16. Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Sixteen
Ace
Matt didn’t show up the night I brought the snacks to my office, which was probably for the best. I had overthought the situation so much that I probably would have either rambled myself right off a cliff or would have come in so hot and heavy that he would have never come within ten feet of me again.
By the time he shows up the second night, I’m feeling much more calm and collected about the whole thing.
I invite him in with a low-key smile. I warn him I’ll probably be listening to music again and the same rules stand. I’m calm. Collected. Cool.
Then I - so casually, super casually - say, “Don’t mind all the snacks.
I’ve been in here more than usual with Travis gone and a few other things that I have cooking in the pots.
The metaphorical pots. Or is it cooking in the fire?
Something is cooking, anyway. Not the snacks.
The snacks aren’t cooking, obviously. All no-cook required snacks here.
You want some? Oh man, these ones are so good, have you tried these?
I’ve eaten two bags already. I’m going to have to buy a whole box in the next shipment, but there’s more than enough left.
I’ve got some extra drinks in my mini-fridge, too.
All of these snacks are making me thirsty as shit.
It’s mostly all of those electrolyte drinks.
The blue ones. They’re my favorite. Do you like the blue ones?
Here, I can grab you one. And don’t judge me on the fruit loops, okay?
Because, yeah, like, I’m obviously not going to have cereal with milk in here, especially not anywhere near my baby, but dry cereal is like the king of snacks, don’t you think?
You get all that sweet iron and nutrients and shit and it feels like you’re having a regular snack.
Not even a regular snack. It’s practically candy, you know? ”
And Matt is just blinking very wide eyes at me, standing frozen by the coffee table with his notebook to his chest.
That… was not very casual at all, was it?
Fuck me.
“So, uh - yeah. Snacks. If you want. Just don’t touch my licorice. We’ll have issues if you steal my licorice, alright? I am a man who takes his licorice very seriously.”
He blinks, blinks, blinks.
Then he slowly opens his notebook to the very first page and steps forward, angling it toward me.
I realize quickly that it’s not the first page he wants to show me, it’s the inside of the front cover.
A rainbow pie chart, each slice filled with a word, has been adhered there.
I only have to read two of the biggest words to realize what it is.
Adam gave him a feelings chart.
Those things used to be the bane of my existence when I was young.
I went through so many copies, always ripping them up or crumpling them in frustration.
It wasn’t even that I had a hard time assigning words to my emotions, it’s that I didn’t know any of the words themselves.
I didn’t know what the word happy or sad meant, let alone all the shit like joyous and devastated.
By the time I had learned most of them, my therapist had been changed to Adam.
His version of the chart had been laminated.
I always wondered if that was because he’d been warned ahead of time, or because he’d already learned the lesson from other survivors.
I notice Matt’s is laminated.
I also notice that he’s now pointing at a particular word.
“Energetic,” I read aloud. I smile. “Yeah? You’re feeling energetic? That’s great.”
He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. It is a very pointed look.
“Oh. I see. I’m energetic.”
Now both eyebrows are raised as he nods.
He is a very expressive person when he wants to be.
I chuckle. “Is that you asking me to tone it down a little?”
He shakes his head before squinting back down at the chart and pointing to a new word. Amused.
“Well, happy to provide entertainment.” I grab the closest snack - fish crackers - and place them on top of his feelings chart. “Tonight’s entertainment comes with snacks.”
He bites down on his bottom lip before carefully shifting the notebook in his hands so he can pluck the bag of crackers off of it.
I hold my breath while he hesitates, but it doesn’t take him long to decide he’s going to keep them, slipping the little bag into his front pocket that’s already bulging with who knows what.
He turns a few pages in his notebook and stops.
I notice he already has something written there, but the way the notebook is tilted means the words are for him, not me, so I look a little to the side to give him privacy.
He hesitates, looking like he might be reading the words again before glancing quickly at me.
After a few seconds, he nods to himself and turns the notebook so it’s obvious he wants me to look. The words are neat and big, just like his thank you note from before. WANTED TO COME LAST NIGHT BUT...
“Yeah?” I don’t ask him to finish the words.
I don’t need to know why he didn’t come.
I don’t bring up the fight Maison and Carter had that left Carter on his knees and triggered.
I don’t mention that Nolan and Carter are currently getting drunk down at the fire in the living room.
I don’t mention that he’s missed more meals.
None of that is the deal we made.
“That’s okay,” I tell him instead. “No pressure, remember? You can come whenever.”
He’s visibly relieved as he nods. It breaks me, just a little - knowing he was worried I’d be upset.
I want to tell him it’s impossible for him to upset me, but he won’t believe it.
I’ll just have to prove it. I’ll have to show him over and over until he realizes it for himself.
Out of all the ways to live a life, that doesn’t seem like a bad one. Not one bit.
“What do you think, more music tonight?” I ask, reaching past him to turn the second lock on the door. He seems to breathe easier once it clicks, as if a weight has been lifted from him with the reassurance that no one can get him in here. No one but me, and he’s decided I’m safe.
He is so brave for that. So strong. He deserves to have any weight that’s on him lifted. I wonder what it would take to get him feeling weightless. I wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get to be a part of the moment when he achieves the freedom of that.
Music, he signs with a nod, reminding me that I had asked a question.
He’s already heading over to the couch. He sits on one of the cushions and starts to unload his pocket, as if he’s planning to stay there instead of going to his hiding spot like he usually would.
It’s none of my business, so I start to head to my desk, but I stop when his head whips up at my movement.
His eyes are locked on me, his eyebrows twisted questioningly.
I don’t understand what the question is.
This is how it’s always gone. He comes in, I go back to work.
Adding music is slightly newer, but the rest of the routine still stands.
This is not routine.
He’s holding something in his hand. It’s a little drawstring bag. Blue velvet, from what I can tell.
“You want to show me?” I ask, trying not to sound incredulous. If he’s asking for more interaction, I don’t want to scare him away from it. I just don’t really understand what changed.
He’s nodding, though. Yes. He wants to show me.
Whatever changed, I’m going to try really fucking hard not to ruin it.
I move the coffee table over so I can take a seat on the floor in front of him, not wanting to sit beside him without an explicit invitation. I settle with my knees drawn up, elbows resting on them, and tilt my head to look up at him. “Whatcha got?”
He opens the bag and carefully tips the contents of it out into the cup of his left hand. Some of the contents, at least. I can still hear a few of the items clinking around when he sets the bag down on the couch.
There are four small rocks displayed in his hand when he holds it toward me.
I lean in, realizing what they are as I scan them: the dark blue stone with little swirls carved into it, the bright pink stone with the dotted pattern, the minty-green stone with a smooth dip in the center, and the multi-shaded purple with a natural-looking crystal texture.
“Adam gave you worry stones.” His eyebrows are pulled together when I glance at his face. “Sorry - Dr. Singh. I forget that he’s Dr. Singh to most of you. These are pretty nice. I like the colors.”
He nods with an almost-smile, wiggling his fingers a little so the rocks gently dance along his palm.
“I’ve been practicing signing, whenever I get the chance.I have a little app on my phone that sends me reminders to do five minutes here and there.
” I shrug. “I don’t know the sign for ‘worry’, but I know the sign for ‘upset’.
” I show him the sign before laughing a little under my breath.
“I guess upset stones don’t sound as cool though, do they? ”
He shakes his head in agreement, his eyes smiling even if his lips aren’t. He repeats the sign anyway, Upset, then makes a face that seems to say yeah, doesn’t sound very good.
I’ve noticed that the more comfortable he’s gotten with me, the more expressive his face has become. I’m starting to be able to read him. I like that. I don’t know what it means, if it even means anything at all, but I like it all the same.
Matt plucks one of the stones from his palm - the deep blue one - and offers it to me. I take it like it’s as breakable as fine china. I don’t thank him, not wanting to assume it’s a gift. I just tell him, “This is beautiful.”