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English
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Published:
2014-09-12
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1,208
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1/1
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A Chance, Maybe

Summary:

Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano.
Like your angst with a side of angst, served on a bed of angst salad, with a refreshing cup of angst tea to wash it down? You've come to the right place!

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano.

He checks his reflection once more, decides that the bags under his eyes are not all that bad, and shuts the locker door harder than he meant to. A couple of the other residents look at each other, one rolling his eyes, and the other shrugging as if to say, “You know how he is.”

Danny wants to scream, “You don’t know anything!” but of course doesn’t because he’s not stupid, and why would they know that he’d probably be a joy to be around if he didn’t have to spend what seemed to be every night defending every bit of who he is to the woman who was supposed to love him for better or for worse.

He hopes at least his face looks more relaxed and open these days. He has been putting a real effort into being more friendly, more approachable, ever since his brother Richie warned him about what he called Danny’s Resting Bitch Face, ever since he gently tried to wake Danny from his months-long stupor.  And it wasn’t lost on Danny that Richie only had to call him out on it once for him to take the advice to heart, while Christina had been trying for months, to no avail. The last few months had been tough though so he gave himself a pass, deserved or not. How can anyone be expected to have a smile on their face all day, every damn day, especially with the hours he keeps, and with his marriage being…well, what it is.

Danny finishes dressing and heads for the door, pretending that he doesn’t hear the half-whispered jab at the sweat that is already showing through his T-shirt. He keeps moving, because he knows that today is the day that could change everything for him. He just has to find her and finally do what he’s been building up the courage to do.

Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano.

She started her first year of residency just a few days ago, this Mindy, but she already seemed to be everyone’s best friend. Well, almost everyone. And despite all admonishments from the others, she didn’t seem intimidated by him. She seemed so open, so accepting, so kind. Her carefree laughter and penchant for lighthearted chatter belied an easy competence that took his breath away. Unlike so many of the other residents --and doctors and nurses and administrators and patients-- her smile was sincere and reached her eyes in a way that was more than he could think about without staring over the edge of a slippery slope.

Maybe if he makes the right first impression with her, maybe makes her laugh (which she seems to do so easily anyway), maybe she would just see him as Danny, not Ugh Castellano. Maybe she’d only see the guy who is just busting his ass to be a good doc, a good husband, a good brother, a good man.

He’s indulged in the fantasy of sitting across from her at lunch and exchanging life stories. Sometimes he remembers Christina and grudgingly expands the fantasy to include the three of them (maybe four…was Mindy seeing anyone?) having dinner or — what the hell else do people do on double dates?

Maybe once she gets to know him as Danny, she’ll roll her eyes at the others when they talk crap about him behind his back. She’ll say, “You guys, Danny’s not that bad! He’s pretty funny, he’s a great cook, his wife adores him, and he’s a Springsteen fan! That alone makes him best friend material.”

He shudders, disgusted to feel like a teenager again, wandering halls in hopes of running into the cool kids and having them magically realize what a cool guy he actually is. Hope alone got him nowhere in high school, so he just kept on being a weird, poor kid. THE weird, poor kid after Stevie got expelled for stealing from the junior hall lockers. It was better that way anyway. With fewer distractions he had had more time to focus on school and to work at Sal’s deli.

The day is almost over before he finally runs into her in the doctors’ lounge. He tells himself he’s not sweating because he’s nervous. It’s just excited because he’s a people person . . . deep inside. This is just networking, really, and networking is great!

Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano.

...in his head, as she flops onto the couch, leaving only half a cushion available.

Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano. Hi, I’m Daniel Castellano.

...in his head...

“You think you could take up more room there?” he says instead. SHIT! Some unauthorized part of his brain decided to lead with a joke instead, but neither his face nor his voice got the memo. And, naturally, the result is an insulted-looking former potential friend.

Danny doesn’t stay. He turns on his heel and goes, because…because what? Because he fucked up yet another chance to have some kind of positive exchange with another person. Because he’s tired of trying not to be an angry, unlikeable jerk when clearly that’s all he can be. Because the idea of apologizing and trying to start over, with the smile and the words he had been rehearsing, doesn’t occur to him until he’s halfway down the hall.

He stops suddenly, rubber soles squeaking on the linoleum. A nurse bumps into him and loses her smile as her eyes say, “Oh, it’s that guy”, and she offers an apology that he should be making for being in the way in the first place. And now she walks away before he can fix this, too.

He stares straight ahead, his dancer’s posture saving him from the unmanly embarrassment of sagging shoulders, his pride not letting his eyes drop to the floor. He wonders how much his failed efforts to connect, to belong, to just be one of the residents, how much of that disappointment in himself has leaked from his pores to where it can be seen from the outside. He catches his reflection in a glass pane. No. Only by looking closely could someone see the vulnerability, the wounded spirit, the tremor he feels within when he thinks of having to go home, to his paint-by-numbers interactions with Christina, back to a bed that feels colder and colder with each passing night. Nah, he looks strong.

Danny makes a mental note to ask Richie if he looks strong or if he looks arrogant, and almost instantaneously dismisses the whole notion, thinking to himself, Forget it. He shakes his head, moves his feet, and propels himself out of the building, into the cool night air and into a city full of strangers and opportunities to connect. To be someone other than some guy whom everybody knows to fear or at least knows to avoid.

Forget it, he repeats to himself with a barely suppressed grimace. This is just who I am. He affects a disaffected shrug. It is what it is. Suddenly feeling colder than the temperature warrants, he closes his jacket, gathers himself, and heads home.

Notes:

As always, I'd love to read your thoughts/comments/dilemmas about whether to watch Season 3 spoilers (my brain says "no" but my eyes say "yes please").

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