The Sweet Tooth

by Margot Larson

  Anders noticed Mathieu’s distress anyway, “Do you want to leave?”

  “I don’t understand what’s happening. I was out all week with Solomon and I only had attack symptoms when he got too close to the cliff edge. Why is it happening now?” The artist couldn’t control his feelings any longer; his head was starting to spin and he was starting to perspire, “I’m sorry, Anders.” Mathieu got up and ran out of the café.

  Anders threw some bills down onto the table and rushed out after Mathieu. He found the Irishman leaning against the next building, doubled over and breathing heavily. The older man leaned over and rubbed Mathieu’s back, “Are you alright?”

  Mathieu could only manage to shake his head, loose curls swaying back and forth. He reached out and grabs a handful of Anders’ shirt.

  “You’re alright,” Anders remembered Solomon’s instructions about what to do if Mathieu should suffer symptoms. “I’m here. I won’t let anyone harm you. It’s okay, just breathe.” Some people slowed their pace and watched the two against the wall. Anders noticed and wanted to move Mathieu away to a more private area. “Come on. Let’s go find a quiet spot in the gardens,” he put an arm around Mathieu’s shoulders and gently guided him away from the building.

  They sat on the same bench Anders and Solomon had sat on a few months ago. Mathieu leaned into Anders as he shivered and wrapped Solomon’s, green hoodie tighter around himself. His breathing was easier but he was still a little dizzy and he was more than a little frustrated that it happened at all. “I don’t understand why this is happening to me. I was fine last week.”

  “Maybe you should call Elise and move up your appointment.”

  “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll do that,” Mathieu took out his mobile and left a message with Elise’s service. "If you don’t mind me asking," Mathieu said when he finished his call, "how are things going with the two of you?”

  “I don’t mind you asking. Things are great with us. She’s a wonderful woman, so smart and funny,” Anders had a few other things to tell Mathieu about his relationship with his doctor but right then was not the time.

  “Oh, that’s good. I like her a lot too. I don’t know where I’d be without her help this year. You know, of course, that she’s cutting her hours back.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s not a decision she made easily.”

  Mathieu was dying to ask but the artist respected the privacy of both his friend and his doctor, “How are things with Evelyn?”

  “You don’t know?” Anders wasn’t really surprised. Evelyn never seemed like the type to mix business with pleasure. And she certainly wouldn’t want to be fuel for the gossip fires at work.

  “Know what?” Mathieu was calming down; distracted from his symptoms by the news he hadn’t heard yet.

  “She’s seeing someone else. She met a guy at a book convention a month or so ago. His name’s Orlando; he’s an editor in the fiction division of your publishing company’s biggest competitor.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the Irishman leaned heavier onto the older man trying to give him some support.

  “No, it’s fine, Mathieu. She’s very happy and I’m very happy for her,” Anders liked Evelyn very much but with Elise his feelings went a lot deeper.

  “I hope she doesn’t leave to go work for his company. I like having her as my boss.”

  “She likes being your boss so I doubt she’d leave.”

  The two men sat on the bench for a little while longer until Mathieu said he was no longer feeling light-headed. On their way back to the flat they stopped at a local, chain sandwich shop to pick-up lunch. It was a poor substitute for the lunch they wanted but it would have to do. Anders had to run some errands before he headed to the restaurant. Mathieu confirmed that Anders would come to brunch on Sunday so he and Solomon could tell the Englishman all about their holiday at the seaside.

  Just as Mathieu saw Anders out the door his mobile rang. It was Elise’s receptionist; she informed him that Elise couldn’t see him until his scheduled appointment time on Wednesday. Mathieu was disappointed but he thanked her for getting back to him and disconnected the call. Before he could close his flat door the grocery delivery arrived. The Irishman put away the groceries then checked his emails again before setting to work on a new research project. There was no email regarding his tarot card submission but he wasn’t very happy with his sketches so he wasn't really surprised.

  When Solomon got home he found his fiancé asleep on the sofa cuddling The History of Ireland until the 15th Century. The blonde brushed back a stray lock of curls to place a kiss on the sleeping man’s forehead. Solomon watched his partner’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep for a moment before he uprighted himself and went into the bedroom to change out of his suit. Mathieu was whimpering softly when Solomon returned to the living room. Solomon knelt next to the sofa, removed the book from Mathieu’s arms, took his partner’s hands and softly called his name. “Mathieu,” he whispered, “Mathieu.”

  “Mmm?” The Irishman mumbled sleepily.

  “You were moaning in your sleep. Are you alright?”

  “Mmm,” the brunette was not any more awake than he was a second ago.

  “Mathieu, open your eyes, talk to me.”

  “Sssshhheeeepy,” Mathieu managed to say but the word was slurred as if he were drunk.

  “You’re sheepy?" Solomon smiled, "You want me to make dinner?”

  “No, ‘m up.”

  “You don’t look up. Are you feeling okay? You were moaning before.”

  “Mm up. Mm up,” the Irishman opened one, golden-brown eye. “I’m fine. It’s hard getting back into the work routine after being away.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m actually surprised I’m home this early. I thought I’d be at the office all night catching up. But in your case I’m sure the 15th century didn’t help keep you awake.”

  “Oh, no. It was actually very interesting. For instance, did you know that there’s a record of the King of England sending a giraffe to Ireland?”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know,” the Irishman was definitely disappointed. “It doesn’t say why.”

  Solomon grinned, “Is that what you’re researching, giraffes in Irish history?”

  “You’re so lucky you’re cute and I love you.”

  “I know.”

  ***

  Mathieu began his session like every session; telling Elise about what had happened to him since their last meeting. But it was Solomon who went into detail regarding what he referred to as Mathieu’s change in personality while they were away. Elise furiously made notes while Solomon explained to her about Mathieu’s confidence and the way the Irishman seemed to ignore the fact that they were out in public with various sized groups of people.

  When asked Mathieu had no explanation, “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “I didn’t think about it. There was so much to see and do. Everywhere we went was a different experience for me and Solomon was there with me. I know he won’t let anything happen to me.”

  “And how have you been since you got back?”

  Mathieu realized that Anders wouldn’t have told Elise about his attack symptoms in the café. “Things are the same here.”

  “You mean the same as they were while you were away or the same as they were before you left?”

  “Before we left?”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. It’s very frustrating. I was hoping that I was cured,” he really was.

  “Can you remember if something happened to you before your first attack? Something that may have triggered you, here in London?”

  It wasn't hard for Mathieu to answer that question. It was something he had thought about for years but there was nothing he could think of, “I can’t think of anything that happened to me that would cause me to have this disorder.”

  “Had you ever been to London before you moved here?”

  Mathieu shook his head, “No. We stayed ve
ry close to home. We have no relatives here so my parents never brought me here. I went to art school in Dublin.”

  “Why did you choose to come to London?”

  “Because my parents never come here which meant that I wouldn’t have to be afraid of seeing them and I had a job offer which I quickly accepted so I came. I made a few friends, got my first real boyfriend and everything was fine until that Christmas.”

  “Were your parents okay with your moving to London?”

  “By then I don’t think they really cared, in fact I think my dad was glad. I had been working and living at home but I lost that job and my dad blamed my being gay for it. I sent out my CV to everyone in Dublin and London I could think of with an art department whether they were hiring or not. I got offered the job I have now and I left.”

  “What were your Christmas holidays like?”

  “We had the stereotypical Christmases; tree, stockings over the fireplace, lights around the windows and doors, candles in the windows. We went to midnight mass and went to Gran’s for a big family dinner. Then when she passed we went to my Aunt’s for a year or two. Then we just stayed home.”

  “When is the last time you saw your parents?”

  “I went home to pick-up some things I had left behind when I had moved out. My mom had called me and said that my dad was going to throw them away if I didn’t collect them. This was early March 2011. I had had a few attacks but I was still able to go out. When I got there she was so happy to see me. I told her about what I had been going through and she seemed very concerned. We talked for hours while I packed my things in boxes. I was there for a few days and she told my dad about my attacks. He told me that I was being punished by God. My mom told me that she loved me but she was very disappointed in my choices. That was the last I saw either of them.”

  “How long after that did you have your next attack?”

  “It was one week after I got home.”

  “And how long after that until you were agoraphobic?”

  “Three months and during that time I had four more attacks.”

  “You had your first attack in December 2010 by June 2011 you had at least seven attacks and were no longer able to go out.”

  “I had nine attacks during that period but you already know all that,” she was asking questions she already knew the answers too and it was beginning to bother him.

  “You didn’t have any attacks in Ireland though when you went to visit your parents even though the visit turned stressful.”

  That was something Mathieu hadn’t thought about before, “No.”

  Solomon who had been listening intently asked, “You think that something about London gives Mathieu his attacks?”

  “It’s possible. It’s certainly an avenue worth exploring.”

  “But I felt the beginnings of an attack when Solomon was on the cliff edge and I still can’t go out on my balcony.”

  “What were you afraid of when you saw Solomon on the cliff edge?”

  “That he was going to fall,” Mathieu gave Solomon’s hand a squeeze.

  “Okay, so let’s put together what we know. London, crowds and the fear of falling but it doesn’t have to be all three together because you’ve had attacks in just crowds and just when you thought about falling.”

  “But,” Mathieu added, “I had symptoms outside London when Solomon was on the cliff edge. Doesn’t that disprove whatever theory you’re trying to come up with regarding London?”

  “Not necessarily. The fear of falling is quite common and you’re fear of Solomon falling may have caused you to have a reaction. You did have an attack when Solomon suggested climbing over the balcony the day you locked yourself out of your flat.”

  “But that was before he and I were a confirmed couple.”

  “But you still wouldn’t have wanted him to fall.” Mathieu shook his head and Elise continued, “You’re love for Solomon and your fear for his safety carries on outside London as would your own fear of falling. I can go on balconies but I wouldn’t have gone near the cliff edge and I certainly wouldn’t want a loved one to go near it either.”

  “I’m still confused. I retained my fear of falling but not my fear of crowds?”

  “It would seem so but you said yourself that you were distracted by all the different things around you. I’d like you to stay on the same dose of medication for now and I’d like you to think about London. And I wonder if you would try to contact your mother and ask her if she had ever brought you to London when you were small.”

  Mathieu didn't want to cry again when he started to think about his mother so he just stood, prepared to leave and said he’d do the best he could.

  CHAPTER 32

  There were two items on the kitchen counter; one, a small, cardboard shipping box the other a small, ivory envelope. Mathieu knew what was in the box but not what was in the envelope. The excitement he felt when he saw the parcel was quickly replaced by confusion and a little anxiety when he saw the envelope. The handwriting addressing the envelope to him and Solomon was almost instantly recognized as his mothers. The return address, his own from childhood. He couldn’t understand what it was doing there. Despite Elise’s repeated requests to contact his mother, he hadn’t. It’s not that he didn’t try, he did. Over the past month he picked up the phone several times, even dialed once but he couldn’t go through with it. The artist didn’t know what there was to say. He didn’t know how to ask the woman who had called him a disappointment for help. Would she even help him if he asked? He wasn’t sure she would and he couldn’t handle any more rejection from her.

  So, he did next to nothing and now there was a letter from her.

  Mathieu took a few deep breaths to calm down. ‘It’s just a piece of paper,’ he told himself, ‘nothing to be scared of’. He picked up the letter with a trembling hand turning it over and over before sliding a finger under the sealed flap. The artist took a few more deep breaths before he slowly parted the edges of the envelope to lift out the contents.

  ‘Congratulations on Your Engagement’ was written in green calligraphy across the front of the plain, ivory card with a stylized flourish underneath. The Irishman recalled that Solomon had suggested sending an engagement announcement to her while they were on holiday but it wasn’t brought up again and the matter had been forgotten, at least by him. But clearly it hadn’t been by Solomon.

  Mathieu took the card into the sitting room and sat down on the sofa. The artist ran his fingers over the calligraphy, it looked and felt handwritten and he briefly wondered if his mother had taken lessons. He took another deep breath, closed his eyes and opened the card; another deep breath and he opened his eyes:

  My Dearest Mathieu,

  Words cannot express my joy at receiving your engagement announcement. I know we didn’t part under the best circumstances but you are often in my thoughts and always in my heart. I’ve had a lot of time to do a lot of thinking, Mathieu, and I’m sorry for not trying to understand and support you. I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell us and I let your father bully me into turning my back on you when you needed me the most. When I close my eyes I can still see the hurt look on your face when I told you that you were a disappointment to me. For that, I can never be sorry enough. I could never be disappointed with you. You’re my son, my only child, and I love you and I’m so proud of you. I won’t ask you to call or even write back but someday I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I also hope and pray that you and your young man will be very happy together.

  Love,

  Mum

  Tears ran freely down Mathieu’s face as he read the words over and over. Not only was she happy for him she was proud of him and asking for his forgiveness. His mobile was in his hand before he knew it and he had dialed her number. When he heard the soft ‘hello’ he managed to squeak out “mum?” before his emotions overwhelmed him.

  ***

  Mathieu was still emotionally raw when Solomon opened the flat door that evening. Solomo
n could tell his fiancé had been crying from the puffy, red eyes, runny nose and piles of used tissues on the coffee table. No words were exchanged while Solomon put down his lap-top bag and sat on the sofa to take Mathieu in his arms but the artist leaned away and held out a card. The blonde took the card, opened it and read the message. He read it again before looking at his fiancé, “Love?”

  “I called her,” Mathieu said softly, his voice hoarse from crying, “We cried a lot.”

  Solomon opened his arms and that time Mathieu sank into the embrace, “I’m sure you did, Baby and I’m sorry. Did you get a chance to ask her about your past?”

  Mathieu slid down on the sofa so his head rested on Solomon’s chest. He found comfort in Solomon’s strong heartbeat, “No, I didn’t get a chance. She said she’d call me soon.”

  “Did you get to talk about anything else?”

  “She repeated what she said in the letter, said she was sorry and that she thought about me all the time. She said she worried about me and wondered if I still had attacks. I told her that I was getting better with your help and with Elise.” Mathieu’s tears started to fall again, “she said she was glad that I had found love and that I deserved to be happy.” He buried his face in Solomon’s shirt.

  Solomon’s embrace tightened around his sobbing partner, “She’s so right about that.”

  The couple eventually shifted position so Solomon was lying down with Mathieu pressed between his body and the back of the sofa. The Irishman’s head once again rested on Solomon’s chest. Dinner was forgotten about as the sun sets and the room gradually grew dark but neither man was eager to break away. Mathieu’s arm and leg went numb from the position he had been in for so long and he has no choice but to move. He climbed off the sofa trying not to lean too heavily on the snoozing man beneath him. He was not quick enough, however, to escape Solomon’s hand on his wrist.