Maybe Matt's Miracle(43)

“Do you love him?” she asks.

I nod my head. “As much as I know about love,” I say. “If I have to say yes or no, I say yes. But I’m not completely sure what that means.”

“I’m sorry we made you doubt yourself so much. You’re worth so much more.” She swipes a hand beneath her nose. “We were terrible examples.”

“I don’t trust him with my heart,” I admit. “I’m terrified to love him.”

“Afraid he’ll turn on you?” she asks. “Or that he’ll walk away?”

“Or that he’ll love me till the end of time,” I say. That’s just as scary because I don’t know what to do with it.

“You should look into some Al-Anon meetings,” she says. “They’re for families of addicts.”

“Okay,” I say.

She taps my leg. “For you,” she says. “Not for me.”

She lights a new cigarette. I raise my brow at her.

She laughs. “I’ve never felt quite so exposed. It’s a new and scary feeling. So, forgive me my vices. I’ll quit when I get through this.”

“Okay.” I understand. I think.

“Don’t be afraid to let him love you, Sky,” she says quietly. “I was afraid to let your dad love me. I didn’t think I deserved it after things I did when I was drinking. So I shut him out. Let Matthew in. Let him love you. Take it all in and let it seep into your bones. Don’t let it go. If he breaks your heart, at least you’ll know you still have one. Don’t die inside like me. Let love in. Let it surround you and keep you on your feet when you can’t go anymore. Let. Love. In.”

The doors to the patio open, and a nurse comes out. “It’s time for group,” she says, motioning toward my mother.

My mom gets up and turns to me. She hugs me tightly, holding me close. I don’t remember her ever doing that before, and I stiffen in her arms. “Let. Love. In,” she whispers close to my ear.

She leaves, and I fall back into my chair. My legs won’t support me, and I can’t leave yet. I’m shaking too badly. It’s like everything I never wanted has now fallen into my lap, and I don’t know what to do with it.

When I finally can, I get up and go to the only place where I know I can find peace. I go to Matt.





Matt



Paul is in a shitty mood. I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s been particularly irritating today. Friday’s a little bit off, too, but I don’t what’s up with her any more than I know what’s up with Paul. Paul bangs his tattoo gun on a nearby table, hitting it hard enough that even Logan looks up.

WTF? Logan signs.

I shrug my shoulders. Logan is working on some particularly intricate designs for the catalogs we have pinned to the walls. When he’s not at school, Madison Avenue, or doing tats, he occupies himself by making designs for people to choose from. Some people come in with no idea what they want, and they look through the catalogs until they find something. Other people come in with designs in their heads, and then we have to translate them into real life. I’m glad Friday can draw, too. She’s almost as good as Logan. I’ve seen some of her art, and it’s breathtaking.

“Dude, you trying to bust it or fix it?” Pete asks, his brow raising as he stares at Paul. We all have our own equipment, so I don’t particularly care if Paul breaks his when he has a tantrum. But I’d rather avoid it if we can talk him through it.

“The damn thing isn’t working right,” Paul mumbles.

Logan walks over to him and holds out his hand. Paul glares at it and then he rolls his eyes and hands over the tattoo gun. Logan does something to it really quickly and gives it back. He doesn’t grin or gloat. He just goes back to the light table, a special table he uses for tracing, and continues his drawing.

“I f*cking hate you,” Paul mumbles to his back.

I grin. I can’t help it.

“What?” Logan asks, looking from me to Paul and back.

“He said thank you,” I say.

“I’m sure he did.” He glares back at Paul. “What the f*ck crawled up your ass?” he asks.

The rest of us go quiet. No one usually messes with Paul when he’s in a snit. We step around him and keep on moving until he gets over it.

“He’s pissy because he did something stupid last night,” Friday tosses out. She doesn’t look at him. She just talks about him. She has bigger balls than any of us do, I’ll say that for her. “Then he wanted to take it back, but it was too late. So now he feels guilty.” She blows out a breath and starts to pack up her backpack. She shoves her books into the bag one by one, using a lot more force than is necessary.

“Where are you going?” Paul barks. Storm clouds are brewing in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she barks back. “Maybe I have a date. Maybe I want to get laid. Maybe I just want to have an earth-shaking orgasm and not have to feel guilty about it ten minutes later.”

“Oh f*ck,” Pete says under his breath. I shoot him a look, and he covers his mouth.

“Wait a minute and I’ll walk you home,” Paul says as he puts his things away.

“No, thank you,” Friday chirps. She raises her arm and waves at us from behind her head, her fingers wiggling as she calls, “Good afternoon, all.”