Work Text:
¼ inch (childhood)
Danny always knew from a young age that he was, well, a wee bit short. With a father barely checking in at 5’7 and a mom grazing the ground at a miniature 5’0, tiny dancer Castellano understood that 6’0 wasn’t going to be an option. To compensate, he pushed himself to be better: better in school, a better son, a better brother, a better Danny. When Anthony Pescana teased him about his stature, he got swift justice, Staten-style.
The day Danny understood that his dad Alan wasn’t coming back-that he ABANDONED his family-he felt that Castellano confidence, his shield against his shortness, shift and shrink. Thus it began: the beginnings of the measure of a man.
6 inches (Medical School)
Swagger, surliness, cockiness. These were the cloaks Danny hid behind. These were the masks that allowed him to shoot to the top of his class. These were the capes that enveloped the sensitive being underneath. Daniel Michael Castellano stood a sturdy 5’6-practically a giant in his Italian-American family (he ignored the fact that his brother Richie was 12 years younger than him but already taller than him). Med school student Danny was a paragon of studious perfection, a bastion of scholastic excellence. What med school Danny was NOT was charming like the Brit (Jeremy Reed, pro-level douche) or popularly flighty like the Indian-American Barbie (Mindy Lahiri, pretty, curvy and totally annoying).
The last thing he needed-the last thing he wanted-was to be distracted/disturbed/troubled by outside forces. Danny’s 5’6 frame could compartmentalize certain things only: medicine, family (his Ma and Richie) and proving that he did measure up. These were his all-consuming thoughts; these were all the subjects he needed to worry about. This was what his stature and his measure could handle…until she came along.
1 Foot (Residency)
His medical residency was tough; Danny wasn’t insane enough to think otherwise. The crazy hours, the lack of sleep, the never-ending competition to be the best could’ve sunken a lesser man. Although Danny was one of the average-sized guys (he refused to think of himself as short) in his residency program, he knew they didn’t have what he had. He had the drive, the fortitude and the strength to succeed-height was for the guys who washed out second year.
In was in that second year that his life changed. On a short break (gosh, it seemed like they were all too short), Danny met Christina Porter, a blond, long-legged, willowy photographer. Christina stood eye-to-eye (on a good day) with Danny-actually she was about 2 inches taller than him (he’d never admit to it though). When they met, he felt the stirrings of something within his soul. He felt taller somehow, larger than his 5’6 frame. When he was with her, Danny was Superman; he was stronger, he was faster and by God, he was a titan.
As Danny settled into his employment with Schulman and Associates, that shrinking feeling, that damn shortness of not matching up, came back with a vengeance. He thought they were on track. He thought Christina was happy. He thought he was content. He thought he was her giant. All of his hopes, all of his feelings, all of his desires to be her everything came crashing down in a heap the minute he saw her twisting underneath someone else. If a person could shrink and revert back to their length at birth, Danny’s convinced he would’ve done so.
He’s a believer his soul shriveled up and died that day. He’s a believer that he’s not good enough. He’s a believer that he actually can’t cut it as someone’s spouse. His measurement of himself: nil.
3 Feet (Partnership)
Three years post marriage implosion: Danny recovered his sense and regained some of his confidence. More importantly, his stature/mojo/measuring stick was *almost* back to normal levels. As his own fair assessment of himself (Danny could be objective, ok), he knew that he put forth an aura of, ummm, old man grumpiness. He was a partner at 34. He was Dr. Schulman’s right-hand man. He was the practice’s smartest and brightest OB/GYN. Unfortunately those things weren’t enough when Drs. Lahiri and Reed joined the practice. Reed-that suave, debonair, ENGLISH d-bag who had women eating out of the palm of his hand; and Mindy: that name-brand wearing, celebrity gossip obsessed, junk-food craving and arrrgghhhh!
It’s not that he feels short when he’s around Jeremy and Mindy. It’s not that he feels bland. It’s not even that Danny feels not up to par. What he does feel is harder to put into words. What he does feel is more complex, more comprehensive than anything he’s felt in years. It’s not just his burgeoning camaraderie with Jeremy (thanks for the help with the driver’s license); it’s this feeling of hope. Hope that he’s growing; hope that he’s stretching; hope that he’s stepping outside of his comfort zone somewhat. Hope is a 5’2, pretty Indian-American co-partner in his practice. Crap, when did that happen? Status measure: heart growth increase.
5 Feet 6 Inches to Infinity (Love, Life and Dandyness)
Was there a measurement to when he felt his heart near to bursting when Mindy walked by? Was there a quantifiable timeframe that he knew she was the one, his amore, his be all and end all? If Danny had to pinpoint that moment, he’d say it was as she glided toward Casey in her apartment for their quickie wedding (thank God it didn’t happen). It was in that suspension of time when Danny just knew: she was it. Mindy. His piu amato. She was the person that helped him measure up. She was the woman who befriended him against all odds.
And yes, he died 839 tiny deaths whenever she went out with another cheeseball. And yes, when he had the opportunity to really expand on how his heart swelled when he saw her-hell when he knew she was in his vicinity-he let that old Staten façade of machismo creep up and out. He knew he pushed her away sometimes but he didn’t know how to rein that in. He knew that what he felt in his heart of hearts was that crazy little thing called love (thank you very much Freddy Mercury and Queen). How to express it though? How does one so closed off, so monumentally freaked out by what he’s feeling, show someone so naturally demonstrative their most guarded emotions?
In the end it’s a measurement that pulls him in alright. That breadth of fear, that magnitude of loneliness, that proportion, scope and depth of fidelity that propels him through those New York City streets (to get bowled over by a crazy taxi driver, natch) to the ESB. At that moment, when Danny looks around wildly and doesn’t see her, he knows his life has effectively ended. The ragged sounds of wheezing bring him back to the present and he’s aware that he’s silently imploring those sounds to be her.
As he slips down beside her (still wheezing and now complaining, loudly), Danny mutely thanks the Lord for his blessed fortune. As his 5’2 beauty tucks into him perfectly, his heart-the muscle that defines his entire being-feels like it increases in size by hundreds of feet. He knows what his measure is. He knows what it means to be a man. Status: more than enough.