Live and learn, his mother had said to him on more than a few occasions in his life. Living with the regret that he hadn’t been as good a husband and father as he could have or should have been was particularly painful. The lessons were difficult, made more so because Matt knew he deserved every single frustrating moment that came his way, but maybe tonight he’d get away with minimal frustration and would only have to pay the usual daily price of self-recrimination late into the night while in bed alone.
Matt moved past the boys to the soda fountain near the checkout. He filled a large cup with coke, knowing, but not really caring, that the caffeine wouldn’t exactly help his sleep issues.
“Fried chicken and mashed potatoes!” Asher’s happy voice carried over to the cash registers. Matt turned around to see him eagerly pulling the entrée toward his already crowded tray. “Just like Mom’s.”
“No, they’re not, stupid!” Austin stomped on Asher’s foot. Asher yelled, and his knee jerked up and caught the edge of the tray, flipping it toward his brother.
Matt’s three strides weren’t fast enough to stop the Jello, fruit, and mashed potatoes from plastering the front of Austin’s shirt. “Boys!” He set his coke on Austin’s tray, then separated them, holding each by an arm.
“They’re not like Mom’s. Nothing is like Mom’s,” Austin shouted. Asher was howling, his mouth open so wide Matt could see his tonsils.
“That’s enough,” he said sternly, wishing, not for the first time, that he could simply disappear from that moment, from life. Austin seemed hell bent on humiliating him in public, and Asher cried about everything. Matt supposed he ought to be used to these scenes by now, but the awkward silences and judging glares from those around them got to him every time.
Still holding onto the boys, he steered them toward the closest booth, one near the door, for a quick getaway if things got worse. At the very least, he had to go back to pay for the food they’d just wasted, and if they left, he’d still have to take them somewhere else for dinner. With the extra soccer game this evening, he hadn’t had time to go grocery shopping, and there wasn’t much at the apartment besides overripe bananas.
With more force than was probably necessary, he sat the boys on opposite sides of the table. “Don’t move. Don’t talk.” He made eye contact with each and felt a swell of guilt for being stern with Asher when this was clearly not his fault. The tear-filled eyes of his youngest demanded that he do something to fix the situation, so Matt crouched at Asher’s height and gave him a quick hug. “I’m not mad.” At you. “I’ll get you some more Jello.”
He hardly trusted himself to look at Austin again but tried to focus on the pain he’d heard in Austin’s words. Nothing is like Mom’s. Of course it wasn’t. This wasn’t even close, but it was the best he could do right now, and he wished Austin could accept it.
Matt stood and took a step to the other side of the table. He perched on the edge of the seat beside Austin. “Hurting your brother isn’t going to bring Mom back. Asher was just being grateful that there was something here he liked to eat.”
“There’s nothing here I like to eat.” Austin folded his arms in front of him on the table and buried his head.
“Then I won’t get you anything,” Matt said, striving to keep his voice calm. “You can have a peanut butter sandwich at home.” He was pretty sure that, along with the black bananas, there were a couple of bread heels left. He walked away from the table before Austin could come up with anything else nasty to say.
So much for $500 a month for counseling. Matt couldn’t see that they’d had any benefit from that yet. Unless the therapist was telling Austin to express his anger with his dad in the most public places he could, that is.
Matt apologized to the cafeteria worker who’d already come around the counter to clean up what food hadn’t made it onto Austin’s shirt and had fallen to the floor. He grabbed a fistful of napkins near the register and bent to help the woman wipe up the red Jello, strawberries, grapes, and mashed potato concoction. My wife died, he wanted to explain to her. My boys are hurting, and I’m not so great at this dad gig. Instead he remained silent, imagining the things she was likely thinking about him.
When the mess was as cleaned up as it could be without an actual mop, he retrieved Austin’s tray— still empty except for the Coke— then added everything Asher had selected to it, including two little bowls of red Jello. Because the kid deserved what happiness and pleasure he could derive from their miserable existence.
He paid for everything— twice— then returned to the booth and the forlorn figures hunched over the table on each side. “Your dinner, Sir Asher.” They’d read a book about castles and knights a few days ago and had been pretending like that ever since.
After a second’s hesitation, Asher’s face brightened. “Thank you, oh page.” He giggled. Matt gave an internal sigh of gratitude. The kid was like a light switch. Laughter turned on as easily as tears.
“Want one of my Jellos?” Asher held out a bowl toward his brother in what Matt thought was a gallant gesture of an olive branch, considering Asher wasn’t the one who’d committed the offense. Austin shook his head. Asher shrugged and dug into his own red squares.
If only we were all as quick to forgive and move on. Matt learned a lot from his kids every day. He wished he’d taken the time to observe and learn sooner. He leaned back against the booth seat and watched Asher move on from the Jello to his mashed potatoes. They didn’t look half bad. He should have bought some for himself. Matt wondered vaguely if there were enough bread heels at home for two peanut butter sandwiches. With Austin in such a volatile mood, he didn’t dare leave the boys at the table again to grab something.
As he leaned forward to take a drink of his soda the cafeteria door opened. Cassie. He sat up in surprise. Mrs. Webb, he silently corrected himself. He’d tried not to think of her all week, and when that was unsuccessful, he’d tried to at least focus on her married status. Driving her to meet her husband for their date— during his break at work or something, Matt assumed— had helped remind him of Cassie’s unavailable status. At the moment, that didn’t matter. The woman he’d dropped off less than twenty minutes ago was standing inside the cafeteria doorway looking lost. This was a different Cassie, one who appeared almost disoriented and was definitely not her usual, confident self. She still held the Ikeda’s bag clutched to her chest, the paper cup she’d had earlier in her other hand.
Matt’s heart gave a little lurch of distress and an awful hope at the same time. Had her husband done something? Sent her away for some reason? I’m such a louse. He shouldn’t even think it, yet wasn’t the fact that Cassie stood there alone a few feet away, evidence that something about her date had gone horribly wrong?
Her gaze traveled the room slowly, starting on the side opposite their booth. Matt wondered what she was searching for, and by the time her tear-filled eyes landed on him, he’d already made the decision to help her find it, whatever it was. He was halfway out of his seat before she opened her mouth to speak and at her side, hands shoved in his pockets, when she managed to choke out an awkward, “Hello.”
“We need to stop meeting like this,” Matt quipped, attempting to lighten a bit of her burden, whatever that might be. “You with your car broken down, me with my kids covered in potatoes.” He inclined his head toward the booth, where Austin still sat sullenly and with a healthy portion of Asher’s meal choices smeared across his shirt. Asher turned to grin at them, showing off the leftover strawberries and potatoes clinging to either side of his mouth.
“There’s supposed to be a microwave here,” Cassie said, hardly looking at Matt or the boys but continuing to search the room. “Our food is cold.”
Of course she could only be referring to the meal belonging to her and her husband. Matt felt his ire rise on her behalf as he wondered if the guy was some kind of jerk who’d sent her over to warm up his dinner— a prima donna, workaholic doctor who ignored his wife and thought he was better th
an he was. Like I used to. Takes one to know one. Why was it always so easy to see the shortcomings in others before his own? Regardless of her husband’s issues, it wasn’t Cassie’s fault their car had broken down and she’d been delayed.
“I think the microwave is over by the drinks.” Matt nodded that direction. He was pretty sure he’d seen one tucked in the corner when he was getting his Coke.
“Thanks.” Cassie walked across the room, leaving him standing there alone, feeling once more as if everyone was staring at him. He returned to the booth and slid back into the seat beside Asher and tried not to watch or think about Mrs. Webb. So she’d helped him with Austin last week. He’d just given her a ride tonight. They were even, right?
Except he didn’t want to be even. He wanted to know more about her, like what had upset her between the time he’d dropped her off and a minute ago when she’d walked through the cafeteria door. Worse, he not only wanted to know, he wanted to fix whatever it was.
Matt pulled a napkin from the dispenser and dipped it in Asher’s water glass. “Are you sure you’re my son?” he joked as he turned to Asher and began wiping the leftovers from his face.
“Is this seat taken?” Cassie stood next to their booth, looking down at Austin, who merely shrugged in answer to her question.
“Do you mind if I join you?” This time it was Matt she addressed. Their eyes met briefly, and he saw that she was struggling to push past whatever had upset her. He was only too happy to help.
“Please do.”
She slid in beside Austin. “So, how’s the food? I’ve never eaten here.”
“There’s nothing I like,” Austin grumbled. “Dad promised us burgers.”
“Ah.” Cassie’s eyes widened in understanding as she glanced between the boys and Matt. “Because of me you didn’t get your hamburger.”
“That’s not it at all,” Matt hurried to reassure her. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel worse.
“Sure it is.” She attempted a lopsided smile, then bent her head toward Austin. “How about if you share half of mine?”
“You don’t have to do that,” Matt insisted even as Austin perked up at the suggestion. “The boys already ate your fries,” Matt reminded them both.
“I’m not very hungry tonight.” She opened the bag, removed a burger, and unwrapped it. Matt’s stomach reacted to the aroma, reminding him he’d hoped for one, too.
“Seeing as Austin doesn’t have dinner, but I do”— Cassie split the burger in half— “and I need someone to eat with, I think it’s a fair trade. What do you say, Austin?”
“Yes.” He nodded and eagerly accepted his half. Cassie bit into hers, and they shared a smile. “Food is always better when shared.”
“I tried to share my Jello,” Asher said.
“I can tell.” A genuine smile lit Cassie’s face as her gaze shifted to the front of Austin’s shirt.
Matt felt almost grateful for his earlier humiliation if it was taking her mind from her troubles now. He rolled his eyes and gave her what he hoped was an, “I’ll explain later,” look.
“What did you eat?” she asked suddenly as she stared at the empty table space in front of him.
“I’m going to grab something at home.” Those bread heels were really calling him. “The boys were hungry, so we stopped here before it could get any later. I wasn’t sure if all the other places in Auburn were going to be as slammed as Ikeda’s or what.”
“Depends.” Cassie said. “Weekends do tend to be worse. Auburn could use more restaurants.”
“Maybe,” Matt said, “but it already seems about as big as it can get while maintaining its small-town feel.”
Cassie didn’t reply but instead seemed to be considering something as her gaze shifted from Matt to the bag in front of her. Her top teeth rested on her bottom lip, as if she was weighing a heavy decision. Matt worried he’d said something that circled back to whatever was troubling her.
“Here.” She thrust the bag at him suddenly. “Have this. It’s the best Philly Cheesesteak you’ll ever eat.” Her cheeks were flushed while the rest of her alternately appeared to be draining of color, starting at her forehead and moving down.
“No thanks.” Matt pushed the bag back across the table. “I’m not going to eat your husband’s food.” Even if he deserves something like that.
“It will just be wasted then,” Cassie said, “because Devon can’t eat it.”
Can’t or won’t? I was right. Matt’s thoughts alternated between feeling angry at this unknown husband to feeling secretly grateful to be the lucky one who happened to be in the right place at the right time to play the hero.
“Maybe Noah’s dad just wants a hamburger, too,” Asher said.
Noah’s dad. Asher’s words had an immediate effect, like a bucket of ice water dumped over Matt, cooling the part of his brain that had leapt into action at her distress. So what if Cassie and her husband had fought? Married couples did sometimes. He and Jenna had. But it never meant anything. He supposed that for most couples it usually didn’t. And in Cassie’s situation, it couldn’t. She and Devon were parents. There was a child involved. Matt recognized quickly that the very best thing he could do for her was to take his boys and get out of there as fast as possible. He had no right to be interested in her. It wouldn’t help her at all, but could potentially only hurt them both.
“Noah’s dad would probably love a hamburger,” Cassie said. Matt caught the tears welling in her eyes once more before she looked down at the table. “But he can’t eat those either. He doesn’t eat anything anymore. His feeding tube provides what he needs.”
What? Matt heard his own, sharp intake of breath. The care center. Of course. She’d never said what her husband did. He wasn’t at work at all.
“What’s a feeding tube?” Austin asked, interested enough that he’d refrained from taking another bite before speaking.
“It’s one of the things that keeps a person alive when he is very sick.” Cassie had composed herself enough to look up at all of them.
“What kind of sick?” Austin asked, his face turned to Cassie. “Is it chickenpox? My friend had that, and he got them on his tongue, and he couldn’t eat either, except for ice cream.”
“It’s not chickenpox.” Cassie shook her head sadly. “Noah’s dad’s condition is called PVS.”
“I know what that is,” Asher said, surprising Matt, and Cassie as well, he could see from her confused frown.
“I watch that channel on TV,” Asher continued. “But how can someone be in it? And why does it make him sick?”
A sad smile lifted the corners of Cassie’s mouth, but just barely. “You mean PBS— Public Broadcasting Service. We watch that channel at our house, too. But PVS is something different. It means that someone’s brain is asleep and has been for a very long time.”
“Oh,” Asher said while Austin’s brow furrowed as he seemed to grasp the severity of this explanation. “It isn’t exploded like our Mom’s brain?”
Matt winced and wished for the hundredth time that his teenage nephew had used a little more care when speaking about Jenna’s aneurysm. “No. It just means that the person is asleep. Noah’s dad is still alive, but he can’t eat hamburgers or talk to Noah or play soccer with him right now.”
Cassie nodded without looking up. Matt noted her half burger on the wrapper, mostly untouched.
Asher leaned his head against Matt’s arm. “That’s not fair,” he said, his voice solemn, then almost instantly he perked up. “Noah could borrow you sometimes. Like when we played soccer.”
“Yeah,” Austin said, completely surprising Matt. “We don’t mind sharing our dad.”
Cassie’s hand covered her mouth when she looked up at them again. “That is so kind of you boys. So generous—” A tear slid down her cheek, and she hastily wiped it away as Matt averted his gaze.
“I don’t usually cry,” she said. “I’ve been doing this so long now. Six years—”
“Six.�
� Years? He’d barely made it six months on his own. His admiration for her grew as the realities of what she’d said sunk in. Noah couldn’t even know his father. They’d never played ball together or read a bedtime story or done any of the things he took for granted each day with his boys. Matt reached an arm around Asher and hugged him close while gazing tenderly at Austin. After Jenna died, he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t take those he loved for granted anymore. Yet it seemed he was doing it again, in spite of his good intentions.
“It’s just that there was this woman there tonight, and she said some things…” Cassie shook her head as if to shake off whatever those things were. “I am completely ruining your dinner. I am so very sorry.” She passed the bag across to Matt once more. “Please, I really would like you to have this. It’s the least I can do for keeping you from eating out.”
“It wasn’t for you?” Matt asked, wanting the sandwich less and less.
Cassie pressed her lips together and glanced away again. “It wasn’t for me. It was silly. Cheesesteak is Devon’s favorite. It’s what he always used to order, so I bring one every Friday— you know, just in case.” She shrugged. “I told you it was—”
“It’s not.” Matt reached his hand across the table to cover hers, realizing after the fact what he was doing. Too late now. Besides he was only offering comfort. He’d touch his sister or his mother the same way. Only Cassie’s hand didn’t feel like his mother’s or sister’s. It was small and soft and warm beneath his, and when his fingers curved sideways over her palm, she didn’t pull back but returned his gesture with a slight movement of her own.
That simple act, the pressure of her hand against his, stirred up a pool of emotion he’d not expected. Nearly nine months since I’ve held Jenna’s hand. He’d missed that, had missed the affection between them as much as he missed their physical intimacy. Sure, the boys hugged him and climbed all over him each day, but this was different. Holding Cassie’s hand was more than pleasant. It soothed yet made him yearn for something more at the same time.
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