Brothers Raising Brothers

Honestly, Danny couldn't entirely locate when his feelings for Mindy began. The truth was that he didn't really spend long hours trying to decipher the when or why of his feelings; rather, Danny just decided to focus on the present and how he was going to be productive with them.

If he had to articulate the details of his feelings, which his brother Richie insisted that he did, Danny would proceed as follows: shifting uncomfortably, straightening his spine to square his shoulders in defiance, and saying something vague like "I don't know. We work together every day."

Richie hated that answer. Blankly, he told Danny that saying "We work together" does not answer the multipart question Richie had asked.

It was November. It had been a couple of months since Mindy had returned from her ill-fated trip to Haiti with her pastor boyfriend. Almost immediately after her return to the practice, Mindy and Casey broke up, prompting Danny to awake from the denial of his troubled relationship with Christina. It was July when Mindy came back, and Danny hummed and hawed over what to do about Christina until September.

Christina broke up with Danny before Danny ever got around to it. She left him with the same piercing, unsolicited truth that Richie was giving Danny this night: "You're in love with Mindy Lahiri and are not doing anything about it. Do something."

So, here he was, two months later, invited out to a bar with floor to ceiling exposed brick and three dollar tequila shots by his younger brother. Danny was subject to relationship advice that he did not ask for. Richie, only loosely informed on the goings on of Danny's working and personal relationship with Mindy, insisted that Danny really get a grip on the reality of his feelings.

Richie framed his argument in a variety of straight-forward, brotherly ways: "You're not getting any younger" and "Is not being with Mindy at all really better than trying and it not workin' out?"

These were all logical arguments. Danny thought about this, sipping on his second pint of Guinness, only partially listening to Richie relay a story about his buddy Kevin and his girlfriend Sarah. The story was meant to be a prototype, Danny knew, but was stuck on what Richie had said before.

These were fairly simple statements and surely couple be found in any magazine where relationships were discussed. But had Danny really understood the implications? No. He wasn't getting any younger. Danny was inching closer to forty years old, sure. But what the hell did that even mean? That he had to be secured into a monogamous relationship before he was forty or his life was a write-off?

Come on. Whether it was perceived as arrogance or not, Danny knew that his life was full of many other accomplishments that were equally as comforting and impressive as being married.

Richie finished his tale of Kevin and Sarah, waving his hand like Danny could assume the rest of the story. Danny hadn't been listening, but he guessed that Richie meant to imply that …what was the story? That Kevin and Sarah were friends or something? And maybe the waving off was them getting married?

Danny really hadn't listened. He was horrible at having this types of conversations, these prolonged dissections of personal topics. Danny tried to focus in again on what Richie was saying. He was nearly forty, divorced, and really was trying to make an effort to be less closed-off.

The origin of Danny making this effort had a lot to do with Christina, Mindy, and Richie. In that order, actually. Danny had always known that he was widely perceived as gruff and secretive, having been told this his entire life and marriage. It was only in the last dozen months or so that being closed off took on a sour feeling. It wasn't a desirable trait, Danny realized. Christina hadn't taken any comfort in Danny being that kind of husband.

But…

Danny only began to take responsibility for this in the last year. Why? Well, his feelings for Mindy. I guess that was it. It made sense. Danny articulated this to Richie, who was trying so earnestly to help his brother. He began a little apprehensively: "I guess it's all been… in the last little while." Danny said, glancing up from his pint glass to Richie.

"This Mindy stuff?" Richie asked. Danny nodded, pleased with the truncated way Richie referred to Danny's feelings for Mindy. He liked speaking to his brother, the Italian from Staten Island, without using sensitive syntax. It calmed him down a little bit, relaxed him, reminded him that this was his younger brother he was talking to and Richie's persistence was purely out of their familial bond.

"Yeah. I mean, I've known her for a while. We did our residency together. But I was married and she was seeing this orthodontist guy." Danny shrugged.

"And then…" Richie looked at Danny like he was an idiot for not finishing a thought.

"What do you mean 'and then'?"

Richie jutted his head and raised his palms to the ceiling, gesturing for Danny to carry on. Richie, Danny realized, was similar to Mindy in their disregard for conventional social coyness. If either of them wanted more details, they would demand it.

"Okay, so… I don't know. I trust her. She asks me about myself. She makes me want to talk to her about…things."

"Good. That's good." Richie turned to wave the waitress down, raising two fingers to indicate two more pints. He rolled his hand toward Danny, indicating that he should keep talking. "Keep going."

"I don't… I thought that was it?"

"She makes you want to talk about things? That's it? That's all you know about your feelings for her?"

Sighing, Danny took another sip of his beer. He wanted to make an effort to open up about this. Christina divorcing Danny had much to do with his realization of his closeting his emotions. But she seemed accusatory. Mindy made Danny see that, while he was closed off, that didn't have to be an unchanging quality.

Mindy had such an incredible hope in her. She maintained optimism for her future and dealt her past and present misfortunes in such a head-on way. Danny had never seen that in someone before. Mindy could be entirely chaotic and impulsive, as she had so clearly demonstrated at Tom's wedding, but she was honest. She allowed herself to feel what she felt, no matter how it made her look to others.

Danny had never done that. He swallowed everything, for a variety of reasons: vanity, fear, insecurity, and impatience. These were all parts of Danny that Mindy had seen and even mentioned, but she held none of them against him. Mindy had such an unconditional acceptance of everyone that was so incredibly attractive to Danny.

Mindy's commitment to being her authentic self was encouraging to Danny. If Mindy could live with such brazen honesty then Danny owed it to himself to be honest, too. For Danny to be open, he knew that Richie and Christina were right; he had to do something that was honest and vulnerable.

.

Their third pint arrived on the thick wooden table and Danny, draining the last of his previous glass, mulled over whether or not to begin what was going to be his next sentence. Staring at Richie, his reformed younger brother, Danny opened his mouth: "I think she's changing me. Or making me want to change." Danny hated the way that sentence sounded. It was probably a line from at least a hundred movies.

Richie cocked an eyebrow at this.

"I mean, my life has changed a lot this year. I wasn't…expecting most of it."

"Isn't that kind of the whole idea?"

"Not mine. I've had the same plan since college. Before college, even."

Richie looked at Danny like he was oblivious. "Plans change, brother. They have to. I know that you and Christina gettin' divorced wasn't in the plan…"

Danny interrupted Richie. "Yeah, but it's not even about Christina. I mean that… I've changed, kind of." Danny paused for a minute, surprised to hear himself speak his own words. Yes, plans with Christina changed, but that was getting to be a while ago and Danny wasn't… sad about those changes anymore. He had gotten used to them. The change that Danny was referring to was his own personal change. At the very least, it was his desire to be different.

Danny tried to get that point across to Richie, though his message came across slightly jumbled and confused. He asked Richie if it was even a real thing that people changed.

"Sure it is." Richie said this with great enthusiasm. He pointed at himself. "Look at me. I mean, you know my history." Richie was referring to his history of entitlement, of the financial manipulation that ultimately made Danny "cut him off" for as long as it took Richie to function independently. "I'm different. I'm really different than I was a couple of years ago." Richie counted on his fingers: "I've been at the same job for three years. Up for promotion in the new year." Richie winked, referring to his newly acquired position in advertising.

"That's great, Rich."

"Yeah it is. But the point is, I changed. I met Cathy a couple'a months after starting at Vetter's and I mean, hey, she's the best thing that ever happened to me. After you and Ma, I guess."

Danny laughed at this, rubbing his chin.

"Don't be so scared, Danny." Richie ended his sentence by taking a long sip of his Guinness, staring intently at his fidgeting older brother.

Danny was such a specific combination of stereotypical manliness and vulnerability that to truly embrace his vulnerability and shortcomings was frightening. Danny was hesitant to believe that people could truly change. He'd spent so long being so focused on getting his degree, firmly implanting himself away from Staten Island, advancing his career, being married. Even after his marriage, with his career in place, Danny was all about avoidance. His seclusion was founded on numerous impulses, mostly out of self-preservation and a broad disinterest in people.

Not Mindy, though. Her eccentricity was so refreshing and complementary to Danny. He wanted to be around her. Being around her felt nice.

"You like this gal a lot, huh?" Richie asked, smiling, still holding his beer to his lips.

Danny met his brother's eyes, realizing that he hadn't said anything for over two minutes, but had just been looking down into the dark liquid of his beverage.

Danny hesitated.

What was the point of lying to his brother?

Danny feigned the pretense of objection, but all he could really do was nod. Yeah, he did.

"Alright, then, so ya gotta do something about it. Right? Ya know ya like her, ya different than ya were a year ago. Good." Richie sat back in his chair, glancing at the door. "This was progress, brother."

Danny nodded absently, tapping his thumb against the rim of his pint. Richie stood up, downed the last of his Guinness, and dropped crumbled cash on the table. "I gotta head home. I told Cathy I wouldn't be late."

Danny stood up, too, immediately reaching out to shake his brother's hand. This gesture fell into the realm of appropriate public displays of masculine affection, but Richie wasn't having any of it. Richie had huge amounts of affection for his older brother and unabashedly showed it, despite their relatively tight-laced Catholic upbringing.

"Listen Danny." Richie took Danny's outstretched hand. He held it in his own for a moment while he spoke. "I know that you work with this lady and I can see the little wheels turning in ya head about how, whatever, going for it might be risky. But hey, you're a good doc'ta." With his free hand, Richie poked Danny in his chest. Danny didn't deflect. "You'll always be able to get'ta job." Richie removed his finger from Danny's chest and shook their clasped hands tenderly. "Ya gotta go for Mindy."

Danny let his younger brother pull him in for a hug. Danny was often rigid when it came to physical affection, seizing up when someone wanted to show they cared through contact. Mindy did it all the time. She nudged him, grasped his forearm, hugged him, and stroked his face. She broke all the methods of self-preservation that Danny had built for himself.

Richie could read the thoughtful, contemplative look on his brother's face when he pulled away from their hug. "Alright. Lemme know how it goes."

Danny straightened and put his hands on his hips. Richie left the bar, going home to his girlfriend, Cathy, who he held no hesitancy about being in love with. Danny picked up the remainder of his beer, drinking it down in a few long sips before he left.

Danny left the bar, stiffening in the chilly November air outside. It was damn cold. Danny walked toward the sidewalk, ready to hail a cab. Standing on the curb, waiting for a cab to drive by, he checked his phone.

Two new messages: Mindy Lahiri.

Danny grinned. He opened the first message, revealing a picture of Mindy posing with a dated-looking book in a bookstore, her mouth wide open with surprise. The text accompanying the picture said: "Found 1st edition of Puzo's Godfather…Italian translation…u want?"

The second was just a text message. "No response means yes. You're welcome!"

Stepping into the approaching cab, Danny sat quietly in the back seat. He wasn't necessarily drunk, but he had that extremely optimistic elation that accompanies a few pints after a long day. Dissecting the origin of romantic feelings for someone was a difficult task to navigate; it wasn't in Danny's nature to approach something like this with an easygoing carefree attitude. Danny was into structure and logic and being in love with Mindy was not terribly logical nor condusive to his already-laid career plans.

Something interest, though, was the way that Danny just didn't…care. Yes, he could see how his feelings were sort of contradictory to the way that he had previously operated, but what did that even mean? Danny was happy. Mindy made him happy and her friendship and presence encouraged him to make himself happy.

Danny wanted to make Mindy the same kind of happy he felt.

Months ago, after he'd run in the triathalon against Brendan Deslaurier, Mindy had asked him if he was okay. He really, really hadn't been lying when he told her that he was always okay. Danny hadn't always been okay, and honestly, he felt exhausted, nauseated, and anxious about Christina at the time. But what was different was that he had this solace in Mindy, this confidante who proved to him that relying on other people wasn't some horribly weak thing.

Reopening the picture message, Danny understood that he really appreciated Mindy for that. With cold fingers from the weather and nerves, he typed: "Thank you."

Fin.