The Coil

by Gilbert, L. A.

  Mattie was painting now, making use of his recently restocked supplies, and imagining what it would be like to actually go to New York and achieve everything that had seemed too much of a challenge a year ago. Just the thought of him, former illiterate prostitute, going to college. It was almost enough to make him smile. Almost.

  There was a knock at his door, but he decided to ignore it. If it was a visitor they would have called him or buzzed. It could only be his landlord or a neighbor, and he didn’t feel like speaking to either. With no music or TV on in the background, it was easy to play possum.

  There was a silence, lasting approximately ten seconds, before there was another knock at the door. He thought idly of one of the passages he’d liked by some dead guy that he’d studied for his English Lit test. Something about a bird, knock knocking at his chamber door.

  “Mattie? Are you in?”

  He dropped his paintbrush and felt his stomach drop. He wanted to run to the door, while feeling contradictorily annoyed that Simon had dared turn up at his apartment after several very obvious brush-offs.

  “Mattie, please open the door? Please? I know you’re in. I just spoke to your neighbor.”

  Mattie ran his hands over his face. Simon sounded terrible. He sounded unsure and a touch desperate. Instead of it being a turn off, it almost softened something inside of him.

  Almost.

  He strode over to the door, intent on firmly asking Simon to leave. He opened the door, and any words of dismissal escaped him. Simon stood there, a small Ninja Turtle backpack hanging over one arm and a small child wearing a cape in the other.

  IT WAS easier to get into the building than he’d thought it would be. He knew Mattie wouldn’t buzz him in if he were home, so he’d intended to either wait outside the building and ambush him, or plead with a neighbor to let him in. Fortunately, having a cute kid on his hip was apparently the easiest and fastest way to charm his way through the front doors.

  Having made his way in, and with Mattie standing opposite him now, looking utterly shocked, all the carefully planned and rehearsed words left him. Simon couldn’t think of a thing to say, except…

  “Hi.” God, I’ve missed you.

  “Hi.” You bastard.

  Simon cleared his throat. “Can I—can we come in? Please?” he asked quietly.

  Mattie leveled him with a displeased look that made him swallow nervously. Perhaps this wasn’t going to work. Perhaps it really was over. But then Mattie sighed softly, glancing at Jamie and tilting his head as if to catch his gaze. Something that at that moment was not possible as Jamie clung to him, nervous in these new surroundings.

  “Hi, Jamie. I don’t suppose you remember me?”

  He felt Jamie’s head move under his chin, but he knew Jamie wouldn’t look Mattie in the eye. He could feel one small hand twisting the collar of his jacket nervously.

  “You cut the crusts off my sandwich,” Jamie replied quietly.

  Mattie’s smile changed from polite to genuinely quite enamored in a second flat, and Simon felt something inside of him unwind. He bounced Jamie gently on his hip, proud of his son for responding.

  “That’s right, little guy.” Mattie glanced back at Simon, some of the warmth leaving his eyes to be replaced by wariness. He looked back at Jamie. “You know what, Jamie? I hear you don’t like to talk too much, and I also know that new places are a little scary for you, but that’s okay. How about you come on in with your dad, and I can show you around. Then I’ll make you one of those PBJ sandwiches? Would you like that?”

  He could feel Jamie squirm a little restlessly against his hip, and he knew his child was conflicted. Jamie’s instincts were telling him to not reply and to say his numbers until his dad took him home to where his building blocks were. But all of the practicing they did about manners and the fact that his dad hadn’t taken him away was confusing him. Not to mention that, despite being autistic, Jamie was still a child and, at times, as curious as any other.

  “No crusts?” he asked after some time, and Mattie’s smile in response could have lit up any room.

  “I remember just how you like it.” He glanced at Simon and moved aside. “I’ll even give you a tour.”

  “Thank you,” Simon said quietly and passed Mattie into the familiar surroundings. The entranceway led to the kitchen and living room, which was essentially one large divided room with a doorway leading to the bedroom.

  “Well,” Mattie drawled, then spread his arms comically. “This is it!”

  “Your house is small,” Jamie said against his dad’s shoulder. Simon let out a breathless little laugh and bounced Jamie against his hip as he gave Mattie an apologetic smile.

  “Sorry,” he offered.

  “That’s okay.” Mattie smiled, not even bothering to look up at Simon. “It’s only me here, so it doesn’t need to be big. Well….” He put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to one side. “That is, it’s just me and my bunny rabbit.”

  Jamie’s head came up off of his shoulder, though Simon knew his son’s gaze rose no higher than Mattie’s chest. “You have a bunny?”

  “Yeah, I do. Do you want to meet him?”

  Jamie was already wriggling against him, attempting to shimmy out of his dad’s arms. Simon snorted and set him down, though he took his son’s hand when Jamie reached for his.

  “He’s over here in his pen, and you know what? He really likes cool, smart little boys.”

  As far as he could tell, Jamie wasn’t even listening to Mattie. He was too busy dragging Simon by the hand over toward the pen. Jamie eventually let go of his hand and knelt down next to the open pen, peering in at the rabbit that sat there with its nose twitching.

  “Is it okay if I just crouch down next to you a second?” Mattie asked.

  Jamie nodded, and Simon found himself oddly choked up. He didn’t know why, but he hadn’t expected Mattie to be so at ease around Jamie. He hadn’t expected such patience.

  “Come on, fluff ball,” Mattie kidded, encouraging the small rabbit to take a hop forward. And one hop was all it took. This was a lazy animal that was content to be so as long as it was fed regularly and got to hop around the living room occasionally. “Do you want to touch him? He’s friendly. I promise he won’t bite.”

  Jamie nodded and shuffled forward on his knees. He reached out slowly and stroked the top of the rabbit’s head with one finger.

  “Soft!” Jamie exclaimed in delight. He looked back at Simon. “Daddy, it’s soft!”

  “Like Gizmo?” he asked, pleased at his son’s reaction.

  “Softer then Gizmo. Gizmo’s always wiggling.”

  Both Simon and Mattie laughed at the apparent annoyance in the child’s voice and then glanced at each other. Mattie’s smile faded ever so slightly, and Simon felt his heart sink.

  “I’m going to make you that sandwich—no crusts.”

  “Jamie?” Simon crouched beside him when Mattie stood and moved into the kitchen. “I’m going to be just over there—look at me, Jamie.” He waited until he had Jamie’s attention. “I’m going to be just over there, okay?”

  Jamie nodded, already going back to the endlessly patient rabbit. “Your backpack is just here at the table. I’ll set your coloring book and crayons out, okay?” He pointed to the small coffee table, though he doubted Jamie would move an inch. “Can you answer me, baby?”

  Jamie looked up at him, offered him that sweet little smile. “Okay.”

  “You just call me if you need anything.” He strode over to where Mattie stood at the kitchen counter, cutting the crusts off a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  Mattie glanced up at him, licking his thumb, and then looked away to reach for a small plate. He put the sandwich on it, and Simon watched as he took it over to where Jamie sat, still crouched next to the rabbit. He smiled when Jamie leaned down and gently rubbed his cheek against the top of the rabbit’s head. Soft textures had always fascinated his son, and he had no doubt that he would have to purchase
Jamie his own bunny in the near future.

  “I’m gonna set this down on the table right here, okay?” Mattie asked.

  When Jamie nodded, Simon cleared his throat. “What do we say, Jamie?”

  “Please and thank you,” Jamie answered, sounding rehearsed.

  Simon shook his head, smiling faintly. “Close enough,” he said quietly and pulled out a chair at the kitchen table to take a seat. He hesitated, however, and glanced at Mattie. That displeased look was back, and there was a definite pause before Mattie nodded. He sat.

  Mattie sat opposite him. “Well, talk about inviting yourself over,” he said quietly.

  Simon winced, remembering the similar words he’d spoken not so long ago. “Thank you for letting me in.”

  “As if I’d close the door on your kid. You just happened to be with him.”

  “Okay,” he drawled nervously, offering a tremulous smile as his hand folded and unfolded in his lap.

  “And by the way?” Mattie glanced over at Jamie, then folded his arms and leaned forward. “Using your son to talk to me? Low.”

  Again, he winced. “I know. Believe me, I don’t feel good about it.”

  “I mean even for you that’s low.”

  Simon stared at him for a moment, at the unwavering glare offered to him. He felt something twist in his stomach. He pressed his lips together in a tight line and suddenly felt humiliatingly on the verge of tears. Mattie hated him. This kind, loving man who had for some reason adored him and offered him refuge from even himself could now barely stand the sight of him. He’d ruined everything. “I made a mistake,” he spoke quietly.

  “A bit of an understatement, don’t you think?”

  “No I, I mean… it’s too late, isn’t it?”

  Mattie didn’t reply, but his brow creased in a frown, as if that was the last thing he’d expected Simon to say.

  “I royally messed this up. You meant it. We’re done, aren’t we?”

  Mattie looked away quickly, lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps we could be friends, still.”

  Simon clenched his jaw and splayed his hands out on the table. He kept his gaze on his hands, swallowing hard as they began to blur. “I don’t think that’d work. Not after what we—what we used to be.”

  “Oh, come on, Simon. What were we exactly? There’s no reason—”

  “Don’t. Don’t act like it was nothing, because it meant something to me.”

  He looked at Mattie when there wasn’t an immediate response, and saw the anger back in those hazel eyes.

  “Then why?” Mattie ground out. “Why would you fu—” Mattie shot a quick glance at Jamie, catching himself, and then lowered his voice. “Why would you just… sabotage us like that?” He sat back in his chair, his expression sad. He threw his hands out to the sides in a helpless gesture. “Was it all in my head? Did I have some sort of twisted Pretty Woman fantasy going on?”

  “No, not at all—”

  “Then why?” Mattie interrupted. “Why pretend we were dating?”

  “We were,” Simon snapped.

  “I only just recently saw the inside of your house, after how many months of so-called ‘dating’?”

  “You know my reasons,” Simon practically pleaded, aware that he was sounding needier by the second.

  “No. You’re not doing that. You’re not using him as an excuse. I respected every boundary, save for turning up once unannounced.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “You weren’t expec—? I don’t care!” Mattie hissed, before letting out a frustrated breath and standing, taking two steps to lean against the kitchen counter. “The way you looked at me?” He glanced at Jamie, still preoccupied across the room. “I felt like trash. You looked at me like I was a stranger.” He clenched his jaw. “It was like going back in time, to that party when Andrew let slip that I hooked. Standing in that hallway at your son’s party, it was… it was like everything we knew about each other, everything we felt for each other didn’t matter. You just….” He shook his head and lowered his gaze, swallowing hard when his voice wavered.

  Simon stood and approached Mattie, who leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, eyes to the floor, and so vulnerable that it hurt to look at him. “Mattie,” he murmured, saddened when Mattie shook his head “no” and wouldn’t look him in the eye.

  Simon wiped a hand over his mouth, sighed softly, and nodded, as if reaching an agreement with himself. “Okay,” he said softly. “Here it is. When Tim left—”

  Mattie immediately shook his head in a “here we go” gesture and pushed away from the counter. “If you’re not using your son as an excuse then it’s your ex. Christ.”

  “Hear me out.” Simon crowded him back against the counter, dipping his head and tipping Mattie’s chin up to look him in the eye. “Please.”

  Mattie regarded him closely, and then his shoulders slumped. He leaned back against the counter. “I hate this hold you have over me,” he whispered.

  Feeling a slither of hope, Simon took a deep breath. “Just let me explain.”

  “Everyone’s been burned by an ex before, Simon,” he spoke sadly.

  “Yes, true. But when Tim left? He was close to the same age you are now, and he loved me too. We had a future.”

  “I get that Jamie was a problem for him and that’s why he took off,” Mattie said in low murmurs, not wanting there to be any chance that Jamie would hear. “But I believe the problem here is that I want to be a part of yours and Jamie’s life. You’re the one who—”

  Simon pressed the tips of two fingers to Mattie’s lips, almost amused. “Mattie, please. Let me talk.”

  Mattie rolled his eyes and moved Simon’s hand away, then raised his eyebrows in a bid for Simon to continue.

  “Yes, I do have a hang-up about our slight age difference, about how annoyingly gorgeous you are, and the fact that you’re so talented you could go anywhere and do anything you wanted at any time.” He quickly pressed on when he could see Mattie about to argue. “But that’s not what it came down to.”

  “What, then?” Mattie asked.

  Simon pressed his lips together and lowered his voice to whisper, the timbre of his voice sounding all the deeper. “I—I resented Jamie, when Tim left.” He met Mattie’s gaze, feeling nervous and guilty, whereas Mattie showed only surprise. “He was three years old, completely helpless, and thought the absolute world of me, and I resented him. I resented him because he was the reason the man I loved walked out.”

  Something in Mattie’s eyes softened. “Oh, Simon,” he sighed, a sound of disappointment.

  Simon cringed. “I know, fucking terrible, right? I hate myself for having felt that way, but—”

  “No.” Mattie interrupted with a shake of his head, his voice soft. “I can’t even imagine how you must have felt.”

  “It was bad. Really bad, for a time. Tim left, I was heartbroken, and Jamie was missing his presence and was twice the work. My mother wanted custody, I couldn’t write, and I didn’t know how to do any of it.”

  Mattie begrudgingly touched his arm, offering sympathy despite still not actually wanting to. “But you love Jamie.”

  “Oh, absolutely. That little boy has my whole heart, he owns me, but I loved him back then, and still….” He shook his head. “I don’t want you to think I was nasty to him or mistreated him, but—”

  “Oh, of course not,” Mattie scoffed. “You’d sooner cut off your own arm than say a single unkind word to Jamie. I know that.”

  “But the feelings were still there, you know?”

  “Well.” Mattie frowned. “You were mourning, weren’t you?”

  Simon frowned. “How so?”

  “The life you thought you’d have, the lover you’d lost. It’s a big blow.”

  He ran both hands through his hair. That was it exactly. “I can’t understand how you always know what to say, how you’re always so understanding.”

  Mattie sighed and ran his hand along Simon’s
arm again. He shrugged helplessly. “I know you, Simon Castle. I know you.”

  And that’s what it came down to, really. Having someone else know you, good and bad, inside and out. That was the once in a lifetime connection that people sang about, wrote about. Simon nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

  “But, Simon….” Mattie tilted his head, clearly indicating that he hadn’t heard enough for amends to be made. “I understand what you’re saying, but….”

  “No, you don’t. Not quite, anyway.”

  Mattie took a deep breath, clearly losing patience. “Then what?”

  “I was devastated when Tim left, and my emotions got all tangled up. It took me nearly two years to recover, for both Jamie and I to recover. And then I met you.”

  “And then you met me,” Mattie echoed.

  “I’m being frank when I say it frightened me that you’re younger and so beautiful, but what worried me most is what might happen when you leave. Because what I felt for Tim?” He took a short breath, his eyes stinging. “What I felt for Tim is not a fraction of what I feel for you.”

  Mattie’s brows rose in clear surprise, but he was pleased too.

  “I kept you at an arm’s length because, at first, I didn’t want the option of actually falling for you to be possible. Then when I fell for you anyway? I tried to keep you at a safe distance because I wanted to be sure, absolutely sure that you were in this all the way, and that—that I could trust you, rely on you to stay. Because if you left, Mattie, that would ruin me. It would ruin me.”

  “How could you not know that I’m completely in love with you?” Mattie choked out.

  Simon swallowed. “Because Tim was in love with me too.”

  “I’m not Tim.”

  “No, you certainly are not. But….” He closed his eyes tight, willing himself to be completely honest, no matter what. “But I had to keep you away for other reasons, one other reason.” He willed Mattie to please, please understand.

  A certain light in Mattie’s eyes dimmed, and that look of shame that Simon hated briefly flashed over his face. But Mattie nodded.