9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Matt
Nolan has a few good days in a row, something seeming to settle inside of him as he gains more control of the kitchen.
He starts smiling more. It’s nice, seeing him smile.
I think maybe it has something to do with how he keeps sneaking away at night to sit with Maison by the fire.
It makes me a little worried, but I try not to let that show.
He seems excited about this new friendship and I don’t want my anxiety to ruin it.
Besides, if Maison does anything to Nolan, I’m pretty sure Bryce would kill him.
Nolan may be spending most of his nights with Maison, but he spends his days with me.
Sometimes it’s easy to be with him.
He brings me along to watch a movie with everyone, or to go sit in the pool room with Carter and Casey, or to go for a walk around the property with Bryce.
We practice signing - sometimes when we’re alone, sometimes with the others.
Practicing is one of my favorite things, even if I sometimes get frustrated with my fingers not cooperating.
I like that the words are right there on the page for me to copy, saving me from having to think of words of my own, rifling through the messy chaos of my brain.
One day, we sit on a blanket out in the sun, the five of us, and make name signs for each other. They laugh a lot that day. I don’t laugh, but I feel the warmth in my chest, a tiny little flame I protect. I smile, though. They like when I smile.
Sometimes it’s not so easy.
Nolan always wants me to try his food, looking confused when I hesitate. “I would never put nuts in anything, I promise,” he assures, and I don’t know how to tell him that isn’t the problem.
He wants to talk about things, too. So many things.
Even worse, he wants me to participate. He wants my opinions.
He wants me to tell him what he should do about Maison and Carter, his worry only growing as he gets closer to the both of them.
He wants me to tell him what I need from him.
He wants me to tell him what's wrong. He wants answers.
And he looks at me. All the time, he’s looking at me.
Analyzing me. Trying to figure me out. Watching so carefully, making sure he catches any little shift in my emotions.
He looks and he worries and he asks his questions.
His eyes beg me to talk, or to smile, or to just be okay again.
To be the Matt he knew. It's so hard, in those moments, not to just admit to him that the Matt he knew is dead.
That I'm nothing but an empty copy. A ghost.
Despite how hard it sometimes is to be with him, though, I don’t like it when he has his first bad day after the long stretch of good ones. My heart aches for him, my mind spinning as I try to figure out what I could do to help. I want to fix things. I want him to smile again.
I realize with a sick twist of my stomach that this is how he and Bryce must always feel, the guilt gnawing at me, but at least it means I know what to do.
I follow their blueprint, bringing him food, keeping him company, stroking his hair, even holding him close when he cries.
He clings to me at one point, fingers digging almost painfully into my back, and says, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. ”
It makes me feel good. Useful. Important.
It makes me feel real.
It makes a little voice in the back of my mind remind me that one day he’s going to figure out that he’s already without me. I'm not who he wants, not real. I’m something to be exorcised, cast out.
I try not to let the little voice win.
I sign to him that I’m going to try to find us some food, somehow feeling braver than usual about the idea now that it’s him that I’m doing it for. There’s still some anxiety making my skin feel too tight, my chest too heavy, but I have a goal in mind and a good reason to push through.
I don’t even make it into the kitchen.
Dr. Singh is sitting at the island, a notebook laying open as he writes in it. There’s a steaming cup of something by his elbow.
I try to very slowly back away.
His head snaps up.
No, no, no.
Please no.
He smiles. “Matt. It’s good to see you.”
I just stare at him.
It is not good to see him. Not at all.
I think of that spot in Ace’s office. A place to hide. I could run there, now, and he’d lock the door behind me. A lock that this man doesn’t have a key for.
Then I think of Nolan needing to eat. If the roles were reversed, or if this was Bryce getting him food, they wouldn’t back down. They’d make sure I get what I need. They always make sure of that. It’s my job to do the same.
“You know, I was hoping to speak with you again,” he says. “Just for a few minutes. Do you have the time for that right now?”
No.
Nope.
I don’t, don’t, don’t, no.
He glances around before leaning toward me as far as he can without getting off his seat. “I want to apologize to you without being overheard, but that’s for your privacy, not mine. I can do it here.”
Um. Not fair.
That’s not fair at all.
I glance around too. No one is in the area, but that could change. It’s getting close to dinner time. Even if Nolan won’t be cooking like he usually would, everyone still has to eat.
I don’t want to hear his apology. I don’t want to hear any words from him at all, but I especially don’t want to hear his apology, and definitely not here where anyone could hear it too.
“You know what, you don’t have to listen to my apology if you don’t want to.
You don’t owe me that. But I do owe you one thing.
You deserve to know that it was my fault, how things ended last time.
Entirely my fault. That’s important for you to know.
I’m the one who did something wrong, not you. That’s all that matters.”
I accidentally look at him, too distracted by my surprise. He seems genuine. There’s no placating smile. His eyes aren’t trying to analyze me. He just looks sad. Not for me, like people usually are, but… because of himself? Shame.
No, that's not quite right. He's… ashamed. That’s what the word is. Dr. Singh looks ashamed.
I want to understand why. I want to know how he messed up. How things should have went instead. How things could have gone better.
I don’t know the sign for ‘office’, but Nolan and I learned action words just yesterday, so I nod as I sign, I’ll go with you.
He smiles, looking relieved. “Great. Let’s head on over, then. Unless you need anything from your room first?”
I look over at the fridge, feeling his eyes on me as I do.
I don’t know how to explain to him that I need to get food for Nolan.
My notebook is upstairs, along with my bunny.
I know the sign for ‘eat’, but I don’t want him to think I mean that I want to eat.
The last thing I want is to have to eat in front of him.
I tap my wrist and show him five fingers, lifting an eyebrow in question.
My book from Ace said that facial expressions are really important with ASL.
I’m pretty sure those aren’t actually the right signs for me to ask him for five minutes, but it’s the best I can think of right now, and hopefully combined with my expression he’ll understand.
“You need five minutes?” he guesses. I try not to look too relieved as I nod. He nods in return. “Of course. I’ll be in my office - just come when you’re ready.”
I thank him, the sign coming quick and easy, and wait for him to collect his notebook and walk out before hurrying over to the fridge. I make up a plate of easy food, trying not to think of how any of the textures would feel in my mouth, and grab a juice.
Nolan forces a smile when I return to him, taking the plate from me with a soft, “Thanks.”
I wave him off as I grab my bunny and the pretty blue notebook from my bed, stuffing both in my front pocket. He’s eating already, so I tap him on the shoulder to get his attention back on me. I sign, go, then fingerspell what’s hopefully the right letters for Dr. Singh’s name.
“You’re gonna go talk to Singh?”
I nod.
“Are we happy about this or do you want me to save you?”
I almost smile. I manage a roll of my eyes that makes him smile, which works even better anyway. I like making him happy. He deserves to be happy.
So-so, I sign with a teeter of my hand.
“Okay. Good luck, I guess? I’ll be here after, if you need me. Or even if you don’t.” He forces a smile. “Thanks, again, for the food.”
I give him a shrug, hoping he understands that it means, no problem.
I try not to look too closely at the food as I leave.
Dr. Singh smiles when I get to his office, welcoming me in and telling me to sit where I want before closing the door behind him. I don’t even have enough time to wonder if he’ll get straight to it or if things will be awkward for a while first before he’s already starting.
“I want to apologize for asking the question I asked in our last session,” he says as he takes his seat across from me.
“You don’t have to answer it. Not now. Not ever, if that’s what you want.
What I would like is to explain why I asked it and then explain why I should not have asked it. Would that be okay?”
All that really registers is that I don’t have to answer the question from before, which sounds fantastic. I nod.
“So, first, it’s important for you to understand that your therapy does not have to address whether you are able - or whether you want - to speak.
We will only work on the things that you want to work on when we are together.
I will never push any topics or techniques on you.
I may gently nudge you in directions as we move along, like making suggestions, or asking you to consider certain things, but very gently, and just nudging.
You’re in control. Always. Do you understand that, Matt?
That you’re in control of your therapy?”
I understand what he’s saying, but I’m not entirely sure it’s actually that simple. It sounds nice, though, and it’s not like whether I believe it matters anyway, so I nod again.