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Camry didn’t have many fears. There were the feelings of being unlovable and the self loathing and his fucked up brain that stayed consistent throughout his life, but those seemed less like fears and more like facts. Carmy only had one fear.
He wished he had a good fear. Spiders. Heights. Even death.
Not a stupid, irrational one.
But no. Carmy wasn’t so lucky.
He was at work when the pain started. It was dull, like a constant throb coming from his ear. The first time he noticed it, he thought he was making it up.
Richie was yelling to customers in the front. Fak was fixing an oven. Tina and Syndey were arguing about the menu, or the veggies that were still uncut, or— Carmen wasn’t sure. He thought they were over the arguing, that they finally found a way to see eye to eye, and respect each other, and— his goddamn jaw was going to be the death of him.
He pressed hand into his cheek, trying to massage the pain away. He was thinking about the last time he’d dragged his ass to the dentist when a dinner roll bounced off his head.
He looked up quickly.
“What the fuck, Carm?”
Richie was looking at him like he had four heads. Carmen dropped his hand, sticking them into his pocket.
“What?”
“Haven’t you heard a single fuckin’ word I’ve said? I’ve been talkin’ to you for five minutes.”
Carmen blinks hard, head tilts. “What?” He asked again, wondering how he’d missed it.
“Snap out of it, cousin,” Richie says instead, offering no explanation. “Get the rest of the subs, will ya?”
And Carmen nods, because he doesn’t know what else to say. He stares at Richie a second longer, and he sees his eyes soften. He knows Richie wants to ask if he’s ok. He doesn’t wait long enough to let him.
He turns on his heels, already opening the walk-in door as Richie calls after him. He shuts the door behind him, letting the cold silence wash over him. He presses his back against the door, lets out a deep breath.
His hand somehow finds its way to his jaw, and when that does nothing to relieve the pain, he lays it flat on the cold metal. It dulls the ache, and he lets his eyes close.
He wasn’t sure when everything started to feel so big. He could remember a time when each part of his life felt simple and thoughtless. School. Sports. Family. Now, it felt like a jumbled mess. Learn. Cook. Don’t stop. Don’t think about the past, about Mikey, about his family. Don’t let it in.
Someone pounds on the other side of the door.
“Carm? You get locked in?”
Sydney. Carmen peels his face off of the frozen door. “No, chef.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, he’s sure,” another voice adds. “He’s just being a little bitch-ass, today.”
Carmen rolls his eyes, rubbing his face with his palm
“I’m fine, Cousin,” Carmen sighs.
“Seriously,” Richie yells, pounding lightly on the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Carm?”
Carmy takes a deep breath, then pulls the door open.
The entire kitchen stares at him. His jaw is irritated, his skin a deep red.
“I’m fine,” he says, unconvincingly, apparently. Richie rolls his eyes.
“You’re actin’ real fuckin’ weird today,” Richie says, then throws his towel over his shoulder before leaving the room. Sydney tilts her head.
“ Mijo! What happened?” Tina rushes to him, caressing his cheek.
“I’m alright,” he says again, gently pulling her hand away. “I promise.”
Tina tilts her head, the same as Sydney. The two watch him carefully.
Carmen immediately thought about Mikey. If Mikey were here, he’d slap a hand against Carmen’s cheek, then go on a rant about how bad it is to grind your teeth.
“It’s a bad habit, Carm,” he’d say. “Hey– did I ever tell you about that one time I went to Japan? Me and some buddies got into some shit.. and.. well.. we ended up needing a dentist. And those offices— let me tell you , talk about fear of the dentist.. ”
Carmen shakes his head. Mikey disappears from his mind
“It’s my ear.. or my jaw.. or something,” he mutters. “It’s fine.”
“You should talk the rest of the day off, Mijo,” Tina says, feeling his forehead with the back of his hand. “Don’t mess around with this shit.”
“No, Tin,” he says. “I told you, I’m fine. And we have a ton of stuff to get through. The new menu, and the dinner recipes.. I’ll figure it out this weekend.”
“She’s right, Carm,” Sydney speaks up. “You won’t take time off this weekend, either. By then it’ll be worse– you should just go now. We’ll be fine without you.”
“Syd.”
“Carm,” she challenges. “Trust.”
Carmen sighs, rubbing his forehead.
He doesn’t even remember how he got home that afternoon. He’s at The Beef, arguing with Richie about the latest delivery, and then suddenly he’s sitting on the edge of his couch.
He didn't always lose time. It was only after Michael died that he really started experiencing the short episodes. His therapist called them blackouts. Moving in such a mindless routine, avoiding everything he should be processing.
Staring at the busy Chicago street outside of his window, he thinks about how he should go back to therapy. He’d only gone a few times. It was originally Natalie's idea, but for a while, he thought it would help. And it did. For a while.
His jaw throbs.
*
Richie is in the zone when his phone rings. He stops rolling sandwiches, sighing as he fishes his phone from his pocket.
He presses the phone to his ear, holding it in place with his shoulder as he goes back to rolling. “Hello?”
He tosses a poorly wrapped sub to the side. Sydney walks up beside him, pointing to it.
“That looks like ass, Rich,” she says. She looks at him again. “Who’s on the phone?”
Richie shrugs her off. “You what?”
She waits patiently.
“And he put me down as his emergency contact?” There’s a brief pause. “No, no. That’s right– that’s definitely right. I’ll be there in a bit. Alright. Thanks.”
“Richie, who’s that?”
“Finish those for me, will ya?” Richie rolls his eyes, walking away from the stack of unrolled sandwiches. “I gotta go do something.”
He throws his apron on the counter.
*
The air is cold. Richie doesn’t expect that when he steps out of his car. He leaves it parked in front of some dental clinic twenty minutes from The Beef. He eyes it, giving the blinking hazards one last look before heading inside.
Carmen sits in the wheelchair, three nurses crowded around him. He has a big smile on his face, the first real smile Richie has seen from him since he got back. Granted, it’s obvious Carmen is doped up on a high dose of whatever it is that dentists used these days. Richie wasn’t sure.
He was too deep in his thoughts, trying to remember the last time he saw Carmy smile.
He’s got to smile. It’s humanly impossible not to smile, Richie thinks. Yet, he can’t remember the last time he caught a glimpse of his ever so slightly crooked teeth or heard the calming ring of his laugh. The closest it usually gets is a force, tight lipped grimace. Has it really been so long that he can’t remember?
Richie shakes himself of the thought.
The nurses chat with Carmen softly, giggling with him every few seconds. Underneath it all, he seems light. Airy. Alright.
“Are you picking up?”
Richie turns to see a peppy, bright-eyed hygienist smiling at him. He nods absently.
“Uh, yeah,” he nods towards Carmen. “That’s my knucklehead over there.”
“Mr. Berzatto,” She grins. “We just love him. He’s a hoot and a half!”
It takes Richie a second to adjust, and realize that they’re talking about his Carmy. His brooding, moody, anxious cousin. The Carmen that wore his heart on his sleeve and his anxiety on his chest. He wasn’t used to that Carmen being referred to as ‘a hoot and a half.’
“He’s.. something,” he settles on saying.
He’s handed a stack of paperwork, along with a packet of after care instructions. He flips through it. There were small diagrams and pictures to demonstrate post wisdom teeth care. He signs all the papers, keeping an eye on a still giggly Carmen. The paperwork is traded for a prescription of painkillers, which Richie is hesitant to accept.
“I don’t know– if he’ll want this.”
“We spoke with him before,” she says, a smile still plastered to her face. “It’s protocol, just in case.”
“Just in case..” he trails off.
Getting Camry home takes more effort than he’s up for. He wasn’t ready to part ways with the nurses, and to be frank, the nurses weren’t ready either. It took all of his effort to get Carmen into the car, battling the freezing wind and Carmy’s small frame, only covered by that stupid jacket. The car ride was spent listening to Carmen’s mumbling nonsense and incoherent humming, but Richie didn’t mind it all that much. It was just nice to hear his voice free of stress and fear.
“Thanks for comin,” Carmy mutters. His words are muffled by the gauze, and Richie can’t help but laugh.
“You put me as your emergency contact,” Richie says. “I had no choice, dipshit.”
Richie eyes him. He’s curled up in the passenger seat, head resting on the seat. He has a small smile on his face, but there’s sadness in his eyes.
“You’re the only person I could put.”
Richie feels his heart sink in his chest. “That’s not true, cuz. You’ve got Nat. Pete. Your mom.”
Carmy looks to him, raises an eyebrow.
“You’re right,” Richie agrees. “I’d rather die before I put fuckin’ Donna down.”
You and me both,” Carmy smiles for real this time. “I would usually put Mikey down for this shit. Nat cares too much. Pete’s a fuckin’ piece of work. You’re the good parts of Mike. I’m glad you’re still here.”
He knows Carmen is hopped up on who knows what, but it hits Richie in his chest.
“Still here?”
“You could’ve left. After he died. But you didn’t, and I’m glad you didn’t.”
“You guys are family.”
“I know. So are you.”
“I care about you, Carm,” Richie says suddenly. “I care for you and Nat like you’re my own brother and sister– But, Carm. You have Mikey in you. You know that, right?”
Carmen says nothing.
“I see it,” Richie whispers. “I can see the way your mind works, and the shit you hold inside. Just– just let me make sure you’re okay. Even if it’s something.. Something as dumb as the fuckin’ dentist, let me make sure. Alright? I need to make sure.”
Carmen knows what he means. He asks himself the same question. Wondering if Mikey would be here if he’d asked more. It’s stupid to think about. He knows that. But he knows how Richie’s mind works, too.
Carmen nods.
“Good,” Richie says. “And Carm?”
Carmen looks to him.
“Take the fuckin’ pain meds. You might act like your brother, but you’re not him. You’re not a fuckin’ addict. Don’t sit in pain all the time.”
Carmen nods, and Richie pulls into a CVS. Carmy knows they won’t be leaving without a pile of soup and pudding cups, and a full prescription of whatever he was prescribed. He also knows he won’t be at the restaurant for a while. And he’s surprisingly ok with it all.