The Book of Matthew (The Alex Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

“Really? That long?”

It had felt like just the other day when he rattled my locker and asked if he could walk me to class. That was the last time I saw him. After that, he seemed to have just disappeared.

“How are you?” I asked.

“I’m okay.”

“How was your Christmas?”

“Good. My parents bought me a computer. It’s huge. It takes up my whole desk.”

“That’s great,” I said.

“I’m going to use it to type up my college application essays.”

I froze, silent. I couldn’t believe how much time had passed, that Bobby was preparing for college.

Bobby and I were once equals, despite the two-year age difference. We were a wholesome and virginal couple, experiencing everything for the first time together. Except that one thing I wanted most of all.

That’s when Bobby got a leg up on me. He gained the edge the moment he refused to take from me the one thing I wanted him to have.

His refusal weakened me, and my weakness made him stronger—strong enough to break my heart. The moment my heart broke at the Spring Formal, Bobby and I were no longer equals.

I wanted to be the one in power, to gain the edge and be the stronger one. So I broke up with him. Then as time passed, when I became a senior in high school and eventually when I turned eighteen, Bobby stayed the same. In my mind he was always a precious fifteen-year-old freshman, and that’s what enabled me to move on. As I got older and wiser, Bobby stayed exactly the same: a meek and wholesome and virginal boy who no longer had a hold over me.

Yes, he had broken my heart completely. It healed, and I moved on. But I never imagined that after sixteen months of silence between us, that he would still have a piece of it. And although he didn’t know it, at that moment he was silently tugging at it.

“What colleges have you applied to?” I asked.

“Several places. But I really want to go to M.I.T.”

“Where’s that?”

“Duh,” he said. “Massachusetts.”

I winced at my stupidity. “Oh, right.”

“I’ll major in one of the sciences and become a lab rat.”

I laughed. “Better stock up on cigarettes—you’ll have thousands of new people to impress.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure. It’s a pretty big campus.”

“Still doing that by the way?” I asked. “Giving out cigarettes like candy?”

“You know it. Why, you need some?”

“No, I quit.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, last year when I was a senior.”

“How come you never told me?”

“I never saw you, Bobby. Well, I saw you that once…in the beginning of my senior year.”

“I always saw
you
. I waved to you all the time.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, but you never waved back.”

That’s when I knew. Bobby hadn’t disappeared. He had been there all along, walking the same halls of our high school. I just chose not to see him.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m the biggest bitch.”

“I never thought that. You know how I feel.”

I suddenly wished he were there in the room with me so I could kiss his sweet face.

“So who’s Matt?” Bobby asked.

“Just this guy…”

“Your boyfriend?”

I thought about telling Bobby the truth. I thought for a moment that I could get Bobby’s sympathy and he’d want me all over again. We could recapture what we had. But I realized our time had passed. Bobby and Alex were over. I had a relationship with Matt to look forward to.

“Yes. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Is it serious?”

“No. At least not yet.”

“Are you having sex with him?”

“Jeez. Cut to the chase, why don’t you?”

“Sorry,” he said. “Well, are you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. You got what you wanted after all.”

I thought about that a moment. “No, Bobby. I didn’t.”

He was quiet. After a pause, he said, “Hey, cut me some slack! What do I—”

“Know about love?” I interjected.

“That’s right. You know me too well.”

“Yes I do,” I said. “But enough about my love life. How about you? Dating anyone?”

“No.”

“Still a virgin?”

“Cut to the chase, why don’t you?” Bobby mocked me. “Yes, I’m still a virgin.”

“That’s good. Maybe you’ll get what you want after all.”

“Maybe.”

I looked at the clock. It was 8:45. I still had to call Matt back. “I should go.”

“Okay. Good luck with Matt.”

“Thanks. Good luck getting into M.I.T.”

“Oh, Alex? One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Call me if you change your mind about the cigarettes.”

After we hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed and thought about Bobby Fraser. I smiled. He still had that piece of my heart.

I took another deep breath and dialed Matt’s extension. The phone rang twice before I heard a male voice on the other end.

“Yo!”

“Uh, is Matt there?”

“Hold on.”

The voice sounded familiar. I had heard it before. He put the phone down with a thud and it banged in my ear. “Hey shithead!” he yelled. “Phone’s for you! Some chick.”

I heard footsteps approach the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Matt. It’s Alex.”

“Hi. What’s up?”

“Nothing.” There was a pause. “You left a message for me?” I said.

“Oh yeah, right. I was just wondering if we were still on for tomorrow night, six o’clock?”

“Yes. Are you going to be on time?” I joked.

“Shut up, asshole!” Matt yelled.

“What?”

“Sorry Alex, not you. I was yelling at my roommate, Ted.”

“Oh.”

“Okay, he just left the room. He’s an asshole sometimes.”

“Sounds like you guys get along well.”

“He’s just pissed at me because he owes me money.”

“A lot?”

“Nah, 20 bucks. He borrowed it last semester and hasn’t paid me back. But that’s okay—the longer it takes him, the more interest he’ll owe me.”

“You’re charging your roommate interest on a measly 20 bucks?”

“Over a six month period, at a rate of 3% interest, that 20 bucks has earned me an additional $10.80.”

“Christ, you
are
a Finance major,” I said. “I have no idea what the hell that even means.”

“It means free money.”

“Why don’t you just get a job?”

“No time. Giving guitar lessons is more fun and more profitable than a regular job anyway.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not charging
me
for the guitar lessons,” I said. “I’m broke.”

His voice dipped to a whisper. “I’d never charge you. I’ll give you whatever you want for free.”

This was the Matt I knew. Instead of being annoying, I found his double entendres to be refreshing, exciting, erotic. I missed it, even.

He raised his voice back up to a normal level. “See you tomorrow.”

No regrets. I was glad to have bought Matt an expensive watch for Christmas.

II.

The papers were spread out before me on the kitchen table. I scanned the college application and financial aid form and sighed at the laborious task ahead. My name, address, and social security number were the easiest pieces of information to fill in. The rest was a crapshoot.

My father was in the living room. His glasses sat low on his nose, his head was tucked deep to his chest, and his lips moved occasionally as he read the book in his lap.

Like my mother, he seemed to have aged ten years in such a short period of time. His hair was almost entirely gray and he had gained a few pounds around his middle.

I hadn’t spoken to him much in the three months since the night I heard my parent’s argument in the bathroom. I didn’t want to talk to him on this day, either. I didn’t want to have to depend on his help. I had recently convinced myself that I didn’t need the help of any man, ever again.

I scanned the paperwork again. The process of applying for college seemed so useless and unnecessarily complicated. Who cared what my SAT score was? How important, really, are the high school activities I participated in? None of it was a good indication that I had the staying power for a four-year college experience. For all I knew, some asshole undergrad might knock me up and I’d be forced to drop out of college to raise a bastard child. A lot of good that SAT score would do me then. Where was the fill-in-the-blank section on the application that asks under what circumstances I foresee not being able to graduate?

I was looking forward even less to filling out the financial aid form. Especially since my family was neither poor nor a minority. We weren’t eligible for free money or government assistance. My family was considered middle-class; all I was eligible for were high-interest loans in the tens of thousands of dollars payable upon graduation. And the degree I got didn’t even guarantee that I’d get a good job to help pay for them. Where was the essay section on the financial aid application that allowed me to express my opinion on that?

I took a fleeting glance at my father. He silently turned a page in his book and continued moving his lips as he read. His whispered breaths occasionally reached my ears. I yawned and stretched before settling in, and then grabbed the college application.

Full Name: Alexandra Kathryn Harrison.

Suddenly I heard a voice.

“The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom.”

It was a male voice, hollow and distant and a little louder than a whisper. I craned my neck to see into the living room. All was quiet and still. The only noise was the gentle whir of a fan in the kitchen window.

I continued filling in the blanks.

Date of Birth: May 5, 1975.

I heard the voice again, this time more forceful than before.

“Flee the evil desires of youth, and pursue righteousness, faith, love and peace, along with those who call on the Lord out of a pure heart.”

I looked up from my paperwork. “Dad?”

He didn’t look at me. His eyes remained buried in his book. “Yes, honey?”

“Did you say something?”

“No.” His lips moved as he continued reading his book.

“Do you have the TV on?”

“No.”

I tried to focus. I continued filling out the college application.

Address: 27 Olive Court, Kenwood, Pennsylvania.

Again, the voice.

“Everyone who confesses the name of the Lord must turn away from wickedness.”

I slammed the pen down. “Dad!”

He turned his head to me. “What?” He had a look of confusion on his face as he peered over his glasses at me. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He closed his book and set it on the table next to him. “Are you sure? Do you need help with your paperwork?”

He got up from his chair and came into the kitchen. As he walked towards me my eyes focused on the book he had set down. Its cover was slightly curled but I could make out the title: HOLY BIBLE.

“What’s that all about?” I asked.

He turned back to see what I was pointing at. “A little light reading,” he said.

“Why? What for?”

He sat down at the kitchen table across from me. “It’s just something I do.”

“Where did it come from?”

“It’s mine. I’ve always had it.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “I’ve never seen it before.”

“I keep it upstairs in my bedroom.”

“Why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding it. I keep it on the bookshelf with my carpentry books.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

My father sat back in the chair. “Alex, calm down. What is going on with you? I’m not lying. Why are you so surprised that I’m reading a Bible? Your mother and I are Catholic. I thought you knew that. You’re Catholic too.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You were baptized Catholic.”

“I can’t be Catholic,” I said. “I don’t believe in God.”

My father paused. He looked surprised by my sudden honesty. “Well, okay. You don’t have to. Having you baptized was just something your mother and I wanted to do. We thought it was important.”

“You and Mom don’t go to church.”

“Your mother and I feel that people don’t have to go to church to believe in God.”

I was overwhelmed and tired. I still had the paperwork to fill out. “I don’t want your help.”

“What?”

I held up the college application. “The paperwork. I don’t need your help.”

“What about the financial aid form?” He grinned. “I’m good with numbers.”

He was right about that. My father could manipulate numbers in his head without the use of a calculator or pencil. It must’ve been from all the fractions he had to add and subtract.

Until I was introduced to carpentry, I never knew measurements as small as an eighth of an inch existed. Most times, carpentry came down to the precision of such small numbers. You could be off by as little as a fraction of an inch and a whole project would fall to shit.

My father had warned me about the importance of precision. Measure twice, cut once, he told me. Carpenter’s rule.

I was too tired to argue with my father. I relented, nodded my head, and accepted his help. I leaned my elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand.

He smiled. “So, what do you need to know?”

…

Half an hour later, we finished the financial aid form. My right hand was tight and my fingers sore from writing.

“Thank God that’s done,” I announced. “Only one form to go.”

My father looked at me and smiled. His eyes were distant. “Know what I thank God for? I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me faithful, appointing me to his service.”

“What?” I said.

“Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man,” he continued, “I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.” He continued to smile as he stared at me from across the table.

I sat glued to the chair, unable to stand up. My flesh crawled. I blinked repeatedly, hoping to erase the image that appeared in front of me. But my father was still there, smiling. He opened his mouth again to speak. I covered my ears to block his words.