Chapter Thirty Seven
A few identical days pass.
They go something like this: I wake up with Noah. We both get dressed as quietly as possible as not to wake my brother. We go to work. We come home from work. Matt ignores every word we say to him. Noah and I give up and retreat upstairs.
I flit between wanting to cry in frustration and wanting to cave Matt's skull in.
"Hello? Earth to Madelaine?"
I blink the thoughts away and tilt my head up to Chelsea.
"Ring ring, ring ring?" She grins, shaking her head. "Are you deaf?"
Shit. My phone is ringing. I scramble through the bag at my feet until I pull out my phone, clicking the green button with my pinky finger whilst trying to juggle my tablet in my other hand.
"Uh - hello?"
"Hi Madelaine! How're you getting on?"
Not great.
"Great?"
"Perfect!" The woman says, unusually chipper considering there are two and a half hours left of the working day, even if it is Friday. "Just a quick call really."
"Oh?" I ask, like I've got any idea who this person is.
Noah? Chelsea mouths. I shake my head. Who else calls you?
Frowning, I stick my middle finger up at her.
"Yes- let me just. Ah, here it is. Your room is ready. Just finished yesterday."
"My room?"
There's a long pause. "You are Madelaine Grayson, right? This is Southam and Co Real Estate."
"Oh!" I blink. "Yes- right. I'm so sorry. I'm in Friday mode."
Either that or I'm just generally not fully developed.
"Ah, I feel you. Me too." For some reason, I doubt that. "Anyway, good news! The builders got all the work done, the ceiling is in tip-top condition, and you can move back in as soon as possible! Isn't that great?"
"Uh huh," I nod. "Great."
Incredible. Fabulous. There definitely isn't a weight pressing down on my chest, pushing me further into the chair I'm sat on. Suffocating me.
"Perfect. As you know, there's no charge of rent for the time you were away, nor will the rent change with inflation next year - the landlord was worried the work took so long, so he's happy to incentivize however you need.
" She chuckles, "Honestly, you could probably ask him to knock a bit off the rent and I doubt he'd kick up a fuss. "
"Great," I repeat in a mumble.
"What date would you like me to put as your return? This weekend?"
I stumble over my words, stuttering.
"Um- uh, yeah. Yes! Sure."
"Great," she chirps. "Let us know if you need anything. Have a great weekend."
I mumble, "you too," but she's already gone.
Huh. There's a stain on the wall behind Chelsea's head. It's light like it's been washed away but I'm guessing someone spilled coffee on it - or maybe they threw it at the wall. It's what I want to do right now.
Chelsea clears her throat.
All she receives in return is a groan.
My room is ready? Now? Is life seriously that cruel?
It definitely is. Though it did give me Noah, and maybe it has given me a way to escape Matt's wrath, but still.
Living with Matt and Noah has felt like home.
I've never been so happy to share my space with boys.
I don't even care about the lack of personal space.
"My house is fixed," I find myself stating.
Chelsea's eyes burn through me. "And you wish you had fixed it yourself?"
My eyes drop to hers. "You're funny."
"You're realising that sharing a house with strangers is dangerous?"
I say nothing; my glare says enough.
She knows what the issue is as well as I do.
Before this shit storm happened I enjoyed living with Matt and Noah, more than I ever thought I would.
I bonded with Matt (finally, after years of only existing around each other for our mothers sake) and I share a bed with the sexiest person to have ever been born.
Moving out is probably for the best.
Noah and I only just started dating, it's not like we should live together in these early stages anyway. And sisters don't live with their brothers - not once they've moved out of their parents house.
It's the sensible option.
Really, it is.
But why is the sensible option making my chest hurt like this?
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Matt has always been a very difficult person. He's particular. He's smart. And he always, always has to get his own way.
There are enough stories of Matt throwing tantrums in the family circles to prove this, but the particular one that springs to mind is the summer of my 16th birthday.
Mum and Paul had been a little more strict with Matt than with me - I was the wilder one, the one who snuck out at 4am to go to a party.
Looking back I think I exhausted my parents.
Exhaustion meant I could usually get away with more. It also meant that Matt never shut up about the fact that I could get away with things that Mum never let slide with him.
This summer it was hot. Sweating all day and showering every other hour hot. I'd planned to go swimming with my friends at an outdoor pool and needed Paul to drive us there, but Matt wanted Paul to drive him and his friends to the movies.
Because Paul was insistent on taking the girls first, Matt did what he does best: he threw a fit in his own way.
Knowing he'd hurt her, he turned to my friend Michaela and very innocently pointed out:
"So Michaela, you've put on a bit of weight, huh?"
She cried for so long that Paul had time to drive Matt and his friends first. Even when he returned, Michaela was so upset that we didn't go to the pool anyway. We ate ice cream and talked shit about my nerdy brother all night.
He's matured only a little bit since then.
Sure, he's been ignoring me for the past few days like a child, but he'd no longer stoop so low as to outwardly insult me like that.
Thankfully he did eventually learn that insults hurt - now he just hurts people in other ways.
(Like right now, with the ignoring.)
"So anyway, Chelsea eventually decided that she needed more space outside of her mum's house, right?
Because she's already been driven insane.
" I speak into the air knowing I won't get a response.
"So I helped her apply for a local allotment.
Isn't that cute? She'll be growing her own vegetables and stuff.
She's going to let me plant some onions! "
Matt doesn't respond and I don't bother turning around to check if he's listening. I just continue washing up the bowls from dinner, reminiscing over my own day at work.
"The website said that it may take a few months to come through but she's going to make some calls and see if she can push it along - I think it'll be nice, you know? She'll be hanging out with a load of retirees and sharing growing tips. Very cute. It suits her."
Silence stretches between us; thick, palpable, deathless.
"Anyway," I clear my throat, minutes later. "I'm thinking maybe I should take up a sport again. I'm sure you haven't noticed but I don't have a lot of friends. Also, I feel out of shape."
"You're not out of shape," a familiar voice calls from behind me.
I turn, rubber gloves still covered in suds glued to my hands, and cock my hip. Noah winks at me, leaning against the door frame like nothing in the world bothers him. His t-shirt clings to his muscles, wet from whatever workout he put himself through.
"Maybe something violent, like rugby," I continue through a glowing smile towards my lovely boyfriend. "I was always good at that in Uni."
"Still giving him a monologue?" Noah asks.
Noah has been doing that since the ignoring started. He talks about Matt like he doesn't exist in the room; he's not going to respond. Do you think he even hears you? I've always found your brother annoying.
"Shouldn't you be showering right now?"
His eyes glisten. The words join me are so obviously on the tip of his tongue, but we've been nothing if not respectful these past few days. Matt can ignore us but we're not going to bait him into shouting at us again (at least, Noah has agreed that he isn't going to do that again.)
One wink and then he's gone, the sound of each step he takes echoing behind him.
I turn back to my dishes.
"Anyway, where was I?"
Nothing.
Who cares at this point? This is pretty much the amount Matt and I spoke in high school anyway, it's not like I've lost anything. Okay, that's a lie. I've definitely lost something. I've lost the threads of the friendship we built over the past few weeks. I've lost his trust, his voice -
I shake my head to rid that train of thought. There's no need to be negative about the situation, it'll only make it worse.
"Rugby," I sigh. "I played the hook."
Placing the last washed dish on the drying rack, I pull each glove off my hand and spin around. Matt is still staring ahead at the TV, his dark hair a mess on top of his head, knotted like he hasn't brushed it. Not the cute messy it usually is, but dirty.
The bags under his eyes look dark and heavy, crows crinkles twice as deep as usual. His shirt has a pinkish food stain down the front.
I drag my feet over towards him, forcing each step. My socks feel like velcro on the living room carpet as if they know I'm about to do something I probably shouldn't. If I think twice about it I'll definitely chicken out though.
Sweating, I find myself stood in front of him.
He continues staring through me like I hadn't moved at all so I roll my eyes and take the seat on the couch next to him instead.
Picking at a loose thread on my jumper, I nudge his thigh with my foot.
"Skye messaged me."
Nothing. Not a twitch.
"I never gave her my number. Did you?" I ask, watching for any form of response.
A cough would do. "I know you're nosy enough to want to know what she said.
" Zilch. Nada. I'm beginning to worry he's somehow managed to subtract his consciousness from his body.
"Alright, let's talk about boring stuff again then, yeah?
Like Chelsea's allotment and rugby and Noah showering. "
I almost gasp when his head turns. His lips pressed in an incredibly thin line, he narrows his eyes at me.
Weak shot, but at least it worked.
It's innocent enough; the shower is going upstairs. But we both know that's not why I said it.
"Do you want to know what she said?" I ask, voice gentler. "If so, I would appreciate some sort of verbal que-"
"Yes, Madelaine. Jesus," he hisses. "What?"
"Uh, right. Thank you." I stutter. Matt stares. "Well- she said I'm sorry he found out like that."
Immediately I can tell that he's confused. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry - finally, some reaction from him. Something that isn't ignorance or glaring or yelling. But we're still talking about fucking Skye.
There are a thousand things we need to discuss. A million things we've both been holding back.
But if bridging the gap between silence and airing out our grievances is Skye, then I guess I'll have to get through it.
I wait for the sentence to sink in before saying, "yeah, that was my reaction too. Because she told you herself, right?" A nod. Progress. "I thought so. I'm not going to message her back, if you care."
"If I care," he echoes.
I wet my dry lips.
"I don't like her," I conclude. "I don't like her as a friend and I don't like her for you, either."
"That's rich, Maddie," he faux laughs, shaking his head. I wait for him to continue but he doesn't. Only when the silence stretches between us does he turn to me and add, "I didn't like Noah for you and yet here we are."
My swallow is audible.
"Right. You're right," I nod. "It's not my place with Skye, okay. But- if my opinion counts for anything-"
"If your- fucking hell, Mads" he glares. "I care. Your opinion counts. Who do you think I am? I'm angry with you and I'm furious with him but I'm still your brother." He pauses. I look up to meet his eye. "I still love you."
"I-"
He cuts me off. "Go on. Your opinion on Skye, please."
"I wish you'd stop seeing her," I breathe. "I wish you'd see literally anyone else in the world. Just the thought of coming back here and running into her," I squirm under his gaze. "It freaks me out."
"You and Noah freaks me out," he responds in an oddly even tone. I stare at him. "But fine, whatever. It's not like I'm in love with her. She's giving me the fucking creeps lately, anyway. Blocking her number isn't the end of the world."
Giving him the creeps. Of course she is.
That's just how he's going to put it. Hey, she outed me and manipulated him and then blatantly tried to pretend she didn't do any of those things, but Matt doesn't care about any of that.
No, he's done because her obsession with him is becoming creepy.
"Right," I say absentmindedly. "So..."
He turns to me with hard eyes, mouth in a straight thin line.
"Not yet."
"When?" I ask.
He rolls his eyes and turns back to face the TV. I expect him to go on ignoring me, but a mere few seconds pass before he huffs and turns back to me.
"When I feel like I won't rip out his throat."
Alright then. So avoiding Noah's name is probably the best way forward.
"Okay," I practically sing. "But the sooner we talk about it-"
"Don't push it, Maddie."
A warning instead of an outburst - definite personal growth.
"This is nice," I say softly. "Me talking and you talking back. I think we should do this going forward, you know? It seems... healthier? Right?"
He snorts.
The words seem to spill out of my mouth like water then. I can't stop them coming, nor can I control what I'm saying. We're finally talking again and I'm so happy about it that I short circuit for a brief moment and vomit out whatever words I've been building up in my mind over the past few days.
"So mum says you've been not going to work, huh? That traumatised?"
"Piss off," he huffs, "Yes, I am."
"Okay," I breathe. "It's just that-"
"Maddie, I swear to fucking God. We are not talking about it right now. I don't want to hear his name, I don't want to hear you talking about him, and I certainly don't want to have to accept whatever the fuck it is that's happening between the two of you. Stop trying to bring it up."
"Or you'll ignore me again?" I ask.
Which he then does.
He turns the TV volume up and pretends to be enthralled with the programme he's already missed half of. I know it's the end of the conversation and decide not to try and push it. Little victories (though this feels like a very, very big victory).
I walk towards the hallway, ready to pretend Noah's room is the only part of the house that exists for the rest of the evening.
But then- "Oh," I remember. "My house is ready."
The TV pauses.
"What?"
It felt like the right thing to do. With all the facts, Matt can decide we should be adults and talk about this. But the way he's looking at me right now... I shrink under his gaze.
"They fixed the ceiling," I whisper, feeling completely exposed opposite his furrowed brow and unblinking eyes. "So it's ready. We can be done with this - whatever it is. It can be over."
"You and Noah?"
A wave of revulsion washes over me, the bitter taste of his words filling my mouth. Me and Noah, like it'd be that easy. Like my moving out would solve all of his issues.
As if, as he's so kindly been putting it the past few days, Noah and I have just been fucking. Purely to spite him and because of nothing else. It's not like the two of us just happened to like each other - but the world revolves around my brother.
He's always got to be at the centre of the party.
"Sure Matt," I spit, anger heating my veins. "I'll move out and break up with him. Screw it, I'll break up with him now and then you two can kiss and make up like I was never even here!"
"You'll break up with him?" He frowns. "So what, he's your boyfriend now?"
Blinking, I open my mouth.
"Fuck, Maddie! Fuck! You couldn't just fucking wait for me to wrap my head around the two of you fucking first?!"
"What did you think we were doing?" I shout, voice breaking. "You said yourself that Noah doesn't do one night stands!"
"Yeah, right. Well you said you didn't have a crush on him."
"Oh my God, I feel like we're going in circles," I groan. "This is exhausting."
"I asked you not to bring it up."
"I just think if you listened to us-"
"No," he laughs, cruelly. "Because I know what you're going to say.
We tried so hard not to, but we just couldn't resist. We felt so guilty the entire time.
We didn't mean for this to happen. I'm not listening to that stereotypical bullshit.
Why don't the two of you come up with something interesting first and then get back to me? "
Who even is this person? My ears must be bleeding because surely we are not going through this again.
"That's what it's going to take to get you to listen? An interesting story?" I hiss, storming back to the couch and dropping down next to him. "Alright, something interesting. Your friend Noah up there watched me finger myself here, on this very couch."
His eyes darken.
When he breaks the silence, each of his words are like bullets. Careful and sharp, shot towards me through gritted teeth. "Are you fucking serious right now?"
"Isn't that interesting enough for you?"
I can't seem to stop myself.
"How about the time he bent me over the couch while you were upstairs, huh? Is that interesting enough? What about the time-"
Matt stands up abruptly, throwing the TV remote down onto the table.
Immediately my fingernails press into my palms and I lock my lips together. I'm not sure what demon just possessed me, I'm not even sure where that bout of anger came from entirely - just that those words were definitely fueled in anger and I definitely should not have said them at all.
He looks down at my face, biting down so hard that the skin on his bottom lip is beginning to break, and then turns to the wall and punches it with everything his arm can give. The house rattles.
Part of me knows that punch was probably meant for me. I might've even deserved it.
"Go. Away."
He enunciates each word and I don't dare wait for him to repeat himself. I scurry upstairs on my hands and feet, falling into Noah's closed bedroom door and slamming it behind me. Slowly, I slide down the wood, my temple pressed against the back of the door.
When I open my eyes Noah is halfway through dressing, watching me with one raised eyebrow.
"What the hell happened down there?"
"We started a dialogue," I breathe. "Does this door lock?"
"No?"
"Perfect. We should probably stay with your parents tonight."
Something smashes downstairs.
Noah clears his throat until I meet his eyes and then stares me down as something else smashes.
I'm not quite sure what to say.
"What kind of dialogue?"
"The kind he didn't like," I answer quickly.
Smash.
"Yep. I got that."
The two of us wait a further ten minutes for the destruction to stop and then I sit against the door for another half an hour. Matt doesn't go to bed before 2am, but I'm not sure what time he does go, because I pass out waiting to hear him come upstairs.
Moving out is the only option.
No dialogue is going to fix this mess.
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