CHAPTER SEVEN
MATTEO
“Alright, Matt,” the nurse said as she appeared with a stack of papers in her hand. “I need you to sign this, and you’re good to go. Is someone picking you up?”
I nodded and accepted the discharge papers. I scribbled my semi-fake name on the line without bothering to read all the important information.
“We’re sending you home with a prescription for antibiotics and a decongestant. All the details are in these papers. It’s important that you complete the entire round. Take Tylenol as needed.”
She said some more about at-home care, but all I could focus on was leaving.
Between text-flirting with Pooh Bear for the last three days–which was nice, actually—and sleeping, I worried that my parents would find me in the hospital.
Sometimes I thought I heard my father’s voice speaking to one of the nurses outside my door.
The clip-clop of women’s heels from a visitor reminded me of my mother and her impeccable presentation.
Thing was, I could have gotten a job as a pianist at a fancy restaurant, but I was afraid someone might take a photo or video of me playing, and my parents would get wind of my location. It was illogical, but I didn’t put anything past them.
My father saw me as a traitor to the cause. I was a minion of Satan now and he’d do anything to make me pay, including twisting the truth and having me committed. He just couldn’t tolerate Nana leaving everything to me, a sinner.
I was aware I’d developed some degree of PTSD having grown up in a strict, loveless household so I was anxious to get out of here and somewhere less conspicuous. I’d contemplated calling my lawyer–he’d helped me several times over the years–but I’d gotten used to taking care of myself.
As I waited for Pooh Bear to show up, I resigned myself to staring out the window.
It was afternoon and a few small flakes floated on the breeze as if they were tiny ice-fairies, dancing and spinning to the music only a few could hear.
I moved my fingers over the bed to the opening adagio of Vivaldi’s “Winter”.
I sank deeper into my mind, remembering what playing felt like: the smooth and cool coated basswood of the keys against my fingertips, the sturdy stool supporting my body, the echo and minute vibrations of the music penetrating my body and getting the blood flowing.
I’d been born with music inside of me, and the mental image of my keyboard was fresh in my mind as if stamped into my soul.
I moved on to the largo of the piece, the mental cords soothing me. I’d gotten so lost in my own head that I hadn’t realized an hour had passed. The lost time stemming from my music was the only way I’d survived the years when I couldn’t physically play and everything seemed so hopeless.
The touch on my shoulder jerked me to reality and I frowned at the man standing over me. It took me a moment to realize it was Pooh Bear, his big green marbles doing a once over on me.
“Sorry I’m late. I had to find you some clothes seeing as the hospital accidentally-on-purpose disposed of what you were wearing,” he said.
I deepened my frown, not ready to talk yet and aggravate my tender throat.
“Oh, they didn’t tell you?” He scratched his beard peeking out from his mask, the whiskers looking well-kept and super soft. I was willing to wager his kisses were just as smooth.
I rolled my head against the pillow.
“In any case,” he started and held up a plastic bag. “I bummed some off of a friend that is closer to your size. I would have loaned you some of mine, but you’d end up looking like a baby wearing a sack.”
I poked his belly through his jacket.
“Don’t you start. We will finish the battle later. Right now let's just get you out of here.”
I offered him a thumbs up because hospitals were depressing, and I wanted to leave. I took the plastic bag from him and stumbled into the bathroom, sure to hold the back of my gown closed. If he wanted to see my ass, he was going to have to work for it.
The clothes he’d brought me were all very nice.
There was a pair of J.Crew jeans and a Brooks Brothers long sleeve sweater along with Converse sneakers that were one size too big, but would work for the time being.
The boxer briefs were new in the package.
The fact that he’d gone out of the way to not only help me, but to buy new underwear was sweet.
It took me longer to get dressed than I’d expected, the activity exciting my lungs and sending me into a coughing spell. It was a reminder that I had a long way to go until I was better. I collapsed on the toilet and pulled my mask down to gulp in air, my throat screaming, my lungs aching.
“Are you okay in there?” Pooh Bear asked through the door.
I tried to respond but another round of hoarking stole my words. As my breathing settled, so too did the coughing and when I was ready, I stepped out of the bathroom. He spotted me and shot up from the chair, scanning me.
“Thought you might have perished before we even got you out of here,” he said.
I shook my head and said in a strained, raspy tone that was barely more than a whisper, “Not getting rid of me that easily.”
He chuckled behind his mask, the corner of his eyes pulling up. “I’ve been going easy on you because you're sick, but you won’t be forever.”
I tossed him an I-don’t-believe-you look and slipped into the jacket he held out for me like a gentleman. I gave him another thumbs up to let him know I was ready.
We walked at a snail’s pace to the elevator because I didn’t want to get overly excited and start coughing everywhere again. I only had so many lungs I could hoark up, after all.
“You sit here in the waiting room for a few minutes, and I’ll go pull around the car. It’s cold out and the parking garage is a bit of a walk for you.”
I nodded and plopped my butt into the closest chair, the walk sapping my strength. Burying my face in my hands, I zoned out, searching for the musical chords of my soul between the coughing and cries of babies in the waiting room.
Only a few more months, I told myself. Then I was free to play in front of the ceiling-to-floor windows of my Nana’s living room, with no one to threaten me. In hindsight, a little pneumonia was nothing compared to growing up in the Fernandez household.
The gentle touch on my shoulder let me know Pooh Bear had brought the car around. It was strange, but sometimes I felt as if I were skipping around in time, unsure of where I was, or exactly what day I was currently in.
When I was in the passenger’s side of his car, I sighed into the seat, the blast of heat warming my permanently frozen bones.
He didn’t say much on the drive back to his place and I wondered if he considered me a nuisance.
He could have just left me at the hospital with no phone and no way to contact him.
But he hadn’t and had presumed I’d be staying with him.
I wasn’t going to question it because I needed his couch to crash on.
He pulled his car into a little garage and cut the engine. I put a lot of effort into getting out and followed him as he led us through an interior door. Everything was vaguely familiar, and I stood in front of the staircase that seemed impossible to climb.
“Take your time. If you don’t think you can make it, I can always carry you up the stairs.”
I tossed him a droll look.
“Hey, I did it once, I can do it again.” He tipped his chin up and stuck his chest out. “Maybe this time you’ll actually be aware of it. I might be a Pooh Bear, but I have the strength of a grizzly.”
Oh, I totally believed he could, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I pulled my mask down and whispered, “Doesn’t count. Was out of it.”
“Still happened,” he countered.
“Who is…peacocking now?” I shot back with a wince.
He offered me a little snicker that let me know our battle of insults was not over.
The moment we were inside his ramshackle apartment, I collapsed on the couch, trying not to cough but unable to hold back.
He set a box of tissue on the coffee table, and I plucked one, pressing it to my mouth as I gagged and hacked.
He pushed a bottle of water in front of me. “Okay, I’m going to run to the pharmacy and fill these prescriptions. I’ll also pick up some more Tylenol and lozenges. Is there anything you want?”
I nodded, opened my mouth to speak and started coughing again. I pulled out the phone and texted him.
ME: Nail filer and hand moisturizer with aloe.
He frowned at his phone as if my request was unexpected. “Alright. If you think of anything else, text it. I won’t be gone too long. Drink your water and rest. I’ll bring back some food.”
I texted as he left.
ME: Yes, Daddy.
SEAN: Good boy.
I couldn’t help smiling at that, an involuntary reaction that annoyed me.
The couch had been made with a sheet thrown over the cushions.
Several blankets were folded on the armrest along with a few pillows as if he’d expected me to be staying here a while.
My backpack was sitting on the floor next to the couch and I tugged it into my arms, holding it close to me.
I was angry with myself, and maybe a tad with him because I hadn’t thought about it once the past three days.
When I wasn’t sleeping, I was bickering with him over texts.
I pulled out my notebook stuffed with musical notes and ideas. I ran my fingers over the marks, remembering where I was and what I’d been doing when I’d written them down. I’d always wanted to compose my own piece and my notebook was the beginning of my opus magnum.
It was hard being so far away from my life’s work.
I wanted to go through my composition line by line to make sure it was all there, but exhaustion hit me.
I slipped my hand into the ripped lining of my backpack and pulled out a polished wooden box.
I flipped it open and brought my grandmother’s pearls to my nose.
They still smelled like her–baby powder and Diorissimo.
Her voice echoed in my mind, telling me about how my grandfather had given them to her on her birthday when they’d first started seeing each other.
I knew then, Miho, he was the one. You can’t describe that kind of feeling, but you’ll know it when you find the right one.
I slipped her pearls back into the box and hid them in my pack. I was a good boy and drank some of the water he’d left for me, my throat protesting. I toe’d my shoes off and cuddled up on the couch with a fluffy pillow and promptly passed out.
The sound of the front door closing jerked me awake and I blinked dumbly at the figure for a long moment, confused about where I was. Burying my face in my hands, I prayed I had nowhere to go but up. I didn’t think I could handle any more shit piled on top of my shoulders.
Sean pulled up a chair by the coffee table and tore open a brown bag. He pulled out plastic bowls wrapped with Saran. “Picked us up some phó.”
He uncapped the bowls and set one in front of me. I couldn’t smell anything, but the hard-boiled egg, leafy herbs, and noodles looked good. Too bad I wouldn’t be able to taste much, either. He opened a container and held up a thin slice of raw beef with a pair of chopsticks.
“Meat?” he inquired. I nodded and he laid several strips in the soup. “The heat of the broth will cook it. Have you ever had pho before?”
I shook my head.
“Well, it’s delish. Eat what you can.” He dug into a little white bag and set some pill bottles on the table. “Antibiotics, decongestants, and Tylenol.”
I took the required medication, determined to get better and plunked my spoon into the phó, watching as the broth filled the dip.
The heat was nice going down my throat and not as painful as the other day.
I tried some noodles, focusing on the texture.
Sean seemed pleased, offering me a lopsided smile as he enjoyed his own food.
We ate in silence, and I watched him work his chopsticks to perfection.
I couldn’t imagine eating something like this and keeping a long beard impeccable, but he made it look easy.
I touched his arm gently to get his attention and rasped, “Thanks. Don’t let it go to your head, but seriously, thank you.”
He set his bowl down and sucked in a big dose of air. “I don’t know your circumstance and I won’t pry, but I want you to know you can crash on my couch as long as you need, amirite?”
I nodded, looking down. Only a few more months. I could tough it out.