Young Truths (Young Series) (42 page)

Her brow furrows, but she nods. “Yeah, sure,” she whispers, pushing herself to her feet. “Whatever you need. I’ll stay home with you today in case you need me.”

I try to nod, though I don’t know if I actually manage it as I stand up and walk past her. Climbing the stairs, it takes every bit of strength not to trip. Vaguely, I notice Tyler staring at me with wide, worried eyes as I make my way to the bedroom. I want to stop and reassure him that I’m okay, but I don’t want to lie to him. I’ve hurt enough people lately; I won’t hurt my son, too.

Somehow I manage to make it to the bed before the first sob hits me. I curl up
in the middle, hoping that if I close my eyes tightly enough, I’ll wake up in a few hours and realize this is just some really bad dream.

The last few days have been, for lack of a better description, hell. Matthew hasn’t gotten out of bed any longer than it takes him to use the bathroom. He won’t eat. He won’t sleep—our nights are spent with him tossing and turning. I don’t know what to do for him. Whenever I try talking to him, he just stares at me with a blank, deadened expression. The scariest part is I recognize that expression from when my mother died; I saw that expression on my own face whenever I looked into the mirror.

Matthew’s unresponsiveness is starting to scare Tyler. He doesn’t understand why his dad won’t get out of bed to play with him. I explained to him that Matthew is sad because his father died, but I don’t think he really gets that death is permanent. Looking at it from his point of view, I can understand w
hy he’s having trouble with the concept: Last summer, I told him Matthew died in a plane crash, then a couple months later, Matthew was back. How do you make a seven-year-old understand something when their experience is the complete opposite?

Tomorrow is Paul’s funeral. I told Matthew about it right after Danny called to inform me, but he didn’t react in the slightest. I’m almost tempted to call Marcus to help me get my husband ready. We don’t have much of an option about whether we bring the kids. Diane and Claire are our usual babysitters and of course they’ll both be there tomorrow. Olivia is far too young to know what’s happening, so I’m not overly worried about her. And maybe this is the best way to make Tyler understand the finality of death.

The only good thing to happen since Claire burst into the apartment was when Danny hand-delivered an envelope to me last night. Inside the envelope are the results of the paternity test. I’d completely forgotten about the test with everything going on and I still haven’t opened it to find out the truth. I’m waiting until Matthew is a little more coherent and can understand what I’m talking about. Right now, I doubt he’d react at all. I’ve known for months that it would only be a matter of time before Matthew was finally pushed over the edge of what he could handle. It seems we’ve found his limit. Never before have I seen him like this. I wonder if this is the state he was in when Tyler and I left him those years ago. If it is, it will just bring back the guilt I managed to get passed.

I haven’t been to work in days. My place right now is at home in case Matthew needs me and nothing is more important than him right now. The rest can wait.

Having set Tyler up at the table with his dinner, I head upstairs, hoping I can get Matthew to eat something to regain his strength. He’s going to need it tomorrow. When I enter our bedroom, I find him in the exact spot he was in when I last checked on him—curled up on his side, breathing shakily, and staring at nothing at all. I set his dinner plate on the nightstand and kneel down in front of him. “Are you feeling up to eating?” I ask softly, running my fingers through the hair at his temple. “I made chicken.”

He’s staring over my shoulder and I have no clue whether he even realizes I’m here. I switch on the bedside lamp, hoping I can get a response out of him with the paternity results.
If this is the only way I can reach him, I need to try. “So this came for us yesterday,” I say matter-of-factly, pulling the envelope from the back pocket of my jeans. “It’s Olivia’s paternity results. I haven’t looked yet; I wanted to do it with you.” I search his face for any sign that he hears me. Sighing, I slide my finger under the flap of the envelope to open it and pull out the folded papers inside. Pushing myself off the floor, I lie down beside him on the bed, facing him. “Do you want to see?” I don’t bother waiting for a reaction as I smooth out the papers and hold them so he can look if he wants to, and begin to read. A grin begins growing on my face the more I read and I can barely contain my happiness.

“It’s official,” I say quietly, looking at my husband. “You are well and truly Olivia’s father.”

For the first time in days, his gaze slowly moves to meet mine and his brow furrows slightly as though he is just now realizing I’m beside him. I drop the results on the floor for the time being, shifting to better see him. Very tentatively, as though he’s testing to see whether I’m real, he reaches out to very softly trail one finger down my cheek, then heaves a huge sigh of relief.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, pressing his entire hand against my skin.

He jerks a shoulder in an attempt to shrug, but doesn’t answer.

“Matt, you have to eat something. Please? For me?”

His shoulder twitches again and I take that as a yes, quickly sitting up before he withdraws from me once again. He lets me feed him a few small bites of chicken and mashed potato before he shakes his head, signaling he doesn’t want anymore. It’s more than he’s eaten in days, so I consider it a small victory. “Do you want to come downstairs and watch TV with us? Tyler misses you.” I take his hand in mine, rubbing my thumb across his knuckles. “I miss you, too.”

“No,” he croaks.

My eyebrows shoot up. “No, what?” I ask gently. “No, you don’t want to come downstairs?” His head shakes minutely. I sigh. “Okay. Tomorrow is going to be a long one, so you might as well get as much rest as you can. I’ll come back once Tyler and Olivia are in bed. Let me know if you need me.”

“I always need you,” he says, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

I stare at him for a couple moments on the verge of either crying or launching myself at him. “You’re welcome,” I whisper back, leaning down to kiss him. “I love you.”

Already he’s gone back to staring into oblivion. Sighing again, I leave him to his thoughts and return to my children, my heart breaking for Matthew.

“Thought you could use all the help you could get today,” Marcus says as I hold the door open for him. “How’s Matt?”

Shaking my head, inwardly very relieved that I’ve got a bit of help, I close the door and lead him to the kitchen where Tyler is eating breakfast and trying to give Olivia her bottle at the same time. “Want some coffee and pancakes?” I ask, dropping a couple more pancakes on my son’s plate.

“Sure, that would be great, Sam, thanks,” Marcus says, sitting down beside Olivia. He takes Olivia’s bottle so Tyler can focus on his breakfast. To Tyler’s annoyance, his baby sister doesn’t hesitate to take the bottle when Marcus offers it to him and I drop a couple pieces of bacon on his plate to appease him.

After fixing Marcus a plate and cup of coffee, I sit at the table beside Tyler. “Matt is... a wreck,” I tell Marcus once Tyler is occupied with eating and playing his videogame. “He hasn’t been out of bed. He won’t eat anything. He won’t talk to me... I’m not even sure he knows what today is.”

Marcus nods. “You just worry about the kids. I’ll take care of Matt,” he assures me.

I smile gratefully. “Thank you.”

He winks as he takes a bite of his pancake. After breakfast, I send Tyler upstairs to get dressed and brush his teeth while I drop Olivia off in her crib, then lead Marcus to my and Matthew’s bedroom. “Matt?” I call softly, opening the door. “Marcus is here.”

I can’t tell if he’s asleep or just ignoring us, but turn to Marcus. “I hung his suit on the bathroom door hook. He’s probably going to need a shave,” I add apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marcus urges softly. “He’ll be perfectly presentable by the time we need to leave.”

Throwing an uncertain glance in my husband’s direction, I smile tightly at Marcus and leave him to it, wondering which of them is going to leave this room with a black eye. I’ve seen Matthew depressed; it was his permanent state of being after the bombing of his building. Well, that and acute bouts of anger usually directed towards me. That I could probably handle, particularly knowing how to snap him out of it—all I had to do last time was disappear for a day and make him think I was leaving him. I don’t think I’d go to such lengths unless it was absolutely necessary, but I’m not sure how to get him out of this depression. It scares me to see him like this when he’s normally the strong one of the two of us. No matter the circumstances, he’s right there to reassure and comfort me, and it kills me that I can’t do the same for him. 

An hour later, the five of us are climbing into Marcus’s SUV and he’s driving us towards the church where the funeral service is being held. To my surprise, Marcus managed to get Matthew through the shower, shaved, and in his suit without too much trouble at all. When they made their way downstairs, my husband didn’t seem to have a clue what was going on. He was so pale and the look in his eyes was devastation and defeat. I recognized that expression from last November after Tyler was kidnapped and I told him our son and I would be staying with Claire. Sitting in the front seat beside Marcus, Matthew doesn’t allow anyone to engage him in any sort of interaction, preferring to stare out the window. Every so often, I lean forward in my seat to reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t react even once.

“Here we are,” Marcus declares softly, pulling into a parking spot and shutting off the ignition. He offers to carry Olivia inside, possibly with the hope that if I escort Matthew he’ll regain some semblance of normalcy. I think it’s a bit of a long shot, but worth a try.

I open the passenger door and reach across to unbuckle Matthew. “We’re going inside now,” I tell him gently, taking his hand. Mechanically, he throws his legs outside of the car and stumbles to his feet. I wrap an arm around his waist to steady him and Tyler rushes around the other side of the car to take his father’s free hand in an attempt to help me.

Inside the church, a crowd has already arrived and I examine all the faces, searching for more familiar, friendly ones. I haven’t spoken to Claire since the other day when she came to the apartment and I can only hope she’s calmed down since then. When I finally find her standing between Danny and her mother, she looks at us and glares as though we’re the antichrists. Clearly we would not be welcome in their little circle right now...

“Why are we here?” Matthew asks hoarsely. I look up at him, his brow furrowed as he looks around. “Nobody wants me here, Sam.”

“Of course they do,” I insist. “And you have every right to be here.”

“Bullshit,” he hisses. “I’m the last person who has any right to be here. They all hate me. They all know what I did.”

I glance at Marcus who immediately takes Tyler’s hand and leads him away to give us some privacy. “You have to stop this, Matt,” I beg him in a whisper. “You’ve done nothing wrong. So you and your dad got into a fight; that doesn’t mean you’re the reason he did this to himself. You don’t know what was going on in his head that night.”

He only shakes his head at me and stares at the front of the church where a closed casket sits with an American flag draped over it. “Tell that to my sister,” he says bitterly.

As much as I love Claire, right now I’m tempted to do just that and much more, knowing Matthew wouldn’t be in this state if not for her. I know her well enough to know that once she calms down a little and thinks things through, she’ll be around to apologize. Until then, though, Matthew will only feel worse about himself.

Marcus and Tyler return just before the service begins. Luckily, Olivia remains fast asleep throughout and we don’t draw any more attention than we already have by simply arriving. Matthew’s only reaction is to hold onto my hand like it’s his lifeline and about halfway through, I glance over to see how he’s holding up, only to find his cheeks strained with tears. Marcus passes me a handkerchief as my own tears make their appearance—not for the loss of Paul Young, but for the pain my husband is experiencing. Wrapping my arms around him, I comfort him the only I know
how and eventually he rests his head against my shoulder and relaxes slightly, accepting my attempt.

At the end of the service, Matthew absolutely refuses to stay any longer than we have to. I can’t even convince him to go to his mother. Marcus drives us home and promises to come by again in the morning, telling me to call if we need him. The moment we’re inside, Matthew wastes no time stumbling back upstairs to the bedroom. I don’t follow him, but give him the time alone he needs.

I don’t know what time it is. Don’t even know what
day
it is. All I know is that I’ve never felt so lost, angry, and sad in my life. It’s not only for the loss of my father that I feel like this; it’s for everything. The miracle of Samantha and Tyler coming back to me. The fear I felt after the plane crash, not knowing when I’d see them again. The kidnapping. Finding out Samantha was pregnant. Tyler’s kidnapping. Leo’s and Natalie’s betrayals. Losing my family all over again. Finally getting them back. Our wedding. Losing Bonnie. The birth of our daughter...
Every
thing. Those around me have been saying for months that it would only be a matter of time before I snapped; it seems they were right.