Never Been Loved (7 page)

“I have a new friend! Her name is Candace, and her hair is almost white! Isn’t that cool? How come her hair is so different than my colour hair, huh? Did her mom forget to use the right crayon or something?”

I bark out a laugh while flipping my grilled cheese, getting half the thing outside of the danger zone. I’m chuckling as I plate all of the sandwiches and bring them over to Matty. I snag a napkin for each of us, and settle down to eat.

I wolf down my food, watching as my Mom settles down in one of my chairs, trying to find a way where her bony frame doesn’t hurt her.

“Alysha has been telling me disturbing things.” Typical. And completely typical that she didn’t get a kick out of Matty’s take on his friend’s hair.

I roll my eyes. “Explain disturbing.”

Mom purses her lips, and back in the day, Jules and I would sit still and quiet while she doled out punishment. Now Jules is dead three years, and I’m all alone. And I’m definitely too old for this shit.

“She’s told me you haven’t been returning her calls.”

I chew, swallow. Take another bite. Chew some more. “That’s right. I don’t see how this involves you.”

I can’t tell, but I’m sure her eyes are narrowing. “Need I remind you that you two will be getting married in the near future.”

I shake my head. “No.”

“No?” Mom has a hand over her heart, mouth slack and eyebrows popped high on her forehead. Surprise, surprise.

“Hell no. Whatever little scheme you and Alina made up when we were twelve is not going to happen. I have my life, she has hers, and there’s no place for her in mine.”

Mom purses her lips again, like I what I just said doesn’t matter. “I thought you and her were spending time together.”

I smirk, put down my last grilled cheese. I notice Matty hasn’t touched his. Great. What else can I get him to eat?

“‘Spending time’ together doesn’t mean I’m going to buy her a ring and put it on her finger. She doesn’t deserve that from me. I have Matty to think about, too. She’d be a terrible mother.”

Mom shakes her head slowly. I kind of hope she’s having a stroke. The will money would be mine, and whatever control she has over Jules’ accounts would be all mine, too. Financial security if what I’m seeing is true. But no. Mom would never make it that easy.
Plus, I’m an asshole for thinking it. Abandonment issues and all that.

“Without her, you’ll be struggling the rest of your life to provide for yourself and my grandson.”

I shrug, trying to ignore the hard thump of my heart in my chest. This is it. “Then give me Jules’ share. You’re not using it.”

Mom’s face pales out and I wonder if all that blood tries to go to warm up her ice cold heart.

“Absolutely not. I need that money.”

“Fuck you say.” I expect Matty to ask for a quarter, but I hold a hand up for silence. He seems to listen. “Sell the house, you don’t need something that big for just you. I’m the one that needs that money, Mom. I have a family now.”

A light, airy smile flits across her mouth. I’ve never seen anything more terrifying. It’s the kind of smile a black widow spider gives a fly once it’s caught in her web.

“I will not be giving up the house. I will not be giving you Jules’ inheritance, or whatever’s left of it after you ruined her.” She should’ve just stabbed me; it would’ve hurt less.

“Alina is my closest friend, and Alysha is the right choice for you. If you want to continue living in squalor, then by all means, continue to do so. If you want to remember what it was like growing up when you were home, then we both know what you have to do.”

Red’s spray-painted over my world, and I have to fight myself to remain seated. Murder will not get me what I want, what I need. I’m too fucking frazzled and pissed right now to even make it look like an accident.

I need to be alone right now. I bolt for the door, making sure I close it behind me. I want to pace down the hall, back and forth, back and forth, working off my anger in a healthier way.  But fuck,
she’s
here. Right in front me.

Shorts, showing off her legs. A delectable ass that I want to sink my fingers into while I lift her up to straddle me. Light brown hair loose around her shoulders and down her back that I’m sure’d shine gold when the sun hits it just right. She leans forward to press the down button on the elevator.

No book this time. I might just be disappointed.

Instead, her iPod is held up at eye-level, and her thumb swipes up the screen as she scrolls through her music. I wonder what she listens to that has her smiling like that. At this point, she could listen to eighties boy bands and I’d still want her.

Oh Christ, she starts bobbing her head to the beat as she continues to scroll down her playlist. My palms start to itch, and my legs tremble. I want to move closer to her. I want to know her name.

I want her to know me.

I stumble forward and see what shirt she’s wearing. I grin.
How do you like them apples?
Jesus, she knows
Good Will Hunting.
Point one for her.

All right, now I have to say something. Anything. Just don’t be an asshole. Or creepy.

“Nice shirt.” Genius. I’m a fucking genius.

I watch a little line form between her eyebrows as she stares down at her playlist. Maybe she’s wondering if it came from the song? I clear my throat to try again. Then her eyes hit me, and I’m not sure if I’m standing anymore.

Fuck, she’s not wearing her glasses. I wish she was. Dress her up in a skirt and some stilettos, and she’s the sexiest librarian I’ve ever seen. The question is: can she get naughty? I want to find out.

Careful, careful.
Calm the fuck down, you pervert.

“Huh?” Christ, can she be any more adorable? Her eyebrows are high on her forehead and her mouth (amazing mouth) parts open in surprise. Her eyes, though, they’re not entirely focused on me.

“Your shirt. I like it. Most people would say thank you.” I grin; she doesn’t grin back. Fuck, I’ve ruined my chance. I just don’t know how to do this, be good, be nice.

“Okay,” she says, clearing her throat. Again, with that little furrow between her eyebrows. Her lower lip pouts out and I need it in my mouth to taste. “Do you even know what it’s about?”

Ah, testing my knowledge. Making sure I’m worthy of a smile.

“Babe.” Damn it, that wasn’t supposed to come out.
Just give me your name and I can take it back.
I pull in her scent, that smell of a bakery and my mouth waters.

“Don’t call me babe,” she says, eyebrows popped even higher.

I smirk. Fine, I’ll show her. I’ve seen the movie so many times, I can do Matt Damon, no sweat. “Do you like apples?”

She grins. At me. Like I’ve given her a diamond instead of a few words.

My dick starts getting in on the action.

“I’m Sera. Nice to meet you.” She extends her hand, wiggling her fingers. I want to pound my chest that I have her name. “Most people shake the person’s hand when it’s offered to them,” she says, wiggling her fingers more impatiently.

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t think I’ve ever shaken a girl’s hand before, and this is not where I wanted it to go. I look down from her hand, to her face and to her hand again.

Sera isn’t the kind of girl you fuck and wash off. She’s the kind of girl you fuck, get her smell all over your sheets, take a shower with and go for round two. Then ask her to marry you because you know you’re not going to get anything better.

Sera’s the kind of woman that could be so much more.

We meet palm to palm and I swear I nearly lose it. She doesn’t know it, but this kind of respect is rare.

“HUNTER!” I jolt. What the fuck happened now? Did Matty get a paper cut or something, and Mom can’t deal? Shit, things were going well. I think. Maybe.

“See you later,” she says, glancing down at her iPod and hitting up another song, maybe. The elevator door opens and she walks in, turning to face me. We’re separated by more than distance now that Mom has ruined everything.

I want to say something more, something else. Ask for her number, maybe even ask her out to dinner like a normal guy would do. I rub the back of my head under my hood, letting the prickle of my hair tickle my palm, centering me. Then I think of all the shit that’s waiting for me at my apartment.

I can’t drag a woman like Sera into any of this shit. I stare at her one last time, as the elevator doors start to close on her and turn to go back to my place. At least I got her name. Closing the door, I lean back against it and hang my head down, staring at my socks.

Money’s just money. It’s fucking paper, man. But shit, money means freedom. I could even get Matty that insulin pump so he wouldn’t have to inject himself so much. Fuck.

“I think we’re done here,” I say. I don’t know how Mom doesn’t hear it, how close I was to committing matricide.

“Hunter! There’s something wrong with Matty!” Mom wails. I glance up to see her actually fucking wringing her hands instead of doing something useful. She knows how to check Matty’s sugar. I’ve taught her enough times, but no. She’d probably get blood on her precious designer suit.

Matty looks up at me with glassy eyes. “Daddy, I’m tired.”

“Don’t worry, little buddy.  Let’s just get Tony and check, then we’ll get you something to eat if you need, yeah?”

Matty just nods in his seat, leaning on the back of it, eyes half-closing. My heart does somersaults in my chest, and pulls against its chains to come out of my throat. Maybe this time, maybe this time I’ll be too late with the food. Maybe this time his sugar’s gonna drop so low, even the ambulance when it comes won’t be able to revive him with glucagon.

Maybe this time he’s gonna die because I wasn’t paying close enough attention.

Maybe this time, maybe this time.

I sprint into Matty’s room, getting his pouch from his dresser. Moving back to the kitchen table, I get his glucometer out, and take his blood. 

When it’s done, I glare at the machine and wait for five seconds. It feels like months fly by where I’m only aware of my heart beating too hard and too fast, and my stomach turning. I can’t look away as the numbers decrease, not even to check on Matty. I feel like if I glance away for just a second, Matty might die. If I glance away for just a second, it all becomes real how close we are to mortality.

Five, four, three, two, one...

Fuck. His sugar’s at two point four. I clamp down on the need to vomit and piss at the same time, refusing to let my limbs shake as I move away from the kitchen table and grab my stash of honey from the second highest cupboard where Matty can’t reach.  I slather it on a piece of brown bread, and sprinkle some sugar over it.

God, what if I can’t get him to eat this time? What if he throws it all up? Can I handle having his death on my conscience, too?

I sit at the table and slowly coax him to eat it. Matty makes faces and he gags a few times from the sugar overload.

I yell at him and tell him to keep eating, that he has to eat it all or else. I make up threats and tell lies to get him to eat that piece of bread. I pray and scream inside my head for Matty to be all right.

When he closes his eyes shut, my heart seizes and I end up cracking him in the face with my palm. Matty stares up at me, cheek turning pink with the remnants of my handprint and I want to vomit and laugh at the same time. He’s awake, he’s alert. The honeyed bread is working.

He’s going to be okay.

Christ, the kid’s going to be all right.

I’m pretty sure I’ve just lost ten years off my life. I feel like an old man, joints and bones aching, and I’d rather just sit here and slowly waste away than expend any more energy.

I clear my throat and find my voice after long minutes where I watch Matty become more and more alert. When he picks up his crayon again, massaging his cheek with his free hand and starts munching on the grilled cheese I made him earlier, I know I just skimmed Death’s scythe with Matty’s life.

“I want you to leave now. Please.” I toss out the ‘please’ and it sounds just as broken as I am. Mom and I both know that if she asks anything of me right now, I’ll say yes, just to get some time alone, just to be free of her presence.

So that’s exactly what she does. She asks me to call Aly, and I say I will.

When she’s gone, I snag my pouch from the kitchen counter and check my sugar. I’m high. I figure the adrenaline rush is gonna help burn off the excess sugar in my system, and what I really need is a nap.

Preferably one where Matty sleeps half-on my chest, so even in unconsciousness I know how he’s doing.

We end up in my bed, Matty somehow snuggling into my ribs like a puppy would do to its mother. My throat tightens up, and I palm his head, sifting my fingers through his hair. 

I drift off with one thought in my brain;
her name is Sera.

Chapter 6

    “Please, Daddy? I want to watchhhhh itttttttt,” Matty whines, voice doing acrobatics with the syllables.

My head’s pounding, and I’m wondering if I could pound back two Aspirin and sleep. Then I’d leave Matty unsupervised and I promised myself I wouldn’t be a dick anymore. Christ, why is that so hard?