38. Matteo—Age Eleven
Matteo—Age Eleven
Every part of my body is numb besides the ache in my chest.
I barely feel the rain pelting against my skin anymore; the pain of my mom forgetting me once again is far outweighing the ice-cold droplets soaking me to the bone. I don’t even have to ask what happened, I already know. It’s happened far too many times now.
A surgery came up.
And although they’ve explained to me that they help people, that they save lives and patch people together on the worst day of their lives, in doing, so they always create my worst day.
I don’t know why they kept me when they forget about me all the time.
It’s a thought that has played on a loop in my head as I’ve walked the past thirty minutes from the rink to my home.
Why have me if they don’t even like spending time with me?
Why have me when they’re only annoyed by my presence?
Why have me just to hate me?
Am I easy to hate?
The tears that have been swelling in my eyes drop. The lump that has been lodged in my throat grows until it’s choking me, and suddenly, I’m gasping for air. I can’t breathe.
Why do they hate me?
Tonight was amazing. Our hockey team won for the first time this season. We were all playing so well, all of us in sync—especially Caleb and me, although that’s nothing new.
I felt strong, powerful, on top of the world, finishing with a smile that fell when everyone’s parents came to congratulate the players and I was the only one left standing there with no one.
I’d like to say I’m used to the embarrassment but the hot, sticky feeling is one I’ll never get used to. It’s not normal to be hated by your parents, and the more I see my teammates interact with their normal families, the more obvious that becomes.
A scream of frustration crawls up my throat and turns into a sob as it comes out of my mouth.
At the sound of tires on the gravel road, I drop my head and pull my hoodie tighter around my face. I don’t want anyone to see me like this. I don’t want them to know that despite my parents forgetting about me all the time, it still hurts so much to the point I can’t breathe.
Keeping my head as low as possible, I whisper under my breath like a prayer, “Please keep going, please keep going, please keep going.”
My parents aren’t religious. They’re far too deep in the scientific community to believe in a god. That, and I have a theory they think they’re gods themselves being surgeons, but if there ever was one, he never listens to my pleas.
He certainly hasn’t started listening to me today.
The car stops beside me, forcing me to turn my head.
The front passenger window rolls down, and my stomach sinks. Mr. Ellington can’t hide the pity in his eyes as he gives me a sad smile. “Hey, Matteo, what are you doing?”
I shrug, knowing Caleb is somewhere in the car. “Walking home.”
“It’s pouring down.”
My throat tightens again, tears threatening to spill over. I shrug once more instead of talking because I know what will happen if I open my mouth—no words will come, but the tears certainly will.
Mr. Ellington leans over until the front passenger door opens. He calls through the hammering rain, “Come on, son, get in the car.”
Son.
I don’t know why the word has such an effect on me. He isn’t my father but my lower lip wobbles all the same. Maybe it’s because every night I fall asleep wishing that he was my dad instead.
A crack of thunder splits the sky and that’s all I need to hear to make me haul ass. Jumping in the front seat, I don’t dare turn around to see Caleb. I don’t want him to know I was crying. Don’t want him to know that my parents forgot me again.
Whenever he finds out, he gets really angry, so angry that Mr. and Mrs. Ellington have had to have multiple conversations with him on how he treats my parents on the rare occasions he sees them. I, on the other hand, have always loved when he defends me. It’s what I would do for him.
Mr. Ellington takes off down the road. He doesn’t even ask me, just simply drives past my street and heads toward his house.
My entire body deflates in relief when he does.
“You boys played so well today. You should be so proud of yourselves.” Flicking his eyes to me, Mr. Ellington adds, “And Matteo, I heard about your computer science project!” He whistles as if he’s impressed.
“Serena told me you scored highest in your year! I can’t wait to see what you build in the future. ”
My cheeks are flaming red. My parents never give me compliments, let alone know when I do well at school. The praise he gives me makes me uncomfortable but also…happy.
It makes me happy.
“Thank you, Mr. Ellington,” I murmur.
“Come on, son, it’s Marcus. You have to stop with the Mr. and Mrs. You know Serena and I prefer first names.”
Swallowing thickly, I nod. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Ellington laughs before reaching over and ruffling my curls. “You’re too polite for your own good.” Pulling into the driveway, he asks, “What’s the plan for tonight, boys? Movie night considering the storm?”
It’s the first time Caleb talks, and his question is aimed my way. “Do you want to watch the new Paranormal Activity movie? Archer said it made his sister wet the bed, it was so scary.”
Turning in my seat, I see the worry Caleb can’t hide but there’s no pity. Never pity from my best friend. Nodding along, I grunt out a yes.
I’m still too afraid to speak to him, afraid that my voice will crack and the tears will spill again. Especially after Marcus’s compliments. Caleb feels this every day, this…love? Is this what it feels like to be loved by a parent?
Why can’t my parents be like Marcus and Serena?
Caleb smiles for the both of us at my grunt. He throws his fist in the air and hollers.
Mr. Ellington turns to both of us. “Am I going to be up all night with you two being scared?”
Again, there’s no question—just assumption that I’ll be staying the night.
Caleb scoffs as he moves to open the back door. “No, we’re not that little, Dad.”
Mr. Ellington looks at me with a knowing smile.
Before I can move toward my own door, it flies open, but instead of Caleb standing there, I come face-to-face with Evie.
She doesn’t have a care in the world that she’s standing in the rain, her clothes getting wet, and for some reason, like it always does, my heart stops beating for a moment when I look at her.
Out the corner of my eye, I see Caleb dash into the garage, taking off his shoes by the back door.
Evie’s smile takes up half her face, her missing tooth only making her look more adorable. “Hi, Valenti!”
“Hi, Dove,” I whisper.
Evie’s smile starts to drop, her ocean-blue eyes moving back and forth.
Mr. Ellington rounds the car, quickly grabbing Caleb’s hockey kit from the trunk. I left mine in my school locker. I didn’t think I could make it all the way home lugging it myself.
Evie steps closer, a slight lisp to her words as she asks softly, “Are you okay?”
“I am now,” I answer honestly.
“Did you use the bracelet? Did it make you feel safe?”
“Evie!” Mr. Ellington calls out. She jumps, flinching at his loud volume. “What are you doing getting wet? You’ll get sick. Go on inside. You too, Matteo.”
She looks at me sheepishly. Sliding out of the car, I shut the door, walking side by side with her until we reach Caleb and toe off our wet shoes.
“I’m going to go get the movie started! I think my mom washed your clothes from last night and put them upstairs in my room. I’ll go get them.”
Before I can say thank you, Caleb’s taking off through the house, calling out for his mom.
Marcus puts Caleb’s kit away as Evie frowns. “What movie?” He comes up beside us, putting his hand gently on Evie’s shoulder and pulling her in for a side hug, but she doesn’t take her eyes off me as she waits for the answer.
“Not one you can watch, honey.”
“Why?”
“Do you want nightmares for months?”
“I won’t get nightmares.”
Yes, you do. You have nightmares regardless of what you watch. But I can’t say that because she doesn’t know that I’m the only one who can calm her while she’s in a nightmare, that my hand in hers and my whispers are the only sounds and touch she can handle.
“If the boys are watching it, then I’m watching it,” Evie says stubbornly, raising her chin.
Mr. Ellington turns to me, his lips flattening. “Room for one more tonight?”
Before I can stop it, I find myself smiling. “Always.”
Shaking his head, he sighs. “Serena and I are in for it tonight.” He presses the button to close the garage door as he walks into the house. “Dear, it seems we will have three scared children tonight!”
I can hear Mrs. Ellington’s laugh float through the house, the sound like a warm balm on my chest. Serena has always taken care of me, has always made sure I’ve been fed and clothed. And not only that, she smiles at me.
My mom never smiles at me.
Turning back to Evie, I whisper, “The thought of you always makes me feel safe.”
Evie blinks up at me, her brows furrowing before she looks down to the bracelet I’m wearing on my wrist, my fingers playing with it like they always do.
She smiles up at me. “I’m glad, Valenti.”
“When will you call me Matteo?”
“When you tell me why you call me Dove.”
Sighing, I step into the house. “Guess I’ll have to get used to it forever, then.”
“Hey! Forever is a long time. I want to know before I die.”
“Don’t say that!” I whisper in horror.
“What?” She shrugs. “Everyone dies eventually.”
“Eventually, Evie. God, that’s…please don’t say that.” The idea of Evie someday not being here makes me physically sick. My stomach starts to roll, my mouth filling with saliva.
Evie skips up to me, sliding her hand in mine. The touch makes my hand all tingly and my arm burn with what feels like fire.
“Don’t worry, Valenti,” she says, squeezing my hand. “You’ll never get rid of me.”
I hope that’s true.
As Evie pulls me through the house toward the kitchen to grab snacks for the movie, I can’t help but whisper under my breath, “My pretty Dove. I want to be in your life, forever and always.”