Chapter 34 Burying the Hatchet #2
“What they don’t tell you is that changing your name is the first step towards erasing yourself. You think you’re gaining something, but it’s just an illusion.”
Matt knew a thing or two about erasure as well. He hadn’t even known if he’d be welcomed at this house.
Sip.
“I’d never even been to a liquor store until this last August,” his mom had said.
“It was the third time you called from college. I heard you on the answering machine, asking us to call you back. I heard the hurt in your voice. Your father had told me not to answer your calls or return them. We had to wait until you—”
“—Found a nice girl,” Matt had finished the sentence. The last words his father had spoken to him had been “Call us when you find a nice girl.” Matt should have known his father was deadly serious.
Mother and son had both taken sips. Avoided eye contact.
A realization had dawned on Matt. Yeah, his dad was a jerk, always had been. But his mom? What he wanted to know was why she found it easier to drink than to just pick up the damn phone?
So, he asked her.
Nora had finally looked at him. Her voice, when she spoke, was almost a whisper. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it’s too little, too late. I have to start somewhere, right?”
Sip.
“Have you ever awakened in the middle of the night and, for a moment, wondered where you were?” his mom had asked.
Matt had nodded.
“That’s how I feel,” she had said. “I feel like I just awakened after twenty years. Only I’m not in my bed.
I’m in a forest. On a dark, moonless night.
I want out of that place, but I’m lost and scared and keep bumping into things.
All I can do is take baby steps and feel my way to the forest’s edge. ”
Matt had smiled at his mom for the first time since he’d come home. He could not begrudge her baby steps. He knew a thing or two about those.
“It’s chilly in here,” Matt had said, standing up, setting his juice glass on the coffee table. “Dad won’t be home for a couple of hours. How about I make a fire?”
“If you’re chilly, I can just turn up the heat,” Nora had offered.
Matt had shaken his head. “There’s something I need to do. It requires a fire. Does dad still keep the axe in the shed?”
His mom had nodded.
“You refill our glasses,” Matt had said. “I’ll build a fire and tell you about school.”
It had taken him longer to chop up the baseball bat than he’d imagined. The axe felt heavy in his hands, as unwieldy as the bat had felt when his dad had forced him to partake in the youth minister’s beatdown.
The bat was made of maple. A hardwood. No matter how savagely Matt had swung the axe, its blade only chipped and nicked the bat.
He had persisted though, hefting and swinging the axe until his arms ached and his sweat chilled him in the December breeze. Eventually he reduced the hated thing to kindling.
Still, the bat would not die. Being hardwood, it had resisted the flames, taunted him.
Matt and his mom had had plenty of time to sip their wine and talk, watching the bat slowly turn to ash, watching its smoke exit through the chimney and out of their lives.
He had told her about college life, about soccer and his nickname: Mustang. About his classes.
He had ached to tell her about this freckled boy named Adam and their upcoming first date nine days hence, on New Year’s Eve—but he held his tongue. That was a conversation for another time.
This conversation had been a long overdue baby step for them both.
Nicholas stood in Debbie’s doorway, nervously proffering a bouquet of lilies which, he’d explained to Matt beforehand, were the embodiment of remorse.
Matt had been skeptical that any flowers would work in a situation like this.
He could imagine someone proffering flowers with, “I’m sorry I forgot your birthday” or “our anniversary.” But, “I’m sorry I pretended to be straight, said ‘I do, ‘til death do us part,’ divorced you a few months later, ran off with my boyfriend, and never looked back?” That was asking a lot from a fistful of flowers.
Debbie, for once, was speechless.
Her eyes grew wide at sight of Nicholas, puddled. Her lips quivered. She swallowed air.
Matt watched her intently, ready to swoop in, if needed.
“You—” she whispered to Nicholas. Then her chest heaved up an anguished sob that broke through a dam of tears. “You…were…my…best…friend,” she moaned. Sank back on the couch, crying her heart out.
All three cats glared at Nicholas.
Matt grabbed a box of tissues, offered it to Debbie. He scooted the cats and sat beside her, hugging her protectively.
She sobbed into his shoulder.
The Kit Kat Wall Clock ticked on, whimsically wagging its eyes and tail, oblivious to the drama in the room.
Nicholas stood in the doorway, fidgeting with the lilies as if he still expected them to work their magic.
Eventually Debbie regained her composure. Dabbed at the mascara streaks on her face. “Mustang says you helped me get my job back,” she said to Nicholas. “Thank you.”
Nicholas nodded shyly. “It was the least I could do. When Matt, er, Mustang, told me what had happened, I wanted to help.”
“You two know each other?” Debbie looked from Matt to Nicholas. “How?”
Shit! Matt still hadn’t told Debbie he was gay.
She’d had enough on her plate after getting fired from MCU.
Plus, reason for getting fired: divorce, because some gay dude had found himself a nice girl (her), then figured out that wasn’t a smart plan.
Plus, ex-husband gay dude turned out to be Nicholas, GM alumnus.
And how exactly was Matt supposed to have sandwiched in a coming out to Debbie when he’d been so busy—working with Nicholas—to get her job back?
Now was not the time to break that news to her, to explain that the shoulder she’d just been crying on because of having been hurt by one gay guy belonged to yet another one.
Nicholas spun a quick cover story. “Our station sponsors a lot of organizations, including soccer teams. I met Ma—Mustang at a fundraiser event.”
Debbie nodded, but Matt wasn’t convinced she believed Nicholas’s explanation.
An awkward silence ensued.
Nicholas stood in the doorway, caught in the purgatory between having been invited inside but not offered a seat.
Debbie sniffled intermittently.
Matt was the third wheel, waiting to be excused, but not wanting to rush it.
He leaned in, whispered in Debbie’s ear. “Do you want me to ask him to leave?”
Debbie pursed her lips, shook her head.
Matt stood and offered Nicholas a seat on the couch.
“I’ll put these in water,” Matt said, taking the lilies from Nicholas. He carried them to the kitchen and put them in a vase.
When he returned, Debbie and Nicholas still weren’t talking, but the tension seemed to have eased a bit.
Matt hovered on the edge of the room.
“Are you happy?” Debbie asked Nicholas. Her voice was soft and genuine, like she hoped the answer was “yes.”
Nicholas nodded. “Happier than I deserve to be. Are you? Happy?”
Debbie grinned. She jerked a thumb Matt’s direction.
“I thought I was happy with my life before this character came along. I had my cats. ‘Frasier’ every Tuesday. ‘ER’ on Thursdays. You know, hot fudge sundae happy. Then this guy showed up at the freshman mixer and next thing I know he’s calling me ‘Mom Debbie.’ Me, a mom at my age!
And then he dragged the whole team along!
Tony and Roger and Caleb and all the rest!
Tony—his nickname’s ‘Idabel’ but he doesn’t like it—that guy can eat a whole cherry pie!
With his hands, like it’s pizza! And Caleb’s got this girlfriend who might not be suited to him… ”
Debbie was beaming—and babbling. “—But Mustang! He’s my favorite. He filled a hole in my heart I didn’t know existed. Now I’m banana split happy!”
Matt blushed.
Nicholas laughed. “Remember that time we made the World’s Biggest Banana Split and tried to eat it?”
Debbie rolled her eyes playfully. “I tried to eat it. You sipped a diet soda and complained about your figure!”
Nicholas and Debbie both laughed.
Matt’s job here was done. Nicholas and Debbie could make their peace without him.
He hugged Debbie goodbye, thanked Nicholas for all his help in the last few days, and gave Cleopatra one last stroke.
And then he was out the door and headed to Johnnie’s—not because he was hungry—but, rather, because he hoped to secure one more nail in what would be Colton Langley’s coffin—metaphorically speaking.
Matt was aware of the seeming incongruity here, of having helped Nicholas make amends for his misdeeds while plotting Colton’s demise for his. Matt wasn’t bothered, wasn’t drinking that cheap forgiveness Kool-Aid, which is what it was because there was no comparison between Nicholas and Colton.
Nicholas was an inherently decent person who had made a singular, horrible choice—the getting married to Debbie one—and then hurt her and been remorseful and tried to make amends.
Colton Langley, on the other hand, was the kind of person who kicked stray dogs for the hell of it, who had orchestrated Debbie’s firing, who had caused a sweet, freckled boy to attempt suicide. So, yeah, God might choose to forgive Colton, even at this late date; Matt would not.
Johnnie’s was nearly empty, its being 3:00 p.m. There were more employees than customers. Matt went through the line, ordered a large fry, a Coke, a Diet Dr. Pepper, and water for himself. Found a booth in the back and waited.
It wasn’t long before Molly and Ava joined him.
“Hey Screech!” Molly greeted him in her brassy voice. “What’s so important that we had to meet here? Now?”
Ava slid into the booth gracefully.
Molly not so much. Her camera bag jostled one of the drinks, nearly spilling it. She dropped into the seat noisily. Grabbed her Coke and stabbed it with a straw. Took a pull.
“I have a plan to deal with Colton Langley,” Matt said. “But I need your help.”