”
Denz stares at his dad like it’s been weeks, not days, since they last saw each other. He seems different. Denz decides it’s the relaxed shoulders, no longer carrying the weight of his company’s future.
Kenneth pushes his glasses up, inspecting Denz. “Eva would have a lot to say right now.”
“Doesn’t she always?” He winces. That was harsh, even for him. Evidently, he’s too miserable, too depleted to filter his thoughts. “Sorry, I—”
“No, you’re right. She’s always been like that,” Kenneth interjects. “Did you know she tried to dress me for prom? Like I don’t have taste.”
“Didn’t you wear a powder-blue tux?”
“Damn right.”
Denz snorts. Absently, he takes another sip of tea. “Maybe, just that one time, you should’ve listened.”
Amusement tweaks the corners of his dad’s mouth. “What’re you drinking?”
“Oh. Tea?”
Kenneth leans forward, conspiratorially whispering, “Is this a cry for help? Are you being held hostage? Is this why you’re hiding in a coffee shop instead of coming to work?”
“I’m not—” Denz stops short. He very much is hiding. “How’d you know I’d be here?”
“Kami,” Kenneth says matter-of-factly. He clocks Denz’s frown. “You two on radio silence?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I can relate.” Kenneth laughs. After Mindy drops off his cup of dark roast coffee sprinkled with cinnamon, he says, “I grew up with twin sisters. We fought more than we talked.”
“Can you? Relate?” Denz asks.
His dad replies with a try me expression that Denz would’ve been hesitant toward years ago, but today? Today he’s bold.
“Why’d you pit us against each other?”
“I didn’t,” Kenneth says. “You had the same opportunity as everyone. You nominated yourself . You chose to—”
“Was it a choice?” Later, Denz might regret his decision to interrupt his dad. Not now. “I heard the aunties that day. After the meeting. I know the pressure the company’s been under.”
“I don’t need you to fight my battles, son.”
“It’s not your battle,” Denz says. “It’s our family’s. We’ve all put something into 24 Carter Gold. Kami and me. Nic. Mom.”
Kenneth sighs. “Trust me, I know.”
“Then why were you so hard on us?” Denz’s voice grows thick. Into his tea, he whispers, “Why are you always so hard on me?”
“Because the world’s gonna be hard on you. No matter how great you are. What you have to offer.” Kenneth pauses, clearing his throat. “They’ll always see you as a Black man first. Someone who hasn’t earned his place.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” Kenneth asks, genuine and concerned.
“It doesn’t matter how many magazine covers, TV interviews, or red carpets I’m on.
I still get a million questions from a potential client about who I am.
How many hoops am I willing to jump through for the job?
Meanwhile, they hire my mediocre, unaccomplished white peers to host their events because I didn’t ‘fit’ the vision they were going for. ”
Denz watches anger pinch the skin around his dad’s eyes.
“Because of who we are”—Kenneth gestures between them— “we’ll always have to be twice as good as the next person. I’ve worked hard to prepare you and your sisters for that.”
“You sure did,” Denz mumbles, sniffing.
“Clearly, I failed to do it the right way.” A deep frown reaches into every wrinkle along Kenneth’s face. He takes off his glasses. “Do you know why I didn’t choose you?”
Part of Denz knew this was coming. A formal discussion between boss and employee about decisions made. The thing is, Denz isn’t sure he wants to hear it.
He says apprehensively, “Because I’m not Kami?”
“Almost.” Kenneth sips his coffee. “Because you’re gonna turn into another me. I can’t let that happen.”
“Wow, that’s kind of fu—”
Kenneth holds up a hand. “I don’t mean I’m worried about you outshining my success. I want that!” He smiles. “What I don’t want is for you to destroy your future trying to replicate my past. It’ll ruin you, son.”
Denz shakes his head. “What does that even mean?”
“Your mom swears you’re just like her and Kami’s like me. But she’s wrong.” Kenneth snorts. “You care too much . Like me. You want the company to succeed more than you want yourself to.”
He pauses for another sip.
“I almost lost her,” Kenneth confesses. “Your mom.”
There it is . His dad finally said out loud what no one in their family talks about.