Page 26 of Knotty, Nice, & Holiday Lights
“Yes,” Asher adds, stretching out the word. “We’ll be seeing you.”
The air is nearly freezing in the dark, and a puff of my breath comes out like steam in the glow of the porch light.
“Should we… walk along Main Street?”
“Sure,” I say. Maybe moving will warm me up a bit.
The lights on display all over Main Street are so beautiful, my cold face hurts from smiling. The turkeys and leaves and pumpkins all around us, along the sidewalks, hanging in the storefront windows. It’s like a greeting card, or one of those corny made-for-TV holiday movies that I’ll never admit I love to watch every year.
“This is a lot tougher than I thought it would be,” Matthew says, looking down at the sidewalk as we move, his hands still stuffed in his pockets. When he looks at me beside him, hisbeautiful eyes glisten in the lights surrounding us. “I can only imagine what you think of me. After what I did.”
My lips part to respond, but nothing comes out. The pain in my chest feels like longing, but am I longing for Matthew of for an explanation?
He lets out a long breath, the steam not as thick as it had been earlier. “You remember that gamer convention we went to together about six months before I left L.A.?”
“Yeah,” I respond, tone light, thinking of my little bunny plush. He bought it for me there. I even brought her with me to Crescent Lake.
“Well, things went great while I was there. You remember I started getting more and more opportunities and lots of endorsements? Thing is, the more attention I got, the more stressed I became. Until I had my first panic attack.” His words are light as air now, and I feel the strain in my face from my worried expression.
“I thought I was having a heart attack and went to the hospital.”
I stop in my tracks, grab his upper arm to turn him toward me. “Why didn’t you call me?”
He closes his eyes, his body shrinking on a breath. “I was going to, until they ran their tests and found out I was fine. It was all in my head.” He looks back at me, anger in his eyes, but I know it’s not directed at me. “I was so embarrassed. They gave me a shot in the ass and sent me home with a prescription for anti-anxiety meds.” He steps back from my grasp, head shaking from side to side. “That was when I knew I had to make changes. I wasn’t strong enough to keep up with the public face of gaming content creation, so I did my research and found a faraway place in the state where I could live and still make content from.”
“Crescent Lake.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, then starts to walk again, leaving me to follow. “I mean, GamerTube is the only thing I know how to do well anymore, and I can still live off of what I make on the platform, even without the public appearances. Less sponsors only hurt me in the short haul. My subscribers alone have been carrying me since I moved.”
“So you left me without a word because you were…” I can’t believe the words that are about to come out of my mouth.“Embarrassedby the trouble you were having?”
He stops and turns to me, the look on his face sick, although I don’t know if it’s because of my accusation or his own guilt.
“I’m a total shit human being, Iz. I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I’m not stupid enough to ask for it.”
I try to tamp down my anger, I really do. “Then whatdoyou want?”
His mouth opens and closes wordlessly once, twice, then he says, “I’m sorry, Iz. I’m sorry for hurting you, for being a total douche canoe.” His body collapses in on itself again, like he’s becoming smaller the longer he’s near me, and I hate it. I hate it so much. This helplessness, this heaviness in my chest that feels like guilt when I know I’m not to blame for what happened.
His voice is earnest now. “I’m sorry for not thinking of you like you deserved. Like you still deserve now. For making you feel badly about me and my actions.” His eyes cast to the side then back. “I’ve honestly never stopped…” he sighs, lets his head fall. “I thought of you all the time, but I figured you hated me and were better off if I didn’t bother you.” When he looks back up, there is so much pain in his face that I have to stop myself from wrapping him in my arms. Comforting Matthew had always come as second nature to me.
But who is going to comfort me?
“I never expected to see you again,” he whispers. “And then you wind up here…” His eyes bore into me, dark brows drawntogether, imploring. “Is there anything I can do to make you hate me less?”
The pain in my chest grows, my eyes begin to swim. “I don’t hate you, Matthew,” I breathe, clutching my chest against that throb. “You hurt me, yeah, but I couldn’t ever bring myself to hate you.” I press my lips between my teeth before uttering, “I miss my best friend.”
“Me, too.” He takes a step toward me, but stops, looking a little bashful. “So, I heard there may be a Thanksgiving feast up for grabs tomorrow…”
I let out a watery laugh, swipe at a tear that streams down my cheek. “Is that right?”
Another step forward, those mismatched eyes looking serious, imploring. “Would you be okay with me joining you guys?”
Would I?
The longing in my chest says I want him to be near me, but my brain questions that feeling. One thing my emotions and mind can agree on is that I still care for Matthew, deeply. And it does look like he’s remorseful for what he did.
All I can do is give him a chance, as friends, to mend what’s been broken.
