Note:
Alright. This isn't my favorite chapter (it took me forever to write, I may have encountered a small amount of writers' block) but I think it's a necessary chapter. Let me know how you feel in the reviews. I think I might be finishing this up in the next chapter or two, so here we go.
The key to approaching situations like this is to act as casually as possible. Don't attack- simply approach. Stalk, if you will.
Okay. Maybe not stalk. More like... proceed with caution.
Definitely.
So, what you're going to do, Lahiri, is go in there and...
Okay, listen. You're going to go in there and knock on his door and you're going to say...
You are going to go in there and you are going to tell him that...
Christ.
"Ugh!" She lets out a deep exhale and leans her head on the back wall of the elevator. She hears it ding!, signaling that she's reached the bottom... again. She lifts her head to see the doors for the first floor lobby open for the sixth time since she's entered the building, and she reaches over to do what she's done every time those metal doors close: push all the buttons. She hates to be that person on the elevator who makes it stop on all the floors but like, she really needs the time to think, because frick, y'know?
She thought she had it all figured out. After telling Cliff that she was in love with Danny, her walk back to the office was full of clarity (this was after a brief stop to get real food because she's a woman and not a fish. Like, who eats just appetizers? Come on.) She was almost jubilant, because she knew what she had to do. She had to march right on up into Danny's office and spill her guts out. She had to tell him all about her meeting with Cliff and how seriously over him she was and how deeply, madly, recklessly in love with Daniel Castellano she was and then she was going to kiss him absolutely senseless and that was just going to be it. They were going to hash it out and move forward because that's what you do. You fight and then you apologize and then you have really awesome makeup sex and you wake up and have blueberry pancakes the next morning. And yes, she admits that she was confused and scared before but she's not now. Well, no, that's partially a lie. She's not confused but she is a little (lot) terrified. But like, that's a good thing, right? It's a good kind of scary, like right before you drop from the top of a rollercoaster. Yes she has fears but she's dealing with them because that's what you do when you want something badly, when something this huge matters to you this much. He is what she wants. Period. He is the end for her, and she's sorry that she was so blind before but she realizes where she went wrong, and she just really wants fix this.
Anyway, she had all of this planned out in her head when she came into the building, but as soon as she stepped foot onto the elevator, it was as if everything all vanished and was replaced by this overwhelming sense of anxiety. The feeling settled in the pit of her stomach- a dread- that Danny could say no. Say no to her, no to them. She acknowledges she can be a little much sometimes, with her tendency to leave her laundry stacked up for weeks (months) and her Miley Cyrus soliloquies and her eating cereal out of wine glasses. But that's not even what's got her the most wary. It's the fact that she committed the unforgivable sin; she did the one thing that she promised not to ever do to him: she left him. He doesn't like talking about it because he spends like 85% of his time trying to be macho-masculine-real-men-build-stuff-with-their-hands-yadda-yadda-yadda, but she knows he takes a hit every time a relationship fails. She literally saw it happen after Eye Patch, and she sees the extent of the damage left behind from people like Christina and his dad in some of the little things he says and does. It's not even just the leaving that has messed him up, it's also what happens after they leave- the replacement, in either a different man or a secret (albeit super cool) daughter- that keeps him closed off. So, not only did she run, she ran back to Cliff.
After they had made love.
It's almost comical how much she has mucked this one up.
So that's why she's in the elevator. She's had the fortunate opportunity of not really encountering anyone while riding up and down and back again, outside of a few old ladies and some pregnant women coming from the midwives, and she prays that it stays that way. She watches the numbers light up for all seven floors, and once it arrives at the top after a few stops, she hits them all again, waiting for the familiar descend.
Except for there isn't one.
She pauses in her spot for a moment before tapping all of the numbers individually.
Still no movement.
"Are you kidding me right now," she mumbles, mashing all the lit buttons and waiting for a response. After a minute, she pulls out her cell phone to dial Betsy, but her cell promptly answers her with a no signal beep. She tosses it back into her pocket and slides to ground, letting out a small wail, because this is honestly all she needs: to be stuck hanging seven floors above the ground in this stupid elevator with only her thoughts and a half pack of Sour Straws stashed in her coat, while the man she loves is probably down in his office trying to find a way to get out of dodge, planning on disappearing or faking his own death or something just to avoid the messy hurricane that is Mindy Lahiri. Perhaps he's burrowing further into his hole with work and strict activities, putting back up all those walls she spent such a long time taking down.
Isn't life just grand right now.
"Dr. Lahiri?"
She raises her head, looking around the elevator.
"God? Is that you? Beyoncé?"
A laugh. "No, Dr. Lahiri. It's Ramon from security down at the front desk." She searches the space, locating the intercom nestled in the corner near the camera. "I've been getting some complaints about a suspicious Indian girl on the elevator, and well... Are you alright? You've been in there for a very long time."
She sighs and reclines her head back. "Yes, Ramon, I'm fine. Just having a dramatic moment about love here."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"You know what, Ramon?" she replies, "I do. Because I am just so freaking conflicted right now over this guy, who I think I just really messed up with and-"
"Oh, not with me, Dr. Lahiri. Perhaps one of the psychiatrists on the second floor? Or one of the nice Deslaurier brothers on the fifth floor?"
Eye roll. Rude.
"Umm, no thanks Ramon," she says, pushing herself off of the floor and wiping dust off her coat, "Just... just let me go down to the fourth floor, please."
"No problem," he answers, and the elevator immediately starts moving again. She watches the lights behind the numbers disappear, until it stops on four. "I hope you get it all figured out, Dr. Lahiri," Ramon chirps as the doors open. She simply nods at the camera and steps off into the lobby of the practice. It's quiet, which isn't something new because patients usually have all of their appointments early in the day, but it's very quiet. A little too quiet. She approaches the desk to see Betsy nose deep into some book, probably To Kill A Mockingbird or something lame like that.
"Hey Bets," she says, "where is everyone?" The little brunette raises her head and offers her a warm smile. "Oh hi, Dr. Lahiri! Everyone is here, I think. I know Dr. Reed is in his office finishing up some loose ends with one of his patients. Dr. Prentice took off for the day, something about meeting up with a Chicago six- I don't really know what that means- and I'm sure Morgan is around here somewhere, but I've learned not to ask questions. Tamra and Beverly are-"
"Is Danny in?" That's the real question.
"Dr. Castellano? He also took off for the rest of the day."
Crap. Just like she thought he would. "Did he say where he was going?" she inquires, looking to Danny's office for a moment and then back at Betsy, who's shaking her head. "Nope. He just said he had an errand to run and that he was taking the rest of the day off and he would see us all tomorrow."
And with that, her stomach drops just a little, because the thought of her messing this one up for real is-
It suddenly hits her like a ton of bricks.
No. That's not going to work for her.
It isn't working for her. In fact, it hasn't been working for her for the past week, and the more it's left unattended to the more she overthinks it, and the next thing she knows she's letting her fears steer her and she spending a creepy amount of time in the resident elevator. And that is so not her, because when was the last time Mindy Lahiri didn't get her way? The last time she didn't get what she wanted? She can't even remember, it was so long ago. The longer she waits, the further she gets away from what she really wants, and what she really wants is somewhere out there in the city (hopefully at home because she does not feel like trekking all around the city to his favorite spots trying to find him. Like, she will if she has to but she won't be happy about it). She can't wait any longer. She won't. And she's not going to let him either. She's not going to let him hide from her anymore, because frankly she's exhausted. She's over not seeing him, not touching him, not talking with him, even if it's just as best friends. He has to feel the same way too.
"Is everything okay, Dr. Lahiri? You have that look on your face."
"What look?" Mindy asks, peering at the woman again.
"That look you get when you're plotting something. It's the same look you get when you realize there's an extra coffee cake in the lounge."
She lets out a small chuckle and starts crossing to her office to retrieve the rest of her things."First off," she says, shutting her office door and heading towards the elevators again, "I don't plot. I'm not a comic book villain, I don't have time for that. And secondly, everything is great. As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to take off for the day too."
"Umm, okay," Betsy responds warily. "Did you want me to get in touch with Dr. Castellano for you?"
She gives the young girl a sly smile. "Nope. I think I'm going to make this one a personal call."
And with that, she's gone.
He's clutching the brown paper bag in his arms tighter and staring at the door in front of him.
Fuck.
What seemed like a great idea earlier- a grand idea, especially considering what he saw on the pier- now seems a bit foolish. He's standing on the front porch of his childhood home, holding a bag of groceries, praying to the good Lord above that his Ma doesn't see through is thin attempt to avoid the problems he's running from on the other side of the island.
He just needs some time. To get away, to breathe easy, get his thoughts in order. He's tired of the way everything's been building up for the past week or so and he honestly just needed this. What better place to get a break than at home, where there's good food and familiar faces and no pretty Indian girls breaking your heart every now and again. But that's something he'd rather not think about it, because as someone who has been replaying all of their moments together on a continuous loop in his head for the past eight or so days, he's really tired of beating himself up. Seeing her with Cliff? Oh, that was just fantastic. It just confused him more, which only made an anger swell up inside of him because why is everything so much harder than it needs to be? Why can't they just communicate? Why can't he just talk to her and stop being so... Danny?
He shakes his head to clear the thought. He's already been thinking about it for much longer than he would like, and his arms are starting to ache from standing on the porch for so long holding a large bag of food. He packs the thoughts away for another time and retrieves keys from his pocket, unlocking the door with one hand and pushing to door open with a shoulder.
"Ma?" he calls out, shutting the door behind him with his foot and tossing his keys in the bowl near the door. The house is silent, with the exception of the sound of Wheel of Fortune coming from the kitchen. He smiles. Everything is still pretty much the same. Same wooden floors he remembers racing across as a teen, baseball in hand, only to shoot out the front door and into the street to play another round of catch with Richie. Same plastic covered cream couches in the living room, memories of the thick, clear material sticking to the back of his legs on humid summer afternoons. Same walls lined with pictures of graduations and birthdays and family barbeques. It all seems to be stuck in time and a warm feeling settles over him. There's comfort in the way some things never change.
He walks into the kitchen to see his mother at the kitchen table, dressed in a floral nightgown and faded pink slippers, haired curled around her head. She's peeling potatoes and plopping them into a bowl of water situated in front of her, fully engaged in trying to guess the phrase for the Fictional Characters category.
"Ma?"
She turns, a grin spreading across her face. "Danny boy!" she exclaims, dropping the last of the potato into the bowl and getting up from the table to embrace him. "What are you doing out here?" He sets the bag on a nearby counter and returns the hug. "Ah, you know. Just needed to take a break." He stays in her arms a bit longer than he intends and he knows this. (Hey, sometimes a guy just misses his Ma, alright?) It's one of those things that always happens when he comes home without fail, his mother hugging him as if he comes home every four years and not every other Sunday. But he allows it because he especially needs it right now.
As if on cue, it's as if his words have sparked something within his mother, her maternal senses kicking in. She releases him from the embrace and stares at him, placing her soft hands on his cheeks and cradling his face. She's giving him that look now, the one that's a mixture of gentle prodding and a search for the truth. It's the same one that got him to confess to stealing candies out of the jar on Father Peter's desk when he was twelve; the same one Richie got when he was sixteen and snuck the car out to go a music festival upstate. He feels like a young boy again.
"What?" he questions.
"Don't what me, Daniel Antony Castellano. What's going on?" He doesn't know why he would assume that she wouldn't see through him as clear as day, and he can feel himself faltering under her motherly gaze, so he goes for a distraction instead. "Nothing, Ma," he mutters, moving out of her touch and removing his jacket, "Nothing's wrong with me." He places his jacket on the back of a chair before rolling up his sleeves and going back to the bag on the counter to unload it. She's right on him. "Uh-uh, no you don't," she continues, coming up beside him to press further, "You forget I know you. I was in labor with you for 36 hours. 36 hours. I pushed you outta my body"- he lets out a groan at this- "I know you better than you know yourself." He doesn't respond, just continues to place groceries in places all around the kitchen. But she's not letting up. "Oh, don't you be giving me the silent treatment now, Daniel. I know you like sticking to the routine of things and this is out of it. And don't think I don't know you've been waiting out on that porch for the past fifteen minutes debating whether or not to come in."
He stills for a moment at a cabinet, and then turns to face his mother, who's meeting him with inquisitive eyes.
"How'd you know I was on the porch?"
"Daniel, please," she waves, crossing back to sit in her chair, "You're not the most inconspicuous character. Plus, Mrs. Salvaretti saw you at Dom's Butcher and rang me up, and you know that lady can't keep a secret to save her life." She gifts him a soft smile before resuming the peeling of potatoes. "I was beginning to wonder how long you were going to stay out there."
He lets out a chuckle at this. Of course she knew he was out there. That's one of the downsides to being back home, everyone knows you're here because everyone talks so damn much. He goes to back to the groceries then, pulling out the last few- a couple slabs of steaks, which he takes to the sink to rinse.
"How do you feel about some meat with those potatoes?" he tosses over his shoulder.
"Sounds delicious. How do you feel about whatever problem it is that you're not talking about, the one you just tried to change the subject on?"
Sigh.
"Ma, please..."
"Daniel, I know you didn't come all the way out here to cook me a meal, so why don't we just get it all out of the way now. Or, we can wait until after you've put those steaks on. Whichever you prefer."
She's right. She's right, because when has she ever been wrong. He knows she's not going to give it up and deep inside, he wouldn't want her to because if he's being honest, he really needs to talk to someone about what's going on, maybe get a different perspective on it and help him see what he's clearly been missing the reason he keeps taking three steps forward and seven steps backward. Plus he's not the most social person, so his circle of other friends isn't exactly huge, and the one person he would usually talk to isn't exactly available, so this is the best thing and also the next best thing.
He wipes his hands on a nearby towel before twisting around to look at her again. "Well," he begins, leaning against the sink and folding his arms, "There's this girl..."
"You don't say," she smiles, wiping her hands on the towel in her lap and clicking off the television. "What about her?"
Yeah. What about her, Danny? Where are you gonna start? He sighs, looking at his feet for a moment.
"I love her."
There's a pause before her response, and he looks up to see why. He catches her eyes again and she's giving him is one her trademark smiles, full of tenderness and understanding, something he didn't know he really needed until it was offered to him.
"I know."
Those words, simple and succinct and weighted, cause something to break inside of him, and it's right then he knows he's going to spill everything out to her. He has to get through all this mud. He has to if he's going to get Mindy back.
And so he speaks.
Another note: I know you might have so questions, so maybe here's some answers:
1. I changed Danny's middle name. I really don't think it's Mussolini, and if it is, I just took another take on it.
2. I really thought about finishing out the conversation with his mother, but then I was like, maybe not. Let's try something else. I kind of like how it turned out and I think it will give us some more breathing room in the next chapter.
3. I really want to thank you guys for being so patient with me and for all the responses. They have truly been so great, so thank you thank you thank you.
