INFECtIOUS (13 page)

Please Pass
The
Foot So I Can Eat It

Dinner might
have been delicious, but I can't remember tasting my food. Yes, I was really
hungry and I inhaled it. But it's more because I was so lost in my thoughts and
awkward about Matt. Now that I've decided I don't hate him, I am focused on the
thought that he might still hate me. I haven't been good to him at all. He has
every right to hate me. I've been unfriendly, aloof, unaccommodating,
judgmental, oh—the list goes on and on. I'm trying to figure out how to start
being nicer without looking totally mental.

No one else is
talking much, they are listening to Thomas talk excitedly about everything he's
done and seen since leaving Matt. Matt listens to everything Thomas says with
an adorable crooked smile on his face. I study his face while he is safely
staring at Thomas. His nose is thin, but nicely proportioned to his thin face.
He has long eyelashes that set off his dark green eyes. His thick black
eyebrows seemed so menacing yesterday; but, softened by his mood, they are
comically bushy today. He has two crooked teeth that stick out just slightly on
one side of his mouth. When he smiles, he only lifts his lips on the opposite
side. I wonder if he's self-conscious of the crooked teeth and has learned to
hide them when he
smiles?

Thomas mentions
God several times casually in his stories. God helped me do this, and God
showed me that. I keep expecting Matt to be disgusted or to turn and yell at us
for brainwashing Thomas, but it doesn't happen. Matt has so much love and
admiration for Thomas that, even though Thomas is so much younger, you can just
tell that Matt trusts him and respects his opinion. There is no condescension
in his eyes as he listens to Thomas ramble, only genuine admiration. Another
side of Matt I never would have guessed existed.

And I needed to
see it. I guess I had forgotten. Every day I think about how evil the zombies
are. I've obsessed over it to the point of despising every single one of them.
With this display of brotherly love, I am forced to remember that all humans
were made to love and care for each other. That even zombies are capable of
love. The Living
don't
own love. Family is still an
unbreakable bond, no matter who you are or what you believe. It makes me miss
my zombie parents.
Makes me wonder if I'll ever see any of my
family again.
I had a sister once, too.

Hazel ran away
from home when I was just a toddler. My parents never said it, but I think she
left because of me. Mom and dad had me later in life. Hazel had been an only
child and was 15 when I was born. They never admitted it, but I know she was
unhappy. In the few pictures I saw that were taken of her before she left, she
never smiled. When I came along and they were so in love with me, it pushed her
away even more. I wish she had stayed. Wish we had gotten a chance to have what
Matt and Thomas have.

While they all
listen to Thomas talk about tent camping with Harvey in the snow, I carry on
with my ogling. Matt continues to draw my excessive gaze, partly from
fascination and partly from—I don't know what. He isn't gross anymore. He’s
maybe almost slightly attractive.
Which is crazy talk.
It's just how much he loves Thomas. Like when guys are automatically cute when
they are holding a baby. He's not just capable of love, he's good at it. He’s kind,
funny, encouraging, gentle, not just some pig-headed, overly masculine jerk.
I'm attracted to his personality. Not that he's ugly. But I guess I found him
really ugly just yesterday.

Can I really
have changed my mind this much about him, this fast? If you had asked me a week
ago if I could ever be attracted to one of them, I would have laughed at the
absurdity of the thought! Just laughed and not even answered you. This is new
territory for me.

I keep reminding
myself he's a zombie. He's a zombie, stop staring!
 

And he keeps
noticing me staring, so I'm trying to look at him out of the corner of my eye
to figure out if he's just staring at me because he's noticed I'm staring at
him or if he's actually staring at me. This is maddening.

When Ellen
stands to clear away the dirty dishes, Aunty and I stand up to help. In the
close quarters of the small kitchen, I find myself brushing past Matt several
times during the clean up. He smells—good. Like coconut shampoo. All of my
stereotypes and negative expectations are evaporating. My stomach somersaults
every time he looks at me. It's so weird to me how normal he is. He fits in
just fine, like he belongs here. I wonder if he feels it
too?
Visiting with Jose and Thomas, he seems comfortable and relaxed. I remember how
hostile he was yesterday and how set he was on taking Thomas away from us. What
if he still wants that?

But as the day
stretches on, Matt never mentions leaving. Surely everyone else is as nervous
about the confrontation as I am. I can't help obsessively wondering when it
will come up. Every time Matt speaks I brace myself for it to end with,
"By the way, I'm taking Thomas now and there's nothing you can do about
it." I know Jose and Ellen won't let Thomas go. They'll say
no
for sure. What then? Do they have the right to say no?

Jose and Ellen
ask Aunty to come downstairs with them to see the renovations they've been
making in their basement. Jose's tone was too peppy, too persuasive for the
boring subject of basement linoleum. You know, the way adults speak when they
think they are fooling us kids with their obvious duplicity. I'm not an idiot—I
know they are talking about Matt. I'm left alone upstairs with the boys and I
think Matt knows he's being talked about too. It's awkward.

Thomas breaks
the silence. "Ivy is my best friend here."

This simple
endearing statement takes me by surprise and gets me blushing again.

"I stayed
with them at their house when Harvey brought me here. What room are you in
Matt? Did you get the Africa room too?"

"Yeah,"
Matt answers Thomas but he's looking at me.

I blush even
redder and look away.
Stupid cheeks.
I must learn to
control this.

"Ivy played
games with me and made me grilled cheese sandwiches and she took me for a walk
all around town and she helped me make a fort under the big table in the dining
room. Did you see how big that table is?"

"Yeah, it's
big." Matt answers again, still staring at me and smiling his one-sided
smile. "Thanks for everything you've done for Tom."

I just shrug and
smile back awkwardly, barely able to meet his gaze. It's our first pleasant
conversation. The first time he's spoken directly to me since I realized he
isn't just a creepy zombie.
It's
crazy obvious that my
feelings have changed. Yesterday, I glared at him with unveiled hatred. If only
I could play it cool now and not look like a schizophrenic mess. But my
traitorous femininity won't obey. My mouth won't stop smiling and my cheeks
continue to burn brighter, betraying my new attraction.
 

"Really.
Thank you.
You've all been so kind. I was really worried," he says quietly. His tone
becomes playful as he puts an arm around his brother. "Now I see that he's
been living it up while I've been freaking out looking for him." Matt
roughly rubs at Thomas' curly head inducing
more happy
giggling.

"Thomas is
one of us," I say, nervously responding to his appreciation. What I meant
by that was:
It's no big deal. He's a
great kid who fits in perfectly and is easy to love
. Expert
conversationalist that I am, it sounded nothing like that.

Matt's face
darkens and his half smile slowly lowers to match the other side in a firm
line.

I should take a
vow of silence. The whole world would be better off. Of all the things I
could've said, that's the first and only thing I've added to the day.
I've alienated Matt and made it seem like Thomas belongs here with
us and that Matt doesn't.

Brilliant.

Thankfully,
Aunty, Jose and Ellen come back up the stairs—saving us from my destructive
powers of foot-in-mouth conversation. Aunty announces that she and I have a lot
to do at the Inn, indicating that we'd better get going. This is it.
The moment.
What will happen? Who will bring it up?

Aunty, pulling
her coat on, offers, "Will you be staying with us again this evening
Mathew?"

"Yes, thank
you. Tom and I are going to hang out for awhile, though. Is it alright if I
ring the bell when I get back?"

"Perfect,"
Aunty approves.
"Your coat Ivy?"

"Oh
yeah," I mumble and hurry to pull myself into the puffy warmth of my
winter wear. I can't bring myself to put my
pom-pomed
hat on—I guess I do care what he thinks. I ball it up in my hands and fiddle
nervously with it. Matt doesn't look at me again and, after thanking Ellen for
the wonderful food, we leave. Just like that. No big moment.

As soon as we
are down the sidewalk, I barrage Aunty with an assault of questions. "What
do you think Matt will do? Do you think he'll let Thomas stay? Maybe now
that
 
he's
seen that
Thomas is healed he'll be smart and let him stay where it's safe."

"I hope so.
Actually, we are hoping that Matt will decide to trust God and stay here with
Thomas."

I hadn't thought
of that. Why hadn't I thought of that? Isn't our whole purpose to bring people
to God? To tell them the good news that they can be healed? Why have I never
once considered Matt becoming one of us? Maybe because he is so
antagonistically against everything we believe in. Will seeing Thomas change
that? I kind of doubt it—but I would like it. It would be pretty great if he
did change and stay. I mean great for him—and his soul.

"Thank you
for trying so hard today, Ivy. You were much nicer with Matt. I appreciate your
effort."

"No
problem."

It wasn't really
an effort at all. It felt good to be nice to him. He's pretty cool.

Here's Hoping He Left
Out
The
Gas

Back at the Inn
there are plenty of chores to fill the evening. While I dust and fold, my
thoughts drift to Matt over and over again. His eyes have burned an image into
my mind that I can't shake. Sometimes those leafy green eyes are dark and frightening
in my memories. Other times, they pop into my daydreams full of emerald
expectation and the thoughts they evoke leave me feeling breathless. I need to
think less about him. I'm not allowed to like him. What a ridiculous thought,
me having a crush on a zombie. Ha! I don't. I'm pretty sure I don't. Well,
fifty percent sure.

When the
doorbell rings my stomach does ten flip-flops.

That doesn't
mean anything. I don't have a crush on him.

I run to my
bathroom mirror, wet my hands and run them through my curls to smooth the
frizz. I look pale. I pinch my cheeks a few times. That's better. A quick swipe
of lip gloss, okay I'm trying too hard. I run for the door, hoping Aunty didn't
hear the bell ring.

It's
him,
I can see him through the glass. I slow down and take a
breath.

No blushing.
Control yourself!

Pulling the door
open for Matt, I see Jose standing just behind him on the porch.
"Hi," I say to both of them, breathing hard from hurrying across the
big house, "Come in."

It's gotten even
colder out and the freezing air rushing in makes me wrap my arms around myself.
Matt steps in past me, but Jose doesn't follow him into the house.

"I was just
walking Matt back," Jose says, peeking out from behind his zipped up coat.
"We'll see you tomorrow," he calls over his shoulder as he trots down
the front steps, his shoulders hunched against the evening chill. I'm sure Matt
could've found his way back to the Inn on his own, but the community wouldn't
like one of them wandering our streets unaccompanied. Jose waves without
looking back and I push the big wooden and glass antique door shut behind him.

Alone
with Matt in the golden light of the foyer's brassy chandelier, the awkwardness
of our last conversation returns.
I don't want to alienate him again. I really
want him to feel welcome and at home here.
Aunty's
words have been bouncing around in my head all day. Will he decide to follow
God and be healed and stay here with us? I smile nervously and try to meet his
stare. He looks down at me from his taller view. He
doesn't
 
return
my smile, but his mysterious
eyes are unleashing their full power on me and I get lost looking up into them.

"So—"
I start with no idea what to say next. "Uh—
How
was your day?"

So
lame.

"Great.
Thanks," he says softly, staring into my upturned face only a few feet
away from me in the quiet foyer.

"I thought
I heard someone. Matthew, how was your day?" Aunty asks, appearing out of
nowhere.

Was she
listening around the corner? The creaky old hardwood floors usually warn me when
she's approaching. I should've heard her coming. I blush deep red, and step
back embarrassed and insecure.

"Do you
need anything in your room?
More towels?"

"No. Thank
you," he answers calm and confident. "Everything is fine. Thank you
again for keeping me here—and for all you did for Tom when he came here. He
talked about you all day."

He looks at me
again and I can only imagine all the info Thomas has given him about me. An
unfair imbalance of knowledge lies between us. I know nothing about him.

I dig through my
memory for those days with Thomas here at the Inn and try to remember if I did
or said anything horribly embarrassing. I think we spent an entire afternoon
making
fart
sounds as conversation. What are the
chances Thomas left that out of his Ivy account?

Ugh.

Aunty ushers
Matt upstairs for the night, leaving me standing alone and self-conscious by
the front door.