Neither Eunjae nor Ezra had noticed Denny’s arrival. They both yelped when he appeared, laden with potluck food already neatly packaged for Leila’s convenience. They yelped again when he told Jiyeon they were ready for the softball bat.
“Sure. It’s in the trunk, hang on.”
“Softball bat…?” whispered Eunjae.
Joey urged him to go inside, waving to Leila from the doorway. “See you at the wedding!”
“Disregard,” Denny said right away. “That’s invite-only.”
It didn’t take long to fetch the requested softball bat. Leila was still there, perhaps somewhat stunned in the aftermath. But it was also true that some people just couldn’t take a hint, no matter how warmly you sent them on their way. Jiyeon left her there. She didn’t want to ask about Vivian anymore. Best to leave Leila out of it.
By some fluke, Apollo hadn’t obliterated the lunch buffet. She ate as fast as she could, and then it was time to take care of the front door.
Half of the decorative panels were still intact. The rest were in pieces, reduced to jagged remnants. It made the door look like a mouth studded with broken teeth. Jiyeon had arranged for a temporary solution until they could have the stained glass made to order. They'd decided to knock out the shattered parts, leaving a clean slate for repairs.
“We’ll do four new panels,” Jiyeon explained to their friends from the podcast. “Mr. Rivera said he can save the originals and frame them for us. I think it'll look great.”
Of course, they wanted to know if the family would try to recreate the old design. She replied that something different had been chosen.
“A circus tent,” said Denny, “with eight clowns riding unicycles. Battle dress. Berets, sequins, leather pants. The works.”
“Hot clowns. I’ll pose for it, Chief. Three easy payments of $3,999.”
“Aww, it’ll be so pretty! I can’t wait to see it!”
“Add some words. ‘The sun is always shining.’ You fucking loved that one.”
The parking lot rang with laughter. As more suggestions poured in, Denny hefted the softball bat, testing the weight and balance. He peered through the haphazard gaps and checked on the tarp that he'd spread on the dining room floor. Most people would find his thoughts inscrutable in that moment, but Jiyeon read her brother like a book. She pried the bat out of his hand. Patting Denny on the arm, she said, “I'll go first.”
It didn't take much force to knock her section out of the door. The pieces landed on the other side with an almost musical chime.We’ll fix you up, she promised in her head.It’ll be okay.
Denny's turn again, for real this time. Spectators called out encouragement. Jeannie reprimanded the uncles who’d brought out an air horn, citing insubordination. And when their managerstill couldn’t bring himself to strike, brothers peeled away from the crowd. Brothers were suddenly all around him. They clapped Denny on the shoulder, clung to his arm so he couldn't swing the bat even if he wanted to. All their different names for him rang out in the brisk November air: Captain, Boss, Chief.
Eunjae left Jiyeon’s side to join them. “You’ve got it, Denny,” he said.
As others echoed this phrase, Denny lifted the bat at last. He smashed what was left of the fourth panel to a deafening round of cheering and applause. Jiyeon hung back while everyone else streamed forward, wanting to commit the scene to memory. This was her dream unfolding in vivid color. This was a gathering place, a second home.
She’d helped to build it, before. She would build it again.
The full, uncut version of a video uploaded to Apollo member Ari’s social media accounts and the group’s official channels in November 2023
The light is beautiful. It’s the warm, golden glow of late afternoon, captured just before day gives way to dusk. The sign is dark and the orange door is missing its stained glass panels, but we’re looking at Wanna Waffle. You recognize it right away. You’ve been here before.
We hear talk and laughter. Ari walks a few steps ahead of us, his sweater splashed with paint. “I don't know what to say,” he admits. “I thought I did, before we got started.”
“Quit overthinking it, Ryan. You're not addressing the United Nations.” It's the voice of Apollo’s manager, a rumbling baritone that evokes mythical titans and active volcanoes. Emma shushes him from behind the camera. Has he ever addressed the United Nations? No. So he can't really make that comparison, can he? Maybe he should go inside and yell at someone else.
“Oooh, go inside and order us some pizza. How about it, Chief?”
“We can't eat until hyung’s done with this video thingy and I'm starving, I've never been hungrier in my life, I'mwasting away—”
This statement comes under fire immediately. First to complain is a teenager whose accent is similar to Ari’s, but a bit more pronounced. “You ate enough lunch for three people,” he points out. “I watched you do it.”
“Hey, now. Is that how you speak to your elders? Jesse’s an aging idol actor but he still deserves respect.”
Wailing commences. Max stalks into view, brooding, dressed like a rich middle schooler enrolled in art camp against his will. “Hyung, we’ll be here all goddamn night if you don’t start soon.”
“Aww, just tell her everything! Say what's in your heart!”
