Maybe Matt's Miracle(62)

“Men leave,” I say. But I want to bite the words back as soon as I say them.

He shakes his head. “Not all of them.”

I quietly flip through the book.

“Matt wouldn’t leave,” he says quietly. “You should trust him.”

I heave a sigh. “I do. As much as I can.”

He nods. “Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll forget what she looks like,” he says softly.

“Seth…” I don’t know if I should hug him or not, so I just lean more heavily into his side.

“It’s okay. It has only been a few weeks, you know, and I can already feel her leaving.”

I don’t say anything because I’m not sure he wants me to.

“I thought it was bad when she was dying, but this saying good-bye to her afterwards…it’s the worst.”

“You don’t have to say good-bye,” I tell him.

“Every day, I have to remind myself she’s gone. I get up and I expect to find her in the kitchen working the crossword puzzle. Or cooking. Or dancing with Joey and Mellie. Or me.” He grins. “She loved to turn the music on and dance.”

He waits while I flip pages. I see my dad in a lot of them. And that makes an ache in my chest that I can’t get rid of.

“I can’t hear her voice anymore,” he whispers. “I want to hear her voice, Aunt Sky.” His own voice cracks, and he lays his forehead on my shoulder. A tremor runs through him.

Screw it. I turn and wrap my arms around him. I don’t know how to do this because I’ve never had anyone do it for me. He pulls me close to him and sobs into my shoulder.

When he’s finally quiet, I pat him on the back and sit back. I return to the album because he looks uncomfortable. “Life is like a book, Seth,” I tell him. “Just like the photo album. Pages go by, but you can turn back to them anytime, even when the last page has been read. All you have to do is open the book back up and pick a page to reread.” I don’t know if that’s true or not, but it sounds good.

“If you could reread any page in your book, Aunt Sky, which one would it be?” he asks me softly.

“This one,” I say. I’d relive this one over and over. I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze. He doesn’t pull away.





Matt



I tug on my tie, trying to loosen the son of a bitch. I hate wearing a f*cking tie. Logan pops his head into the room. “You about ready?” he asks.

Logan is decked out in Madison Avenue clothes, which Emily’s mom sent over for all of us. Her mom likes to dress us up. And since her dad owns the company, we take full advantage of it. Logan looks like he just walked off the page of a magazine. “Tell Emily to come tie this thing, will you?” I ask. He nods and goes to get her.

She comes into the room, looking like a million bucks. She cleans up nicely. Usually she’s in combat boots and jeans. I remember when I met her and she wore a catholic schoolgirl outfit every day and had a blue streak in her hair. Now she totters over on her four-inch heels until she’s standing right in front of me. “You sure you want to go to this wedding?” she asks me softly as she starts to knot my tie.

“I don’t see why not,” I say. I look down at her feet. “Are you sure you should be wearing those stilts? What if you trip?”

She snorts. “I’m pregnant, Matt, not dying. Stop worrying. I swear, you’re worse than Logan.”

“You want to put on some flatter shoes? It would make me feel better.”

She pulls my tie up tight against my neck. “Since when do I care about making you feel better?” she asks, but she’s smiling gently at me.

“Always. You started loving me the day you met me.”

“You mean when you were puking your guts out?” she tosses back at me. She’s the only one who knew how sick I was back then. Or at least I thought she was. It turned out that all my brothers knew; they were just trying to keep it from me.

“You brought me a bucket,” I remind her, and the thought makes me grin.

“And ginger ale.”

“And you snuggled with me on the couch.”

She looks into my eyes. “And I still would if you’d let me.”

“Em,” I groan.

She holds up a hand to stop me. “I get it. I really do.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Do you?”

She nods. “I do. And I’m so happy for you,” she says softly. “When do you go back for more blood work?” she asks. She’s the only one who has asked me this.

“Next month,” I tell her. “How did you know?” I look at her as I arrange items on my dresser. I just want to keep my hands busy. I hate talking about cancer. I hate that it’s such a big part of my life.

She shrugs. “I know you, Matt,” she says. “Do you want me to go with you?” she asks.

I shake my head. “It’s just blood work, Em,” I tell her. Scary, life-changing blood work, but just a needle stick in the grand scheme of things.

She nods. “Okay,” she says. “But tell me if you change your mind.”

“I will.”

“So, you told Sky about April, right? She’s not going into tonight blind?”

I nod. “I told her about her.”