CARTER
Confrontation isn't in my skill set and when I have to do it, it leaves me exhausted. We rarely have to go to a construction site because once a design is done and approved, it becomes the responsibility of the contractor to execute it. And then I got a call from our client in panic. The contractor they hired made a mess and the technical drawings and blueprints looked different from what I made. Materials got delivered to the plot and the bricks are red instead of gray. The foundation for the building has already set, so I brought another contractor from our list of trustworthy firms to give me his take on how things could be solved.
When we arrived at the plot, no one was there, so we started to inspect the work already done. A few minutes later, the current contractor arrived and things got heated. When I showed him the design deck and asked him to explain why the structure in front of me didn't match the building in the papers, he called me a drawing sissy. I felt the blood boiling in my veins, but kept my fists at my sides because the last thing I wanted was ending at the police station for degrading myself with that asshole.
I called the client, who came immediately to the plot, and the new contractor confirmed his worst fears. The foundation isn't fit for the building I designed and steps have to be taken to fix the mistake. Costly steps. The incompetent contractor was fired on the spot and as he walked to his truck hurling insults at me, my head felt as if it was about to explode. I called Miles to let him know what happened, and that I was heading home early. All I need now is a hot shower to get the dust off my skin from the construction site and to soothe my muscles from the argument stress.
When I turn into our street, I see Dennis' car parked in front of the house instead of in the driveway. It's odd, as it is only three in the afternoon. No sound comes from inside the house and when I open the door, I find a trail of his clothes on the floor leading to the couch. I find him sleeping and bundled in a blanket. His forehead is cold and further, he doesn't look ill.
"Dennis... Sweetheart, are you okay?" I kneel next to him.
Dennis opens his eyes and looks confused. "What time is it?"
"A few minutes past three. When did you get home?"
"This morning. I got fired. Did someone bring my car back?"
"Fired? Why?" The information feels like a slap on my face.
Dennis sits on the couch and holds the blanket tighter around him. I sit next to him and place my arm around his shoulders, then kiss his cheek.
"I blacked out in the middle of a meeting with an important client. Usually I feel odd and my vision blurs some before I get an attack, but not this time. The client was talking and proposing a negotiation and apparently, I stood up and walked away. You can imagine that she took major offense about that and thought I was being disrespectful. When I came to my senses, I was sitting on the emergency staircase. People surrounded me and at first, I couldn't place who they were, where I was, or what they were saying."
"Oh, Dennis..."
"Lately I black out for a moment when I'm alone in my office. Usually while I'm doing something that requires a lot of strategizing or when preparing for a meeting. It doesn't affect the quality of my work, it only delays me while I try to remember what I was doing. But this was different. I haven't had an attack like that since I left the hospital. When I finally understood what people were saying, I realized they thought I was drunk or drugged. I tried to defend myself, but my thoughts were so mixed I couldn't get a word out. When my boss came over to tell me that what I did was unacceptable and they had to let me go, it took me a long time to understand what he meant. My secretary escorted me to my office and helped me pack my stuff," he points at the boxes in the corner of the living room. "She was the only one who showed me kindness and offered to bring my car home."
"But Dennis, they can't fire you like that. There are laws that protect you, and you are still getting treatment for your injury," Dennis face shows guilt. "They don't know?" I say, and he shakes his head.
"They know about the hospital, of course, but not exactly what happened or the consequences. It's my right to keep my situation private."
"But why didn't you tell me you've been having blackouts? We need to go back to the neurologist," I cup his cheek and make him look at me.
"Because I still struggle with how I feel after the attack. This is the consequence of staying too long in that awful relationship. I should have called it quits at the first red flag, and it embarrasses me to admit that I was a coward."
"Don't say that. You are the bravest man I know. I'll make some calls tomorrow to get a good lawyer because I don't believe they can fire you just like that. Did you sign any documents?"
"No, I didn't. After getting my stuff, my secretary called me a taxi and I've been sleeping ever since I got home."
"At least they should have given you a chance to explain, even if you didn't want to do it. You are one of the hardest working people in that company. You even went back to work right away after you got released from the hospital. At least they should make sure your tasks and projects fit your situation."
"What do you mean? Like having me filing papers and passing coffee at meetings?" His voice has a hint of annoyance.
"Save the irony. What I mean is the long hours, the endless meetings and negotiations. They might not know about your brain injury, but they know about your skull fracture."
"Do you think they give a fuck? You can bet there's a vacancy out there already to substitute me. I'm sorry I didn't call you when I got home. I didn't feel like talking to anyone."
I hold him in my arms for a long time. It was probably one of the hardest days for me, but my inconvenience with the contractor is nothing compared to this.
"Do you think we should cancel the wedding?" Dennis says as we separate.
Our wedding planning is one of the few things that gives him so much pleasure. Whenever we meet with Thomas and Abigail, he looks so happy. He becomes the guy I met in college whose spark and energy were contagious. I will do nothing to change that.
"We won't cancel the wedding. We only need to talk with Thomas to explore what options we have. Out of the top of my head, I can only think that the invitations have not gone out. We should start by removing your asshole boss from the guest list and anyone else who doesn't deserve to be in it. We will get married and you will have your circus reception," I say, and he gives me a small smile.
The doorbell rings and I head to answer it. A guy from a courier company hands me a box, and the sender is Morgan Events.
"We just got a box from our planners. What could it be?" I hand it to Dennis to give him the pleasure of opening it and sit next to him.
"Only one way to find out," Dennis says while peeling the tape.
Inside, we find two turquoise and black bowling shirts. Above the front pocket, it has 'Dennis & Carter' embroidered, and on the back, one of them says Team Dennis and the other has Team Carter on it.
"I don't think I've ever owned anything as cool as this," I examine the embroidery and then something catches my attention. There is an envelope in the box," I point at the light blue envelope at the bottom.
"Dennis and Carter," he reads. "Here's a present from us to get you in the mood for your engagement party. We are all looking forward to it, and remember that we have your back no matter what. Thomas, Abigail, William, James and Didier signed the card. They are good people. I'm so glad we chose them to help us."
"When I'm around them, I don't feel like a client, more like a close friend. Do you know what I mean?"
"I do. I believe fate brought us together. I went into the planning of our wedding, hoping for someone to negotiate our contracts and help us make decisions. We got a lot more. Abigail has said they rarely get close with their clients, but I'm becoming good friends with her, and it all happened naturally."
"The reason for our engagement party was due to me opening to Thomas about my family situation. It felt like talking to Miles. I'm sorry to bring this up again and it's maybe premature to talk about this, but if the lawyer finds you were fired wrongly, do you want to go back?"
"I've not thought about that. To be honest, I think I made peace already with me not having a job there. Maybe I need to start fresh somewhere. I can talk to Dion and ask if I can help him coach his team while I think about what I want to do with my life."
Dennis' brother Dion is a basketball coach at a high school, and during college, Dennis taught physical education at a school. It's another thing that fulfilled him and he was good at it.
"I think it's a great idea. It's something you enjoyed when we were in college."
"Until I got lured into the corporate world," he gives me a cheeky smile and I feel relieved that he's dealing with the situation better than I thought he would.
"Take your time figuring out what you want to do. Why don't we take a shower and then head out to a walk in the park? We can go to the restaurant you like so much for an early dinner. It's been a while since we have been out on a date. What do you say?"
"Only if I can have the biggest dessert they have without judgement."
"It's a deal. I won't even ask to share."
Today I would give him the moon if he asked me for it. I just want him safe, healthy and happy.