Page 93 of Roleplay at Randy's
His shoulders deflate, and I can see just how torn he is by the look in his eyes. Hewantsto lean on me, to seek comfort, but he’s wound too tight.
“I’m the one who should be sorry.” His voice is just so small. “I wasn’t paying enough attention. I was so busy talking to—” He slams his mouth shut, the guilt rolling off him in waves.
I hate that there’s nothing I can do to make him feelbetter. If he expects a lecture, I don’t have one. This is par for the course, and with how involved Matty has become over the last several weeks, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened on his watch.
Looking at him now reminds me of the early parenting days. Everything scared me. Cal needed physical therapy when he was a baby because he wasn’t hitting his milestones. He went to hearing specialists for over two years because he wouldn’t respond to his name or loud noises. Occupational therapy. Speech. Developmental. Gut doctors.
Cal’s entire life has been in and out of one institution or another, a new hurdle every time we think we’ve mastered the last.
This is life for us. Cal and I, we’re in this for the long haul. No matter what happens, how tough things get, I’ll never turn my back on him.
Seeing what happened tonight, I don’t think Matty would either. He’d go to the ends of the Earth for Cal.
But it would tear him up in the process.
So, I decide to give him some space. I pull my hand away and pretend his pained sigh doesn’t make me want to reach for him again. He strokes his fingers through Cal’s hair, and I can’t read his expression, so I try to focus on anything else.
When the nurse calls Cal back, I help him to the room, and even though Matty tries to follow, I put a hand on his chest and stop him.
“Go home.” His jaw twitches like he’s going to argue. “I mean it, Matty. Unless you want me fussing over you, too. Go home. Miya will walk with you.”
I don’t tell him that it’s because I’m almost afraid to let him leave alone. Afraid home is the last place he’ll go.
My sister is on top of things, because she comes up toMatty and tugs on the sleeve of his hoodie. “I’ll take you by the diner, and we can grab milkshakes.”
I mouth a ‘thank you’ to her as she leads him out, and by the time I crash into the lone plastic chair in Cal’s room, I think the exhaustion might just take me before the night is over.
It’s aroundtwo in the morning when Cal and I make it back home, and thanks to the Versed, he’s still crashed out in my arms. Miya gets the door and helps me settle him into his bed, and I don’t have to say a single word for her to motion to the couch with a stern, lifted brow.
There isn’t any fight left in me, so I plop down beside her and throw my head back on the cushion.
“We found the battery,” she says. “After twenty minutes of Matty tearing the place apart. He was terrified, Ei.”
“I know he was.” My throat is dry and cracked. “How is he doing now?”
She shrugs. “Couldn’t tell you. He wouldn’t speak a word to me. I got a couple of signs out of him, but he’s shut down, little brother. I think the gravity of being a parent finally hit him.”
The severity in her words has me sitting up straighter. “He isn’t Cal’s parent, though.”
“No,” she says slowly, “but don’t you think he’s kind of taken on a similar role? He’s more than just a babysitter. He lives here. He doesn’t just see Cal for a few hours and then go back to his life. This place. The two of you. Youarehis life. The line is blurred so far there might as well not be one.”
She’s right. Shit, she’s right. I was afraid of Cal getting too attached, afraid that something official would be throwingMatty to the sharks, but this mess we’ve made in the meantime?
It’s exactly what I wanted to avoid.
“I never wanted Matty to get hurt.”
“It’d be an adjustment for anyone. He cares about you. About both of you. He just … needs time.”
I’m already running on fumes, so my brain trying to whirr to life and figure out how to save this fragile thing between us only gives me a headache.
My eyes close, and I only mean for it to be a couple of seconds, but when fingers that are definitely not Miya’s touch my cheek, I know it’s been longer.
Sleep clings to me like sludge, holding tight and trying to drag me back under, but Matty’s soft, brown eyes staring down at me act as an escape rope, tugging me out of the darkness.
I don’t reach out, because I don’t know where he’s at with his touch aversion, but I do lean into the hand he places on my cheek.
“You should come to bed,” he says softly, voice like a wisp of air.
