When Joss Met Matt (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-three

Six Weeks Ago

I was in my underwear when the call came. It was early in the morning, before I even left for work, and I answered out of curiosity more than anything. I didn't recognize the number, and the display on my phone told me it was out of state.

“Jocelyn?”

“Yes?” The voice was vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

“Hey, this is Tom Lehrer. Matt's brother? We've met a few times …” Tom lived in Nevada and I couldn't imagine why he was calling.

“Yeah, of course. I remember. How did—why—what can I do for you?”

“Well, look, Matt would kill me for calling you, but, um … our dad died early this morning.”

I dropped my toothbrush, already loaded with paste into the sink. “Oh my God! What happened?” Their dad was young, and healthy as far as I knew.

“It was a heart attack.”

“Shit. Oh God, Tom, I'm so sorry!” I sank to the small rug on the bathroom floor and let Dewey crawl into my lap. His needle claws made me jump as he got settled.

“Thanks. The reason I'm calling is Matt's taking the whole thing pretty hard. He's … uh … I don't think he's thinking straight. I remembered your name and I got your number out of the alumni directory. I hope that's okay.”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you now?”

“I'm at the airport in Nevada. I'm on my way home. That's why I'm calling. I don't know if my mom can handle all this alone.”

“Where are they?”

“St. Mary's up in Mequon. Do you think—?”

“I'm on my way.”

I called in sick to work, and scrambled into clothes. Dewey yowled in protest as I rushed for the front door. I backtracked long enough to dump kibble into his bowl, and then I was gone. All I could think of was getting to Matt. The hospital was pretty far away, and I had to use all my willpower not to press the pedal to the floor. I still made it in record time and asked for John Lehrer's room at the information desk.

The elevator ride was excruciatingly slow. I wished I'd taken the stairs, and stood too close to the doors so I could squeeze through the minute they opened. My heart thudded in my ears as I found my way to the assigned room and knocked gently.

“Come in.” I recognized Matt's mom by her voice.

I pushed open the door and peeked around the curtain. John was motionless in the bed, with the waxy look that only the dead possess. It was clear that the staff had cleaned him up a bit and given the family some private time. I'd never understood the practice myself, but I knew people wanted to say their goodbyes in their own way. I pulled my eyes from his still form and focused on the two people huddled on the vinyl love seat on the far side of the room. Matt's mom, Linda, was puffy eyed and had a vacant expression. I couldn't see Matt's face. He was slumped forward, head in his hands and rocking just slightly. Linda had one hand on his back, patting him rhythmically.

“Matt?” I whispered and he startled.

Linda looked at me, recognition dawning in her eyes. “How did …?” she wondered.

“I'm sorry,” I breathed. “Tom called me. He's on his way.”

“Joss …” Matt looked up. His eyes were red and wet. My heart hurt—physically ached—to look at him.

“I'm sorry,” I said again. “I probably shouldn't have come.”

He stood then and lurched at me. I barely stood my ground as he wrapped his arms around me and broke into fresh tears.

“I'm sorry,” I repeated, words muffled by his shoulder.

“You're here,” he said. “You came.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

All that long day, I stayed with Matt, holding on to him whenever he seemed to need it, and trying to make myself useful to the family. I picked up Tom from the airport when he arrived a few hours later. He seemed to be the final straw for Linda, who broke down at last. The grief was terrible, thick and heavy in the room. I wanted to pull them all into my lap and hum lullabies. Scratch behind their ears and murmur affection like I did with frightened animals at work. Instead, I brought them sandwiches, and made phone calls and shared their sadness.

Tom had been right about Matt. He was out of his mind with grief. Alternating between blank stares and painful tears, he was barely present in the room with the rest of the family. I was scared for him. Scared he wouldn't be able to pull himself together. He must have looked as awful to the professionals, because one of the doctors offered him a prescription for a sleeping pill. He shook his head, but I took the paper and tucked it into my pocket.

“I don't need that.”

“I didn't say you did.” I slipped my arm around his shoulders and pressed my lips against his head. “But when a doctor offers you the good stuff, you don't say no.”

He didn't even smile. That was the worst of it. He had no sense of humor. I leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “You gotta at least fake it, Matty. Your mom can't worry about you today, okay?”

He winced and nodded. His participation didn't improve much, but it was enough for the stunned Linda to release a little of her worry for him.

When the arrangements were settled for the day, when John's body was moved to the morgue, when Linda's sister Janice was en route from Arizona, when the last close friend had left for the day, when Tom was ready to take Linda home, it came down to me to take care of Matt. I didn't mind. I wanted to make sure he was okay, and being the one on watch was the easiest way to do that. He didn't question me when I followed his car back to the east side and parked in my usual spot. He waited for me at the door, eyes blank with faraway thoughts, and didn't protest when I took the key from his hand and let us into his apartment.

“I'm gonna stay with you tonight,” I informed him and he nodded.

I left him on the couch with ESPN playing for background noise and slipped down the hall to use my phone out of his earshot. My first call went to Nellie; I asked her to check in on Dewey.

“How's he doing?” she asked, referring to Matt.

“God, Nell, he's in bad shape.”

“Poor kid.”

Matt's bed was unmade, the comforter thrown back in his haste to get out of bed so many hours ago. I straightened it as I talked, just for something to do. “I'm going to stay with him tonight. Maybe tomorrow. I'm worried about him.”

“Why don't I bring Dewey to my house until you're ready for him?”

“That would be great.” I laughed. “Maybe I should bring Matt to my place. Dewey would molest him into happiness.”

She snickered. “That'll be Plan B. Is there anything I can do?”

“I don't even know what I'm supposed to do.” Tears slipped down my cheeks for the first time in hours. I'd held fast to my own feelings while Matt and his family cried, but seeing him in so much pain was killing me.

“You're already doing it.”

“This sucks,” I whispered. “I have no right to be crying.”

“You have every right, you idiot.”

I perched on the bed, on the side that was always mine. “Crying won't help him.”

“All he needs right now is someone who loves him to be there.” She paused. “And I know you love him … in your own fucked up way.”

Scrubbing my eyes a little too hard, I exhaled. “Please don't lecture me right now.”

“Lecture? I wouldn't dream of it.”

“Sure.” I heard a sound from the living room. “I should go.”

“Okay. Don't worry about the fur ball. I've got him handled. Give Matt a hug for me.”

“Will do. Thanks, Nell.”

I tiptoed to the living room, but Matt had just knocked the remote to the floor. He was looking past it, as if it had only dented his consciousness.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

I chewed the inside of my cheek while I thought of what to do next. I wanted to wrap myself around him and absorb some of the hurt from his body. “If I get some food, will you eat?”

“Okay.”

I called for pizza delivery, and then called in sick to work for the following day before settling on the end of the couch. He was four feet away, but I felt a wall between us.

“Matty …” I reached across the chasm to touch his leg. “You still in there?”

“Yeah.” He leaned over until his head rested in my lap, curling one arm across my hips. I felt the heat of his face through my jeans. I touched the inside of my wrist to his forehead. He was hot to the touch, but not feverish. Still, I shifted my perpetually cool fingers to his skin.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

I folded myself over him, cheek coming to rest on his waist. We stayed that way until the doorbell announced the arrival of pizza.

Matt didn't eat much, but more than I'd expected. Finally, knowing he'd been up since four in the morning, I took him by the hand and led him to bed.

I could have slept on the couch, but the idea was insane to me. I was here for Matt, and I was going to be as close as possible if he needed me. I stripped down to my underwear and borrowed a T-shirt from Matt's dresser before sliding into bed with him and pulling him tight against me.

“Matt, I'm so, so sorry,” I whispered.

“I wish I'd known the last time I saw him was going to be the last time.” His tone was flat, dull.

“I know.” I kissed the top of his head.

“I wish I'd made it there before he died this morning.”

“I know.”

He started to cry again, and in the dark, I couldn't resist joining him. I didn't know his father well, although he had always been very nice when I'd seen him. I cried for Matt, who had never seemed so very far away before. His body was present, but his mind seemed lost. I pulled him closer, as if proximity was the cure for his wandering thoughts.

He tilted his head to find my lips and kissed me. His lips felt tight, stiff. Not soft and teasing like I'd come to expect. Normally, I felt promise from him. That night, I couldn't be sure what he was thinking. Did he want this? Would he regret it? I set my fingertips against his jaw and rubbed my toes along his shin, hoping he'd understand I was consenting, but letting him lead. Tears slipped in crooked paths toward my ears, joined by his. His mouth went rough, but I didn't care. At least he was present like that.

I played Follow the Leader—mirroring his actions—but ready to stop if he decided it was too much.

He didn't.

The sex was brief but eager. We were both covered in sweat and tears when it was done, and panting out the kind of hard breaths that feel as though they will never return to normal.

I clung to his shoulders, feeling overworked muscles protest against the sprint they'd endured. My thighs shook and it was hard to keep them wide around his hips.

“I'm sorry, Joss,” he gasped. “I shouldn't—” It was the first time we'd ever had sex without discussing it beforehand.

“Don't be. It's fine.”

“I'm sorry,” he said again.

“Shh.” I scrunched my fingers into the back of his hair and kissed his cheek. “Don't.” I was happy I'd given him even a second of relief.

“Thank you.”

I stayed with Matt for a week. Even after I went back to work on Thursday, I returned to his house in the evenings. The funeral was scheduled for Saturday to give all of the out-of-town relatives time to convene.

Every night, I climbed into bed with him, wondering if he would tell me he didn't need me there anymore, but he didn't. After the first night, we only shared the space, sleeping side by side, but not sleeping together. That was a first for us, and I was surprised at how natural it felt.

On the other hand, it was Matt. My Matt. I would have done a lot more for him if he'd asked me to. He was one of the closest friends I'd ever had. The only one I had a habit of sleeping with, but still—a friend above all else.

The day of the funeral, I was ready to step into the background, and let the Lehrers focus on each other. Then, Linda saw me and gave me a lung-crushing hug. “Thank you for taking care of my baby,” she said.

I couldn't help smiling at the idea of Matt being her baby. “Of course.”

“He's lucky to have you.” She gave me one final squeeze before releasing me.

“I feel the same way.”

Matt took my hand as he passed by to give his mom a hug. He didn't let go, turning me into a human kite as he first hugged his mother, then his aunt and other relatives I didn't recognize.

Funerals, especially for the young—and John had only been fifty-eight—are such an awkward mix of joyous reunion and terrible sadness. He still had so many living friends and relatives who came to celebrate his life and the unexpected tragedy of his death. All around me I could hear exclamations of surprise as the mourners found friends they didn't expect to see. Bursts of laughter, followed by guilty glances at the family.

The Lehrers didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, Matt, Linda, and Tom looked brighter than I'd seen them. Before the service began, Matt even smiled as friends arrived. No million-watt, used-car-salesman grin, but a real smile. It was a start.

The last person he spoke to before he had to report for pallbearer duty was a great-aunt on his mother's side. She offered condolences, of course, but couldn't resist appraising Matt with astonishment.

“The last time I saw you, you were graduating high school, and look at you now.” She smiled at him, shaking her head as if to say, “Where has the time gone?” Then she turned to me. “And this must be your girlfriend?” He was holding my hand again, as if I was his anchor to reality.

“Uhh—” Without thinking, I deferred to Matt with my eyes.

His great-aunt caught the movement. “Oh, Matthew, you should know better than to keep a girl guessing.”