9. Fischer
FISCHER
Iexpected two things upon seeing Matthew in the flesh again. Joy and relief. What I didn’t expect was this anxiety gnawing at my insides—the fear that despite all our efforts to stay connected over the last several years, that we’ve grown apart.
While I know I’ll never be part of his daily life again, other than comings and goings downstairs, I want to understand my place in it, regardless.
It was too easy to forget how comfortable I feel around him.
The sense of unconditional belonging he—and literally only he—offers me.
As I go limp on his chest, the emotional purge over, I say, “At the risk of making this awkward…”
He laughs softly.
“This finally makes me feel like I’m home.”
He adjusts his head, and I move mine so I can see his face.
“Really?” he asks.
I nod.
Matthew loosens his arms and rubs my back. “I’m just so fucking relieved,” he says. “I worried about you a lot.”
“What happened that first year was such a fluke,” I tell him. “Nothing even close to that ever happened again.”
“I get that, but still. As much PTSD as you were dealing with, I felt like once you were back out there again—that’s when mine set in. I think it’s safe to say I got a little attached to having you nearby.”
“I did, too,” I admit.
Matthew huffs softly, like could’ve fooled me.
“Does it feel like I wasn’t attached? You know I hate hugs.”
“Do you, though?”
I pinch his arm and he swats my hip. “Ow. Stop it.”
“So, what’s it gonna look like, you and me?”
He grimaces and drops his gaze. “Whatever you want it to.”
“So we can hang out? We don’t have to stick with the doorman, family get together things?”
“Why do you keep asking this? Do you want to hang out with me?”
“Why do you sound surprised?” I ask.
“Just because you’re busy, and we’re basically total opposites. It’s not like you need my help with anything anymore.”
I give him a skeptical look. “Really?”
“Well, assuming you got it all out,” he says regarding the breakdown I just had on him.
“Let’s assume I didn’t,” I say, rearranging myself until I’m tucked between him and the back of the couch. Our legs slot together, and I settle against his chest in his easy embrace. I keep wondering if I’m too much, but he keeps accommodating.
He runs a soothing hand over my hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“I’m just making sure we’re good, Matty.”
“Well, I’m glad you asked, but we’re good. I’m here for whatever you need. You know that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Shutting my eyes, I finally exhale. This is exactly what I needed. Even if it’s only for ten minutes. Being this close to him reminds me of the last time in my life I felt truly safe and cared for. “Do you think the divorce has been hard on Vaughn?”
“Hm. Probably something you should ask him.”
“You don’t think that kind of question would be traumatizing?”
“Pfft. No. I feel like it would help him understand he can talk to you about his feelings, but even if it backfires and messes him up forever—oh well. Every kid has a sad backstory of some kind,” Matthew says.
I laugh. “Oh yeah? What’s yours?”
“You don’t know mine? Well, let me tell you about my big brother…”
I groan and dig my face into his shoulder.
“Who was never around, never wanted anything to do with me or my sister…”
“Look…”
“And you have no idea what it’s like being a neurodivergent leftie in school. My teachers hated me. Meanwhile, my twin—the perfect one with all the friends who everybody loved and is getting married to Stuart Fucking March in the fucking Pierre in October is cementing my spot as the family loser.”
“You’re not a loser. You work harder than anyone I know.”
“Yeah, because my job is so mentally and physically taxing.”
“When was the last time you missed a day of work?” I ask him.
“I don’t know.”
“And do you spend all your time off napping?”
“No…”
“No, you’re probably blowing glass or some shit.”
Matthew laughs. “I thought you were gonna say something else, but I wish I could blow glass. I saw on YouTube you can visit a couple of glass blowers in Venice. I’d love to do that. Although I think they use like—an open flame pit, which I’m guessing isn’t feasible in my building.”
I chuckle against his chest. “I do need to get you to Venice one of these days.”
“You did promise,” he says.
“Did I?”
“You probably wouldn’t remember.”
I sigh. There’s a lot about the time I was recovering with Matthew that I was too out of it on pain meds to remember, but there’s still plenty I do. Like how comfortable I am with him. Obviously.
The knock I’ve been waiting for comes, and I unpeeled myself from Matthew who steadies me as I crawl over him to stand. He runs a hand through his hair and I do the same. “How do I look?”
He drags his gaze from my lower half to my face and I find my cheeks heating. “Good,” he says.
I head down the hall to open the door for my son and my ex wife. “Dad!”
What happened to Daddy?
I crouch down, and he launches himself into my arms. He looks like me at his age, it’s like going back in time. He’s skinny and wiry like I was, too, vibrating with energy, but he gives great hugs. “Hey, bud.”
“Did you change my room?”
“Not a bit. But if you want to get some new stuff for it, now’s the time to ask.”
“I’ll send you my wishlist.” He pulls away and gives my face a pat, making me grin. His eyes are blue like Nicole’s, and I look up at her finally.
“Hey.”
“Hi. How’s the leg?”
“A little rough.” I use the cane to leverage myself up as Vaughn stands between us, looking from one of us to the other. Nicole is 5’10, only two inches shorter than I am. I give her a one-armed hug and welcome them inside. “My brother’s here.”
“Oh! Great. Can I say hi?”
“Sure.”
Matthew’s already heading down the hallway and he catches Vaughn’s eyes. They give each other a rough, hearty greeting that makes me smile. Matthew picks up my son and Vaughn wraps his legs around his uncle’s waist.
“Hey, Matty!” Nicole calls out.
“Hello. What are you feeding this kid?”
“Whatever he’ll eat,” she answers wryly. To me she says, “Goldfish and chicken nuggets is about it, honestly.”
“What about pizza?” I ask.
“Depends on the day.”
My nerves kick up again when I realize I know almost nothing about his routine. Am I supposed to wing this?
Nicole gives Matthew a hug once he sets down Vaughn. He asks her if she wants any coffee.
She’s holding a commuter mug and says, “I could take a top-off.”
Matty even sets Vaughn up at the table with the blueberry muffin which also looks like it’s on the edible list. My knee locks up as I’m going to sit with Vaughn, but Matthew’s right there, his arm shooting out to keep me steady as I lean to the side.
“What do you need?” he asks.
“A second,” I say, flexing my calf and trying to put my foot flat on the floor.
“Here, sit.” He eases me onto the arm of the couch, his hands on my shoulders, gaze intent on my face.
“You okay?” Nicole calls out.
“Yeah,” I say, borderline humiliated.
“You want some muffin, Dad?”
“I’m okay, bud.”
Matty runs a hand down my back and I hang my head as I try to work out the kink in my knee. “Is it a spasm, or…?”
“It’s more like a hitch. I don’t know—like something’s caught on something.”
“Can I rub it?”
“No, it should loosen up in a second. I’m sorry.”
His hand rests on the back of my neck as Nicole comes to stand in front of me. Matthew’s fingertips graze my hairline and I get chills.
“You sure you’re up for this?” she asks, indicating Vaughn with a tilt of her head.
“He’s okay,” Matthew says.
I look up to find her giving him a tight smile. “You gonna be here?”
“If that’s okay,” he says.
“Of course,” she says. “It’s not my apartment anymore. Sorry about the wall, by the way. Do you have an estimate yet?”
“Don’t worry about it. I was planning to repaint anyway,” I lie.
“Oh. Well. Still. I feel bad.”
“Are there more muffins, Matty?”
“We can get more.”
“I should go,” Nicole says, her gaze lingering on Matthew’s hand on my neck a moment longer. “Looks like you’re both in good hands. But call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks, Nic.”
“I feel like I should get the door for you,” Matty jokes, which makes her laugh.
She gives Vaughn a hug and kiss before she leaves. My knee conveniently starts working again. “Now what do I do?” I ask Matthew.
He runs a hand over my hair and gives my neck a squeeze. “I say we grab some more muffins and go to the zoo.”
“The zoo?”
We glance at Vaughn. “Is that okay?” I ask him, near panic.
He leaps out of his chair, arm shouting above his head. “Yes!”
* * *
Whether Matthew wants to spend time with Vaughn or he’s just in protective mode because I almost ate it in my living room, he’s still around after I tuck my son into bed.
The day went well, overall, but only because I wasn’t alone. Even at bedtime, when Vaughn asked to talk to his mom, Matthew came in with my phone and suggested FaceTime.
He’s been saving my ass all day. I genuinely don’t think I could’ve gotten through it without him. I leave Vaughn’s room to tell him that, but he speaks first.
“If you had a TV, we could watch a show,” he says.
How is he not exhausted by my needy ass yet? Not that I’m complaining. “I have an iPad.”
“If you had a more comfortable couch, we might be able to make that work.”
I laugh again. “Want me to make another pillow fort? I thought the first one turned out pretty well.”
“I’d suggest the bed if you hadn’t defiled it last night.”
“Jesus, you’re ruthless. I can change the sheets.”
“What do you want to watch?” he asks.
“Game of Thrones.”
“That was easy.”
“I need it,” I tell him.
“All right. You find your iPad. I’ll change the sheets, and we’ll knock out as many episodes as it takes to chill out and go to sleep.”
He’s sleeping over? Maybe today isn’t a complete disaster after all.
He stands. “Point me in the direction of the clean sheets.”