Fin & Matt (18 page)

I settled my head on his thigh as he ran his fingers through my hair.  “This guy says ‘remember the other study that said that Brits only change their bed linens once a year?  How can we trust the Brits to get anything right?’  Seriously, though, once a year?”  I shivered involuntarily.  “Gross.  But it does say here that it has been proven that it’s actually healthier to live the Brit lifestyle.  The United States has an unhealthy obsession with being clean.  Well, fuck, I guess I have one too if I insist on changing my linens more than once every twelve months.”

“Aren’t you glad you came to visit?” Matt asked his brother, pulling my body up to readjust the weight on his lap.  “This can go on for hours.”

“It’s okay.  I’ve missed this.  I mean, maybe not the boards, but
you
.  I miss talking to you.”

Matt’s fingers stroked through my long strands steadily, combing out the little knots.  “You should come to the wedding.  I mean, if it’s not too weird.  Bring your girl.”

“Maybe,” he returned.  “If she can get off work.”

“What does she do?”

“She works at the barber shop.”  He pointed to his short hair.  “That’s how I met her.”

“I love the barber shop,” I added.  “No one does a shave like the barber shop.”

“Since when do you need to shave?” Matt asked, scratching under my chin.  “You’ve got less hair than a ten year-old girl.”

“Maybe that’s because I go to the barber shop so often,” I teased.  “I do love the hot towels though.”

“Yeah,” Marc said dreamily, “she’s great.”

“Yeah?” Matt replied.  “What’s her name?”

“Karen.  Her brother’s gay, too.”

“Nice to know there are more than two of us out there.  Well, us and Sam Fisher, of course,” I teased, scrolling down to the bottom of an Out article. 

“She’s another reason I’m here.  She said that I’d always regret it if I didn’t fix things with us.  Things were kind of fucked up with her brother after he came out.  She was the only one that stood by him.  They’re even closer now… she just doesn’t want me to make that mistake.  Hell, I don’t want to make it either.  I already hate myself.”

“Don’t do that,” Matt retorted.  “Don’t say that, okay?”  He smacked my stomach and kissed the top of my head.  “It’s late.  We should go to bed.  Big day tomorrow.  The bed’s made back there, I think.  Do you need anything?” he asked Marc.

“No, I’m fine.  Thank you again, both of you.”

Matt pulled me up under my arms into a sitting position.  “Come on, Sleeping Beauty.”  He turned back to Marc.  “See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Marc,” I said, nestling into Matt.

“’Night, Fin.  Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of him when we didn’t.”

♂♂

We sat in the stadium, listening to the deafening crowd around us.

“These are the best seats I’ve ever had.  This is awesome,” Marc said, clapping his hands together once in exaltation.

“These are the
only
seats I’ve ever had.  It’s my first NFL game.”

“No shit,” he responded.

“Yeah, no, I just got here on Friday, so…”

“I mean, your dad never took you to a Rams game or anything?  Matt says you’re close with him.”

I nervously rubbed my hands together.  “No, I can’t say he even brought it up.  I’ve always been – well – not so footbally, I guess.  He took me all over the world, but never to a football game.  It’s kind of exciting, don’t you think?” I replied, looking around.

“Fuckin’ right.  And these seats… come on.”  The words he spoke sounded so much like my Matt; sometimes I had to remind myself that he was just a look-a-like.  His phone buzzed in his hand as he swiped over the decline button.

“Do you need to take that?” I asked.

“It’s our dad.”  He paused for a few seconds before shaking his head.  “He knows I’m here.”

I rolled my eyes.  “You’re thirty years old, Marc.  Tell him to fuck off.”

“Have I mentioned that he’s also my boss?” 

He smiled, but there was tension in his eyes.  When I studied him closer, everything about him looked older than Matt.  The lines around his mouth.  The crow’s feet dusting the corners of his eyes.  He was a man full of regret.

“I can’t get over how much you look like him.  It’s strange,” I muttered.

“We get that from time to time,” he teased.  “Being identical and all.”

“You’re different though.”  I shrugged my shoulders.  “I can’t say how.  You just are.”

“Probably because you don’t trust me.  But you with him?  You definitely trust
him
.  You’re a good match.”

I would take it.  He may not have said he approved, but it was likely the closest I would get.

“Thank you.  I think so.  He treats me well.  He listens to me babble incessantly about everything.  I’m sure it drives him nuts, but he never says anything.”

“My mom says you have money.  I mean, I could tell from the house and that car he was driving, but—” 

“I’m sorry,” I interjected, my face flushing with embarrassment, “but I’m not interested in discussing my finances.  It’s a privacy thing.  I hope you’ll understand.”

“Oh, yeah.  I just… I don’t know.  You and I don’t have that much in common.  I was just making conversation.  I’m sorry for the way that came out.  We don’t want any… the money, I mean.  That’s not why I’m here.”

“I should hope not.”

The conversation was suddenly uncomfortable as I dug my hands into the new team jacket Matt had given me to wear to the games.  It was far from my style and he knew it, but appreciated the sentiment regardless.

“Fin,” Marc said quietly.  “I’m fucking this up with you, I know that.  I just hope you know it’s not you.  You seem like a great guy… I guess I just don’t know how to relate to you yet, but I’m trying.”

“I know.”  I looked out at the busy field, searching for Matt on the sidelines.  “It means a lot to him, you know.  Even if you don’t understand me, the fact that you came says something.  I’m not comfortable either, if that makes you feel better.  But listen, why don’t you stay with us again tonight?  It’s a long drive back to Pittsburgh and we’ve got the room.  We were just going to eat leftovers and maybe watch a movie, but you’re welcome.”

He clasped his fingers together, staring down at his hands.  “I’d like that.”  He paused for what seemed like a full sixty seconds before adding, “There’s something else.  Another reason why I’m here.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s our dad.  He has cirrhosis… it’s really bad, man.  He’s got variceal bleeding now and hypertension; plus, he’s lost like fifty pounds.  Doctor told him that he needed to stop drinking right away and that he could maybe delay it.  I mean, it wouldn’t be treatable, but he could manage, you know?  But so far, he hasn’t even filled the prescription he was given and he’s been drinking more than ever.  He’s not even a candidate for surgery at this point.  I’ve gotta tell Matt.  Fuck, what am I supposed to say?”

My mouth opened in shock, unable to form the words to comfort him.  “Is he… going to
die
, Marc?  Is that what you’re telling me?”

He took a swig out of a bottle of Coke and looked straight ahead.  “
That
is what I’m telling you.  I wasn’t even gonna come here.  I didn’t know if he would even care after the way Dad treated him.  But I put myself in his shoes and thought that if it were me, I would want to know.”  He shrugged his shoulders.  “He’s still our dad.  I thought maybe he might want to try again.”

“Try again?” I asked.  “What do you want him to do?  Your dad made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in mending fences.  I realize that Matt might wanna try, but what makes you think that
now
would be any different?”

“It might not be,” he answered.  “But I still think he needs to have the option.”

“Okay.  Do you want me to tell him or something?  Is that why you told me?”

“I just wanted you to know.  Shit, maybe I just felt like telling someone.  Besides, we’re gonna be brothers soon, right?”  He smiled, clapping me (a little too hard) on the back.  “Thanks for listening.”

I bumped my shoulder to his.  “I am sorry, Marc.  For
all
of this.”

“Me too.”

“C
irrhosis?” Matt asked, leaning forward as if it would change the diagnosis.

Marc nodded.  “Started losing the weight about two years ago.  Mom thought it was stress, but he wasn’t right, you know?  He was angry all the time… started to hit her.”

“Mom?”  Matt stood immediately and paced the room.  “What the fuck, Marc?  Why didn’t you beat the fuck out of him?”

“Because she never told me.  I didn’t know.  Once she found out he was sick, she opened up.  I guess she thought that I wouldn’t be able to hit a dead man.”

“Did you?” Matt asked.

“Fuck yeah, I did.”

A small smile crept over his lips.  “Good.”  The grin faded fast as Matt raked his hands over the scratchy hair on his face.  “What are we supposed to do?  Should I go home?  I mean, how bad is this thing?”

“I only told you so that you knew.  I don’t expect you to do anything, but I’m putting it out there.”  Marc’s voice went soft.  “But he’s bad, Matt.  Sleeping all goddamn day… he doesn’t even go to work anymore.  He couldn’t work even if he wanted to; he’s never sober enough.  He bruises up if he so much as hits the counter the wrong way.  His eyes are sunken… it’s not pretty.”

“Shit.”  Matt turned to me.  “I don’t know what to do with all of this.”  He scrubbed his face in his palms.  “I don’t know.  Can we talk more in the morning?  I’m exhausted and Fin has to start his new job at eight.”

“Go ahead and stay up with Marc,” I responded, lifting my hand to palm his face.  I kissed him lightly, our first show of real affection in front of his brother.  “I’m sure you have a lot to talk about.”

He turned back to Marc.  “You off tomorrow?”

Marc nodded.  “I took a few days, but I’ve overstayed my welcome already.  I’ll be gone first thing.”

“I’m off tomorrow too, so maybe you could stay for a while before heading back.  I’ll take you down to Lucas or something, but right now, I need to sleep on this.”

Once we said our farewells, I brushed my teeth and tossed my clothes into the hamper.  Typically, I slept without clothing when it was just the two of us, but since we had a guest, I sifted through our shared dresser for a fresh pair of cotton pants.

“Don’t,” Matt whispered.  “I need to feel you, okay?”

I nodded, placing the bottoms back into the drawer.  I slid into bed with him, snuggling into his chest.  He clicked the bedside lamp off and pulled me closer, squeezing me tightly.  “Too hard,” I complained halfheartedly.

“
Never
too hard,” he returned.  His body trembled for a moment before I realized what was transpiring.  My man – strong as an ox – was sobbing, his chest convulsing as he tightened his grip on my body.  “I never said I was sorry,” he choked.  “I never—”

“Hey… you have nothing to be sorry about, baby.  Look at me.”  Our eyes adjusted in the darkness as I held his face in my hands.  “Listen to me.  You being gay isn’t something you need to apologize for.  I hope you know that.”

He nodded, desperate to catch his breath.  “But what if I wasn’t gay?  What if—” 

“But you
are
, Matt.  There’s nothing you can do to change that.  Honestly, would you change it now if you could?  Even if it would save him?”

He closed his tear-streaked eyes and shook his head gently.  “No.  I’d never give you up.”

“Good.”  I kissed his neck softly and moved my lips to his ear.  “I’ll talk to Sally.  I know I haven’t even started yet, but we need to go to Pittsburgh.  You need to see him.  Tell Mike that you need a few days off.  They have plenty of people to fill in, right?  It’s just a few days.  Maybe leave Thursday?  You could fly directly to Denver for the game and I’ll drive back by myself.”

“I don’t want you to—”

“I’m a big boy,” I interjected.  “I can make a five hour drive alone.”

Matt pressed his lips against mine with fervor, forcing my mouth open with his eager tongue.  I accepted it, moaning lightly as I breathed in his taste.  “I need you,” he murmured.

I laughed lightly and pushed on his chest.  “You are
not
quiet and I am not doing that with your brother in the next room.”

He kissed me again, trailing his lips across my face in amusement.  “Please don’t turn me down two nights in a row.”  His lips moved down, sucking my nipple into his mouth.  “And I’m sorry, but you’re saying
I’m
not quiet?  You scream like you’re auditioning for a horror film.”

I smacked him lightly across the face.  “Take that back.”

“Oh ho ho, you did
not
just smack me.”  He tugged me close and pressed his mouth to my neck, suctioning loudly before pulling off.  “Now you have a hickey for your first day, so you’re welcome.”

“Seriously?”  I turned away from him teasingly, fluffing my pillow and feigning sleep.

His body pressed against mine, his front to my back.  He was warm.  Hard. 

So
hard.

“Go to bed,” I mumbled.

“Kiss me.”

I turned back toward him and wrapped my arms around his neck, grinding against his erection as I swirled my tongue against his in a deep embrace.  Keeping my voice to a whisper, I replied, “I’m sorry about your dad, baby.  I don’t know what to say, honestly.  I wish I had the answers, but I don’t.”  I traced a single finger down his chest.  “I do love you more than anything, if that helps.”   

“More than you know.”

♂♂

I sat at the piano watching Sally clap her hands as I played.  “One, two, three!” she squealed, picking up a toddler with a wide grin.

She was different than I had imagined.  Very tall and thin with a dainty, blonde pixie cut pulled back with a few flower pins.  Her teeth were straight and white – there was no way you could miss them; she smiled every four to five seconds.

Sally put everything she had into that job; you could read it in every expression that crossed her face.  This was her dream – to teach music to children – her entire life.  She had a career as a second-grade teacher previously, but gave it all up for half of the pay.  In her (very strong) opinion, it was worth every penny she lost.

As I started the next song, a small boy came and sat on the bench with me.  “What’s your name?” he asked.

I continued to play, bending down toward his ear.  “It’s Fin.  What’s your name?”

“It’s Finn!” he squealed back, bouncing on the seat.  “Just like you!”

I sucked in a breath of surprise.  “Is that right?  Well, what’s your
full
name, Finn?”

“Finnegan Stanley Seaver.”

“Well, Finnegan Stanley Seaver, I’m Finlay Carrick MacAuliffe.”

“Wow, that’s a hard name,” he complained.  “Is it okay if I just call you Fin?”

“Yes, sir.”

He ran away, screaming excitedly for his mother.  “Momma!  His name is Fin too!”

I smiled at her and nodded as she kissed her son on his cherubic cheeks, bouncing him on her hip in time with the song.  The pieces were mostly beginning level, something a first-year pianist could have managed.  Still, the day went by quickly as I watched class after class scream in delight over their forty-five minute session with Miss Sally.

And
me
.  I supposed we were in this boat together now. 

She smiled in my direction as the song ended, clapping again and mouthing a
thank you
through her pink painted lips.

“That’s it, guys!  Did we all have fun?” she shouted.

A chorus of cheerful cries flowed through the room. 

“I said… did we all have
fun
?”  Her words were nearly a roar as the kids squealed in place.  “Good.  I’ll see you next week.”  She blew them kisses and they caught them in the air, blowing them back.

I could see why they loved her.  She had endless energy and a way with the children that most of the parents likely didn’t comprehend.  Walking toward me, she tipped a bottle of water to her lips.  “Are you ready for this thing to be over or what?”  She laughed and smiled brightly.  “Those little fuckers wear you right out.”

I closed the lid of the old, out-of-tune spinet, smiling at her in awe.  “How do you do this every day?”

“Same way you will.  God, you were good today.”

“Well, I can’t say it was too tough.”

“I know, and I feel like shit in a way.  I mean, I’m happy to have you… like ridiculously happy.  But I also feel like I’m totally robbing the world of your talents.  You should be playing in the symphony and, instead, I’m putting you in front of an old vertical and making you play
You Are My Sunshine
.  You’re better than that, but I’m selfish, so I’m not giving you back.”

“I know it’s my first day and I hate to spring this on you, but—”

“Oh, fuck.  Are you leaving already?  Say no, say no, say no!”

“No, Sally.  This has been great.  But my fiancé’s dad is sick – like really sick – and we need to go to Pittsburgh.  I’m not sure for how long, but it shouldn’t be more than a few days.  Will you hold this job for me?  If not, I completely understand.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?  A few days?  I’m just glad you aren’t quitting on me.  I need you and I have big ideas for Fin MacAuliffe.  I want you to be an instructor.  I think you would be amazing; plus, I can finally pay you.”

“Sally, I don’t know anything about doing that.”

“Um, duh,” she responded, drinking another sip of water.  “You were a fucking teacher too.  You taught music to kids every day, right?”

“Yeah, but these are little kids.  Like
really
little.  I taught high school.”

She shrugged.  “Little kids are nicer, for sure.  Teenagers are dicks.”

I laughed and picked up my messenger bag, shoving a few music books into the unzipped pocket.  “I’ll call you when I get back.  I really appreciate you giving me this time off, you know?  Honestly... Matt will appreciate it too.”

“Matt?” she questioned.

“Oh… Matt’s my fiancé.  I guess I thought I told you that.”

“Engaged to a boy?” she teased, placing her finger to her lips.

“Wedding’s in two weeks,” I returned shyly.

“Scandalous.” 

“So I’ve heard.”  I smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek.  “See you in a few days.”

She blew me a kiss on my way out the door.  I stopped, caught it, and then blew one back.

♂♂

I had barely closed the door behind me when Matt came out from the bedroom.

“He’s in hospice,” he announced.  “We’ve gotta go.  I’ve packed, but you might want to double check the bags because I’m sure I’m forgetting something.  I got socks and underwear for every day and put some stuff on the bed, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted to wear.  You can wear jeans, I guess… or sweaters.  Anything, really.  I know that sometimes you like to wear dress pants… but I wasn’t sure if—”

“Matt.  Stop.”  I walked to him, pressing my palm against his broad chest.  “Take a breath.  Are you okay?”

“Marc left around noon.  I called Mike and told him we’d be gone.  He said not to worry about it, but if I can make that game on Sunday, I’m gonna try.  I suppose it’ll only be a few days.  You don’t think it’ll be more than that, do you?  I’m not sure how hospice works.  I think it’s one of those check-in but don’t check-out scenarios, but Mom says—”

I put both of my hands on his shoulders.  “Baby.  Sit down for a second, okay?”  When he turned to fidget with God-knows-what, I pressed harder and forced him to look at me.  “Sit, Matt.  Come on, honey.”

He slumped onto the couch, lowering his head to his hands.  His body quivered – a flickering mess beneath his wrinkled t-shirt.  I let the sobs wrack through his shoulders as I traced my fingers over the cotton material.  Neither of us spoke.  We just sat together.

Matt, crammed full of anguish; me, absorbing as much of his suffering as I could endure.  I would welcome every ounce of misery if I could just see one glimmer of the optimistic man I was accustomed to.

“Do you need to lie down?” I asked.  “Even if we leave now, it will be late when we get there.  An hour isn’t going to make a difference.”

“No,” he responded, wiping the back of his hand across his cheek.  “Let’s go.”

“I’ll drive, okay?  Let me go check the bags.”

Matt clasped my hand as I turned toward the bedroom.  “What if he dies, Fin?”

I knew what hospice was.  Max DiFiore wasn’t coming back.

“Let’s just go see him, okay?  We’ll deal with everything once we’re there.”

“What if he dies and the only thing he knows about me is that I share my bed with a man?  That I cheated on my wife?  That I lied to everyone?  What if that’s it?”

I gripped his upper arm with force.  “If that’s all he ever knows about you, that’s his loss.  You weren’t the one who shut him out.  I’m not saying this to be harsh, Matt, but you’re better than him.  You’re loving and warm and—”