“I think he just assumed it was because of…you know. Our economic differences.”
Economic differences? Something about the way he tried to make it sound fancy pissed me off. It was almost as if he was confirming why he finally told his mother about me. Because maybe we weren’t so economically different now. “You mean because I’m poor and you’re rich?” I took a step back from him. “You let him think that you’re embarrassed to be with me?”
“That’s not…”
“That is what you did. And that is what he thinks. Of course that’s what he thinks.”
“Hey.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. “I just need a bit more time. But I promise I’ll figure it out, okay?” He cupped the side of my face with his hand. “I could never be embarrassed of you. I love you.”
I couldn’t exactly stay mad at him when he said that. I had worried he wasn’t going to say it ever again. But there it was. “I love this hotdog,” I said and took another bite to stall. He’d told his mom so he could get me out of this mess with Mr. Pruitt. And he’d already told me our relationship had to be a secret for now. Nothing had changed really. Except my living arrangements and possibly my last name.
He laughed. “Anything else you love?”
“This view.” I gestured to the water. His stupid perfect face and perfect smile were tipping the scales back in his favor.
“Is that all?”
I smiled up at him. “No.” I bit my lower lip, pretending to think. But there was nothing to think about. I’d still love him even if we had to hide from the world for a few more days. Or weeks. God, hopefully not months. I stared into his chocolaty brown eyes. “Oh right. I’m pretty sure I love you too.”
He leaned down and kissed me.
And I knew I could never stay mad at him when I craved his lips this much. I was pretty sure the taste of cinnamon on his lips somehow soothed my soul. And I needed more. I gripped the back of his neck.
He groaned into my mouth and pulled away far too soon. “As much as I want to keep doing that right now, I have one more stop on our adventure before we need to go back to school. I have a test third period that I can’t miss.” He grabbed my hand before I could respond and we started running through Central Park.
***
We did need a car to get to our second destination. So he hailed a taxi. He didn’t ask me to close my eyes this time. And as we made one turn after the next, I knew exactly where we were going.
When the taxi pulled up in front of the cemetery, I was already having a hard time keeping a straight face.
He knew how important it was for me to say goodbye. He knew how much missing the second half of the funeral weighed on me. He was already fixing everything.
I tried to hold it together as Matt opened the taxi door for me. And as he held my hand, winding me through the tombstones until we got to a patch of fresh dirt. And as I forced myself to not fall to my knees.
If Matt wasn’t here, I knew what I’d probably do. I’d cry big ugly tears. I’d sit on my uncle’s grave and have a conversation with him, like I so often did at my mom’s gravesite. I’d cry some more. I’d pray to go back in time. And most importantly, I’d tell him I was sorry that he gave up his last several weeks on earth to take care of me. I owed him everything.
But Matt was here. So I didn’t do any of those things. Instead, I just stared. I stared at the gravestone and tried to tell myself to hold it together. But in the end the grief won. I wasn’t strong enough to hold it in. I missed my uncle. I missed him so fucking much. And I regretted that the whole time my uncle was here with me, I’d been missing my mom instead of appreciating him. He’d never know how grateful I was that he’d taken me in when I didn’t have anyone else. He’d never know.
Instead of saying a word, Matt just held me so I wouldn’t fall. He let me cry all over his school blazer. I was pretty sure some snot got on there too, but he didn’t even flinch. When I’d sat on my mother’s grave, I had never felt so alone in my life. I expected the same thing to happen right now. But it didn’t. Because I wasn’t alone. I had Matt.
I closed my eyes hard and tried to stop the tears from falling. And my thoughts latched on to the first distraction, even though it wasn’t a great one. My mother didn’t want me to know who my father was. My uncle wanted to keep me from it too. Even Mrs. Alcaraz wanted to protect me from whatever went on under the Pruitts’ roof. Standing there on top of the dirt I was devastated. I couldn’t even stop the tears streaming down my cheeks. But mostly? I was terrified. Because I didn’t know why I needed protection from my own father. I knew his daughter was cold and cruel. It was likely Mr. Pruitt was those things too. But what if it was something worse?