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Carmen Berzatto watched the jarring “DELAYED” banner unfurl across the gate’s digital screen. His brain couldn’t process the word and its meaning, breaking it down into separate letters, separate phonetic sounds. Dee-laid. This was the last thing he needed.
Between the jarring news from Sugar and the reality of the situation, Carmy hadn’t had time to sit down, to process. The only thing that seemed to dull it all was work, but even that left him too exhausted to do much more than make a PBJ and take long, slow drawls on a cigarette. At least if he was overtired he didn’t have to think about it. About Mikey.
Carmy hefted his bag over his shoulder again and left the gate, heading for the designated smoking section. He didn’t have anything better to do, especially now that the plane had been delayed God knows how long. The cold air stung his eyes as he stepped outside. He cupped a hand around his lighter to keep the flame from going out. He breathed in the taste of tobacco, letting it fill his lungs and melt into his bloodstream.
There was a woman out there too, with short hair that tugged in the wind as she blew out smoke into the gray air. He didn’t mean to study her, but she struck him as familiar. She caught his eye quickly, frowned, then said, “You’re a chef, aren’t you?”
He nodded. She nodded back. “I went to your restaurants a few weeks back. It was good.”
“I think I may remember you,” he said.
“It’s alright if you don’t. I’m sure you see a lot of people worth remembering.”
“No, I remember you. You were part of that play off-Broadway. You were with a director and some actors, right?”
She grimaced. “Yep. That’s me.”
He remembered her now. Not just from the night that he had happened to bring out a dish at some well-known actress’ request and saw her sitting at the table, overwhelmed, her eyes bulging out of her head. He could recognize her face from the news, from the videos, from the photos. He knew who she was. And he figured she didn’t want him to know that. He was terrified of someone seeing him slip up even the slightest in the kitchen. He couldn't imagine if every time someone looked at him they saw evidence of a messy scandal.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it," he said. "That’s why I do this, you know? I see how much it means to people.”
“You love it?” It was less a question and more a statement. But he answered anyway. “I do. Do you love what you do? Make plays, I guess.”
She sighed. “I’m not sure right now.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“I’m Cass, by the way.”
“Carmy.”
“Nice to meet you. So, where are you going?”
“Chicago. You?”
“LA. What’s in Chicago?”
“Family.” He hesitated before saying, “My brother just died.”
“Damn. You know what happened?”
“Not really.”
“Maybe you’ll find out.”
“Yeah, maybe. What’s in LA?”
“College friend,” she said, smoke puffing between her lips. “I need out of New York.”
He nodded as if in agreement, though he didn’t exactly want to leave New York. New York was a lot, but it wasn’t the chaos and rage that was his hometown, his brother, the restaurant he hadn’t been allowed to join, his mother. And he didn’t know how he’d make sense of all of that.
“You ever think about if it’s worth it?” Cass asked, jarring Carmy out of his thoughts.
“If what’s worth it?”
“This.” She gestured at the skyline outside of the airport. “All this pressure, criticism. Why do we want it so badly?”
Carmy shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it normal to want recognition for what you’re good at?”
“I don’t know. My parents don’t want this life. They wanted me to pick something safe. So, clearly, not everyone wants it.”
“Yeah, maybe.” He hesitated before saying, “I guess plenty of people don’t think they have it in them.”
She sighed. “I’m having a shitty week.”
“I am too.”
“Right, right. Sorry, that was uncalled for. Your brother?”
“Yeah. Whatever you’re going through sounds like it sucks too though. In a different way.”
“In a very different way.”
Cass finished her cigarette. “I’m gonna go catch my flight. Good luck in Chicago.”
“Thanks. Good luck in LA.”
She sighed. “Thanks. Maybe next time we’re in New York things will be better.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Carmy wasn’t sure how his life would ever shift so he could go to New York without being pissed about something. But it was nice to imagine a future where that was the case. Where maybe his family was less insane, work was less intense, he wasn’t so painfully lonely. Maybe it was as hard for Cass to see as it was for him. Her face was stoic as she left, lost in thought, preoccupied with getting from point A to point B. She wasn’t walking towards that future but away from the past, hustling as fast as possible as if it wouldn’t follow her wherever she went.
Carmy finished his cigarette slowly, and for the first time since he’d received the news, he found himself asking, “Why, Mikey? Why?” That question was the closest to grief he had let himself get since Mikey died.
He stubbed out his cigarette and headed back to his gate to wait out the delay.