22. Present
Chapter twenty-two
Present
By the following week, I still haven’t heard back from the realtor, but I haven’t lost hope either.
I grab take-out Mexican on my way over to Matt’s house on Tuesday night after work: tacos for me and Brett and a chicken quesadilla for Matt.
He’s lost weight, but he’s also having more good days than bad.
I offer to take the next day off for his appointment with the cardiologist, an important date that’s been on the Thompsons’ calendar for over a month, during which he’ll find out what was captured by the mobile heart monitor and whether or not he has atrial fibrillation.
I want to be there for him, but Matt’s mom already has plans to go.
Instead, I take the day off to hang out with Brett, which is a huge relief to Matt.
He doesn’t want her to be inside a doctor’s office if she doesn’t have to be.
Doctors scare Brett, especially now. So, for the sake of convenience, Matt invites me to sleep over at their house.
That way, I’ll already be there when he leaves with his mom early the next morning.
It’s weird, the idea of sleeping at Matt’s house—the home he shares with his (still absent) girlfriend.
I try to put all the awkward feelings out of my mind and to focus on Brett instead.
I bring my laptop, onto which I’ve downloaded another of my favorite movies from childhood: Troop Beverly Hills, a silly comedy about a group of Girl Scouts who are led by a wealthy socialite through a competition they’re really not cut out for.
In keeping with the theme of Scouts and camping, I also bring the ingredients for stovetop s’mores.
As we eat dinner, Brett chats excitedly about the sleepover. Matt remains reserved, stifling anxiety about his appointment the next day. He smiles at Brett and responds at all the right times, but I can tell he’s somewhere else.
After dinner, I set Brett up with the materials to make friendship bracelets while we watch the movie.
I instruct Brett to get started on a bracelet without me.
“I just want to talk to your dad for a few minutes. You watch the previews, and I’ll be back in five,” I promise her. Brett gives me a thumbs up.
I go down the hall to Matt’s bedroom and knock gently on the door.
He’s standing in front of his dresser without a shirt on.
I can’t help but notice the weight he’s lost and the way the tattoo of the Celtic cross on his bicep looks wilted, faded like an old watercolor painting. “Hey,” I say. “How you holding up?”
He turns around, pulling a fresh, white T-shirt over his head. “I’m okay.”
“Try to think positive,” I offer.
“That’s the thing. It’s kind of hard to do that.
The doctors keep saying I’ve been really lucky so far, but I’m not 100 percent out of the woods yet.
Strokes are kind of like dandelions. If you have one dandelion and you get rid of it with weed killer, there’s still a really high chance that more dandelions will pop up. ”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do, actually. I’ve done more research on this than I care to admit.
Plus, all the doctors say the same thing.
They just try and put a happy little spin on it.
Best case scenario is I quit smoking and eat healthy and take care of myself, and I don’t have another stroke.
But I still have to take baby aspirin every day for the rest of my life.
Which is basically just a reminder that it could happen again at any time.
” He sighs. “Honestly, it’s more likely to happen than not.
Do you know how healthy I have to be? I’m not supposed to drink alcohol, eat fast food, anything. That’s no way to live.”
He’s right, I know. I, too, have spent more hours on Google researching stroke recovery than I care to admit. I sit down on the edge of his bed and pat the space beside me. Matt joins me.
“You’re right. This totally sucks,” I confess.
“I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at his hands in his lap.
“Nah. None of that. I just wanted to remind you that you’re not alone in this. We’ve got your back, you know?”
He nods. “I know. I appreciate it, believe me.”
I take his hand, stroking his palm with my thumb. No words are necessary. After a minute, I place my other hand over his and squeeze. “You should get to bed. I have a hot date with an 80s movie and my best girl.” I wink.
He offers a weak smile. “She loves you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I assure him, releasing his hands.
“Hey,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“When this part of it is over, like, once we figure out what’s next with my situation health-wise, I really want to focus on what’s happening here.” He points to me and then to himself and back to me again.
I’m about to respond when an iPhone calls out a particular, loud melody, indicating a Facetime call.
“I got it!” Brett calls from the next room.
“Shit,” Matt says. “She has the iPad.”
“Hi, Mommy!” I hear Brett announce cheerfully. Matt’s eyes grow wide and meet mine.
“Just stay here,” he whispers, rising from the bed’s edge and moving into the living room. The iPad is loud enough and the house is small enough that I can hear everything.
“Hi Bretty Bear! How’s my girl?”
“Good, Mom! We’re having a sleepover tonight!”
Fuck.
“Oh, yeah? That sounds fun. Is Grandma sleeping there?”
I’m tucked away in the bedroom, so I don’t see Matt snatch the iPad away from Brett. “Hey! I was talking!” Brett whines.
“Hey,” he begins. “How’s it going out there?”
“Good,” Leyla says, her tone notably less exuberant. “Long days, but I’m not complaining. We’re almost done shooting. A week or two more and I think we’ll be wrapped.”
“Cool. Brett misses you. It would be good to have you back.”
Like hell it would. The words hurt, but I know Matt has to say whatever he can to get her off the phone.
“Mommy!” Brett calls out. “I’m making s’mores tonight!”
“Where is she, Matt? Let me talk to her.”
“Hey, sweetie, give me just a sec with Mom, okay? You can chat after.” Matt walks the iPad out of the house, shutting the door behind him.
I pop my head out of his bedroom, taking a chance that Matt and I are still aligned enough that he’s doing what I think he’s doing—getting Leyla off the phone.
When I’m certain the coast is clear, I say, “You ready to start watching?” and plop down on the couch. I hit play on the movie, and a campy soundtrack fills the air, successfully diverting Brett’s attention back to the TV.
Several minutes later, Matt opens the front door and re-enters the house.
I look over at him, trying to be nonchalant, ignoring what feels like palpitations beneath my ribs, raising my eyebrows to wordlessly ask if he’s okay.
Munching on popcorn, Brett is fixated on the movie.
Matt nods slightly, giving me the all clear.
He joins us on the sofa, which jolts Brett out of her temporary screen coma. “Can I talk to Mom now?”
“Oh, I’m sorry honey, she had to go. She had some work thing to run off to. I’m sure you’ll get to talk to her again soon.”
Brett’s shoulders slump. “Did she say when she’s coming home?” she asks.
Matt shakes his head no. “Not definitively. But I’m sure it will be soon, so don’t even worry about it. Let’s just enjoy the movie.”
Brett turns back to face the screen, and Matt drapes his long arm across her little shoulders.
His fingers reach my upper back and he strokes my skin gently.
His touch tries to affirm that everything’s going to be okay, but I can already sense a cloud hanging over us, promising me that a storm is brewing.
The bubble has popped. I recognize the feeling in the pit of my stomach, so akin to the day Aunt Lucy showed up unannounced in the camp office all those years ago.
For now, I suffocate the impending dread with the welcome distraction of Shelly Long and her troop of pre-teens. Brett tucks her feet up underneath herself and curls into my side.
As if she was mine.
From the outside looking in, we look like a family.
But we’re not.
Brett falls asleep about two thirds of the way through, so Matt shuts off the movie and carries her into her room.
I peel back the covers, and he sets her down, smiling as she snuggles up into a ball like a kitten.
Once she’s sufficiently settled, Matt juts his chin towards the living room.
I follow behind him as he leaves the room.
Matt begins picking up the remnants of friendship bracelet materials from the couch. Without looking at me, he mumbles, “Well, that was a close one.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Maybe we shouldn’t wait until after my appointment tomorrow to have that talk,” he continues.
“How do you mean?”
“I feel like we almost got caught.”
I nod in agreement, exhaling. “I should probably go,” I offer.
“No,” Matt replies, looking up from his fistful of rainbow embroidery string. “Please don’t. I don’t want that,” he clarifies. “Let’s just step outside and talk on the stoop. I always worry about little ears,” he adds.
“Okay,” I agree.
He opens the door for me and closes it gently behind us. We sit side by side on the cement steps under the bare light bulb.
“I’m sorry about the Facetime thing,” Matt begins.
“It’s fine. She’s your girlfriend,” I respond, trying not to let the words hurt me.
He winces.
“Well, it’s true.”
“More importantly, she’s Brett’s mom,” he says.
“Which is why it’s completely fine,” I argue. “Let’s be real. We’re lucky this hasn’t happened yet. This is her house, for goodness’ sake.”
“Technically, this house doesn’t belong to either of us,” he corrects me.
“No?”
“We’re renters,” he says.
“Oh,” I reply. “I just assumed…” My voice trails off.
“That I would want to settle down with Leyla?”
I shrug.
“If that was true, I probably would have married her. You ever think of that?”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” I say in a small voice. “Why didn’t you?”
“Are you serious?”
I nod.
Matt lifts his thumb to my face, tracing it slowly down my cheekbone.
I close my eyes, savoring his touch. Moths dance in the warm light of the stoop above our heads.
In the quiet of the spring evening, the hum of a car in the distance is accompanied by a chorus of crickets.
The full moon illuminates the night sky.
A breeze blows, causing goosebumps to form on my arms. “Everything I have is temporary,” he whispers.
“What do you mean?” I breathe the question into the night air. I can barely hear my own words.
Matt doesn’t answer. Instead, we lock eyes.
I’m transported back to camp. So many nights we did exactly this, falling in love with each other just by silently staring.
We could listen to music in the gazebo at the cliff, or on the beach, or even sometimes at the rocks down by the horses.
It didn’t matter where we were. All that mattered was we were together, and when we fell into each other’s gaze, we became awestruck with wonder at how connected our souls were.
He tried so hard to recreate that, to find me by looking into my eyes, especially after my mom passed away.
At the time, I was empty, a void of sorrow that nobody could fill.
I remember how hard he tried to love me during those awful years, until finally it broke my heart to continue to watch him try like that, and I pushed him away – for his sake.
Looking at him now, I see the same boy, the one who would stop at nothing to love me, even if it meant giving me space.
The silence is interrupted by the sound of crying. Matt’s brow furrows. “Shit,” he mutters.
Brett.
He helps me up and opens the front door. Brett’s standing in the kitchen, wide-eyed, face streaked with tears, holding Matt’s cell phone.
“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” Matt asks.
“Daddy!” She rushes over and grabs him around the waist fiercely, dropping his phone in the process. She squeezes him tightly.
“What is it, baby? What happened?” Matt asks.
Brett is inconsolable, shaking and quivering into her father’s stomach. He strokes her hair. “I woke up and everybody was gone,” she moans. She buries her face in his shirt. “I thought you went to heaven.” Her diminutive body heaves with each sob.
“Shh,” he tries to console her. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
“And then I looked for you,” Brett goes on, raising her red face to address me. “But I couldn’t find you anywhere either.”
I crouch down in front of her. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. We went outside to chat, me and your dad. We didn’t want to wake you.”
“Everybody was gone,” Brett cried.
I rub her back. “We’re right here. It’s okay. Everybody’s okay.”
“And then I called Mommy, but she didn’t pick up either. I thought everyone left me here alone.” The word alone rings out like a howl. I cock an eyebrow at Matt.
“We would never do that,” Matt whispers.
Brett sniffles, mumbling something that Matt can’t hear.
“What’s that, honey?” he asks.
“But Mommy did,” she repeats, clearer this time.
“She’ll be back, baby. I promise,” Matt says. “Soon enough. She’ll be back.”