32. Present
Chapter thirty-two
Present
Five minutes later, after a hasty goodbye to Brett, I’m back in the car.
My hand is shaking as I call Matt. It rings four times before his voicemail picks up. This time, I hang up without leaving a message.
I told Matt everything, Leyla said.
Everything? I’d asked.
Everything, Leyla confirmed.
Why? I wondered aloud.
Because I changed my mind, Leyla replied.
I don’t know where I’m driving, but I can’t stay here, on this block. My body trembles. On autopilot, following nothing more than intuition, I head west.
The ride to Bethpage is only seven miles long, but it feels like entering another world.
The Thompsons’ neatly manicured lawn boasts the first blooming daffodils of the season, the porch light illuminates the swinging bench that has hung there for as long as I can remember, and the ornamental trees and tufts of tall grass in the evening chill of early spring render a sense of security and safety.
I remember coming down this road, sometimes in the back of Mrs. Thompson’s car, sometimes in a taxi from the railroad station.
Always, the bucolic quiet of the neighborhood settled my nerves.
If only the same could be true now.
Diana’s Lexus is in the driveway, and the lights are on inside the house. I steel myself as I park the car at the curb, wondering if Matt’s in there.
My heart palpitates as I climb the three steps up to the tastefully decorated front porch. Love lives here, the doormat announces.
Here goes nothing. I push my pointer finger into the doorbell.
Diana opens the door, her expression a combination of sad and sorry. “Hi, honey,” she says.
“Hi. Is Matt here?”
She shakes her head. “Not right now. He went for a walk.”
“Oh. Is he okay?”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” she offers, gesturing to the rocking chairs that sit side-by-side on the porch. “Let me just grab my coat.”
I can’t even come in? Still, I oblige, eager for any bits of information I can gather.
Diana joins me a moment later, pulling her coat tight around her middle.
“How did it go at the doctor?” I ask.
“Matthew had an episode this morning, shortly after you left—”
“Oh my God, did he have another stroke?”
“No, honey. I’m sorry, I should have worded it differently. It was an atrial fibrillation episode.”
I exhale, awash with momentary relief. “What does that mean exactly? He kind of explained A-fib to me, but I don’t really understand what an episode is.” I chew on the edge of my pinky nail.
“It’s kind of like an irregularity in the heartbeat that can lead to blood clots. This is what they’ve been looking for with the heart monitor. If he gets another clot, it could lead to his brain and cause another stroke.”
“So, what did they do?”
“They put him on blood thinners for now.”
“Is it very bad?”
Diana sighs. “It’s manageable, I think.”
“Isn’t it good that he found out? So they can give him medicine and prevent another stroke from happening?”
“That’s an optimistic way of looking at things,” Diana replies. “Matt doesn’t see it that way, though.”
“How?”
“Well, before, he thought the stroke just came from smoking, which is a bad habit and was his own fault.”
“And now?”
“Now he knows that something is wrong with his heart. Certainly, the smoking didn’t help, and it may have been a big part of the reason for his health issues, but the underlying cause was something more than that. It’s a lot for him to process.”
I swallow. “There’s nothing wrong with his heart. Matt has the best heart of anyone I know.”
Diana nods solemnly. “I agree,” she says. Tears fill her eyes.
“What is it?” I ask, shifting in my chair to face Diana.
“He’s very upset, Taylor. I really shouldn’t say anything more than that.” She takes a breath, blowing out through her lips on the exhale, placing her hands on her knees, preparing to stand up. “But I wanted you to know about the atrial fibrillation. I’ll let Matt fill you in on the rest.”
My stomach drops as Diana rises from her seat. The lack of an invitation inside the house speaks volumes. “Should I, um, just wait here for him?”
Diana nods. “Sure. You can do that.” As she opens the door to the house, my eyes swell with salty tears.
Diana turns back to look at me. “Whatever he says, just remember how much he loves you, Taylor. We all do.” She covers her mouth to stifle a sob, then lets herself back inside and gently closes the door behind her.
With nothing left to do but await the impending consequences of whatever version of the truth Leyla shared with Matt, I go over the beginning in my mind.
I call up all the details in a way that I haven’t allowed myself to in months.
It was almost as if I was trying to will away that part of the story, like if I didn’t think about it, then maybe it didn’t actually happen.
But it did.
And now, there was nothing left to do but face it.
~
It was a rainy morning on March 8th when the phone rang at Trinity Youth Services.
My assistant, Liz, answered. I was trying to get the numbers to work out on a budget spreadsheet I was creating for a grant application to a book warehouse.
The center’s lending library was in desperate need of an overhaul, but the application specifically indicated that a salaried employee needed to be responsible for stewarding any book donation, and I couldn’t figure out how I could possibly afford to hire a librarian.
“It’s for you,” Liz called through the open door dividing my office from the general reception area.
“Who is it?” I wondered, lost in thought.
“Didn’t say,” Liz replied. “Not a telemarketer, though.”
“’Kay, thanks.”
“Line one.”
I picked up the black handset. “This is Taylor. How can I help you?”
Silence.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Um, hi,” a female voice replied. “Is this Taylor Roberts?”
“It is. How can I help you?” I repeated.
“I’m not sure if you’ll remember me. My name is Leyla Miller. I’m Brett Thompson’s mom?” She said it fast, as though I should know who Brett Thompson was.
It only took a second for me to piece it together. My fight or flight responses fired up, making my heart race.
“Are you there?” Leyla asked.
“I’m here.” I stood up and leaned towards the open office door, swinging it closed.
“I know this is out of the blue, and I’m sorry for calling you at work, but this was the only number I could find on Google that had your name attached to it.”
“Mm.” I swallowed, sitting back down at my desk, unsure of what to say.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m calling.”
“Mm hmm.”
“Matt’s sick.”
“What?”
“He’s sick, Taylor. He had a stroke.”
Oh my God, I thought. But no words came.
“I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me,” Leyla continued. “Do you still love him?”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“No judgment. I just need to know.”
“I’m sorry. Is Matt okay? You call me out of the blue at my office and—”
“He’s not okay. And if you still love him, then I need your help.”
~
An hour later, I found myself at a Starbucks just half a mile south of St. Ignatius Hospital on Long Island.
My peach tranquility tea was held by two cups and still felt too hot to hold onto, so I opened the lid and breathed in the steam, trying to calm myself down when Leyla walked in.
Even without makeup, even with puffy eyes that looked as if they hadn’t seen sleep in a week, she was still one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.
I raised a hand, less in greeting and more out of habit, and Leyla rushed over, pulled out the chair opposite me, and sat.
No pleasantries were exchanged. “I'm glad you came,” she began.
I nodded.
Leyla let out a long exhale. “The thing is, I’m leaving him.”
“I’m sorry?”
Leyla shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as if thoughts were flying around in her brain like moths and she needed them to stop.
“Two days ago, I got a call from a producer out in California. There’s a Netflix series. I did the pilot, and the execs just ordered a whole first season. I’ve waited my whole life for this kind of an opportunity, you understand?”
I shrugged. “I guess?”
“Believe me, I have. I decided I was going to go, and I was trying to work up my nerve to tell Matt. I bought a plane ticket and everything.”
“Okay,” I offered.
“But then yesterday, Matt woke up and was having a stroke.”
The thought of it turned my stomach. “Is he okay? How bad was the stroke?”
“He’s in the hospital. It was scary, but I guess it sort of passed quickly? He can still talk and walk and do normal stuff. But they have to do a million tests on him, and my flight leaves the day after tomorrow.”
Relief washed over me. He’s okay. “When you say you’re leaving him, do you mean for good?” I wondered.
“Yeah.” Leyla sighed. “Listen, I’ve got to level with you. Matt’s a good guy. He’s been a good dad, and we’ve done the best we can. But it’s not living, you know what I mean? I have dreams.”
I know exactly what you mean. Once upon a time, being with Matt was my dream. “What about your daughter?”
“Brett? She’s amazing.”
“And you’re just planning to leave her?”
“Well, she’s got school, so I figured she’d stay behind with Matt while I get settled out there, and then maybe I could bring her over for the next school year if it all works out.”
“But he’s in the hospital.”
“I know. That’s what I’m saying. It all would have been fine, but then this happened. That’s why I need you.”
“I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I really don’t understand.”
“He still has a thing for you. There’s a shoebox in his closet. It’s been there forever. I’ve gone through it; it’s all these old pictures and letters and things from your time together. Also, I check his phone pretty often. You come up in the Google search history at least once a month.”
Wow. Certainly sounds like a toxic relationship. “That doesn’t mean anything. People keep tabs on old friends,” I said, but even to my own ears, it sounded like a lie.
“You haven’t spoken to him since that summer?” Leyla asked.
“No,” I said.
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated,” I replied. But it wasn’t, really.
“Well, I suspect that he’d be very happy if you reappeared in his life, especially now,” Leyla said.
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“I just think it would soften the blow, you know? Listen, I’m in acting. Every story has a villain. I’m fine playing that part. I just need to be able to leave in two days. I’ll come back for Brett. That’s my girl.”
“If you’re the villain, then what would that make me?”
“Are you kidding? You’d be the hero—swooping back in when Matt needs you the most. It’s a win-win.”
“Nothing about this feels like a win to me,” I said.
“If you love him, and you’ve ever wanted him back, then this is your chance,” Leyla responded.
“Here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll set up a GoFundMe and publicize it all over social media, make it really splashy so that perhaps you would have come upon it organically.
Then, you make a donation—however much, I don’t really think the amount matters—and add in a note or something so that he sees it’s from you.
He’ll reach out, and you can take it from there. ”
“Does he need money? Because I’ll gladly donate if he does.”
“He won’t be able to work for a while, so yeah, he’ll need financial help. This isn’t like some get rich quick scheme. The money we raise will help him and Brett stay afloat while I’m in California. Then, once we wrap, I’ll come back this summer and bring Brett out to the West Coast with me.”
“What about Matt? Don’t you think he’ll want to be near his kid?”
“Obviously we’ll share her. Anyway, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, we just need to focus on next steps.”
~
I spoke to Jess to ask for her opinion.
“I don’t trust any of it,” she said, matter-of-factly. “How do you know he even had a stroke? She sounds crazy, and I would stay far away from that if I were you.”
“But, Jess, if Matt's sick—”
“Then that’s awful, and I’m sorry to hear it.”
“What if it was Seth? What if you guys missed your chance at being together and you found out he had a stroke? What if he needed you?”
“Honestly, Taylor, I don’t know what I would do. All I’m saying is that I don’t trust Leyla. This has nothing to do with Matt. What she’s suggesting is sneaky and manipulative. Think about it. This is his heart you’re talking about. Literally.”
“But if what she’s saying is true, then he’s going to need help.”
“It doesn’t have to come from you, though. I’m sorry. Taylor. I love you, but I think this is a mistake. I feel like you’d be making a deal with the devil.”
“What if this is the only way I’ll ever get to be with him?”
“It’s your call. Just be careful.”
I will be. I won’t believe anything unless I see it with my own eyes.
With that in mind, a plan was formed.
Ten days later, after much deliberation, I appeared on Matt’s doorstep with a letter and a check for $10,000.
But then, a little over two months after that, Leyla changed her mind.