Comfort in Conformity

Back resting on a creeper, Damian inspected the underside of a car, his boots firmly planted on the concrete floor. “Hey, Johnny, could you hand me a wrench?!” he yelled out from under the car.

“I’m in the middle of something!”

Damian sighed as he rolled out from underneath a Toyota SUV. He walked back to the workstation where he saw Johnny sitting in a chair playing Candy Crush, grabbed the wrench and started back towards the car, lightly smacking Johnny on the back of the head in the process.

“Instead of sitting on your ass, why don’t you take that Ford? It’s just an oil change. Pretty sure there’s a person waiting for it by the front desk.”

“I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“Still avoiding your problems?” Damian grumbled as he abandoned the Toyota to take care of the Ford.

“Alice left ‘im last night,” Carlos shouted from behind a Honda.

Damian stopped and turned back towards Johnny. “She left left?”

Johnny didn’t respond.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Carlos walked over to join them, wiping some oil off his hands with a stained and stringy white towel. “Told me this morning before you got here. He’s been sulking since.”

“I thought y’all were working stuff out?”

Damian could tell Johnny wasn’t going to talk, at least not without a few beers in him. He dropped his gaze and returned to his station.

“Beer after work?!” Damian yelled out, crawling back under the Ford.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Johnny replied sadly.

“Nope, we going tonight,” demanded Carlos.

***

Damian, Carlos, and Johnny sat in splintery wooden chairs in the corner of Night Shift Brewery, sipping ales the color of amber. Johnny took a gulp, coating the bottom of his mustache with foam.

“Well, walk us through it,” Damian urged, taking a sip of the ale.

Johnny chugged the rest of his beer, stood up, and walked to the counter for another.

Carlos sighed. “I’m worried about him. One of us should probably stay with him tonight.”

Damian’s eyes shifted as he scratched his collarbone.

After a moment, Carlos said gently, “He can stay with me.”

Damian nodded. “I can be DD then.”

“My house is totally out of the way. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, seriously. It’s all good, man. I’m only having one tonight anyway.”

Carlos nodded with a grin, holding up his glass.

Johnny shuffled back from the bar with a beer as dark as his eyes.

“You’re going to stay with Carlos tonight, okay buddy?”

“No, I can’t—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Carlos slapped Johnny on the shoulder. “So?”

Johnny sighed. “I don’t know… she’d been unhappy for a while. It wasn’t dramatic really. She just sat me down last night after work and said she wanted to move on. Something about me being stuck in Kansas City in the same job, not wanting to change anything or work on our problems.” He paused, leaving his mouth open as if he’d continue, but instead took another gulp.

“You weren’t really that happy with her though, right?” Carlos asked. “You guys fought all the time.”

Johnny shrugged. “I mean, we had disagreements, but I’ve been trying to work something out with her. She’s just so set on moving out of KC. I just… I don’t know. She’s all I know. I don’t know what-” His voice cracked, and he stopped talking.

Damian tilted his beer glass around, watching the bubbles get stuck on the side. “Yeah… I feel ya, man. I mean, you’ve been with her since high school. Shit gets tricky.”

“It is what it is.” Johnny covered his fogging eyes with another big gulp out of his now half-empty glass. “Enough about that. Things with you and Shay better? I know last week was rough.”

Damian nodded. “They’re fine.”

“What about you, Carlos? Any ladies on the horizon?”

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head.

***

After dropping off Carlos and Johnny, Damian yawned as he turned onto Troost Avenue, grateful he didn’t have work the next day. There wasn’t a car in sight, but for some reason a stoplight insisted on running on its timer. 12:15am. Damian sighed as his phone started to ring. His dad’s voice came through the Bluetooth speaker.

“Damian, I need some bail,” he slurred.

Damian pressed his lips together. “How much?”

“Two thousand.”

“Jesus, Dad. You can’t keep doing this. I- I almost have enough saved up for—"

“Get yer ass down here. You owe me. I’m at the downtown station.”

Heat rushed to Damian’s cheeks. He took a deep breath and hung up. Snapping himself out of autopilot, he realized he already turned on the highway to go downtown.

With light pockets and heavy eyes, Damian climbed back into the driver’s seat with his dad already in the passenger’s.

“So, you still savin’ up for that baking shit?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Bakin’ cupcakes all day like a pussy.”

Biting his lip, Damian did not engage. Why was he still helping his father in the first place? He shook his head. He wished he knew the answer. He blathered the whole ride home, but Damian was only half-listening. It was all the same stuff – talking shit about his dead mom, his “buddies” that always seemed to get him in trouble, and of course, how much of a disappointment Damian was.

Relief washed over him as he pulled into his dad’s apartment complex. His dad got out of the car cursing. It’s not that Damian expected a thank you but even a nod would have been nice.

It wasn’t until two in the morning that Damian got home to find his wife lying on the couch, her phone illuminating her face. Her light brown hair was wrapped in a knot on top of her head. An empty takeout box was on the coffee table. The blinds were closed. Any blankets that weren’t on her were scattered on the floor with a couple pairs of heels.

Damian took a deep breath, waiting for some acknowledgement. “Hi,” he said softly. “Did you get my texts?”

No response.

“You okay?”

Her brown eyes flickered at him for a moment before landing back on her phone.

“I’m sorry, Shay. Johnny needed us, then after I dropped him and Carlos off, my dad called and needed me to bail him out of jail again.”

 “Okay,” she responded after a brief pause.

Sighing, Damian scratched the back of his head and walked towards their bedroom, collapsing on the bed. Maybe she’d be fine in the morning.

***

“Pass me the cocoa powder, baby.”

Damian handed his mother the cocoa powder. “Mama, can I lick the spoon?”

Grinning, his mother raised an eyebrow. “We will see. Show me your mixing skills first.”

Damian gave his mother a toothy smile as he stepped on a stool to reach the blue mixing bowl, hand reaching for the wooden spoon. The garage door slammed shut.

“Mmmmm… what smells so good in here?” Damian’s father asked as he strolled into the kitchen with a pleasant smile, clutching a tan leather suitcase.  

“Mama’s helping me bake cookies and brownies for the bake sale at school.”

“Save me a couple?”

Damian beamed as his father ruffled his hair.

“With your mom’s recipes, you won’t be able to keep enough of these on the table.” Damian’s father kissed his wife.

“Ewwww,” Damian said then paused, listening intently. “What’s that pinging noise?”

“What pinging noise, honey?” his mom asked.

Damian tilted his head as Shay stepped into the kitchen with a pleasant smile on her face. The corners of her mouth began to curve downward, her eyes squinting. She opened her mouth and screamed.

Damian jolted awake. Clutching the sheets, he registered where he was and relaxed slightly. His phone was blinking on the bedside table. There were ten texts from Johnny and Carlos talking about going to Carlos’s house for the Sunday afternoon football game. He placed his phone back down and rubbed his face with his hands, then noticed he was in bed alone. His joints popped as he stood up to go looking for Shay.

The kitchen door to the garage was open. His eyebrows furrowed as he peered around the corner. In the car, Shay laying across the backseat with a pillow.

“Shay, what are you doing?”

Her eyes flung open. “Sleeping.”

“In the car? Why?”

“Because of you.”

“What?”

“You didn’t even fucking care enough to ask me if I was going to bed with you.”

“I thought if you wanted to sleep, you would have come to bed.” The pillow hit Damian’s face. He swallowed any reactions and said, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

Shay climbed into the driver’s seat, clicked the button to open the garage door, and backed out. Damian pinched the bridge of his nose and went back inside. He tried to call Shay multiple times, but she did not pick up. New texts from Johnny and Carlos were unread on his phone, asking him if he was going to join them at Carlos’s house. He wanted to say yes, but what if Shay came back and found he wasn’t home?

He slumped into the kitchen chair, placing his forehead on the table as he debated whether or not to go to Carlos’s. His head snapped up when he heard his phone ring. His father’s name appeared on the screen. His eyes prickled as he threw his phone into the living room, letting it bounce on the carpet. Out of sight, out of mind, he thought as he stood. He leaned against the kitchen sink, staring out the window above it.

A couple of rabbits were munching on the grass; some blue jays and cardinals were jumping from branch to branch harmoniously in the same tree. Damian cracked open the window, inhaling the crisp Spring air laced with the scent of freshly mowed grass. The gentle breeze moved the curtains ever so slightly. He soon found himself reaching for his old blue mixing bowl set, some flour, cocoa powder, eggs, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, oil, and vanilla extract. The outside noises faded into the background, replaced with the sounds of the metal whisk scraping against plastic. Damian dipped a finger in the brownie batter and stuck it in his mouth then went to the cabinet to grab espresso powder.  

“Just a tad,” he whispered, delicately sprinkling in the powder.

After one final mix, the batter was in a pan and placed in the oven. He placed his hands on his hips and looked around the messy kitchen. Throwing his apron aside, he stared at his phone in the living room as it started to ring. Carlos’s face was on the screen.

“Hey, you coming? Game starts in an hour.”

Screw it, he thought. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“You okay?”

“Totally. See you then.”

 Upon hanging up, Damian was kicking himself for not sounding more normal. He was okay but knew his voice was wavering a bit. He sat on the kitchen floor against the cabinets, staring into the oven at the brownies slowly starting to form crackles on the surface.

The garage door shut. He shot up and looked around in panic. Shay came in through the living room to find Damian standing in the kitchen.

“You’re baking again? Such a waste of time… and calories.”

Damian was silent as Shay dropped a stack of envelopes on the counter and walked past him out of the kitchen. Clean. He had to clean. He shut the kitchen window, wiped away the flour and cocoa powder on counter, and cleaned his mixing bowl. Shay returned to the kitchen with a duffle bag.

“I’m spending the night at Gabby’s house.”

“Oh, um, ok. Again?”

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s just, that’s the third time this week. I mean… Shay…. I-- I don’t want to sound accusatory.” Damian paused. “Nevermind.”

“What?” she asked sharply, narrowing her eyes.

Damian hesitated. “You’ve…um… been spending the night at Gabby’s house a lot this month. And last month, you said you were going with her to Florida, but she wasn’t in any of your posts. Then, I saw your friend, Mark, post a picture in Florida around the same time on the same beach…” Damian’s voice trailed off.

“What are you saying?” Shay asked with an edge to her voice.

Damian didn’t respond.

Shay dropped the duffle bag, her eyes welling with tears. “Fuck you. I can’t believe you would think I would cheat on you!” She collapsed to her knees and started crying hysterically.

Damian stared at her incredulously for a moment as she continued to cry, but pity began to overpower the annoyance buzzing in his chest. Taking a deep breath, he got on the floor and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” she sobbed, wiping tears off her face. Shaking Damian off of her, she grabbed her duffle bag and left.

***

The clinking sound of metal echoed off the garage walls. Damian was wrist-deep in a box of tools when he noticed Carlos behind him.

“Did you hear me?” Carlos asked.

Damian blinked. “Hear what?”

“I said your name three times.”

“Oh, sorry.” Damian continued moving the tools around. “We need to organize this shit.”

Johnny joined Carlos and tossed a rag at Damian’s head. “What’s wrong?”

Damian abruptly turned around but managed to maintain his calm demeanor. “Nothing. Really. How are you, Johnny? You look better today.”

“It comes and goes. You know, maybe it’s for the best. I mean, Alice certainly did what was best for her. That’s really all any of us can do.”

Damian nodded and went back to the BMW he was working on.

“Hey, Damian?” Dan, their manager, called out. “What’s the ETC on that? A gentleman out here is getting a bit impatient.”

Damian leaned against the car and rubbed his chin, accidentally smearing oil on it. “It’s going to be another 2 hours. Oil is leaking.”

Dan disappeared. A couple minutes later a middle-aged blonde man with a protruding belly appeared in the garage.

“Oil leaking? Really? You think cause I own a BMW that I can pay for a bullshit diagnosis?"

Damian stood, vacuum pump in hand, staring at the man. “Sir, that is the issue. You can see the engine gasket is degraded.”

“How can I be sure you didn’t cause it?!”

“You came in saying there was oil on the floor of your garage under your car, correct?”

“You think I’m stupid?”

Damian was at a loss for words.

Johnny stood up. “Sir, we told you what was wrong. Either wait for it to be done, or you can take your car and go somewhere else, but our prices are the lowest you’ll find within a 50-mile radius.”

The man grew red in the face and stomped back to the front desk. They could hear his muffled complaints to Dan. Damian was frozen, staring blankly at the door that had shut. Carlos slapped Damian on the shoulder. Damian shook his head and continued to fix the car.

Damian had told Shay that he wouldn’t be home until nine because he was working late, which wasn’t a total lie, as he, Johnny, and Carlos had planned to grab dinner after working a little later than usual. However, Damian had more work than he thought. Johnny and Carlos left long before Damian was done. By the time he finished his last car, it was seven, and all Damian wanted to do was go home and sleep. When he pulled into his driveway, he saw another car — Mark’s car. Damian’s heart skipped a beat. After turning off the engine, he walked through the front door instead of opening the garage. The door barely made a sound as he stepped through it and headed straight for the bedroom.

“DAMIAN! What the hell?!” Shay and Mark jumped, pulling up the sheets over themselves.

Damian shut the door and went to sit on the couch. His heart dropped into his stomach. He stared blankly at a spot on the carpet in front of him. He knew it. He knew it the whole time. A part of him was almost relieved. He wasn’t crazy. He knew this was happening. A few minutes later, in his peripheral vision, he saw his former friend, Mark, run out the front door without saying a word. Shay appeared before him.

“I’m sorry.” She fell to his feet and began to sob. “Can we please work things out?”

Damian was silent, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his hands, still staring straight at the spot on the carpet. Shay joined him on the couch and put her arms around him, continuing to sob. Damian’s eyes welled with tears.

“Shay…” His voice cracked. He put his face in his hands.

“Let’s work it out. I’ll do better.”

He pulled his head up. His voice was barely audible. “That’s what you said last time.”

Her warm brown eyes were flooded with tears. They were so familiar, so safe… but also not. This was the final push he needed.

“Shay…”

“NO! You can’t throw away the last seven years, and--”

“SHAY!” Damian paused, alarmed at how loud his voice sounded. He took a deep breath. “This isn’t working. You’re not happy. I’m not happy. Let’s just…” His voice trailed off.

Shay stood up abruptly, shoving him, and stomped out of the room.

The next day, after a restless night of sleep, Damian woke up earlier for work than usual. The house was dark and quiet. The floor creaked as he got out of bed and began to get dressed for work. The flashing text notifications from his father mocked him as he continued to the bathroom. He flipped on the lights, squinting as his eyes adjusted, and stared at himself in the mirror. His green eyes carried a sadness behind them, but he knew was fine. He scratched his five o’clock shadow and reached for the razor. The shaving cream slowly disappeared with each stroke of the razor. Damian could hear the coffee machine start itself. After a minute of crackling noises, the coffee aroma filled the house.

Upon reaching for the coffeepot, he noticed the stack of envelopes between the pot and the fridge. One of them read:

Wylie Hospitality and Culinary Academy

His breathing quickened as he shakily opened the envelope.

Damian Adams,

We are excited to inform you that you have been accepted into the Wylie Hospitality and Culinary Academy of Kansas…

A single laugh escaped from his throat. The bail he had to fork over for his father had made a dip into his culinary school fund, but he was determined to make it work. He could do this.

Walking on air, he completely forgot about Shay for a moment as he poured the steaming hot coffee into a to-go cup, grabbed a brownie, and headed off to work.  As he shut the front door behind him, his heart jumped.

“Dad! Jesus. What are you doing here?!”

“My texts,” he said blankly. “I need a ride to Saint Louis today.”

“I have to work. Why do you have to go to Saint Louis?” Damian regretted asking. He knew he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Meet a buddy.”

“Why don’t you just take the train?”

Damian stumbled back a few steps as his dad approached.

“Son, this is important,” his dad said assertively, gripping Damian’s wrist. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Damian stood tall. A fury rose up in his chest. He shook his head. “No. I can’t. I’m done.”

His father’s eyes widened as he clenched his jaw. Damian jumped out of the way as his father lunged at him. His father quickly turned around with his fist raised. Damian’s jaw burned and his eyes watered as his father’s knuckles met his face. His heart was thumping out of his chest as he contemplated his next move. This was the last thing he wanted to deal with. He raised a fist and punched his father square in the face. His father fell to the ground, moaning. Damian’s fist was throbbing. It was time. With tears in his eyes, he shakily reached for his phone in his pocket.

“Kansas City Police Department. Press 1 for an emergency or hang up and dial 911. Press 2 for a non-emergency.”

***

2 Years Later

Keys rattled in Damian’s hands as he went to lock up his shop. Every time he locked up, he couldn’t help but smile at the words above the door in blue cursive: Damian’s Delectable Desserts. Johnny and Carlos met up with him at their usual brewery, which they shut down for the first time in a while. Johnny filled them in on his new girlfriend, and Carlos was looking for advice on how to propose to his boyfriend.

The streets were still surprisingly busy on Damian’s walk back to his apartment at two in the morning. With a slight, pleasant buzz, he quietly closed the door behind him. Tiptoeing to the bedroom, he peered around the door. Kate was sleeping soundly next to Louie, a tortoise cat who looked especially content loafing on top of Damian’s pillow. He made a clicking noise with his mouth, and the cat came to him. He gently closed the door and walked to the kitchen, cat prancing behind him.

He chuckled after glancing at the kitchen table and seeing a couple of new Target candles. He’d guessed Kate wanted to add more to her collection of half-used candles. He picked them up one by one to see what scents they were and lit the one Damian led “Blueberry Scone.”  Inspired, he flipped on the counter light and got out his mixing bowls along with some flour, sugar, eggs, a few other ingredients, including the blueberries he and Kate had picked a few days ago from a berry farm. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation and began to precisely measure the ingredients. His mind fell into a blissful state of calm, his thoughts moving as smoothly as the whisked egg and milk mixture. He poured the mixture into the bowl of flour, melding them together into a large smooth ball.

He rolled the ball flat and carefully measured perfect triangles. Once they were in the oven, he washed his hands of the chalky flour and purple juice from the blueberries then started making an orange glaze. No lumps. That was the key.

The scones were cooling now. He still had some extra orange zest, so he figured he might as well whip up some orange frosting to use for something else this week. He grabbed the powdered sugar, orange juice, butter, and the zest. The electric mixer hummed as he added the ingredients, watching them become one.

Once the scones were cool, he poured the glaze over them. He then grabbed his piping bag. Icing on scones is usually a bit much, but he was in the piping mood. Five pale orange dots of icing formed the shape of a mini daisy. He scattered a few on each scone.

“Hey,” a crackling female voice sounded from behind him. “How long have you been up?”

Damian blinked and looked up to see Kate in her robe rubbing her eyes. He glanced at the clock. 5am. “Oh shit,” he said lightly.

Kate snickered. “What happened to your no baking past 10pm rule?”

He held up his hands. “Your new candle inspired me.” Damian beamed as he set the piping bag down.

Kate smiled. “Go to bed. I’ll clean up.”

Damian nodded with a yawn then kissed Kate on the cheek.

“No promises these scones will still be here by the time you wake up!” Kate yelled after him, mouth full of scone.