The Broposal

Chapter Five Han

CHAPTER FIVE

HAN

W ho stole the soy sauce packets?” my new boss, Daniel, shouted from the walk-in pantry. The air got thick around me as Daniel marched red-faced through the kitchen. He pointed to Juan, the other new hire. “Where is the soy sauce?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Juan mumbled.

“I’ll help you look,” I offered, knowing if I didn’t, someone was about to get fired for something they didn’t do. I followed Daniel back into the pantry, and low and behold, the soy sauce was exactly where I’d left it. “There.” I pointed.

“Why isn’t it on the first shelf?” Daniel scolded.

“Oh, my mistake, sir.” Shit. I could have gotten someone fired because I didn’t learn where the soy sauce went fast enough.

“Fix that,” Daniel said, then stormed out of the pantry and into his office.

I sighed and took the L by playing Tetris with the pantry items to get the sauce where Daniel wanted it. I’ve always been shit at Tetris.

When I finally got the chance to take off my apron and put it in my locker, Daniel was yelling again.

“Just return the money you stole, and we won’t have a problem!”

“I didn’t steal anything. I swear!” Juan said frantically. Daniel seemed to have it out for Juan today.

If Kenny were here, he’d definitely handle it. If you only knew Kenny by how he acted with Jackie, you’d have no idea how he was when she wasn’t around. Optimistic. Charismatic. A leader and an advocate.

But Kenny wasn’t here. I looked around for a sympathetic face, but the only people in the kitchen were other cooks who were all just as much at risk of getting fired.

“Have you tried recounting the money?” As soon I’d said it, I felt like I’d stepped off a cliff’s edge, but I kept going. “With all due respect, someone would have noticed if he walked out and stole from the register.” I knew I was out of line, but I couldn’t just watch Juan get fired and say nothing.

“Are you calling me a liar? I know it was him! Give me back the money or you’re fired!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Juan, who had tears in his eyes by now.

“I swear, I didn’t steal anything!”

“Get out of my kitchen!” Daniel slammed his palm on the counter hard enough to make me jump. “Or should I call the cops?”

My chest tightened so hard I could barely breathe. According to Kenny, I wasn’t the only undocumented cook here. Daniel knew damn well what he was threatening.

The other cooks hung their heads, eyes focused on the grease-splattered floor as Daniel grabbed Juan’s arm and dragged him out the back door. I hung my head, too.

By the time I walked outside, Kenny was already waiting in his car. We spent most of the ride in silence. Something was obviously off with him, but I was still feeling too guilty to pay much attention. I wished I could have done something to help Juan, but if I’d done anything else, I’d have been dragged out the door with him. Or worse, I could have pushed Daniel to actually call the cops.

Pressure built up in my chest again, making it hard to breathe. I hated that Daniel could make one fucking phone call and ruin everyone’s lives. That anyone had that kind of power made me sick. Literally. I wanted to throw up.

“Hey, you okay?” Kenny finally seemed to come out of his own fog. He spared me a concerned glance before looking back at the road.

“The other new hire got fired already. Daniel almost called the cops.” It was all I needed to say, since I knew Kenny understood the gravity of that sentence. But saying it made my throat tighten.

Close your eyes. Breathe steady. Remember where you came from.

Back to polyp.

I tried to conjure up a comforting memory, but all I could think about was how hard it was to breathe.

Breathe… steady…

Back to polyp!

Instead of being taken back, my throat kept shrinking, allowing less and less air. I grabbed at the locked handle to ground me, squeezing it tighter than my throat. I wanted out of the enclosed space of the car. Now.

As if he’d read my mind, Kenny immediately took the next exit and pulled into an empty parking lot.

“Han, there’s no cops. No one’s going to take you away, okay? You’re safe. You’re safe…” Kenny rubbed circles into my back while I gasped for air. My vision tunneled, and I felt suffocated. Instead of answering, I fumbled with the lock on the door until it clicked. I shoved it open, tumbling outside on all fours, desperately trying to suck in some air.

When my throat finally opened up, my breakfast came pouring out. I gasped in between bouts of bile spilling from my mouth. I barely noticed Kenny kneeling beside me, rubbing my back. Once I’d emptied my stomach, my throat burned like hell, but at least I could breathe. Kenny offered me a water bottle, and I quickly gulped some down.

“Thanks,” I croaked, leaning into him in exhaustion. Kenny was the only one I felt comfortable having a panic attack around. Well, not comfortable . No panic attack was comfortable. But safe. Taken care of.

“You okay?” Kenny asked.

“I’m good.” I didn’t want to dwell on it. We got back in the car and rode the rest of the way home in silence, like we always did when I had a panic attack. The best thing for me to do was ignore it. Though Kenny often tried, I never wanted to talk about it.

When we got home, I quickly fed the cats, making sure to give them some extra treats before throwing myself down in the desk chair in my room. I was about to pick up my guitar and start playing when I noticed the sticky note on my laptop. I pulled it off, the corners of my lips twitching at the red panda drawn on the sticky note with a quote bubble saying “it’ll be okay.” Kenny must have snuck in here while I was with the cats.

Kenny knew I wasn’t one for an emotional conversation. But he must have known some part of me liked being reminded he cared, just without confronting it face-to-face.

I finally picked up my guitar to distract myself from the anxiety attack and the reason for it, plucking at the strings halfheartedly.

It wasn’t long before Kenny peeked in through the open door. I jutted my chin toward my bed, letting him know he could sit. Neither of us mentioned the note. We never did. One day I would tell him I appreciated the notes, but not today.

Instead of sitting like a normal person, Kenny flopped down on the bed, not seeming bothered in the least that his head was hanging off the edge. Luna followed him in and curled up on the floor near Kenny’s head. I strummed absentmindedly while I waited for Kenny to say whatever he came in to say. After forever and a day, he broke the silence.

“Jackie and I broke up.”

I resisted the urge to say what I felt: Thank God.

Instead: “I’m sorry, bro. You okay?”

Kenny groaned. “How do you stay so detached from your relationships?” His voice sounded strained, since his head was hanging off the edge of my bed. I couldn’t blame Kenny for being a little dramatic. Just yesterday he was convinced he’d marry the girl. He seemed pretty upset, so I didn’t pry.

“I can’t really get attached when I could get deported any day.” I chuckled at the unfunny joke, keeping my fingers busy plucking at the guitar strings. Not a great way to lighten the vibe. I was never great at that, and Kenny didn’t even laugh.

“Do you worry about that a lot?” he asked.

One part of me wanted to be honest and say of course I worried about it. But the other part wanted to say no, so Kenny wouldn’t worry, too. I didn’t want him to realize I damn near had a panic attack every time someone so much as mentioned the word “cop.” I didn’t want Kenny to worry about the constant reminders that I wasn’t safe. Like my ankle being so messed up from high school. I couldn’t go to the hospital then without risking getting thrown back into a country I hardly knew. Or that I had to walk on eggshells at my brand-new job so Daniel wouldn’t call the cops. Or that I was the only one in the family I grew up with who was undocumented, so if I got sent back, I’d be sent back alone. But I also couldn’t lie. “No bullshit,” and all that.

“I’ve gotten used to it, but yeah, I do,” I admitted, trying my best to water it down with my tone.

“You never talk about that.” Kenny said it like a question.

“I don’t want anyone worrying about me.” I shrugged, still strumming to keep the vibe from getting too real. I didn’t want Kenny dealing with my problems while he was going through a breakup.

“You know I already do. Of course I worry about that.” Kenny looked hurt. I hated that look.

“We don’t have to talk about that right now,” I said. I’d much rather help Kenny deal with his Jackie issues. “You gonna be all right?”

Kenny shrugged. “I don’t know. Who even am I without Jackie? She gets me, you know? She knows what I want and what I like and how I feel when I don’t. She even picked the curtains in my room because I couldn’t pick a fucking color! Now I’m gonna think about Jackie whenever I see the damn window.”

I didn’t know how to answer. This felt like a bigger problem than a pep talk and a pat on the back could solve. At least there was one thing easily fixed, so I went with that. “Let’s get you some new curtains, then.”

Kenny thought about it for a second before responding. “Good idea. What color do you think they should be?”

“That’s up to you. What’s your favorite color?” When we were kids, Kenny’s favorite color changed with the seasons, but back then he at least knew what he liked when he liked it.

He hesitated before responding, still not bothering to lift his head to speak. “Um, Jackie always said I look good in blue?”

I paused my strumming and looked over at Kenny, who was still hanging his head off the edge of the bed. “Can I be real with you and say something you’re not gonna like?”

Kenny finally lifted his head to look at me. “No bullshit, right? Now you have to tell me.”

“Right. I don’t know if you remember how you were before Jackie, but you weren’t like this .”

“What do you mean?” Kenny scooted next to me so both our backs were leaning against the wall. “I’ve always been an expert at second-guessing myself. My low self-confidence isn’t a Jackie thing.”

“You might have second-guessed yourself, but you didn’t need Jackie to approve your favorite fucking color. What happened to those plushies you used to sleep with? Since when were you embarrassed to sing in the shower? You never used to care about being too loud or too weird. You’ve been scared to be yourself for years , bro.”

“Wait, you think I’m weird?” Kenny asked, looking worried.

“See what I mean?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “You didn’t used to care about that shit. Everyone’s weird, okay? I like that you’re weird, bro,” I admitted, my cheeks warming a bit since I wasn’t usually one to hand out compliments like that. Desperate times, though.

Kenny was quiet for a while, and when he finally spoke, I almost didn’t hear him. “Periwinkle.”

The fuck?

“Uh… plubberfloop,” I added.

“Wait, what?” Kenny asked, an amused smile on his lips.

“Are we not saying made-up words?” Now I was second-guessing myself. “I thought we were doing a thing.”

“It’s a color,” Kenny said, his grin widening. “Periwinkle…

That’s my favorite color.”

I had my doubts, so I googled “periwinkle” on my phone to find that it was, in fact, a shade of purple.

“All right. Let’s get you some periwinkle curtains, then.”

Kenny’s smile grew. “Thanks, Han.”

I nodded. It felt like the end of a conversation, but Kenny stayed sitting beside me, which I couldn’t complain about. It was nice to sometimes just sit in silence. But that wasn’t something Kenny usually did, so I knew he still had something to say. Even with the small victory we’d just had, Kenny might have needed a little push to speak his mind. He’d usually cut a conversation about his feelings short unless you let him know you were still invested. Maybe he thought he was burdening me with his problems. Probably another Jackie side effect.

“What is it?” I asked. That single question was all he ever needed as reassurance that I was still in the conversation, so he didn’t hesitate to open right back up. Kenny was an emotional guy, and being an open book was his natural state, no matter how hard he tried to hold back for other people’s sake.

“Jackie and I were together for, like, our entire adult lives. I wanted to spend my life with her, start a family, all that. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Having kids is overrated anyway. Live your life. You’re young. You got time to figure it out.”

“Maybe to you . I want to be a dad. I think I’d be good at it.”

“You would be good at it,” I admitted. Kenny would be a great dad. I saw how he was with my baby nephew, Mateo. Kenny wasn’t exactly stealth about his baby fever.

“Do you really never want kids? Never ?” Kenny asked.

“Never. I don’t want to fuck a kid up like my mom did with me. And she only had me for five years.”

Kenny’s eyes widened, and I feared I might have said something wrong. “You never talk about your mom.”

I shrugged. How did the conversation keep getting back to me? “Anyway, you’ll be okay. Look at it like this. You’re finally free, right? You can do all the things Jackie never let you do. You’re the most yourself when y’all are broken up. Be free.”

I meant it, too. There were so many things Jackie made Kenny feel like shit about for doing or liking, or not doing or not liking. Kenny tried but failed at being this weird version of himself that was good enough for Jackie. More masculine, less expressive. But Kenny was free now, and I couldn’t have been happier for him.

Even if I was a little jealous. Sure, I wasn’t tied down by a relationship, but no matter which way you looked at it, I was never going to be free.

“I need a drink,” Kenny said as he rolled off my bed and walked toward my door, Luna following closely behind.

“Periwinkle…” I mumbled when he got to my doorway, still a bit suspicious of the foreign word. He paused and turned around, waiting for me to say something else. I glanced down at the color on my phone screen, then looked up at Kenny. “It suits you.”

Now that I was alone, there was something I wanted to do. I made a mental note to join Kenny drinking in a bit. Not yet, though. First, I had a letter to write.

Even though she was barely mentioned in our conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom. Those unsent letters were the most vulnerable I ever let myself be, but even in the letters, I peppered the sappy stuff with “lol”s and “lmao”s and whatnot. It always made the letters easier to write, less serious. Once I was finished, I read it one more time.

Dear Mami,

How’ve you been? I miss you. A lot.

I haven’t been doing too hot lol. Had another panic attack today. Kenny helped. He’s a real one. I don’t know what I’d do without him tbh. I wish you could meet him. He’d love that. But it’s not like we can visit each other, huh? It feels weird that he’s so important to me and you’ve never met.

My asshole boss almost called the cops today. If he did, I guess I could have gone to visit lmao.

Then again, maybe I’ll be going back soon enough.

Te quiero muchísimo,

Alejandro

This one was a shortie but a goodie. Just had to get the thoughts out of my brain.

I knew I should have gone out to drink with Kenny and keep him company after his breakup, but I was having a hard time bringing myself to do it. I preferred not to drink on bad days. That was usually my rule. Drink for fun, not to cope. I’d never had an addictive personality, but I didn’t want to remind myself too much of my mom. I knew her addiction wasn’t her fault, but it still sucked to think about. Besides, when I got drunk, the feelings always ended up pouring out, and I didn’t exactly want that.

So, I called it a night and curled up in bed, falling asleep the moment my head hit the pillow—

—only to wake up a couple of hours later when my door swung open. Kenny’s silhouette was illuminated by the hallway light behind him. Then the light was on.

“The hell, dude?” I squinted, pulling my blanket over my face to shield my eyes from the sudden brightness. Kenny’s fumbling footsteps came closer, and before I knew it, he flopped down on my bed. Not next to me, but directly on top of me.

I laughed to myself as Kenny attempted to wrap his arms around my waist, but the blanket between us prevented his arms from going all the way around. Instead, he gave up and flopped his arms to his sides. Kenny was a pretty affectionate guy to begin with, but he was like a needy puppy when he was drunk. I’d gotten used to Kenny’s physical touch love language thing a long time ago, so the two of us had always been comfortable with this kind of thing. If anyone else lay on top of me like this, I’d have read into it, but with Kenny, I might as well have been a couch cushion—or Luna. If it didn’t mean anything with his pillow, it didn’t have to mean anything with me. He was just looking for cuddles and affection.

Unfortunately, affection wasn’t exactly my expertise. I reached over the blanket with one arm and patted him awkwardly on the head.

“I’m never gonna find someone else, am I?” Kenny’s slurred whine was slightly muffled by the blanket in between us before he pulled it down from my face.

With one look at him, I softened up real quick. Eyes and nose red, he’d clearly been drunk-crying over Jackie.

“You’ll find someone else. You’re a fuckin’ catch, bro.”

“ You’re a catch, Han.” Kenny giggled, not moving from on top of me. “Why couldn’t I have dated someone like you ?” I felt my cheeks go hot as Kenny rested his chin on my chest. I laughed awkwardly, cheeks still burning, with no idea how to respond.

Wait, was I being homophobic? I’d never had a problem with Kenny being bi before, but he always had Jackie. Did he basically just say he wanted to date me? I hated that my body was physically reacting to his affection despite my consciously being totally cool with his sexuality. Shit, I couldn’t let Kenny know my stomach did a somersault at the idea of him wanting to date me.

Kenny looked up at me with big watery eyes, which wrecked me. Did he notice?

“You could do better than me, bro,” I joked, trying to reassure him without letting him know I was feeling… something, about what he’d said.

Kenny shook his head. “Jackie’s not… She’s not nice . But she’s all I could ever deserve…” Kenny rolled off me and sat with his back against the wall.

“Fuck that. You deserve so much better,” I said, reluctantly giving up sleep to sit up next to him. I knew Kenny’s self-esteem was pretty low, but it felt like a sucker punch to be reminded of it so blatantly.

“You really think so?” Kenny looked genuinely confused. “Why?”

Did he really not see it? Kenny was the kindest, most sincere guy I knew. He made people feel special. Like, he would go so far out of his way to make sure everyone around him was taken care of at all times. It was the little things, too. Like those little Post-it notes he left for me, or doing my laundry when he knew I was bummed out, or how he’d drive me anywhere, just so I wouldn’t have to walk. I wanted to tell him all this and so much more, but all that came out of my mouth was “You’re good people, Kenny.”

Apparently that was enough, because he looked into my eyes with a smile. “You’re good people, too.”

My brain must have short-circuited right then, because the next thing I knew, Kenny’s lips were pressed against mine. I was so surprised at first that I leaned in instinctually. His unexpectedly soft lips made my mind go completely and blissfully blank. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but that second was split into hundreds of moments, all of them being the exact same thing. Me kissing Kenny. And in those hundreds of moments, I was completely helpless to the slow passage of that single second.

I must have been too tired to think straight. But, eventually, all those moments came to an abrupt end, and my brain caught up with my lips. I pulled away, letting out an awkward laugh.

“The hell are you doing, bro?” I said. There was no way that actually happened.

Kenny just stuck his lips out in a pout, and I was so flustered I had to quickly look away. “You don’t want to?” Kenny slurred.

“You’re drunk as hell.” I laughed, but it did nothing to alleviate the burning in my cheeks. I had to remind myself there was no way the kiss meant anything. He was drunk. You didn’t have to have feelings or even be attracted to someone to kiss them when you were drunk.

“Hmph, you’re no fun.” Kenny sloppily rolled off the bed and onto the floor, where he began crawling out of my room. “’M gonna go to the bar…”

I let out an awkward laugh and got out of bed. Kenny could barely make it to my door, much less the bar. I walked over and tried to help him to his feet, but he was all deadweight and not helping at all.

“Carry me,” Kenny said, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Okay.” I hoped he was too drunk to notice my blush. I did my best to unfluster myself as I scooped Kenny up in my arms and carried him to his room. He rested his head on my chest with closed eyes. A fond smile escaped my lips. He felt so vulnerable in my arms like this, but there was no way I’d drop him. I wished I could protect him from more than the floor. The ghost of his lips on mine tickled my memory. I quickly shooed the thought away. He was drunk. And besides, friends kissed sometimes, right? Just because he was the first boy I’d ever kissed didn’t mean it had to be A Thing. Just because I leaned into it for a split second didn’t mean I wasn’t straight. Just because my cheeks burned and my stomach tossed in a way it never did kissing girls didn’t mean I was gay homophobic. None of it had to mean anything.

Kenny’s door was cracked open, so I only had to tap it with my foot to make it inside. I gently laid Kenny on his bed, making sure his head was safely resting on a pillow before pulling the blanket over him.

Even with his eyes closed, he looked sad, and that killed me. I hated that Jackie made him think he deserved her abuse, when he really deserved everything good in this world. Jesus, I was getting sappy. Reel it in, Han.

“Love you, Han,” Kenny mumbled before a snore escaped his lips.

He probably wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, which was good.

“Love you, too,” I said, knowing he was too deep asleep to hear.