by Jessica Park
“There! You have done it!” Celeste announced. “I will lift the top off myself. I do so appreciate your assistance with this.” She took her hand and placed it on Matt’s knee.
Matt took his hand and put it on top of hers, looking at her with curiosity.
Celeste lifted her face and flashed a smile. “This is going to make a profound difference. Everything is about to change, Matthew. I am flooded with genuine anticipation and optimism.”
“Then… then so am I,” Matt agreed. “Let’s see what you bought yourself.”
“It’s not an it,” she said, clearly affronted, and she pulled a long, flat shape from the folds of the shipping cardboard. Celeste lifted up the object as she stood. “It’s a him.”
Matt felt his stomach tighten and his pulse pick up
“Oh my God, Celeste.” He wasn’t smiling anymore. “What have you done? What have you done?”
Matt started to shake his head back and forth, struggling to understand. In front of him stood a flat, life-sized cutout photograph of Finn.
The prodigal son returns.
Celeste had positioned some sort of flap near its feet so that this creepy replica of his brother stood on its own. She stepped back and admired her purchase. “Matthew, meet Flat Finn. Flat Finn, meet Matthew.” She spun to face Matt and waited expectantly.
He could feel his whole body beginning to tremble, and he continued shaking his head.
Celeste wrinkled her nose in irritation and whispered in Matt’s direction. “I believe that it is considered polite to introduce yourself or to otherwise impart some words of greeting upon meeting someone for the first time.”
What did she want him to say? Oh, good. Finn’s home! At last! All he could do was feel positively ill. He was surrounded by pain all the time, and now he was being asked to converse with this… this nightmare version of his dead brother? It was hard enough to look at pictures of Finn without being overwhelmed with grief, but this was too much. It was too crazy.
“No. No way, Celeste.” Although he spoke slowly, his voice was harsh. “Get it out.”
“What? What is the matter?” She took a step closer to Flat Finn.
“You’re not doing this. Get rid of it. Why would you want that? Why?”
Celeste’s face fell. “I do not understand why you are so angry with me. You are not responding the way I had envisioned you would.”
“You thought I would like this? God! Wh…what exactly do you plan on doing with this thing?”
“It is not a thing. He is Flat Finn. He is going to be my sidekick and accompany me as I participate in daily activities. Flat Finn will watch over me as I sleep, he will have a place at the dinner table, and I have a feeling that he will be quite helpful with my history homework.” She leaned her head in closer to the picture, positioning her ear by the mouth in the photograph. “Oh.” She giggled. “He says that he has arrived to rescue me, just like the real Finn would do if he could. That is very kind of him. Matt, this is symbolism at its finest, I believe. Flat Finn will stay with me as a representative of my real brother.”
“I’m your real brother!” Matt could hear himself screaming now. “I’m real! I’m here!”
“I… I… I know that, Matthew. I did not mean to imply—”
Matt moved swiftly across the room and grabbed the cardboard cutout with both hands. Celeste had gone insane. This was going into the trash right now.
“No! NO! Matty, no!” Celeste grabbed Matt’s arm and dug her feet into the floor. “I need him!”
“No way. You are not doing this to yourself. Or to Mom and Dad. I’m putting this piece of crap out front in the garbage.” Nearly blind with emotion and from the tears that were clouding his vision, he started for the front door. “This never happened. It’s done, okay? It’s all done.”
He was almost at the entryway when he heard a noise come from Celeste that stopped him cold. An excruciating, mournful howl. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea swept through him. A thud sounded as Celeste dropped to the floor and released another guttural moan. Somehow he managed not to vomit. Matt left the Flat Finn thing where it was by the door and went back into the kitchen.
Celeste lay in a heap on the floor, choking on her sobs.
“We can’t have this in the house! It’s not normal, Celeste. You’re not doing this to us! You’re not keeping that!” Matt had no idea how he was forming words right now. His thoughts were fuzzy, all rationale drowned out by the piercing ringing in his head. He cringed as she slammed her hands into the floor over and over.
He took a few steps toward her, and she lunged at him, pushing her fists into his chest as she tried to rush past him to reach Flat Finn. Matt chased her to the front door and reached out reflexively, grabbing her around the waist, pulling her back before she could touch the grotesque cardboard cutout. “Forget it. Consider it gone. This is over.”
“Matty!” she screamed through sobs. “Just this one thing! Let me have him!”
“Absolutely not! Are you kidding me with this?”
“STAY AWAY FROM ME! HE BELONGS TO ME, NOT TO YOU! I GET TO HAVE THIS. MATT! I GET TO HAVE THIS! I DO!”
Matt froze, but kept her in his grasp. He had never heard her like this before. “Celeste….” His voice was softer now. From his own grief. From his own fear.
She spun around and fell into him, hitting his arms hard and still screaming. “YOU HAVE TO LET ME! YOU HAVE TO LET ME! I cannot do this without him! I cannot! I cannot! You must let me have him!” Her knees began to give out, and Matt lowered her to the ground, cradling her while she cried. He could feel her struggling to breathe. “I need to feel better. Help me, Matty. Please.”
Matt held her tightly while he tried to pull himself together. “Okay. It’s okay. Everything will be fine. You’ll keep Flat Finn.” Her breathing eased. “You’ll keep him.”
They stayed on the floor together as Celeste recovered. As they both recovered. She lay down, using his lap as a pillow, and Matt wiped her face dry with his hands.
Matt was too scared to say anything else, but finally she looked over at Flat Finn, towering above them, and spoke. “I know that your initial assessment of him is not exactly stupendous, but I truly believe that he is going to find a place in your heart. He means a great deal to me. I have missed Finn so profoundly, and it is reassuring to have him back.”
“Honey,” Matt started. “That’s not….”
“I am fully aware that is not the real Finn. He is a placeholder. Like when a child has a favorite blanket, Flat Finn will be my security object. Only with more character than an unhygienic, unattractive, dirty fabric scrap.”
Matt just nodded.
“I want to talk about Finn right now,” she said.
“Okay.” He paused. “Let’s talk about Finn.”
“Where do you think that Finn would be now? He was going to travel, remember? Mom and Dad were going to be furious, correct? They would not have been pleased that he was going to spend a full year exploring the world instead of studying at college, but I think that it would have been thoroughly fascinating. Do you remember what he planned for this adventure?”
“I do.”
“If I were to hazard a guess, I would say that Finn would quite likely be in Portugal right now.”
Matt took her hand in his. “And what would he be doing there?”
“A strenuous bike tour through indescribably beautiful landscapes.” She shut her eyes. “Where would he go next?”
“After he’d romanced all the available women?”
Celeste laughed softly. “Yes.”
“Finland, of course.”
“He would not! You are very funny, but that location was not on his list.”
“Fine. Then he would go to the Netherlands.”
“And next winter he would ski in Austria. I know that would be a favorite of his. Can we go online later and look at pictures?”
“Sure. That would be fun.”
Celeste rolled onto her side,
letting him rub her back. “Tell me more, Matty. Tell me about all the adventures that Finn would have. I like how you describe things. Can you do that for me?”
Matt smiled. “I can do that. Sure. I’ll do whatever you need.” He took a deep breath. “Well, Mali has a number of volunteer opportunities….”
Staying
Flat-Out Love, Chapter 8, Matt’s Point of View (MPOV)
Matt Watkins This status update is way too condescending. That means it's talking down to you, you may not have known that.
Finn is God Ugh. Is there a shorter word that means “uncooperative” and can be spelled with letters cut out from an assortment of magazines? Getting really tired here.
Julie Seagle Everything should be open 24 hours a day, all the time. I can't be expected to know in advance when I'm going to need anything.
Matt took his time walking home. Even though he had a ton of work to do that night, even though his messenger bag was now cutting deeply into his shoulder after the T was delayed, and even though he was starving and desperately wanted to scrounge for food, he wasn’t eager to get home. She was there. Julie. The girl who had invaded their family and disrupted the delicate balance Matt had fought so hard to establish.
Her presence here was a reminder of everything Matt had lost. They were all lying about Finn again, the way they always did to those who didn’t already know. He’s off traveling, that wild boy! Such an adventurer and humanitarian! It was really disgusting. If it weren’t for Celeste’s fragile state, Matt wouldn’t put up with this, much less actively participate. Julie being here made their dysfunction all the more pronounced. The way she responded to Flat Finn’s presence was so kind—and Julie was so smart—that it was certain she must look at them all with utter dismay. What made it all worse was that she had an appeal that tugged at a distant part of him, although he was fully aware she would never look at him with any hint of a romantic overtone. That was just a fact. Maybe a few years ago it could have been different, because Matt had been different, but certainly not now. Nor did it really matter because Matt didn’t have the desire, nor the capability, for anything outside of what he was already dealing with. Julie would be gone in a few days, and they could go back to hiding out in their controlled, insulated world.
As much as having her around threatened the equilibrium of the household, Matt would miss Julie. That didn’t make sense, considering he’d only known her for a few days, but he couldn’t deny that she had an energy and light about her that brought Celeste noticeable happiness. No, perhaps not happiness, exactly. But he saw a spark in Celeste that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Watching the two of them on the couch the other night while they went through Julie’s course book and photos on her computer terrified him, but he also saw Celeste press Julie for interaction in a rather wonderful way. His terror had more to do with how Julie was going to respond to this kid who carted around a cardboard brother. The truth was that Julie’s ability to navigate so seamlessly around the Flat Finn issue ticked him off. How she was able to relate so well to Celeste (well, and to Flat Finn) seemed profoundly unfair after Matt had done everything that he could for his sister with minimal progress. Plus, it was plain embarrassing. What Julie must think of them all ….
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he walked up the steps to the gray house just off Brattle Street in Cambridge. It was impossible to come home and not have a moment of pain. There would always be the split second of anticipation that Finn would be there. That he might come bounding down the stairs to tackle Matt in a spontaneous wrestling match, or that his music might be blasting so loudly from his room that the entire house would tremble from the booming bass. Matt would probably never get over it, but each day he had a touch of happiness in that moment of blind hope. He shook his head again.
He was edgy tonight, too, because it was impossible not to worry about what had gone on while he’d been at school today. Julie was an unknown factor that had played into Celeste’s day. Even Julie’s reassurances over the phone that Celeste was fine hadn’t comforted him much, because he didn’t like anyone else being involved. And saying that things were “fine” just had to be inaccurate. Things were never “fine” with Celeste. Even if picking up Celeste from school hadn’t been an outright disaster, something unusual, or strained, or difficult must have taken place. Julie had no long-term experience with Celeste, and just because Julie had done well with his sister over the matter of a few days didn’t mean that she knew what to say. And what not to say. It wouldn’t take much to push Celeste over the edge, and for all Matt knew, he was walking into a house now filled with a hundred Flat Finns. A Flat Army poised to defend and protect Celeste.
Matt would grab whatever leftovers he could find in the fridge and duck up to his room. He had a long night of schoolwork ahead of him.
It was immediately obvious when he stepped into the house that something was off, but he couldn’t quite narrow down what that something was. He could feel the tension in his shoulders increase as he walked into the kitchen, and he felt as though all of his senses were malfunctioning.
Julie turned to him and smiled. Without meeting her eyes, Matt set his messenger bag on one of the stools by the breakfast counter. He looked at the plate in front of him.
“What is this?”
“It’s a gastronomical representation of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.” Julie put her hands on her hips. Her dark hair was in a loose ponytail, and she had on rolled-up jeans and a light, flowy top. “Don’t you see it?” she continued. “The clear depiction of the struggle for sexual identity as evidenced by the two phallic shapes?”
Matt stared at her. This girl was confusing. “What are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about? It’s manicotti, you nut. What do you think it is?”
“I know that.” Even though Julie had just used the words sexual and phallic, he still had brain function, for God’s sake. “I was referencing the noticeable absence of takeout cartons. You made dinner?”
“Celeste and I made dinner,” Julie corrected him.
“And they did a wonderful job.” His mother appeared and placed her wine glass on the counter.
Matt briefly registered that Erin was drinking, but the lure of the food in front of him dulled any concern he had about that. He immediately sat down and started eating, barely hearing his mother as she talked to Julie. An actual home-cooked dinner? And … Celeste helped do this? This was entirely weird. But, God, did it taste good. Matt didn’t normally care for manicotti, but this dinner seemed like the best thing he’d ever eaten.
Someone had cooked for him. What a stupid thing to think. Or to care about.
“You’re home late. How was school? Did your meeting go well?” Erin asked.
Matt nodded and wiped his mouth with a napkin. A cloth napkin, at that. “Very good. Sorry I’m home late. And even sorrier that I’ve managed to double my workload by agreeing to be a research assistant.” This was also adding to Matt’s stress level. He would potentially be spending more time at school and therefore be less available to Celeste. Finding a way to make this work was going to be difficult.
“This is with Professor Saunders, correct? He has an excellent reputation, so this is an important opportunity for you.” Erin took a sip of her wine, and Matt looked away. “You’ll have to be incredibly diligent with your work.”
“I realize that.” Like he needed reminding about anything related to his academics. It wasn’t as though Matt had a long history of completely screwing up in school—he’d gotten into MIT, after all—yet his mother frequently implied that his education was somehow perilously hanging in the balance, and he might just crash off the academia scale at any given moment. “In fact,” Matt said as he stood up, “I should get upstairs and get to work. I’ll finish dinner up there. Thanks, Julie.” He took his bag and plate and started out of the kitchen. It had been a long day, and the last thing he needed was to be around Erin and her air of doubt around his competence. He
stopped at the doorway. “Julie?”
“Yeah?”
“So things went all right today?” Asking her to pick up Celeste today had taken every ounce of nerve he had. But once—just once—he hadn’t wanted to drop what he was doing to attend to his sister. But he felt awful about it, as though he had let down Celeste yet again. Meeting with his professor had been important to him, because as much as he loathed the way his mother rode him constantly about his education, she hadn’t managed to kill his insatiable interest in learning. He’d delayed a year of school after Finn died. Wasn’t that enough to let him off the hook for asking Julie for help today? No, it wasn’t really. One day could change everything. He knew that all too well.
“Totally fine. I told you that when you called. Both times,” she said.
He admired the tone in her voice, the same one that she used a number of times the day they went apartment hunting. It actually was a bit Finn of her. She wasn’t being mean or making fun of him, but she could get away with slightly teasing him without making him feel bad. The way that she treated him like… well, like a normal person… was slightly jarring. Nice, but jarring in its familiarity. And he was both grateful and anxious from the lack of detail that she offered about the pickup.
“Okay. Thanks again.”
When he reached his room, he shut the door, opened his laptop and finished his dinner. He browsed a few of the message boards that he frequented and tried to focus on fine-tuning his attack on another user’s take on internet security. Matt loved internet security issues, but tonight his concentration was shaky. Eventually he caved to what he really wanted to do, which was check an e-mail account that he used on occasion, the one that the he used to write Celeste so that she could pretend to get e-mails from Finn. It was part of a fantasy world that she liked to maintain, a world in which Finn was still alive and sending her updates on his travels. Yes, it was a little crazy, but Matt knew that Celeste understood it was essentially a game. She knew it wasn’t real. Even Matt had to admit that there were moments when he didn’t mind concocting stories and tweaking pictures. He’d even made that Facebook page under “Finn is God” because he knew that Celeste would then sit with him on occasion and browse through photos and silly status updates. All this Finn stuff often seemed to be the only thing that drew Celeste into him. Or drew anyone into him, maybe.