The Chrysalis

by Deneen, Brendan

“Everything is going to be okay,” he insisted. “We’ll figure it out.”

  * * *

  They sat at the big wooden table in the dining room, wine and Chinese food spread out between them. The combination was starting to become a bad-news tradition for them. I never want Chinese again, Jenny thought as she sipped at a can of seltzer and they went through their expenses. She noticed that Tom hadn’t even finished his first glass of wine. She smiled sadly and looked at the papers in front of her.

  They had no income whatsoever at this point, though Tom was supposed to start working at Nick’s in a few days. He’d resigned from the bar in Alphabet City last week and was replaced within hours, by some struggling actor who needed the extra paycheck. Even with the new job in the offing, Tom had told Jenny, he battled regret as he worked his final shift at the best job he’d ever had, training the younger man, who he thought talked way too much.

  Jenny fought her natural instinct to sink into depression. On learning the news, Victoria had outlined an entire plan for her sister, just as she did every time Jenny faced adversity. Her enthusiastic-yet-hard-nosed drill sergeant attitude was both annoying and amazing. Victoria knew people who had friends in the fitness industry and had already started emailing them. She was confident she could find a new gig for her sister in no time.

  She also had a plan for Tom. Jenny didn’t like it and knew he would hate it, but she realized immediately that Victoria was right.

  “I don’t know,” Tom said, shoving a wonton into his mouth and washing it down with a gulp of wine. “We have a lot of expenses … especially the mortgage. And the car insurance isn’t helping. Who knew a few fender benders and speeding tickets from back in the day would be such a headache? Not to mention the co-pay for all the doctor appointments and whatever COBRA doesn’t cover. Maybe I can ask Malcolm for more hours…?”

  “You haven’t even started yet,” she said. “And even if you worked every night, it still wouldn’t be enough. Not even close.” Seeing that Tom had gone pale, she sighed. “I’m sorry if that sounds harsh … I’m just really stressing out.”

  “I know, I am, too. But I’m sure you’ll find a new job soon … there are a million gyms in the city. And I can … I don’t know … maybe I can do some handyman work around town? Maybe Chelsea can refer me to people … like she does with that jerk, Ray.”

  “Tom, who’s going to hire a pregnant personal trainer? One of us needs to find a job that pays a full-time wage. And benefits, if possible.”

  “One of us?” he said.

  Jenny hesitated, staring at him. “You,” she said, quietly. “You need to. Victoria had an idea, and I think it’s a good one.”

  Tom crossed his arms and swallowed, eyes narrowing. “If Victoria has an idea that involves me, there’s no way it’s a good one.”

  “Just hear me out, Tom. Please.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment and then slowly opened them. “Fine. Go ahead. What’s the idea?”

  Jenny took a deep breath and started talking.

  * * *

  Exhausted, Tom sipped bitter coffee in a small café half a block south of Penn Station, staring through the dirty window that faced Seventh Avenue, barely seeing the people walking by. Men and women in business attire despite the oppressive heat, tourists clogging the sidewalks, guys in matching red shirts trying to talk them onto tour buses, jaywalkers weaving in and out of traffic.

  He’d managed maybe four hours of sleep. When he had called Kevin at seven that morning, his best friend agreed to meet him two hours later in Manhattan, no questions asked. Tom could only imagine how rough he’d sounded.

  Tom had fought the urge to visit the chrysalis that morning, though he wanted to more than ever. Feeling shaky without it, he’d stood in the kitchen for long minutes, until a glance at the sonogram on the refrigerator broke the spell. He walked out the front door without having gone downstairs, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wondered how big it was, if it missed him.

  Kevin was late, but Tom knew how unreliable New York City subways could be, especially during rush hour. Finally, his friend rushed in, dressed in black slacks, a crisp white work shirt, with a half-knotted paisley tie loosely circling his neck and a black suit jacket draped over one arm. Though it was already in the low nineties, with uncomfortable levels of humidity, Kevin looked unfazed by the heat, with not even a hint of sweat on his forehead. In contrast, Tom felt as if he were melting in his jeans and T-shirt. Buying a hot coffee probably hadn’t been the smartest idea.

  “One sec,” Kevin said, and hustled to the counter, returning a minute later with an iced coffee. He took a huge sip of the drink, then sat down, setting the cup on a narrow ledge that ran along the window. “Sorry, needed caffeine immediately. Had a crazy night.”

  “Oh yeah?” Tom said, attempting to stay calm. He had no interest in talking about the real reason he was here. “Did you find ‘the one’?”

  “Not quite.” Kevin laughed. “In fact, there were these two girls. They actually reminded me of those sisters we knew in high school. The ones with those giant brown eyes? They—

  “Wait, crap, no. Sorry. I’m here for you. Talk to me, Tom. What the hell is going on? You sounded like you were going to start crying on the phone.”

  “First off, thanks for coming. I know how busy you are,” Tom said. Kevin was right—he did feel as though he might burst into tears at any moment. Every nerve in his body told him to run, that he was signing his own death sentence. “Are you sure it’s okay that you get to work so late?”

  “Okay? Please. I am beloved at that place. My boss thinks I am the second coming of the Messiah. I mean, yeah, he’s a little troll man who has no soul, but he loves me. So, stop stalling. Tell me what we’re doing here. I know it must be important to get you out of bed so early.”

  Tom tried to get the words out, but they wouldn’t come at first. Kevin sat patiently.

  “Jenny lost her job,” Tom announced quietly, embarrassed, even though no one was paying attention to them.

  “Shit!” Kevin almost shouted, then took another long pull of his iced coffee as he processed the information. “Shit,” he repeated, more subdued, probably trying to stay calm so Tom wouldn’t panic. “Is she okay? Are you?”

  “I guess. I mean, we’re both kind of freaking out. We just bought a house, and a car, and we need a lot of other stuff. And.…” Tom shook his head and glanced out the window. He imagined a crowd of people getting mowed down by a car and shook his head again. He didn’t understand why such violent images kept appearing in his mind. His hands were shaking and he wanted so badly to touch the chrysalis.

  “And what?” Kevin said, still sounding shocked.

  Tom worked his jaw but didn’t say anything.

  “Come on, man, it’s me. You can tell me anything.”

  He knew he shouldn’t say it. Jenny had told him not to, and he had promised. But this was Kevin. His best friend. The person he had known the longest in his life, by far.

  “She’s pregnant,” Tom whispered, looking Kevin in the eyes, regretting it immediately even though it was like lifting a huge weight off his shoulders. It was bad luck to tell people this kind of thing before the second trimester, or something like that. Jenny would kill him if she found out.

  “She’s…? Fucking A! Congrats, man!” Kevin shouted, leaning over and hugging Tom, who couldn’t help but smile despite his fear and anxiety. People in the café glanced over, then quickly returned to their own lives.

  “Thanks, Kev. Seriously,” he said as his friend disengaged, a big, dopey grin on his face. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. She’s only a few weeks in.”

  “In the vault, my man, in the fucking vault. You know I would never rat you out. And now I know why you sounded so sick this morning!” Kevin said. “And why you wanted to meet up! I appreciate you wanting to tell me in person. I assume this is the part where you beg me to be the godfather,” he laughed. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about
it, my schedule is very busy. But I do accept bribes. In fact—”

  “There’s something else,” Tom interrupted.

  “Oh shit. Twins?”

  Tom closed his eyes and saw a faint image of the chrysalis outlined against the blood red on the inside of his eyelids, heard the thing’s haggard, wet breathing. He wished he were walking down the basement stairs at this exact moment. Instead, he opened his eyes and chugged the rest of his coffee, his stomach churning as if he’d poured acid down his throat.

  “I want to come work for you,” he choked out.

  Tom had never known Kevin to be speechless, not once in their two-decade relationship, but his best friend just sat there, staring, his mouth slightly open, for what felt like a long time.

  Then, “Work for me? Seriously?”

  “Yes, Kev, seriously. I need this … we need this. Me and Jenny. And the baby. It’s time for me to grow up.”

  Kevin slapped Tom on the back, hard, making him wince. His best friend had a habit of being too rough, something that he had always been bothered by but continued to keep to himself.

  “Yes!” Kevin yelled. “Hell yes! My man! We are going to have so much fun. It’s gonna be like the old days, when we sold people candy bars we stole from the corner store. Remember how much trouble we used to get into? Remember that time we tried to steal all those dirty magazines? The three packs that were already wrapped in plastic, and my distraction was a complete disaster, and that old dude.…”

  Tom suddenly felt sick to his stomach; it must have shown on his face because Kevin sobered instantly, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  “Tom. Listen to me. This is going to be great. Trust me. You can make so much money. The starting salary is really good and you’ll have full benefits. You’ll be an amazing salesman, I know it. You’re a little shy at first, but people love you once you open up. They always have. And once the commissions start rolling in? Shit, you’ll be making six figures, easy. Easy. Okay?”

  Tom looked at his friend and faked a smile, but he felt as though the entire city was vanishing around him. Felt like an insect trapped in a dark hole, with dirt closing in, clogging his eyes and nostrils, filling his mouth, burying him alive.

  “Okay,” he answered from the darkness.

  Kevin clapped his hands together, exuberant, staring at Tom. Then the smile on his face faded and he grimaced.

  Refocusing on the moment, Tom realized that something was wrong. He started to panic. “What’s the matter?”

  Kevin stared at him for another moment, looking him up and down, nodding his head as if he were coming to a deep understanding of something profound and disturbing, and convincing himself to accept it.

  “There’s one problem,” Kevin said at last, his expression offering a preemptive apology.

  * * *

  Tom stood in front of one of Springdale’s multiple hair salons, his smudged, monstrous reflection staring back through hollow black eyes. The morning’s humidity had vanished, transforming the summer day into something close to perfection. It was late afternoon, and the local youth camps had just let out. Sweaty, obnoxious kids were everywhere, their relentless chattering and shrieking hammering at Tom’s brain.

  He tried to focus, realizing he must look like a mentally disturbed homeless man, with his long greasy hair and tats peeking out from his decade-old indie rock concert T-shirt. He wanted a cigarette, bad, but he’d run out that morning and was afraid to spend any unnecessary money. Their bank account was on the brink of absolute collapse. He absentmindedly played with his Zippo as he stared at the muddy version of himself.

  Children eddied around him on the picturesque street as he braced himself for what had to be done. Screwing up his courage, he dropped the lighter into his pocket, and strode forward. As he entered the quaint little storefront, a tinny bell announced his arrival. The three people inside—two hairstylists and a customer, all women who appeared to be in their midforties—stared at him. Tom wasn’t sure what to say or do next. He’d never been in a place like this, except once or twice when he’d picked up Jenny before a night on the town.

  The stylist not currently working on the customer approached Tom cautiously, the way a child steps toward an unfamiliar animal.

  “Umm … hi,” she said with a forced smile on her face. “Can I help you?”

  Tom couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He felt as if he were being dismantled, piece by piece. He didn’t know if he could take this last step. He wanted to turn around and sprint the half mile home. He wanted the chrysalis. It was the only thing he wanted.

  “Are you lost? Do you need something?” she said, fingers tightening on the scissors in her hand.

  He thought about grabbing them and shoving them into her eye, then shook the image away and smiled back at her. “I … need a haircut,” he was able to croak out.

  “Oh…,” she said, a smile appearing on her face. “Of course. I actually just had a cancellation, so this is perfect. Perfect timing. Let me get your information, and then we can get started. My name is Daria.”

  Tom robotically recited his name and address as she tapped away at the computer. Then she ushered him to an empty chair by the sinks; when he sat, she tied an apron around his neck. The other two women continued their conversation, quietly. Tom was pretty sure they were talking about him but couldn’t bring himself to care. He didn’t even know who he was at this point. Everything seemed to be slipping away from him.

  “I’m going to wash your hair first, and then we can give you a little trim,” Daria said as she started washing Tom’s hair. “I assume you just want a little off, clean it up a bit? You’ve got amazing hair.”

  “No,” he answered, in a fog. “Chop it all off. I got a new job. I need to look like a corporate drone.”

  Daria laughed and patted his head in a motherly fashion. “Aha, understood. Well, congrats. And don’t worry, hair grows back. But a new job can open up all kinds of doors. Who knows where it will lead you!”

  * * *

  Tom walked out of the salon a little over an hour later and crossed the street in a daze, making a beeline for Nick’s. A car nearly hit him, but its blaring horn and yelling driver were a million miles away. He felt separated from his body, as if he were being carried forward by some unseen force.

  Nick’s was fairly empty, but that wouldn’t last long with happy hour looming. Tom took a seat at the bar, the same one he’d occupied during his first visit. After Malcolm finished serving an older woman at the other end of the bar, taking her loose change tip with a scowl, he walked over.

  “How are you doing, sir?” he said, throwing down a coaster. “What can I get … Tom?”

  The two men stared at each other. “Ho-lee shit,” Malcolm said, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

  Tom’s hand unconsciously went up to his newly shorn head as he studied himself in the mirror over the plentiful bottles of booze. Away from the harsh lights of the salon, in the shadows of the bar, the new haircut didn’t look quite so ridiculous, but he still barely recognized himself. It didn’t help that Daria had insisted on giving him a hot open razor shave, throwing it in for free, thrilled to be a part of Tom’s extreme makeover. She even asked to take pictures, the typical before-and-after shots, to put on the salon’s social media page, but Tom had declined—a little more forcefully than he’d meant to. If she had been offended, she didn’t let on. Tom had given her a big tip. They couldn’t afford it, but she had treated him kindly in a moment when he really needed it.

  He stared at himself in the bar mirror, unable to look away. Even in the ratty T-shirt, he was beginning to look like a sellout, with his hair meticulously combed and parted and his cheeks and chin gleaming.

  “Yeah…,” he responded, looking back at the older bartender.

  The man’s face had gone pale. “I’ll … I’ll be right back,” Malcolm said, eyes watery, walking quickly into the back area. A few seconds later, Hannah came out, frowning. When her gaze
came to rest on Tom, her mouth fell open and she stared at him without moving or saying a word.

  “What?” Tom said.

  Her face softened and she walked over. “Sorry,” she said. “You just … look like…”

  “I know,” he responded. “Your dad told me the first time I was here. I look like your brother.”

  “Yeah, you do, and he had long hair when he was in high school, but when he left for the army … the last time me and my dad ever saw him…”

  “Oh,” Tom said. He could only imagine what it would be like to see someone who looked like a dead sibling. Or to have a sibling in the first place.

  Hannah gifted him with a small smile, the first he’d ever seen from her, then grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. She filled both to the brim and slowly slid one over to Tom.

  “Yeah … oh,” she said, lifting her drink. Tom did the same. He and Hannah clinked glasses, then drained them and set them back down on the bar at the same time. The liquor burned as it went down his throat, but it immediately cleared his senses. He wondered if he was being overdramatic. He took a deep breath and looked Hannah in her mascara-laden eyes. As they stared at each other, her smile faded.

  “Welcome to the family,” she said, and poured another round.

  “Thanks,” he said as they drank again. He considered the shot glass, rolled it around in his hand, laughed without amusement. “It would be the first time I’ve had anything resembling an actual family in forever.”

  “Why’s that?” she asked. “Wait. Let me guess. Did you piss them all off?”

  “I’m an only child and my parents are dead,” he said more seriously than he’d intended.

  “Oh,” she murmured, looking away, then back at him. “Sorry. I sometimes say stupid shit when I’m uncomfortable. It’s not you, it’s me. Aren’t you glad to finally have an annoying little trans sister in your life?”

  “You’re…? I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

  “What the hell are you apologizing for, dumb ass?”

  “Sorry. I mean … not sorry. Just … ignore me. I’m having a really weird day. Month. Year.”