by Marcy Blesy
“Hello,” says Matt.
“I need you,” I say. “Please help me. I can’t call Mom. Matt, please!”
“Mae, calm down. What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”
“Uh-huh.” I can’t stop crying. There is a pounding on the door.
“Open the door! Open the damn door, you bitch!”
“Who the hell is that, Mae? Where are you?”
“I’m…I’m…”
“Take a deep breath.”
“I’m in Chicago. With Ty.”
“What the hell did he do to you?”
“Please come get me.”
“I’m going to open this door, Mae. You’re nothing but a tease, you bitch. OPEN THE DOOR!” The lock is jiggling as I sit on the edge of the tub. I can’t stop shaking.
“Leave me alone! You’re nothing but a monster, just like your father!” I scream. The pounding stops. I hear Ty slide to the floor on the other side of the door.
“Stay right there, Mae. Don’t leave that room. Text me the hotel information. And call 9-1-1 if you need to. I’ll be right there, okay?”
“Okay, Matt. I’m sorry. I’m…sorry for everything.” The phone clicks off.
“I’m not a monster, Mae.” His voice sounds so lost, as if he doesn’t recognize himself either. “You try being known as the kid whose mom killed his dad. You try being the country club son who should be grateful that he’s been rescued and given a second chance. It’s a heavy burden to carry.”
“And what about me, Ty?” I say from behind the door. “Do you think my life’s been easy? Don’t look for excuses for your behavior. You need help.”
“So do you.”
“Maybe, but I never tried to hurt anyone.”
“You hurt Sarah.” Like an arrow through the heart, the string of words finds their mark.
“You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe I ever loved you.”
“Look. Emotions are high. Come out of the bathroom. Let’s have dinner and talk.” I don’t answer. “You owe me dinner, Mae. I paid a lot of money for this place.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“I wasn’t going to hurt you. Forgive a guy for being turned on by his girlfriend’s body. Dammit if every other guy in America wouldn’t have felt the same way. Put some clothes on and come out. I won’t try anything. You have my word.”
“Since when is your word worth anything?” I regret it the moment the words leave my mouth.
I hear Ty move away from the door. The television comes on, blasting Sports Center. I am nobody’s prisoner. After putting on my clothes, I enter 9-1-1 in to my phone but don’t push the call button. With my fingers hovering over the phone, I slowly open the doorknob to the bathroom. Getting my duffle bag of clothes and shoes is the only thing on my agenda before going downstairs to meet Matt. He should be here soon. Ty is sitting on the bed, his feet propped up on a pillow and his back leaning against the headboard. The second bottle of wine sits next to him, empty. His eyes don’t leave the television which is blaring the score to the latest Bulls game. I move swiftly to the end of the bed where my duffle bag sits. It is empty.
“Need this?” asks Ty, holding up my black lace bra. “Or maybe these?” He dangles my purple thong underwear in front of his face.
“Don’t do this,” I say. “Just give me my stuff, and I’ll leave.”
“It’s really that easy for you, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I glance at the time on my phone.
“To walk away. It’s easy for you to walk away. You’ve perfected the art of walking away, after all.”
“I never should have come. I’m sorry. I think I’ve known in my heart for a while now that we weren’t going to work again, but it’s not my fault, Ty.”
“Not your fault?”
“Don’t fight. Let’s end this with some scrap of dignity,” and because I can’t leave well enough alone. “You went away to college. You chose Jess. You blamed your family for your bad choices instead of owning up to the fact that you have problems.” Ty gets up from the bed and stands next to me, so close I can smell the expensive wine on his breath. It doesn’t smell any different than the cheap stuff my parents would drink during family celebrations. I hate him so much right now.
“You’re just a perfect little angel, aren’t you?” I reach for my bra and underwear and shove them in my bag along with the rest of my clothes that are scattered all over the bed. There is no reasoning with a drunk. I zip my duffle bag and slip on my sandals. A knock at the door startles both of us.
“Mae! Are you in there?”
“Who the hell is that?” Ty shoves past me to the peephole. “Did you call someone to pick you up? Did you?”
“Don’t do this, Ty. Just get out of my way.” I put my hand on the knob and turn it. Matt fills the doorframe. Wrinkle lines crease his forehead with worry.
“Who are you?” asks Ty from behind me. The last thing we need is an all-out fight. Ty knows nothing about Matt.
“A friend,” he says.
“Have you kissed my girlfriend?” asks Ty. When Matt doesn’t answer, Ty asks again. “Have you slept with my girlfriend?”
“No, I haven’t,” Matt says.
“But you want to, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Goodbye, Ty,” I say as I walk out of the hotel room.
“Mae, wait…please, let me…let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain.”
“Patsy,” he says.
“What about Patsy, Ty?” I ask. Matt puts his hand on my shoulder to lead me toward the elevator, but I don’t move. This may be the last conversation we ever have. I don’t want any regrets. If he’s got something to say, this is the only chance he gets. There are no more chances.
“Can we talk alone?”
“Are you crazy?”
“Fine. Patsy visited me after Christmas, before New Year’s.”
“Okay.”
“She was high, slurred words, real agitated.” I raise my eyes as if to say, “And you’re different, how?” but I know better this time. “She also gave me some more news.” He looks at me, waiting for me to say something. I have no choice but to play his game.
“What did she tell you, Ty?”
“She told me that my adopted parents, Mr. and Mrs. Barber, hadn’t even wanted me to begin with.” A man and a woman look at us curiously as they pass by in the hall.
“That’s ridiculous, Ty. They love you more than anything. You know that.”
“No, they love money more. My parents didn’t pay for my adoption. They were paid to adopt me. The adoption agency was desperate to get me placed because of the sensational news of my mom’s trial, and no one wanted that kid who watched his mom kill his dad after he beat the shit out of her, so they made them a deal. Take the kid, and we’ll name a wing of the hospital after you, get you a seat on the zoning board, and give you a stipend at stores all over town to make the transition easier for them.” I am stunned. Mr. and Mrs. Barber have made their money from real estate deals. That’s no secret, but has their position on the zoning board made the purchase of some of their commercial buildings easier? Could it be true that they had accepted some sort of bribe in exchange for adopting Ty? Does it even matter now? Ty has been their child for over ten years.
“Patsy is trying to hurt you, Ty. Don’t you see that? I’m sure if you talked to your parents, they’d tell you the truth.”
“They didn’t deny it,” he says. Suddenly things are starting to make more sense. Ty’s choices weren’t all about me and my neediness and jealousy. He can’t reconcile his past with his present. They are one in the same, and without help, he’s never going to be happy. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Pity is the only emotion I am feeling now.
“I have to go.” Matt squeezes my shoulder in support.
We turn toward the elevators and walk down the hall, away from my first true love, away from the guy who gave
me hope when I had none. How ironic that he has so little hope himself.
“Mae!” I look over my shoulder. Ty mouths the words, Forgive me, but does not speak them aloud.
Chapter 11:
I don’t want to go home yet. My nerves are shot. Matt and I walk through the revolving hotel door and onto Michigan Avenue. The sun is shining, quite the contrast to the drawn shades and mood of our hotel room.
“Can I put your bag in my car?” asks Matt.
“Matt, I’m so.…”
“Stop.” He puts his finger to his lips. “Don’t. Let’s do something fun. Your mom’s not going to be looking for you any time soon, is she?” he asks.
“No. She’s not expecting me until tomorrow.” He nods his head in understanding. What does he think of me? What does he think of my decision to spend the weekend in Chicago with Ty? My self-respect is at an all-time low. “Look, you don’t owe me anything. I am so appreciative that you came. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come. Mom would have been so upset, but you don’t have to….”
“Damn, girl. You have to know when to zip it. Matt Philips does not do anything he doesn’t want to do. I’m putting your bag away, and we’re going to see the city.”
My desire for fashion over comfort is waning by the time we put our name in for a table at Gino’s East Pizzeria. Adding miles to these sandals has my feet throbbing. Sitting down has never felt so good, but the pain has been worth it. When I’m with Matt, time is never an element of concern. Whether window shopping on Michigan Avenue or playing video games at Dave and Buster’s or riding the “el” train to walk around the Wrigleyville area of Chicago, the moments passed effortlessly. Matt is not only easy on the eyes, but he’s fun and thoughtful, too. After throwing his baseball hat down on the sidewalk and doing the robot dance to imaginary music on the corner of Michigan and Grand Avenue, he took his $6.50 in tips and put them in the guitar case of the blind man that sat at the next corner. Even when the man said, Thank you, Matt just laughed and kept walking. I can’t help but feel like I’m having exactly the kind of weekend Ty had planned, only with a different guy.
“Miley Bieber, party of two,” the host calls out. I jab Matt in the ribs.
“Is that us?”
“That is, Ms. Bieber. Your table awaits, my lady.” I roll my eyes, but inside my heartbeat accelerates.
We order a deep dish Chicago-style pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms. The pizza takes 45 minutes to cook. Matt writes on the wall, in between the many signatures that decorate the restaurant.
“What are you writing?” I ask.
“Something ridiculously corny,” he says.
“Let me see.” Matt’s face is as red as pizza sauce, though his smile lights up his face. He removes his hand that was covering what he wrote on the wall.
“M and M”
“You like M & M’s?” I ask.
“Are you for real, girl?”
“Huh?”
“M and M,” he repeats. “Matt and Mae.” Now I’m sure that my face matches the color of his. I sigh.
“Matt, I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for me today, but you know I can’t... I’m better off alone.”
“How’d that work out for you today…being alone?”
“That’s a low blow.”
“I think, if you were honest with yourself, you might even say you need me.”
“Maybe I do, but I won’t burden you with my baggage. I like you too much for that.” Matt grabs my right hand and plays with my fingers. His touch makes me shudder.
“Maybe if you knew my baggage, you wouldn’t be so afraid to share yours with me.”
“I doubt you have the faintest clue what it’s like to have baggage.” I look away from my hands and into Matt’s eyes, from which a faint trail of tears fall.
“Are you crying?”
“Are you turned off?” He laughs and wipes away the silent tears.
“No, not at all, but why?”
“There’s so much you don’t know, Mae.” The pizza arrives at our table, ending our conversation for the time being. The talk turns light and fun again, but I know, at that moment, as we devour thick, gooey pieces of pizza, that I will never be able to remove Matt from my life. He is my new best friend, and I can’t bear to lose another friend.
A competitive game of Guess that Artist on the radio fills our hour trip back to Andersonville. When we reach the edge of town, Matt turns off the radio.
“Hey! No fair. I’ve got another five minutes to take this game. You’re a big cheater.” Matt puts his hand on my knee.
“Mae, do you want to stay at my place tonight?”
“I…I don’t know what to say.” And it’s the truth. I don’t know if I trust myself to make any more decisions.
“You mom isn’t expecting you until tomorrow. You can take my bed. I’ll stay on the couch. I just don’t want this night to end.” He squeezes my knee. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“I shouldn’t.”
“I know, but do it anyway.” My non-answer is the only answer Matt needs to keep driving past the entrance to my street.
Matt tosses me a pair of his shorts with a drawstring as well as a Real Men Wear Mustaches t-shirt. I suppose he guesses that I’d planned on sleeping in lingerie. Wondering if Matt ever sported a mustache, I realize there really is a lot I don’t know about him.
When I come out of the bathroom, I hear the Xbox screaming down the hallway. He’s got Forza loaded, just like the first night we played video games a few months ago. After an hour of getting my butt beat in game after game, I realize how exhausted I am. There’s a wall you hit after an emotional day, and I keep hitting that wall over and over like a toddler pounding the ground during an ineffective temper tantrum. Matt reads the cues.
“Ready for bed?” he asks.
“Uh-huh. After I brush my teeth.”
“I’ll change the sheets for you.”
“I really don’t mind sleeping on the couch. It’s pretty comfortable.” I wink at him.
“No, I want you to take the bed.” He goes into the hall closet to find a clean set of sheets. How many bachelors have clean sheets lying ready for a quick change?
“Good night, Mae. I had a great day today,” Matt says when I come out of the bathroom.
“Most of the day was great,” I say.
“I’ll try not to wake you with my snoring out here.” As Matt walks toward the couch, I realize how much I don’t want to be alone. Thinking about Ty and all the unfulfilled dreams I’d tried to buy in to…
“Matt, wait.” He turns around.
“What is it, Mae?”
“I…I don’t want to be alone.” I feel like a stupid, weak child, but I don’t care. I am who I am. “Can you sleep with me? I mean, can you sleep in the bed with me? I won’t try any funny business.” I laugh to smother my nerves.
“Sure, Mae, I can do that.” He takes off his shirt and throws it on the floor. “Sorry, it gets really hot in here at night.”
“That’s fine,” I say, but what I’m really thinking is, “Holy hotness!” I get into bed and face the wall as I lay on my side. Matt untucks the sheet with his feet and curls onto his side, too. “Thanks, Matt,” I whisper.
“You’ve said that enough. No more.”
“Okay, sorry.”
“And quit that, too.”
“What?” I ask, turning to face him.
“Quit with the sorrys. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Okay, sorr…Yeah, good-night then.” He flicks me on the nose.
“What was that for?”
“You have a cute nose.” He scrunches up his pillow and inches toward me. My palms are sweating.
“And you have a lot of teeth,” I say, flicking him in the mouth.
“I think you told me that when you first met me.”
“Probably. I don’t always make the best first impressions.”
“You made a good first impression.”<
br />
“I did?”
“You did, Mae.”
“Hmmm…”
“You don’t have anything to say but hmmm?”
“Well, I can’t say sorry or thank you, so that’s all I’ve got, I guess.”
“Since you seem to be speechless at the moment, which is rare—” He braces for the expected fist on his arm. “I’m going to kiss you.” He waits for a protest but doesn’t get it. He slides his pillow over so that our heads are lying close together. His lips are soft and wet. His tongue slides over the outside of my mouth and works its way inside, parting my lips. I’ve never had anyone kiss me so slowly. I close my eyes and try to melt the memory into my mind, letting it block out all of the grief and fear in my life. He slides his hands down my body and pulls me closer. I don’t resist. In fact, there is not a moment of the night that I resist. For once in my life, I quit thinking.
Chapter 12:
By the time we get out of bed for breakfast, it’s nearly noon. Pancakes for lunch are on the menu, according to Matt. When he’s in the shower, I go through the kitchen finding the necessary ingredients. Thankfully, there’s orange juice in the fridge. I could use a shot of sugar. When I open the cabinet for a glass, I see the same mug that caught my attention the last time I crashed video game night. The same pretty blonde with the bright blue eyes is sitting on Matt’s lap with the words, “Love you forever, Matty” written on the other side. The fact that he has the mug isn’t really a red flag. It’s a perfectly good mug after all, but I wonder about the girl. Matt’s never mentioned a serious girlfriend from his past. When we met, he’d made up the story about a girlfriend, saying he did it only so I’d spend more time with him and not get weirded out that he was flirting, but maybe it wasn’t a made-up story after all. There’s a lot I don’t know about Matt Philips.