Storytelling Saturday: Becoming Me
4 min read
Flash Fiction by Braheim Gibbs
Becoming Me
Darius laid his bright blue suit on the bed next to his father’s black suit. He was nervous—well, that was an understatement. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, the bridge of his nose, and his upper lip. His stomach rumbled, tossing his half-eaten breakfast around in a sickening cycle, and his heart was actively trying to burst out of his chest.
He wasn’t just nervous; he was freaking the fuck out.
He bent over to touch the lapel of his father’s suit, and the conversation they had this morning replayed in his mind for the thousandth time.
“If you want people to take you seriously, Darius, you have got to turn it down a notch. The rainbow thing you do is fine for the internet, but this is the real world. Corporate America isn’t known for its tolerance.”
Darius bowed his head. His shoulders slumped, and the food in his mouth turned to tasteless rubber.
“I’m not saying change who you are, son. I’m saying don’t let who you are ruin this opportunity.”
What the actual fuck, Darius thought. Who I am got me this opportunity. His father kept talking but he stopped listening. Instead, he thought of what he did to get to this moment. He spent every single day of quarantine learning the industry. He read every book, watched hundreds of videos on YouTube, and listened to every podcast on the subject. He did all of that while building a huge platform on social media. Strangers were rooting for him, but his father couldn’t see the worth of any of that.
He wanted to stand up and flip the table. He wanted to step into his father’s face and scream. I know fashion. I know what the people want. I would be an asset to any corporation that had the balls to hire me as their buyer. He didn’t have the strength to stand up to his father. He never did. So he hunched over his plate, swallowed those words with the rubber food, and nodded his head at the appropriate times.
After breakfast, his father brought one of his suits to Darius’ room and laid it out onto the bed. He smiled brightly and kissed him on the forehead before quietly leaving the room.
It took a while for Darius to stop crying. It took longer still for him to pull out the suit that he bought to wear for the interview.
“If I’m going to take this job, I am going to do it as my authentic self. I cannot convince anyone that I have style if I show up in a poorly cut suit from a Kmart clearance rack.” He looked at the suit and shuddered. “This is why they went out of business. Out here selling raggedy-ass suits to the masses.”
He wiped his brow and paced the length of his room.
“You got this, D.” He shook out his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet like a boxer getting ready to step into the ring. “You can do this, Darius. You have to block out the noise, and believe in yourself.”
His older brother walked into his room.
“You can knock,” Darius growled.
“And you can suck it,” Jordan shot back. “Wait, you do suck it.”
Darius laughed despite himself. “I don’t have time for your shenanigans, Jay. So turn your ass around and bother someone else.”
Jordan clutched his imaginary pearls. “Well, I guess you don’t want the gift I bought you.” He pulled a small box from his pocket and dangled it in front of Darius.
Darius’ mouth dropped as he saw the lettering. “Shut the fuck up!” He squealed in delight and rushed forward.
“Nope, you don’t want this,” Jordan teased, holding the box high in the air while fending Darius off.
Finally, Jordan handed it over. Darius clutched the cologne to his chest like it was treasure. “How could you afford this?”
“I started saving six months ago,” Jordan said, folding his arms. “Yo, bro. I’m so fucking proud of you. You’ve been working your ass off. As soon as you told me you were up for this job, I knew it was time. I wanted to buy you something ridiculous, something you didn’t think you could afford yet.”
Tears burned Darius’ eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
Jordan shook his head. “Don’t say anything. Just be you. That’s all I want. Don’t let anyone make you shrink or feel small—not even our father.”
Darius lunged into his brother’s arms and hugged him like his life depended on it. “Thank you, Jay. I’m going to be myself. I promise.”
Later, as Darius got dressed, Jordan lounged on his bed and eyed the suits.
“I think I’ll wear this today,” Jordan said, holding up the black suit with mock seriousness.
Darius laughed. “Where are you going in that, and isn’t it too small for you?”
“I’m going over Blake’s house to play Madden and see if his sister is ready to fall in love with me.”
Darius cackled. “You think the suit will help with that?”
Jordan smirked. “Nah, but if I’m wearing it, you can’t.” He nodded toward the blue suit. “Wear that one. It’s a better fit in every way.”
Darius picked up the blue suit and looked at it again—really looked at it. “This is definitely me.”
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