Chapter Text
Nancy and Dennis used to be close. As close as a boy and a girl in Broken Bow could be before neighbors started talking, anywho. Dennis liked Nancy a lot, not in that way, never in that way. But he enjoyed spending time with her. She was quiet and reserved in a way he could understand, where others couldn’t. She was a couple of years older than him, so she used all her money on medical and law books for them to read. Money earned at the diner, used at the libraries and bookstores, essentially disappearing into thin air. It was worth it to the two of them, though.
He stares at her and wonders what happened to them. Her thin, long nose was red, and her brown eyes were rimmed with red where tears had fallen. Nancy never cried, not even when she was real little. She was calm in a way that Dennis never could be. He always felt like a rat trapped in a cage, waiting for a trap to snap down on him and crush him. Some days, he was so quiet it scared Trinity, and others, he was so loud about his frustrations it scared her anyway. Maybe that’s what happened to them. The trap snapped.
He’s here at his work, in an ugly pair of pajamas (they’re Trinity’s, he thinks) because Nancy had called. If that wasn’t strange enough, it was about his brother Harvey. He always thought that the first time he’d get a call about this, it would be about his mother or father. But no, he thinks, staring down at his older brother, covered in tubes and tape and wires, he should have known it would be Harvey. Karma for being a bad father, and a worse husband, perhaps. A bad son, a horrible brother. Maybe that’s mean, since he’s about to go into a surgery that might kill him.
Nancy meets his eyes, but she doesn’t quite get to speak before Dennis is practically tackled. It takes a lot of focus not to get decked to the floor. “Uncle Dennis!” He heard, yelped excitedly into the crook of his neck. He smiles, despite everything.
“Hey, Rudy! You’re so big! Last time I saw you, you barely reached my hip!” Dennis laughs, pressing a slight kiss to the kid’s messy curls. Rudy lets out a wet chuckle.
“You’re totally exaggerating.” Dennis simply shakes his head, running a hand over his back soothingly.
“Why don’t you go find your sister for me, okay?” Dennis pulls away from him slightly, hands gripping his shoulders so he can get a look at his face. He smiles, seeing Nancy there. At least the kid can feel proud when he looks in the mirror, knowing his mess of a father wouldn’t make an appearance. Maybe Dennis really is being too harsh.
Rudy runs out the door. Dennis doesn’t have the heart to tell him not to. When he finally looks at Nancy, her shoulders shiver and she presses a hand to her face.
“What are you guys doing in Pittsburgh?” It’s a genuine question. He’s so lost on it. Of all the hospitals, of all the cities. Why here? Nancy huffs.
“Harv had a conference nearby. I had a consultation for a case in the area. Kids wanted to come with. They’d never been outside Nebraska, it-it took an arm and a leg to convince him.” Nancy mumbles into her hand, sniffing and trying to look like she has it together. The pantsuit helps.
He steps forward, resting a hand on her shoulder awkwardly. “I-” Dennis doesn’t know what he’s going to say, he realizes. Nancy shakes her head at him, which he’s grateful for.
And then Nancy’s eyes widen. “Shit. Right. Your mom and brothers are coming.” Dennis’ breath catches, and he chokes a bit on it.
“What?” What? What? What? What? That meant- that meant everything- everything he built up for himself, it’s all-
He forces himself to take a deep breath, “Are they staying anywhere?” His voice doesn’t noticeably tremble, but he still feels it.
“Swear jar,” she mumbles to herself, wiping a hand down her face. “Yes, I got them- I booked them a hotel as soon as Harvey started feeling sick.” Dennis sighs. He feels like it’s settled into his stomach, a big lump there.
“How-how long has he been feeling sick?” Dennis asks, suddenly frowning as he tries to make it make sense. Maybe he’s a bad brother. He didn’t pay enough attention. But he never saw cancer when he looked at his brother before. Or maybe he saw it every time his brother spoke, just… a whole different meaning.
Nancy sniffs again. “About- well. The doctors asked me, but- you know how he is. He’s been having these awful stomach aches for maybe 3 years now. I just- God, I prayed it was cancer. Am I evil for that, Dennis?” Dennis snorts. It’s a bit mean.
“You couldn’t be evil even if the devil himself was inside you…” He pauses. “Sometimes God sees solutions to our problems that-that we don’t. Most of the time, really.” Nancy nods, trying to be sure of herself.
“It’s in God’s hands; it is God’s plan.” She repeats, their own little mantra that they made just for moments like these. It was something Dennis’ mother told his father every single day of their marriage.
“Give it to God, and you shall repent. Or something like that. Never went through with the whole pastoral thing.” It makes Nancy laugh, so it’s worth it.
—
His mother being in the same room as his boss is weird. More than weird, it’s tense. Sometimes he forgot how old his mother was. His eldest brother was 45. She was always so young when he thought of her, but under the hospital’s fluorescent lights, her skin looked pallid and sunken in, Eyes heavy with the burden of tears. Dr. Robby is quietly explaining the surgery to his family, not quite making eye contact with any of them. He’s sure that one of them will cry or yell, but his brothers just sniffle, his mother doesn’t respond, and Nancy keeps checking her phone. Dennis chokes out, “Any after surgery- uhm, aftercare instructions? Protocol?” Dr. Robby doesn’t even turn to look at him. It hurts. He should expect it. He’s been walking around in Hello Kitty pajama pants and an oversized Pink Floyd shirt that falls off his shoulder. He looks stupid. His brothers would probably call him gay, under other circumstances.
He goes over the after-surgery recovery instructions, and then pauses. “He might not survive. I just want you all to prepare for that. I’m so sorry.” His mother had been quiet, so when she let out a bitchy laugh, it was sort of jarring in the almost-silent room.
“What’s it like?” His mama whispers. Her voice creaks with age in a way it didn’t used to. It scares him.
“Hm?” Dr. Robby looks anxious, walls forming around him.
“Working with Denny. My littlest boy.” She pats her own knee, dusting off invisible dirt from her ankle-length skirt.
“It- Dr. Whitaker is an excellent doctor, student, and teacher. He really has a lot of potential and a lot to learn. Do you have any more questions about Harvey’s procedure?”
“Can you let him die? If it does get to that point?” She looks sick, just saying it. “Don’t- don’t force us to- don’t force him to be alive if God is trying to take him-” She has to stifle a sob into her palm. Dennis shakes his head feverishly.
“Mama, mama no- God says we need to treasure our lives, we- shouldn’t give up. To give up would be a greater sin than to defy God.” He tries. The words come out clunky. He knows they’re not right, not fully. He can’t force himself to quote scripture or really fight her over Harvey, but he has a feeling this is more than just Harvey.
“Harvey shouldn’t get to live!” She sobs out. He knew he was right. She was right, to an extent. Harvey was a horrible person, had used his power and stature to intimidate almost everyone in his life at some point. Dennis was his favourite target at a certain point. It’s part of why he left. He would miss Nancy, would miss his mama and Rudy, but he couldn’t live like that anymore. Couldn’t live in a world half-frozen when he knew there were better things he could be doing. The theology undergrad was a last-minute, religious-delusioned decision that he regretted up until the moment he got into medical school. And then it was the best decision of his life, because there were so many lost, broken people in med school. None of them were interested in his cross necklace or his gospel tracts. But they heard his devotion to prayer, how it lifted the weight on his chest and eased the noise in his head, and they listened and followed. They never believed, he wasn’t made to be an evangelical like that, but he watched them pray before tests, and he felt like fireworks exploded inside of him. For just a split moment, he helped. He changed something for someone.
And that’s why he’s in medicine, that’s why he’s in emergency medicine. He gets to help people, just a bit. So he reaches over, grips his mom’s hand, and says, “Mama, why don’t you come with me? We’ll get you something to drink.”
She takes a deep, shaky breath, wiping her eyes. “Sure, babe.”
—
Trinity catches him outside of his brother’s room, ugly sobbing into his hands. Not really sobbing. He’s completely silent, always has been. He’s good at it. He doesn’t really care that people can see him. His chest heaves around another sob, but it just ricochets around his lungs and then drops to his stomach. He’s good at that.
He feels the weight of her next to him, and the air suddenly shifts around him. She wraps an arm around him, stiff and awkward. He wipes his face before tucking himself into her side.
“Are those my pajama pants?” She accuses, after his breathing has gone even, and the most he does is sniffle. He feels so small, curled up in a ball in her side. It’s nice.
“No. Yours are the red ones.”
“That’s red, dipshit.”
“No, it’s fucking burgundy, dipshit.”
“Burgundy is a shade of red!”
“Burgundy is fucking purple, you-you-” He flips through his mind for an insult. He can’t find one.
“Burgundy…how do you sp- no, it doesn’t matter, it corrects- AHA! Reddish-purple. Red comes first. I fucking win.” She cackles.
“Did you Google that? Do the dash AI thing.” He watches as she does.
“Now all I’m getting is wine. And France.” They both shiver. “Eugh, France.” She mumbles, and Dennis nods in solidarity.
They let the silence sit for a moment. Trinity continues to scroll through articles on the color of burgundy, and it makes tears well up in his eyes.
“My brother is probably gonna die.” Trinity nods.
“Probably.” She finally turns to make eye contact with him, face earnest and open. She wouldn’t ever lie to him. Not when it matters. He sniffs.
“I think my mom- I don’t know what I think. Fuck.” He sniffles again, wiping his face.
“Talk through it, you’ll find it,” and he nods, digging his skull into her arm.
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “I think… Either my mom is dying, or my dad is dying, and she’s not telling me. She’s so upset. Everyone in my family hates my brother for what he does. She’d… I wonder if she came down just to see me. Before she…” He shakes his head. “But I don’t…” He whimpers, burying his face in his arms. “Fuck.”
Trinity hums. “Fuck.” He can’t see it, but he feels her nod. “That’s really shitty, Dennis. To-to maybe have your last moments with her be… grieving someone who doesn’t deserve it. Not like your mom does.” He nods again, more angry than lost this time.
“All my brother has ever done is- is torment me. I’ve lived most of my life desperate for him to like me, and then he-he fucks my best friend and marries her, and she’s suddenly not allowed to talk to me. And he calls me names and laughs at my body, and I just…” He sobs, trembling as he smothers it into the back of his hand. “My mama could never…” He whispers the next part, the fear of it travelling sucking any joy of declaring it. “ My mama could never accept me if I told her I was… gay. But she’d still love me, I think. It would terrify her. But she’d try.” Trinity presses a kiss to his hair, and it’s so abnormally tender for both of them that he tenses. Just as quickly, he melts into her side, bursting into sobs. They’re not so quiet this time, but Trinity’s shirt muffles as much as it can.