46. Matteo
FORTY-SIX
MATTEO
One Month Later
Tripping over my feet, I stumble into the general store.
I wipe away the rain from my forehead and fix my collar, trying my best to be as composed as possible, considering how trashed I am. I eye the aisles, knowing full well that what I need isn’t going to be sitting on the shelves, and make my way to the front counter. I end up slamming right into one of the display cases, and I curse loudly.
“Oh, Father. For the good Lord’s sake, have some decency.”
My eyes widen as Marcy comes over to help me stay steady on my feet. My heart races with panic, and I shake my head. “No, I’m just?—”
“Drunk off your ass,” she deadpans, wrapping her arm around my waist. There’s no judgment in her eyes, and if I were sober, I think I’d be able to tell what I see there.
I stutter for a response. “I-I’m not.”
“Now, now don’t dare lie to me,” she snarks, wagging a finger in my face. “You think I don’t see what’s goin’ on in my own church? You’ve been this way for months now, and I’ve prayed to the Lord for patience, but I’m about done with it.”
My jaw clicks in irritation as I try to move away from her. “I’m fine.”
“Fine,” she snorts, shaking her head. “You’re nowhere near fine.” In a moment of pure compassion, she smiles as sweetly as she can and rubs her thumb against my bicep. “I know it hurts to be without him. It’s been five months. He ain’t coming back.”
Theo.
Just the mention of him makes my heart race. That deep pit of crippling despair that’s led me to where I am now grows. It seeps into all parts of me, coiling around my organs, and invading my veins. I’m torn between sadness—the overwhelming urge to cry and die—and anger that I feel this way. I grit my teeth and bat her hand away too roughly. “I don’t want to get him back.”
“You have to get past this.”
I drop my face into my hands and take a deep breath. Too far gone to censor myself, I let out something akin to a choked sob. “I can’t.”
I just can’t. Everything about him still calls to me. From the memory of his beautiful freckles to the thought of his somewhat awkward smile. I could never forget the incredible moments we shared, or the indescribable heartbreak of Hell I’m currently living in.
Never.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Earl! The fried chicken was rotten!”
Both Marcy and I turn to the counter. I groan when I see that it’s Merv, standing shoulder to shoulder with the General Store owner. His face is flushed red with rage and his fists are clenched into tight balls at his side.
Earl, to his credit, doesn’t back down from the threat. He holds his chin high and spits, “Is that why you ate the whole thing?”
Merv sways and I can see the tell-tale sign of someone that’s had one too many. “I want my damn money back.”
As well as I can, I think about why Merv could be so insistent on getting his money back. He could just be an asshole—which we all know is true—but there’s a part of me that also notices the way his body is twitching and can see the sweat pouring down his face. I suppose the money could be used for… other things.
“Well, you’re not getting it,” Earl states. “Go home, Merv.”
In an instant, Merv slams his fist against the wall behind Earl and leans close. “Fuck you. I’m not leaving without my damn money.”
Fury rages within me. I’m normally calm, thoughtful, and calculating in the kindest and most rational way, but that doesn’t stop my feet from moving forward. “Is there a problem here?”
Marcy gasps behind me. “Father, don’t?—”
“You need to leave,” I bite out.
Looking me up and down, Merv chuckles. He curls his upper lip in a snarl, but there’s almost amusement in there as well. “And you’re going to fucking make me?”
This time it’s my own hands that find their way into fists. I take one more step until I’m right in front of him. “Leave.”
Merv shakes his head. “Bastard, I ain’t doing shit until this asshole gives me my money. Go back to church and get on your knees and fucking?—”
There’s nothing particularly insulting about what he said. At least not directed at me. But still…
Why doesn’t my fist swing to connect to the bottom of his jaw?
It all happens so quickly from there. I don’t know what comes over me, but I tackle him to the ground. I can see that I’m not myself. I can feel the misplaced rage, the wrath, the overwhelming need to self-sabotage coursing through my veins. But then again, I can’t think either. I can only fucking feel.
The death of my soul.
The torture of my existence.
The life without him .
I pound against his face. I get as good as I give. He fights back with equally overwhelming anger. We go back and forth, and I have my hands wrapped around his throat until I hear a soft cry coming from behind me. At first, I think it’s Marcy, but when the crying turns into a high-pitched cadence of true fear, my blood runs cold. I take a quick look behind me and see Merv’s son, Billy.
And he’s looking at me like I’m a monster.
I am a monster .
I stagger back as I think of the words. I open and close my mouth. I shake my head at myself. Is this… Is this what I’ve become? Am I…
When I realize I’m Merv, something inside me rots away.
Because I’m just like him. A drunk fool who can’t control himself. A walking disaster who wants everyone else to feel his pain.
Once again, a monster.
Merv jumps to his feet at my hesitation. He reaches into his pocket and quickly pulls out what looks like a knife.
It’s okay.
If this is how it’s meant to happen, so be it. My heart doesn’t even race with fear. It’s not that I accept my fate, but I finally acknowledge that maybe I deserve it. That maybe this is a mercy.
“Alright, what seems to be the issue here?”
Everyone in the General Store turns when the only local sheriff walks in. He looks at the scene, eyes widening when he sees the knife in Merv’s hand, but then something akin to amusement takes its place.
“He fucking assaulted me!” Merv says, and now that I can see the damage I inflicted, I can’t even argue with him.
“And that?” the sheriff asks, eyeing the knife. “If I’m not mistaken, carrying a weapon is a violation of your parole, Merv.”
Merv’s eyes turn into saucers, and he immediately drops the knife. “It’s not mine. It’s?—”
But it’s too late because the sheriff is already pulling his cuffs from behind his back. Merv doesn’t go quietly; he thrashes in the sheriff’s grip. The sheriff looks over at Earl and then at Billy. “Keep him for a bit, would you? I’ll be back to take him once I get his piece of shit father processed.”
“Father, are you alright?” Marcy asks, fussing over me with tears in her eyes. “Oh dear…”
I don’t pay attention to her or let her look me over as I stop right in front of the sheriff. “Excuse me. Where are you taking Billy?”
“Into the station, until we can place him with another family… again,” he says, smacking Merv in the back of the head when he tries to get out of his grip. “Don’t know how long Merv’s going to be behind bars again.”
I nod dumbly and watch as Merv is walked out into the rain. I turn, one single-minded thought, and approach Billy cautiously.
And when he flinches, my world changes.
I don’t like who I’ve become. I’m not someone he should fear. I’m not someone who does this kind of thing and inflicts this kind of pain. I’ve turned myself into this. I’ve made my problems everyone else’s, and there’s nothing right about that.
So, I drop my voice to a whisper, gulping audibly. “Billy, are you okay?”
Billy sniffles, clutching at his torn shit. “I’m sorry my daddy hurt your face.”
“This?” Pointing at my face, I chuckle weakly. “It’s nothing.”
“I don’t want to go back with another family,” he whispers, real fear in his expression. “They’re always so mean.”
I take a deep breath. “I think we can figure something out.” And when Marcy appears behind me with a hand on my shoulder, I smile. “I think everything will be figured out.”
Because I’ve lost myself. Because I’ve become someone else.
Because it’s no longer okay to not move on.