Page 71 of Open Water

The voice is tentative. Questioning. Like he’s not sure if he should be there.

“Hi, kiddo.” Tom sighs and nudges towards the space next to him. “There is coffee in the machine if you want some?”

Matteo just nods and disappears back in the house, only to reappear, carefully balancing a cup in his hands. He sits. Smiling nervously as he crosses his feet against the wooden planks on the veranda. They need varnishing. The whole thing needs a clean. It’s just that Tom is crap at this outdoorsy thing. Like gardens. Verandas. Garden furniture. Plants and that green dangerous slope that is supposed to be a lawn, but kind of looks like a mess of weeds and dandelions giving small splashes of yellow against the green.

“Thanks for the socks,” Matteo says, wriggling his toes in the sparkling-white, obviously new socks he’s wearing.

“Least I could do. You’re amazing with Max. He adores you. We all do. Is he still asleep?” Tom asks, and now the kid is blushing. A tiny smile creeping over his lips as he takes a sip of coffee.

“Yeah,” Matteo replies, blushing like he’s a little embarrassed. Yet proud.

“It’s good that he sleeps. He copes so much better with the world after he’s well rested. When he gets run down, his anxieties get worse.” Tom looks over at the kid who is chewing on a fingernail. Holding his cup at an angle, the hot liquid threatening to spill.

“Where is Lukas?” he asks. Looking out over the neighbourhood below them, the light breeze making his hair lift from his forehead.

“He went home. I think I’ve fucked up again.” Tom doesn’t dare to say more, because if he does he will no doubt start to cry and scar the poor kid for life. Matteo doesn’t need Tom being pathetic on top of all the other burdens he carries around on his shoulders.

“What did you do?” Matteo asks, all innocently, and Tom takes a nervous gulp of coffee.

“I get these ideas in my head, like I can see it so clearly, how we would all fit together as a family. It would be amazing, the four of us. All living here and being together and having all this love around us. I can see it, but I forgot that I’m kind of pushing my vision on to Lukas. And on you guys, when it may not be what you want at all. And I think I’ve scared Lukas. It was too much, too soon, when I have just kind of convinced him to just try to be with me. To see if he could even entertain the idea of falling in love with me. Because right now, he’s probably sitting at home thinking he might have had a lucky escape.”

Oh God. Tom talks too much, because now the kid looks terrified.

“You want us all to live here?” Matteo almost whispers.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m pushing you into this, too, when you barely know us. But, yeah, I do.” Tom is just being honest. And he wants it. He wants Max to be happy, and Matteo makes him happy. He’s been brilliant with Max. Tom doesn’t doubt that for a minute. Like yesterday, when Max was panicking again, and Matteo just held him, speaking quietly and steadily to him, with Max hanging on to his every word. He would make a good doctor. He has it all in him already. The kid is all compassion and care, which is surprising, knowing the little things Tom knows about him.

“Look, kiddo, can I ask you something? I mean, you have every right not to tell me anything, but I just want to know where I stand in all this.”

“Sure,” Matteo replies, but he doesn’t look up.

“Where are your parents?” It’s blunt, but Tom kind of needs to know all this. Get some idea of the framework to start with.

“Sudwestkirchhof Stahnsdorf.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a cemetery outside Berlin. It’s supposed to be pretty, all woodland and flowers. I’ve never been.”

“You’re German?” Tom sits up and leans forward. So many questions. So many fucking questions. “You sounded like you spoke German. Like perfectly.”

“I don’t speak it anymore. My parents were German. They came here so my Dad could do his doctorate degree, and we ended up staying. We always spoke German at home.”

He goes quiet again, his hand clearly trembling as he takes another sip of coffee.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Tom questions, trying to keep his voice low.

“No,” Matteo says, shaking his head vigorously. “I don’t talk about it. We were just out in the car. Driving. I can’t even remember where we were going, just that my Mum was driving, and Dad was talking, and we were happy… and then, suddenly… my life was never the same again. They said it was just a fluke. There was no ice on the road. There were no mistakes, no drunk driver or anything. Just a lorry and our car, and then, it was all over. I don’t remember anything. I don’t. I never talk about it, because I don’t fucking remember.”

He’s almost shouting out the last sentence and there is coffee spilling onto his leg, making Tom carefully try to remove the coffee cup from his hand.

“You don’t have to remember. Sometimes, our mind chooses to protect us. Sometimes, it’s good that your brain has said,enough. You don’t need to remember. Remember the good. Not the bad.”

“My parents didn’t make it,” Matteo says coldly. “My uncle came over from Germany and brought them back to Berlin. He sold the flat we were in. I’ve never been back there either.”

“But what about you?” Tom shouldn’t ask. He can see that this is painful, and Matteo has gone all pale. He needs to tread carefully before he pushes too far, but then the kid needs to get this kind of shit out sometimes, because carrying all this baggage would kill anyone. Not least a kid like Matteo.

“I wasn’t supposed to make it either. Nobody thought I would. I was in the hospital for almost a year, that’s why I’m a year behind. When I was finally well enough to go home, I had nowhere to go. I went to a foster home, but then, I got sick again and needed to go back in for more surgery, and when I got better, they sent me to another place. It just went on and on…”

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