the_bigshow 2.13.1G
"Ain't there one damn song that can make me break down and cry?" - David Bowie, Young American
Danny laughed into the phone as his sister finished relaying her latest mishap. It never stopped amusing him how much trouble she could get into doing nothing at all. Although at times he did wonder if it was all still stories from her wild imagination.
“And how 'bout you, Little D?”
“How about me, what?” He leaned forward to drink from his beer before setting it back down and leaning back to the couch again. His feet stretched out further on the coffee table and his arm reached over his head briefly.
“What's been going on? You haven't called me in ages, no one knows what you've been up to.”
“Ah, Bri. You know me. My life is dull.”
“It is not. How are my amazing nephews?”
“They're fine.”
“Uh huh. And that job?”
“Why do you have to say it like that? That job. It makes you sound disapproving,” Danny rolled his eyes and ran his hand over the back of his neck.
“Because I do disapprove. That job stole my little brother.”
“Excuse me?”
“God, Danny, you just don't see it do you? You give too much to your job. I understand why. I mean, that is who you are. I expect nothing less from you. I just wish you'd exert that beautiful part of you to something more. To the rest of your life.”
He sighed. “Look, if you're going to lecture me on how my job killed my marriage-”
“I'm not,” she snapped. He stopped speaking quickly, not used to the unusually tense tone.
“I'm going to lecture you on how your job killed you. My Danny - my Little D - always knew how to laugh and enjoy every moment. He knew how to come to his family when he was sad or needed a Band-Aid. He knew there was always time for something more.”
“He was a stupid teenager.”
“No. You know I love you, honey. I love you for who you are now. A strong and wise man. You are...a great man. But I want you to be a happy man. And if you can't be happy all the time I want you to be okay with sad, and let people help you. I want-”
“Stop assuming you know my life, Bri. Face it, you live in California and breeze around New York every few months thinking I'm still your kid brother. I'm not. I've got shit to deal with, I've got a squad room to run, and kids to look after.”
“And emotions to pretend you don't have,” she said simply. He opened his mouth to retort, but had nothing. He shook his head and bit on his lip. He blinked. He had to say something before she thought she had won the argument. “Danny. Please.”
“I don't want to,” he said quietly after a long silence.
“Why not?”
“Emotions...hurt.” His feet fell to the floor and he leaned over. His hand gripped the phone harder as his eyes closed. He really hated discussing those words, but...it was Brianna.
“I know they do...but doesn't locking them in hurt more?”
Another long silence followed before he replied, “What is it you suggest I do?”
“You can start by just telling me what you're feeling lately,” his sister said gently.
“I...” he sighed and leaned back again, letting his eyes raise to the ceiling. He bit on his lip again and considered it, then closed his eyes and let himself speak. “Depressed.”
589
Danny laughed into the phone as his sister finished relaying her latest mishap. It never stopped amusing him how much trouble she could get into doing nothing at all. Although at times he did wonder if it was all still stories from her wild imagination.
“And how 'bout you, Little D?”
“How about me, what?” He leaned forward to drink from his beer before setting it back down and leaning back to the couch again. His feet stretched out further on the coffee table and his arm reached over his head briefly.
“What's been going on? You haven't called me in ages, no one knows what you've been up to.”
“Ah, Bri. You know me. My life is dull.”
“It is not. How are my amazing nephews?”
“They're fine.”
“Uh huh. And that job?”
“Why do you have to say it like that? That job. It makes you sound disapproving,” Danny rolled his eyes and ran his hand over the back of his neck.
“Because I do disapprove. That job stole my little brother.”
“Excuse me?”
“God, Danny, you just don't see it do you? You give too much to your job. I understand why. I mean, that is who you are. I expect nothing less from you. I just wish you'd exert that beautiful part of you to something more. To the rest of your life.”
He sighed. “Look, if you're going to lecture me on how my job killed my marriage-”
“I'm not,” she snapped. He stopped speaking quickly, not used to the unusually tense tone.
“I'm going to lecture you on how your job killed you. My Danny - my Little D - always knew how to laugh and enjoy every moment. He knew how to come to his family when he was sad or needed a Band-Aid. He knew there was always time for something more.”
“He was a stupid teenager.”
“No. You know I love you, honey. I love you for who you are now. A strong and wise man. You are...a great man. But I want you to be a happy man. And if you can't be happy all the time I want you to be okay with sad, and let people help you. I want-”
“Stop assuming you know my life, Bri. Face it, you live in California and breeze around New York every few months thinking I'm still your kid brother. I'm not. I've got shit to deal with, I've got a squad room to run, and kids to look after.”
“And emotions to pretend you don't have,” she said simply. He opened his mouth to retort, but had nothing. He shook his head and bit on his lip. He blinked. He had to say something before she thought she had won the argument. “Danny. Please.”
“I don't want to,” he said quietly after a long silence.
“Why not?”
“Emotions...hurt.” His feet fell to the floor and he leaned over. His hand gripped the phone harder as his eyes closed. He really hated discussing those words, but...it was Brianna.
“I know they do...but doesn't locking them in hurt more?”
Another long silence followed before he replied, “What is it you suggest I do?”
“You can start by just telling me what you're feeling lately,” his sister said gently.
“I...” he sighed and leaned back again, letting his eyes raise to the ceiling. He bit on his lip again and considered it, then closed his eyes and let himself speak. “Depressed.”
589