There are a lot of men like Andrew in Broken Bow, Nebraska. Men whose anger simmers constantly just beneath their skin until it boils over into violence. Men who were told their entire lives, since they were little boys, that the only acceptable way to express yourself is through destruction. Men whose child-selves are kept preserved in a dark, locked room in their chests, peering out at the world in wide-eyed terror.
Despite their differences Dennis does think his father did pretty well raising them, all things considered. Even so, his eldest brother’s ex-wife has a restraining order against him and the third eldest is back to drinking after getting fired for punching a coworker on a job site. Again.
Maybe that’s part of the reason Dennis likes Andrew so much. He reminds him of home.
(angst, the looming threat of violence, a meltdown, a homophobic slur)
A lot of the time, Andrew just looks scary. He can be so gentle, even when, as so often happens, his expression doesn’t quite match his behavior. He dotes on Dennis in his way, ready to drop whatever he’s doing at a moment’s notice to help him run errands or do maintenance around the apartment so they don’t have to call their asshole property manager. Even Trinity is starting to tolerate him after he changed the catalytic converter in her car for free. He fusses over Dennis, likes to pick him up from work if he can’t get a ride with Trinity because he doesn’t want him taking the bus home late at night.
He likes to rest his head in Dennis’s lap, let the other man run his fingers through his curls. His eyes light up any time Dennis thanks him or says he’s done a good job. He knows each of Amy’s cows by name, remembers little details about them and talks about them even when they’re not on the farm. He’s always happy to help kids learn new things at the skate park, is known there as someone to ask for help even if it means acting as a handrail for a total newbie for hours. There is a part of him that is so gentle and kind and empathetic.
Even so, Dennis knows that he has a criminal history that includes assault and battery, that he’s done time for armed robbery. Also, reading between the lines, that between his prison sentence and whatever other bad behavior, things were so bad he couldn’t keep custody of his daughter even after his wife bailed on them. Dennis does truly believe that Andrew’s turning his life around, but he’s not totally naïve. One day, that other side of Andrew will reveal itself.
It happens on a Wednesday. Dennis needed a ride to the county courthouse to renew his concealed carry permit, and for whatever reason Andrew insisted on accompanying him inside despite his whole thing about law enforcement. Dennis was just trying to submit some very routine paperwork at the Allegheny County sheriff’s office, but somehow it took them like 45 excruciating minutes under flickering fluorescent lights because they’re having a problem with their scanner and he really didn’t need Andrew skulking behind him, mean-mugging the front desk lady for no discernible reason except maybe some macho posturing bullshit.
“Can you please stop whatever it is you think you’re doing?” Dennis hisses at him as they leave. “You’re freaking people out.”
Andrew just kind of growls, and Dennis has to take a deep, grounding breath to soothe his rising irritation.
In retrospect, they should’ve gone straight home from there, but there’s nothing to eat at Andrew’s apartment so they stop at Giant Eagle. It’s 6 pm, and busy. They’re both scowling at the looming palisade of pasta sauces when some dude bumps into Andrew, who immediately shifts into a fucking boxing stance like he’s gonna, what, get into a goddamn fist fight in the grocery store?
“Andrew! Are you fucking kidding me right now?!”
Andrew whirls around. He’s snarling, shoulders up by his ears. His fists are clenched, the veins in his forearms bulging. He kind of looks like an apex predator and kind of looks like a toddler revving up to have a screaming tantrum. It’s fucking embarrassing, to be honest. They somehow manage to get through the rest of the errand without further incident but a heavy, brooding storm cloud gathers over both of them and the ride home is silent and miserable.
Dennis holds his tongue until they’re inside Andrew’s house. “Seriously, what is your issue today?”
Andrew has his back to Dennis, putting the groceries away. There’s an effervescent passive-aggressiveness in the way he slams the cupboard doors that makes Dennis’s teeth hurt. “I don’t have an issue.”
“Oh, come the fuck on. Look at me.”
Andrew sort of turns towards him but he’s glaring at the floor, slouched with his back against the counter like he’s trying to hide from his boyfriend’s assessing gaze.
“Did I do something?”
“No.”
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Jesus Christ, Andrew, use your words!”
Andrew pushes himself off the counter so abruptly that Dennis flinches back. He’s got his hands in his hair, pulling at it hard with his fists, takes a few stomping paces, stops, doubles over. It’s like he has so much pent-up energy his whole body is short circuiting, throwing him into strange, writhing shapes. He throws his arm over his grimacing face, hits his forehead with his fist a few times, takes another step. Dennis tries to give him space but he has to dodge a little as the bigger man throws himself around the cramped kitchen.
“Whoa, Andrew—it’s okay—"
“I don’t fucking know! I feel bad!”
“It’s okay, baby. What do you mean, you feel bad?”
“Just bad! It feels bad! It’s really fucking bad!”
Dennis has no earthly idea what that means. “Bad” could mean pretty much anything, but the effort of spitting out even just that one indecipherable word seems to have shaken more than a few screws loose in Andrew’s brain. He’s dropped to the ground, slumped against the sink cabinet, his face in his hands. He’s still for a second and then he starts hitting himself in the forehead again with a closed fist, hard.
Dennis crouches down beside him, tries to gently grab his fist in both of his hands.
“Hey, baby, hey, you’re okay—”
Andrew wretches his fist from Dennis and smashes it into the cabinet. “Don’t touch me! Fuck off with that faggot shit!”
Dennis’s brothers, despite all their faults, did their best to look out for him. Beyond being the youngest, he was always the smallest, and the most sensitive, and the one who never quite fit in with other boys. Frankly, there was always something kind of gay about him, and the bullying started in earnest in sixth grade. Of course Dennis has complicated feelings about it now, given that Cody and especially Lowell still sometimes resort to violence with terribly mixed results, but he’ll always be grateful to his brothers for sticking up for him even though all three of them got suspended that one time for breaking that kid’s arm. They never even seemed to care if he was really gay or not, just insisted that he learn how to defend himself. They taught him how to throw a punch properly, and also that if you’re small, it’s very important to go absolutely apeshit so you freak ‘em out and they don’t want to fuck with you anymore.
It took a few fights but eventually nobody tried to shove Dennis around anymore. He still didn’t have many friends because everyone thought he was a psycho after he walloped Colton Blomquist in the head with a lunch tray, but it was better than getting jumped walking home from the bus stop.
Which is to say, there is a long moment where Dennis considers decking Andrew in the face.
But he’s a fucking adult, so he takes a deep breath. Counts to three. Stands.
When he finally speaks, his voice is icy. “If you ever speak to me that way again, we’re fucking done. Get your shit together.”
As he leaves, he hears the hollow clatter of Andrew hitting the cabinet again and again and again until it splinters.
