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cloveroctobers · 4 months ago

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FALSE STARTS — CARMY BERZATTO [Summer Writings]

A/N: Getting down to my final collection to these summer writings…I strongly debated if I wanted to even write for carm this time around, the man is always going through it…not saying that I won’t ever again because I ofc have love for the guy but whew!!! Never giving up on him but—you guys get it? You just have to let some things sink in after watching the seasons…so here’s something possibly short? Knowing me my definition of short is not always reliable kinda like Carmy’s mental state—OOP. Too much?

WARNINGS: Added a OC, another berzatto again to the mix because I can also see Kyle being on the show and I’ve got a soft spot for him as well SORRY! I feel it in my spirit for smile 2 that it’s NOT going to end well but let’s be delusional! Slight reference to that horror movie in here as well, Still x reader based but you just have a name since I didn’t want to write in 2nd POV, along with some background for you and Carmy’s friendship, language, mentions of s**c***e & some spoilers for season three if you’re not caught up yet!

SYNOPSIS: Carmy runs into more than just his past and blood, forever learning what his next steps are, if his head will let him that is.

*GIFS BELONG TO: @emziess + @andrew3garfield !

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The last thing Carmy expected was to see, Joel Berzatto at the pick up window during the lunch rush. Carmy’s been on autopilot the second week into the grand opening and he was already frustrated with the new hires. They didn’t have what it takes and Carmy didn’t have the patience to teach them, especially when they didn’t put in the effort to learn.

All they cared about was a paycheck.

He couldn’t teach what should have already been known.

Carmy already shocked himself, not blowing a fuse, deciding to just head out back silently with a carton of cigarettes. He vowed at some point he was going to quit these things and faught hard about the stick that was perched in between his lips. He’s pacing along the rocks and dirt on the side of the bear, back of his lighter racking against his fingers as he took a two minute break.

There was no time to make it five.

“Carmen,” a voice greets, making his bright blues turn to the voice.

It’s Joel.

Michelle’s younger brother.

He’s got a bag to go, bunched up underneath his fingers and his badge on his waist glimmers from underneath his earthy toned attire for work. Carmen reminds himself to blink, coming to terms that this is indeed his family—on his father’s side—at his place of business.

“Joel?” Carmen echoes but it’s more of a question.

Joel snickers as there’s still a great distance between the two family members, “yeah I was wondering when I was going to get caught red handed.”

Carmen clears his throat after removing the cigarette from his lips, “you’ve ordered something to go?”

That’s obvious but he’s trying to fill up the silence, which is always so loud even in the city.

Joel scratches at his brow, a small smile playing on his face, “‘Course I did. I was in the area and my partner wanted some other shit, he’s vegan or vegetarian and I knew that would be a disappointment so I snuck over here to get my money’s worth.”

“Yeah?” Carmy’s eyes flick back to the bag, “what’s your poison?”

Joel laughs, “can’t ever go wrong with a classic, am I right?”

Which only meant one thing: Italian Beef with extra peppers, just how he always got it, even when they were younger. Joel was older than Carmy, more around Nat’s age but he always found a way to bring up something to talk about once Michelle, Mikey, and Richie brought the house down with their boisterous voices.

“I’ve mentioned to Sugar that Sam and I can’t wait to try out the dinner menu but it hasn’t been the best time…” Joel hints, almost as if he’s apologizing for not showing his face.

There was tension at the beginning.

Joel was this big detective.

Always the persistent one and trying to solve something. It only made sense that he chose this profession but Joel did piss the family off when he tried to come up with this conspiracy theory that Mikey didn’t kill himself and that someone else pulled the trigger. His perspective? It was probably someone who Mikey bought those painkillers off of and in Joel’s mind, he thought he was doing the family a good service but instead he had his own denial about Mikey’s passing as well.

There’s been two big death’s in Joel’s life that he had to face before with his fiancée who took her own life as well. A psychologist at that. That happened years before Mikey…and Carmy can only imagine how fucked he’s been in the head too and maybe detective work gave him some sort of solace—in a twisted way.

They were family after all and grief is handled in different ways they say!

Carmy picks up on the name referred to and questions, “Sammy? You guys are still together?”

Joel snickers but doesn’t seem offended by any means, “Yeah, can’t seem to get rid of her.”

He jokes but Carmy knows that would be the last thing Joel wanted.

“She always tells me to send her love whenever I do stop by for lunch…we just don’t want to disrupt anything you guys have going on.” Joel admits and that actually makes Carmy frown.

He clenched his eyes shut for a moment with a shake of his head, “she wouldn’t—you guys wouldn’t. You’re both family too…it’s just been a lot.”

“Yeah but at some point I think we’ve got to stop making excuses,” Joel shrugs, “No pressure on our end. You should stop by the house one day, Samora would love to see you. It’s been awhile you know?”

Carmy nods.

It has.

Samora’s been one of Carmy’s oldest friends.

The friendship happened to be one of those, catch you when I catch you type of things, or if seeing someone mutual and he so happened to come up, she always related her love for him. That’s just how they operated, even if was at a distance and there wasn’t any bad blood.

Life went on.

Separately for them.

And she’s apparently been going strong with his blood cousin, Joel, for who knows how long? Carmy can’t believe he’s almost forgot what it felt like to have a friend like her.

“Yeah, I should.” Carmy agrees, “Nat’s got your number right? I’ll have to get it from her and reach out to see what’s best for you guys?”

Joel raised his brows at this.

He didn’t think Carmy would even respond to that. Carmy’s always been the kind of guy that found the nicest corner in the room and chose to stay there, it was what he was comfortable with: seeing all sides of the room and the nearest exit.

“Well Sam’s mostly working out of the house now, business picked back up for her in the last year, thankfully.” Joel answers with an inhale, “I’m the one that’s mostly gone all the time not getting the chance to really live in the house but…whenever you want. We don’t mind pop in’s—usually.”

Carmy nods, “cool—uh? I got to get back in there but I hope you enjoy the sandwich and maybe fucking try something else huh?”

Joel’s always been the sandwich and chips kind of guy. Easy going. Compassionate and soft spoken. Carmy’s only ever saw Joel pissed one time as far as he can remember. Of course when carmy brought up the interest of taking cooking seriously, Joel offered a listening ear and would admit he hardly knew what kind of fancy dishes Carmy was talking about but once he brought out the sketches? Sold! Joel couldn’t be more thrilled to see Carmy finding something to be passionate about.

It took time but he did it.

Joel picks up on Carmy’s teasing tone and points the bag at him, “I don’t tell you how to run your business, Carm. So don’t get in between a man and his favorite hoagie.”

A crooked smile appears on Carmy’s face at that as he slowly starts to retreat, “alright, fair enough.”

“Keep it up, bear.” Joel tells Carm, “beginnings can be rough but everything looks phenomenal…from what I can see anyway.”

Did it feel that way?

Carmy couldn’t tell you.

A week and three months it took for Carmy to show up to the familiar Greystone. It was after the review came in and Carmy was back on mode: disconnect, taking a much needed walk that led him right back to the usual busy area where the home sat; that had history there. He’s not positive how long he’s been standing there, peering up at the picturesque home beyond the fence.

Eventually he works up the nerve to stand at the front door, head just kissing it as he debates about knocking. His stomach feels like an off track dryer machine and his head is telling him that he has no place showing up to this house. Samora wouldn’t want to see him and Joel was just talking back then, never expecting Carmy to take up the invitation.

Carmy’s got the number from Sugar and found out where they stayed. It was the same address of where Sammy grew up, a home from her great grandparents that was passed all the way down to her. Legally she got the greystone since her foster turned adopted siblings weren’t biologically in the family and only one of them seemed to put up a fight about it anyway, only wanting the cash and not caring about how significant the home was.

He remembered that.

And so, he knocks.

He’s heading towards the gate by the time the front door swings open but the sound of the woman calling out his name, stops him in his tracks. He exhaled, dropping his hand from pulling the gate back, lifting his head before turning back to the woman on the stoop.

“It is you! Well don’t just stand there, get up here you little turd.” She’s waving her hands along and Carmy moves.

They’re face to face and it’s been ages.

Both of their eyes traces over one another’s faces but Samora is the first to yank him by the shoulders into her arms. He’s tense but finds himself placing his chin into her own shoulder, shaky hands going to her spine. Samora’s hugs have always been tight but Carmy’s never had a problem with pressure.

Much.

“Damn, I hope I didn’t get paint all on your fresh suit. What’s that? Givenchy?” Samora pokes fun as she playfully flicks the tip of his nose.

Carmy smacks her hand away realizing that she is in fact covered in paint all over her shorts overalls and there’s a dry paint swatch right on her left cheek. A awful chartreuse color, which she always seemed to like the brightest of colors others like to hate on.

In a sense Samora tried to see the good in most things.

“No,” Carmy feels a small smirk appear on his own cheek, “you’re good.”

And she welcomes him inside.

The once old home has been refreshed and Carmy can’t tell you the last time he’s been in here but the changes are evident. The first set of walls were now white, making the short entry way feel bigger and as they both turn to the right towards the living room, the view of the front porch at night feels like many summers ago when they both would sit out there, him on his back, arms tucked behind his head and Samora right beside him cross legged as she stared out towards the traffic lights.

They could sit out there for hours together, comfortable in silence or Carmy listening to Samora curse up a storm when she got confused trying to learn chess with a board her great-grandfather made. A slab of wood with a built in drawer to keep the pieces on the side, it would get stuck sometimes but she always handled with care.

“Carmen Berzatto…can’t believe you came to see little ‘ol me…unless you’re looking for Joel?” Samora says over her shoulder, still waving him along through the dinning room towards the grand kitchen.

He awkwardly stands off to the side in the kitchen while Samora lets out a yawn with a shake of her head before moving forward with searching through the cabinets. “I uh—not necessarily.”

“He’s at work anyway, getting buried into another one of his insane cases that he’s not supposed to tell me about but we all know how I am—I’m going to find out regardless.” Samora places two shot glasses down, noticing that Carmy had moved closer to the island counter now.

He did know actually.

They went to school together, been through a lot of typical high school bullshit together. He always felt like the sidekick, whereas he was the shy and reserved one, Samora had other friends that she didn’t mind putting to the side to hang out with Carmy for. Her response would be whenever Carmy asked why she kicked them to the curb to be around someone boring would be, “I know who my lifelong friends are, surely.”

“Surely,” was always Samora’s word and, “Duh,” happened to be Nat’s.

Sophomore year when Konstantinos “Tino,” Pappas found his next target in Carmy and thought it would be funny to sic his Rottweiler on him one day (he had asthma and could barely run a mile but loved skateboarding) when he had to walk home alone after school one day, he glossed over it, saying that he just tried to hop the fence as a shortcut to get home and got stuck on it instead.

He didn’t mention the dog snatching his backpack, or the nasty nip mark on his lower back, his shirt ripping after it got stuck on the spikes, and colliding face first with a sharp rock, that left a faint knick on his cheek until this day, if you got close enough to see it you would notice. Donna believed Carmy’s lies although she knew Carmy was a more take his time kind of kid but all she wanted to do was get back to her daily cocktail, Nat was concerned but Carmy also brushed her off, saying he was fine, and when Mikey saw the marks, he hammered him with questions, leaving a teenage Carmy to grow sick of his big brother being on his case so he shut him out too.

And what did Mikey Berzatto do?

He went right to a sick Samora to find out what she knew. She had been home for the past three days, down with a fever she caught from her new foster sibling and swore that she would find out. Shook on it with the older Berzatto, who bid his farewells of how good she is to his kid brother, which meant she would always be good people in Mikey’s eyes. And when she did find out? She came right back to school that Monday, noticing the laughter from Tino and his friends down by their locker with a whole camcorder of the incident, which wasn’t far from her’s and Carmy’s.

Carmy lifted his hand to greet the teen but when she was on a mission? It was tunnel vision. She didn’t care if there were teachers at the end of the hall, she snatched the camcorder from one of Tino’s friends, shoving him out of the way, before getting to Tino. A fist met his eye that day and that resulted in a suspension and detention after learning what Tino did.

If you thought Carmy was pissed before about Nat’s overbearing nurturing ways and Mikey bugging him about the marks, then you can only imagine how annoyed he was with Samora after that. That resulted in a stupid fight and with Samora even dating Tino for two whole days—the goal was to break his heart anyway.

Teenagers? Am I right?

“Check this out,” Samora grins as she pours this green liquid into the shot glasses and makes sure to get a piece of cucumber? floating at the top to decorate it with, “I’ve been experimenting and since Joel can’t be my rodent of a taste taster tonight. I present to you chef Carmy, Cold Cucumber green Gazpacho. A chilled soup—as I’m sure you are aware of—since you know how I feel about soups in the summer.”

“…you want me to try this?” Carmy picks up the glass, eyeing it.

Samora dips her head, “surely and if you don’t do that pinched lip thing, then I know it’s trash.”

Carmy flicks his eyes to her with a frown, “what’re you talking about?”

She folds her first four fingers over her thumb, tapping them together, “I don’t know! It’s a thing! You do it when you’re yelling too but at least I know you’re focused so, go on.”

Carmy shakes his head with a slow close of his eyes. He didn’t know what she was talking about at all but he can’t say he was surprised she picked up on this, she was an interior decorator after all.

Detail was always crucial.

“That’s,” Carmy starts after seeing Samora toss her head back not long after himself, “fresh.”

Samora grins, “not bad for a beginner, huh? Easy peasy and quick! Make sure you shout me out if you make this an appetizer or something at the restaurant, will ya?”

“You got it.” Carmy comments making a mental note to do something green next time on the menu, savoring the smooth and freshness with a hint of a zing dish as Samora carefully places the bowl back into the fridge.

Sighing she turns to rest her elbows onto the counter, “Now…bestie Carmy Berzatto…what’s wrong?”

His eyes shift, “N-Nothing. I saw Joel the other day and he brought you up—

“How long ago was that?” She interrupts.

He fires back, “…awhile? Does it matter?”

“No…you know I don’t sweat the small stuff.” She blinks, “Long as I knew you were thriving then that’s all I can wish for but I know my friend and I’m sensing that you’re not okay. You’re avoiding.”

Carmy’s tapping his finger along the side of the glass but Samora doesn’t relax her burning stare, “what—

“Did you see your niece yet?” Samora quizzes and he quickly closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair, she can tell he’s mentally cursing at himself, “she’s a beautiful baby. I had groceries sent to Nat and Pete’s the other day—

“Is this your way of reminding me of how shitty I’ve been at communicating and being present because I don’t need it. I already feel that.”

Samora sticks her tongue in her cheek and pushes back, “No shock there, Carmy. I know you. So what exactly triggered you today that made you finally come here to see me?”

Carmy starts chewing on his lips, eyes not connecting with Samora’s as she tilted her head to the side, waiting. It feels like forever to get an answer so Samora moves around the island, squeezing his shoulder, “let’s go up to the roof, maybe the fresh air and not the fumes of paint will help ease you into it. Thanks for knocking by the way, I may have seen a glimpse of the other side because of it before you got here.”

“What?” Carmy spits out in concern as she pulls at his wrist.

Samora laughs, “if you tell Joel, I’ll have to keep you here and bury you in the front yard.”

Carmy blinks with a roll of his eyes.

They’re on the rooftop, there’s less cars as the night carries on. Carmy’s lost count of how many times the street lights flick from red, yellow, to green and back again. Samora allows carmy to take his time, one leg curled up underneath her with her head thrown back staring up at the twinkle of stars on a hot summer night. There’s barely a breeze but they’re alright.

“I saw the shit stain tonight.”

Samora tossed an arm over her forehead, leaned back in the comfy cushioned blue lounge chair, “yeah? There’s plenty here in chicago, so which one? Don’t tell me you saw the walking jump-scare, Tino?”

“Who?” Carmy presses but Samora can tell he’s not going down that path of the past.

She fans her hand to tell him to continue.

“This guy. One of the best chef’s I worked for in New York, he was at the funeral. There was a funeral for this restaurant, Ever.” Carmy begins to tell his old friend, mindful that she’s been out of the loop.

Samora looks around the night sky and snaps her fingers with a nod of her head, “yeah um, Chelly—mostly Stevie said something about a strict chef you were working with but of course it was vague, which leaves me to believe that you didn’t tell chelly much but she’s great at reading in between the lines much like myself.”

Carmy doesn’t tell her exactly what Chef David said to him a hour ago but tells her what his words made him feel yet again. Small. Incapable. How he has to triple check everything, take charge with no regard for his team that’s supposed to be family, and ultimately that he shouldn’t have a team because he was better off alone. How he should be grateful to be where he is now because of all that Chef David taught him.

“Oh nooooo, Chef charred asshole better be lucky I wasn’t there,” Samora mumbles, “He sounds like a narcissistic dick of a man who gets off on attempting to morph you into him and to me? That doesn’t sound like a brilliant or best of the best chef or even a person! it sounds weak and miserable.”

“It’s what I signed up for.” Carmy almost argues and Samora sits up.

She knows this stems from much more than what he experienced in that restaurant in New York.

“I haven’t been around you in a while but I’ve always been on the sidelines. You accomplished all of these things because you knew you could—you fought. You worked hard and earned this.” Samora reassures, “but these false ideas that you have because of what someone else caused shouldn’t diminish anything that you’ve done and continue to do.”

Carmy pulls out his phone and a pack of chewing gum, “tell that to my brain then. The review is up, Sammy.”

Samora’s eyes meet Carmy’s as he shoves a square piece into his mouth, elbows on his knees as they start to bounce, head dropping just a bit. She reaches for the phone, giving him a side eye since there’s no passcode on it, and is brought right to a webpage.

~THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE~

Reviewed by Ad. Shap

Carmen doesn’t have to look at Samora’s face to take in her reaction. He ultimately knows it’ll be different from what the blue in his brain says. There were many things wrong with the review, mostly wrong than good and that’s why he needed someone from the outside to see before seeing how the crew digested this.

Samora usually does this humming when she’s reading or thinking about something and that doesn’t seem to change. When she’s finished she puts the phone face down on the outdoor table and folds her fingers together as she sits back.

“Well…That was reminiscent to my short lived cookie career.”

Carmy widens his eyes as he sets them back on his friend.

She shields her face instantly, “whoa turn down the opacity on those things will ya?”

“Your cookie business failed.”

“Um, no. Fuck you for that by the way,” Samora glared, “I view it as that wasn’t the way the chapter was meant to be told. I wasn’t heavily devoted to culinary like you. Nobody is that I know of. It was just a hobby for me but you turned your craft into something much more: breathe, sleep—well—you let it consume you pros and cons. Surely these reviews are deeply important because impressions are…tricky but not everything is the way you see it.”

Carmy scoffs with a rub to his lips in annoyance, “what the fuck do you mean it’s not the way I see it? It’s my business and I’ve been backstabbed by a prick I worked with—

“Carmy—

“I can’t be a screw up! I won’t be. I’ve been at this for so long and I’m more than tired and shitty in the head but not enough to throw it all away no matter what some four eyed fucker with a typewriter for a laptop says!” Carmy is on his feet now pacing, “I picked up what Mikey left behind, I put in the time and the effort, I removed parts of myself to be untouchable—

Samora shakes her head, “you’re not though and some part of you knows that. None of us are unbreakable, babe. You just��start over as many times until it feels right.”

“See I don’t—

Carmy swallows the lump in his throat to speak clearly, “that’s the problem, I don’t think I know what feels right or if I ever did. I just know circumstances.”

Samora inhales as she gets to her feet too, “okay then. Take everything that you bottled up and let it out there.” She points over the edge of the balcony, “you have to try to acknowledge the good and let some things go or you’ll forever feel stuck instead of moving forward…but I’m no therapist just a decorator who’s still annoyed that you didn’t reach out to revamp the bear—but that’s another conversation, just a friend who knows a little something something that’ll help.”

“Uh, something something?” Carmy repeats feeling his heart race as Samora waved her painted hand out for Carmy’s tatted one.

He takes her hand as she leads the way to the balcony but not close enough to trigger any vertigo. Carmy always loved the view at Samora’s compared to his own childhood home, which contrasted with no view at all—his bedroom didn’t have any windows, just a closed in space—and he was stuck hearing the common yelling between Donna and Mikey.

Carmy could see the top of a neighbor’s red brick building (thanks to how many floors the greystone had) across the street, along with another home to the left and a row of other houses to the right. Behind the house across the street sat the changing color of lights and beyond that was the liveliness of Chicago in the distance, the farmer’s market he personally loved and had Tina make the runs to, other great eateries, and music spots also weren’t far from Samora’s.

The woman rests a hand right in the center of his chest and Carmy can feel himself panting, “No one ever has to know if you have it all figured out…nobody truly does. Put down some of those dishes bear, out there. Not to hibernate but to be the best version of yourself for you and not what anyone tells you, you should be.”

His eyes burn and he feels like he might let some tears fall some more tonight and he finds that comfort in Samora. Something good from his past that was still present although his version is always different, he doesn’t mind much if she see’s any water that slips from the corners. He knows she won’t say anything about it, and her hand doesn’t move from his chest as she’s almost coaching him how to deal with just a portion of his bullshit.

He couldn’t figure it out for himself.

Yet he was willing to learn.

The scream curdles from the back of his throat, bursting through his lips into the night. He curls into his stomach some, the weight present, the firmness of Samora’s hand on his chest, and his face is hot in the summer air, turning pink as he fights to breathe through his screams. Samora is right there with him, her screams were much more melodic, like she’s had the practice while Carmy is testing it out.

His screams have been buried just like everything else he’s bottled up for years.

After, his throat is raw and voice hoarse as he sniffs, he abruptly turns to Samora, pulling her into another hug. She isn’t tense against him, small laughter falling through her own lips while Carmy hold’s onto her.

Calming down.

“love you,” he manages to get out while Samora scratches his back.

She knows he means it and it’s probably something he needed to hear back as of lately.

Samora sighs, “love you too, turd.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pulling back to meet her stare and she winks at him.

“…if I didn’t love the both of you, I might be highly concerned at whatever the hell that was.” Joel announces his arrival after a few moments of silence.

His arms are folded but he’s got that Berzatto sly grin on his lips as Carmy slowly lets his hands fall from Samora’s forearms. The shorter haired man makes his way over to the two, hands going to both of their shoulders as he peers back and forth.

“You made it.”

“I—yeah.” Carmy clears his throat with a shake of his head, “I did.”

“Good,” Joel dips his head but it feels more like a question than a comment.

carmy shrugs.

Samora claps her hands gaining both cousins’ attention, “let’s have some of Mora’s Mosa’s as a celebratory of the night—was the work day alright for you, love?”

Joel awkwardly nods his head back and forth as a way to show that it was so-so.

“Works for me!” Samora yells, “to the kitchen!”

“It’s midnight, honey.” Joel tells Samora who twists her lips to the side, “and I’m sure Carmy doesn’t want any of that green shit you had in the fridge.”

Samora gasps, “damn, who knew my boyfriend would be my biggest critic?”

“Oh c’mon, don’t get sensitive on me now!”

She shrugs his hand from her shoulder while Joel’s low lidded eyes sends a look to Carmy who raises his hands in surrender.

In a hoarse tone he replies, “I actually like the gazpacho so…you’re on your own with that one.”

“Woooow, okay.” Joel breathes out a laugh, then bites down on his bottom lip while Carmy moves to grab his phone and fallen gum pack.

Carmy then turns to watch the two bicker like an old married couple but it doesn’t get loud at all. Joel does talk with his hands to get his point across and Carmy can pinpoint the exact moment Samora cracks, the corner of her nose twitches with amusement before Joel tests the waters, gripping her hips to place a tender kiss on her lips, which Samora seems to kiss back before they break apart. Smiles on both of their faces before they turn back to Carmy who’s attempting to sneak off down the steps.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Joel asks, “you think you can just go off when you and I didn’t get any one on one time?”

Carmy taps his phone against his hand, “It’s getting late, don’t want to impose any further.”

Joel rolls his eyes, tossing an arm across Carmy’s shoulder, “shut your trap, you’re home, man.”

And with that Carmy is led back into the house.

He doesn’t think he’s slept long, but when he checks the time on his slowly dying phone, it’s already later into the next morning.

8:37am and he has no idea what this day is going to look like but it’s a Sunday…maybe for once he doesn’t have to. One of the rooms he’s tucked in belonged to one of Samora’s adopted brothers, Jacobi, Carmy guesses since there’s still a large crack against the ceiling thanks to a lighting strike that occurred way back when they were all kids.

He sits up for a while, taking in the view one last time before he starts to make his exit. He’s walking down the path towards the gate and stops as he hears the front door open.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Samora tells him as he turns to face her, the woman hugging her robe to herself as she’s sitting on the front step.

Carmy stretches a small smile on his dry lips, “Never that,” he jokes, “thanks for always being here, Sammy. Dunno if I ever told you that enough…probably not since I’m always in my head but uh—give Joel my thanks too for me this time.”

Samora dips her head and says, “Surely.”

Carmy scoffs as he pulls the gate back before putting his palm up in the air, “see you soon.”

“After while, crocodile.” She kisses her fingertips before waving them at him.

Samora watches Carmy go, hoping he starts putting the pieces together instead of forcing it all apart like he’s always been accustomed to.

When Monday comes along, his hands are resting along the trimming of white counter as he’s slightly shifting his head back and forth at all the greenery situated in front of him.

“Morning Chef,” Marcus greets first as he’s followed in by Tina.

Carmy nods his head in greeting.

Tina’s eyes immediately go to all the herbs and vegetables, “Jeffery, what’s all this?”

“Something new, green, for the menu.” Carmy informs, “I realized we haven’t had family dinner in a while and i want all of your inputs for what we’ll have tonight.”

Tina and Marcus share a glance, having a feeling that this had something to do with the new review. They all briefly talked about it in the group chat over the weekend.

“Okay, cool. We’re gonna just go put our stuff down.” Marcus points and Carmy keeps his eyes on the ingredients.

“Take your time, Chefs.” Carmy calls out after some time as the two have already started making their way towards the lockers.

He closes his eyes, trying to slow the rising beat of his heart, deeply inhaling as he ignores the contrast of oxygen between his two nostrils, that was another problem he’s gotten used to, his eyes open just in time to meet the green again as the back doors swing open, revealing the rest of his team gradually.

Carmy had work to do and he’s never been afraid of hard work.

☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ☯︎.☘︎ ݁˖˚ ༘

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.