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Hey Denny,
I don’t know if you still use this email but it’s the only thing I have to try and reach you, if you’re ok that is. If you’re even alive.
I hope you get this, and if you do then I don’t know if you’ll actually read this or just delete it. But I wouldn’t blame you for either.
There’s a lot I should say. That I miss you, that I love you, that I’m sorry. It’s all true. But I can’t really say it over an email and expect you to accept it all so I’ll cut to the chase. Dad is sick. Prostate cancer, and it’s bad. It’s been bad for a while actually. Well, you’re a doctor by now, I imagine you know how bad it would be. He refused chemo, said if it was God’s plan then he’d accept it. Stubborn asshole. Don’t tell him I said that though.
Come home. Not forever. I know you wouldn’t do that and truthfully I wouldn’t want to ask that of you. I can never say that I had a good childhood but you had it so much worse. But it’s dad. He’s dying. And I think you should have a chance to say goodbye and walk out of that door on your own terms. Don’t do it for him. Do it for you. Whatever you need to say, you have the chance to say it and he can’t lay a hand on you for it.
At least that’s why I’d come back, if I was in your position. But you’re a better man than me. Than any of us. Kinder, more caring. I know we teased you for it, but it’s a virtue, something the rest of us didn’t have.
Connor came out to me you know? Bisexual. I won’t lie, it was a shock. My only experience with gay people is you, and I guess I thought that was how you had to be. But he’s popular, he’s got so many friends, and they all support him, they love him. I guess the world has changed, or maybe home is just starting to catch up to the rest of the world. He told us at Sunday dinner. And when I say us I mean everyone, including mom and dad. Dad was just sat there in his wheelchair all quiet for a minute, and then he started telling him it was wrong and I… I just lost it. I started shouting at him. I don’t think I’ve ever known anger like that. So I told him to shut the fuck up before his bigotry made him lose another son.
They both went quiet when I said that. Nobody really talks about you when mom and dad are around. Sure every now and then me and Kurt will be talking about something and we’ll remember something you said, or James will be complaining about fixing something around the farm and say that you were better at it than any of us, but it’s always felt like they were trying to forget you. But that set them right and it’s how I should have acted back then.
Qui tacet consentit. He who is silent is taken to agree. Jessie taught me that one. She’s real smart, a lot like you. I should have fought for you. I’m your big brother and I was meant to protect you from anyone, even them.
So presuming you’ve read this far and haven’t deleted this, I hope you come. So do Jessie and Connor. And Alicia. She’s standing behind me now and muttering about how I should have reached out to you a lot sooner, mom and dad be damned. But if you don’t, then call me, please? I’d like to know my brother again.
Sending you all the love I didn’t give you before,
Luke
Sitting on the edge of the roof, Dennis stared at the screen of his phone as he read back through the email. It had only been a few days but he must have read it a hundred times already. When he was alone on the couch, when he was led in bed, when he was sat on the bus. Whenever he had a free moment he would pull up the email and look at the words. It was a lot.
He thought back to all of the terminal patients who’s conditions he’d had to inform them of. The old man with the brain tumour on his second day as a med student. The middle aged woman with ovarian cancer. The shock on their faces. The devastation in the eyes of those who’d came in with them when they heard that they were going to lose somebody they loved.
That was what he was supposed to feel. He was supposed to be sobbing, barely holding on to reality at the thought of losing the man responsible for giving him life. But he didn’t. Sure there had been shock, he’d even shed a tear that night, but he’d continued on. He’d been a bitch to everyone around him, earning him a well deserved timeout with Trinity on Tuesday. She was the first person he’d told, two days after finding out. He’d told Robby the next day, making sure to tell him at work so that there would be a minimal amount of affection.
Because he didn’t deserve to be comforted for the thoughts he had about his father since he’d found out that he was dying. He’d been glad. He’d thought that the man deserved it. He’d even thought about taking his brother’s advice and going home just to tell the dying man to go fuck himself for all of the pain he’d caused him.
But now he was dead. And he’d found out by text.
It was probably for the best that Luke had texted him instead of called him, because when he’d read the text he’d had the uncontrollable urge to laugh, and he knew that Luke would be mourning, as much as one could mourn a man who’s belt buckle had been an extension of his arm for most of their childhood.
The funeral would be in a few days, but probably not until December, so he had time to look for a flight that wasn’t going to cost him a month’s salary. Because he needed to go. Either to just see that the man was dead or to cry as his coffin was lowered into the ground he wasn’t sure. Or maybe just to see if his family still cared. A nice email and one late night call were one thing, but actually seeing each other again, after so many years, that would be different.
Robby’s text lit up his screen as he brought the cigarette to his lips, and as he picked it up to open the message two more appeared on the screen. It was sweet how the older man had developed such a teenage way of texting. Dennis took a quick picture of the view of Pittsburgh’s dark skies, quickly sending it back with a response before he let the phone drop back down onto the roof.
He knew he needed to get back inside soon. He’d left patients down in the Pitt, and it was so cold up here he was pretty sure there would soon be snow, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Sat there with his legs dangling over the side, everything else seemed to fade away. He knew it wouldn’t last. In a few minutes Robby would come up and he would have to tell his boyfriend that his father was dead, and then he’d be expected to cry.
"Guess you got your wish dad." He whispered out to no one in particular. "Real men don’t cry." The words were ingrained on his soul like the belt marks were on his back. Tears were weakness. But did the disciples not cry for Jesus? Did Adam not cry for his sons? Were they not real men? Those questions had earned extra lashings.
"Dennis? Why can’t I open the door?" Robby’s voice was muffled by the fire door, and for a moment Dennis thought about not answering, of just sitting there in silence to contemplate his existence in a world where he no longer had to live in fear of a man so far away. But then his phone was vibrating and Robby was worrying that he’d stepped off the roof.
Actually typing the words was a lot more difficult than he’d imagined, but he didn’t really have time to think about that because only a moment later the fire door was being kicked open and if there wasn’t time to think about why it was hard to tell his boyfriend that his dad was dead then there definitely wasn’t time to think about how hot it was that his boyfriend had just broken a door to get to him.
"I’m so sorry." Robby whispered the words as he climbed under the railing, crouching down and wrapping his arms around Dennis, slowly pulling him back from the edge. "Dennis baby I’m so sorry."
Dennis didn’t know when the tears started, or what exactly he was crying for, but there in Robby’s arms he broke. He cried for himself then, for that child who’d endured so many years of punishment. He cried for himself now, who hadn’t had the chance to show his father who he’d become not because of him, but in spite of him. But he also let out tears for his father. A flawed and cruel man, but still his dad. Honour thy father. A passage burned into his brain. A lesson forced upon him.
When the tears stopped they didn’t talk, they just there in silence, ignoring the buzzing of their phones. Eventually he broke the silence. "We should get back down there, they probably need help."
"Dennis." Robby’s voice was soft. "Your dad just died. There’s no way in hell you’re working right now." The older man tightened his arms around him, squeezing for a moment as he shivered. "But I know how stubborn you are so you can sit at central until Jack gets here and then we’re leaving."
Of course he’d already planned on leaving. He’d undoubtedly sent Abbot a message while he was sobbing, that’s just how he was. Moving the world to make Dennis comfortable.
They didn’t talk on the way back down to the ER. Not even when Dennis stopped on the fourth floor to compose himself, taking several deep breathes. As they stepped back into the Pitt, he stopped and gripped Robby’s hand. "Don’t say anything, please? I just need a day with some sort of normality."
Pulling him into a hug, Robby rested his chin on Dennis’s head. "Of course, but you sit at that desk and you don’t go near patients. Got it?"
"Yes sir."
—
Of course they got rushed with traumas when they were about to leave.
"Robby, incoming MVC, need a hand." Dennis watched as his boyfriend froze, his eyes tearing between Langdon as he rushed out to the ambulance bay and back to him.
"Go." He nodded to Robby, the older man taking a moment to smile before dropping his bag and rushing out to help.
It only got worse from there. A single MVC became a multi car pileup, and Dennis watched as patient after patient came through, offering to help but being shot down every time. It was for the best, probably. He’d just spent an hour crying on the roof, he wasn’t in the right headspace to treat patients. But the universe didn’t care about his feelings, because the patients kept coming.
"Fifty year old male, unresponsive on scene, multiple lacerations." The paramedic called out as they entered and he jumped up.
"North 3." Dana called out on instinct, not even noticing him leave her side. She’d been watching him like a hawk, unaware of the reason for him being benched.
He got to work. Scissors found their way to his hand, then a scalpel, a chest tube. He could feel himself sinking into the medicine, thoughts of Nebraska forgotten. Not home, Nebraska. He didn’t know when he’d truly stopped thinking of Nebraska as home. It might have been when he left, but not accepted it. It might have been when he found the Pitt, when Trinity and Robby had come into his life.
"Whitaker." Robby’s voice broke his concentration.
"Busy here doctor Robby." He called out as he administered CPR. The rhythm was soothing his mind, distracting him from the look on Robby’s face that he knew was there.
"Dennis." Gentler this time.
He shook his head, not daring to look to his boyfriend. "I’m good, another round of epi." If they could just get this guy’s heart beating again.
"Whitaker!"
"My dad died Michael, I didn’t! So let me do my fucking job!" He looked up from compressions to see Robby step back, and wondered if he went too far.
Then the monitor beeped. "We have a rhythm." Perlah’s voice was quiet, but steady.
"I think I’m done here." Pulling off his gloves, Dennis pushed past Robby, trying to ignore the glances pointed his way. Victoria’s hand over her mouth as tears shone in her eyes. Frank staring at him with pity. Trinity stood stone-faced as he walked by and made his way into the break room, closing the door behind him before sinking down to the floor. Shit, he’d just told everyone in the worst possible way. It was never going to stay a secret. Robby would eventually tell Dana to keep an eye on him, the she’d tell Abbot, who’d tell Samira. Or he would tell Trinity, who’d let it slip.
It wasn’t going to be Robby who checked in on him, or Trinity. Now that everybody knew they’d probably be out there discussing every detail of their lives to see who would be best to talk to him. Maybe Samira, who’d lost her own father, or Jesse, who had a complicated relationship with religion. So when the door opened and Donnie stepped in he was surprised.
"I’d say sorry but I doubt you want to hear that." The nurse practitioner looked down at him for a moment before heading to the fridge.
"I’d make a joke and ask if you killed him but now that he’s actually dead it doesn’t sound as funny anymore." Leaning his head back against the wall he tried to smile, but couldn’t bring himself to. "You know I can’t actually remember the last time I spoke to him? Every now and then I’d get a call from home and I’d talk to one of my brothers, and sometimes he was there and he’d say something mean. But I can’t actually remember our last conversation."
Opening the fridge, Donnie grabbed two bottles of water out before throwing one to Dennis. "I get it. It’s hard to make peace with the loss when you don’t feel the right to mourn." Taking a seat at the table he opened the bottle and took a sip. "I was twenty three when my dad died, but he left when I was fifteen, so it didn’t really feel like I’d lost him. I’d already said goodbye."
Dennis nodded. That was it. Sure he was hurting, but he’d seen people lose their parents, and he couldn’t help but feel the disconnect with his own feelings towards the fact. "I never planned on going home. When I left I was done. They’d made it pretty clear that they didn’t want me. And I didn’t want them, not the way they were. I guess a part of me hoped they’d change, but that’s never going to happen now."
"Well that’s on them. And they missed out. It wasn’t on you to change how they saw you, it was on them to change how they saw the world. If they couldn’t do that then it was their failing, not yours. "
"Thanks. I guess that was a bit much out there, right?" The look of hurt on Robby’s face was going to haunt him for a while.
Donnie only chuckled. "I think you said what you needed to say, and you reminded everyone that you have a fiery side, which is always a good thing." He stood and reached out his hand. "I’m here if you need to talk about it, but if you want to forget this conversation then we can do that."
Taking the outstretched hand, Dennis let himself be pulled up. "It was a good conversation, but maybe we don’t talk about it for a while?"
—
Robby was asleep next to him, the older man’s gentle snores a comfort in the otherwise silent night as Dennis stared at his phone. The screen held a picture of himself, maybe ten years old, stood beside his father at Luke’s wedding. They both looked happy. They hadn’t been. Even looking at the picture he could remember the belt marks on his back from the night before.
His father had been a cruel man, but he hadn’t been inherently evil. There had been good times alongside the bad. Small specks of light in the darkness.
The bible taught that there were those who were good and those who were evil, but life had taught him that people could be both. Those who preached their good deeds could cause the most harm, and those who committed atrocities often did so for their idea of a perfect world.
"Den?" Robby’s arm came up to wrap around him. "How you doing?"
"I honestly don’t know"