For a few minutes we just sat there holding each other in silence. It always felt like he took away some of my pain when he held me. I hoped I was doing the same for him.
“I can’t stand the thought of you hating me,” he said into my hair. “I can’t lose you too.”
It didn’t matter how mad I was. I loved him. I loved him so much that it hurt. That’s why I was hurting right now. That’s why he was hurting. I didn’t want to cause him any more pain. “Of course I don’t hate you, Matt. I just didn’t very much like you for a couple days there.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. He didn’t have to apologize. I got it. I really did. He was scared of losing someone else. Maybe he was projecting his fears of suicide onto James. Maybe he wasn’t. But either way, I could see his fears becoming reality. And I would never do something to jeopardize James’ health.
“Can you tell me about your aunt?” I asked. And then my stomach growled embarrassingly loud. I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do.
He leaned back with a smile on his face. But I saw it now. The sadness in his eyes. How had I not seen it before?
“I don’t even know if you’re going to remember any of this tomorrow,” he said. “But yeah, I’d like that.” His smile grew. “You have the munchies, though, so let me go grab us some food from downstairs and then I’ll tell you all about her.”
I moved off his lap and watched him leave. And I tried not to think about the fact that he knew where the kitchen was because of his visits with Isabella. Or the fact that I might forget all of this in the morning. I touched the side of my head. Stupid Cupcake.
I shook away the thought. Our fight from a few minutes ago had changed everything. Matt had lost someone too. He was just like me. I didn’t feel nearly as alone anymore. And at least I understood now why he couldn’t just come clean. But I was very aware of the fact that nothing had really changed. He hadn’t told me what Isabella was blackmailing him for. And I’d still be a secret.
Chapter 16
Saturday
It was hard to picture Matt as a little kid. He was just so big and intimidating now. I couldn’t imagine him small. But I’m sure his hair was just as golden back then. And his smile was probably equally contagious. He was smiling now, reminiscing about moments with his aunt from when he was younger. They used to paint together. I had the same reaction to the idea of his hands being little and holding a delicate brush. They seemed much too big to hold a paintbrush. But they were probably a lot smaller back then.
“Do you miss that?” I asked.
“Spending time with her or painting?”
I stared into his eyes. “Both.”
He nodded. “Both,” he agreed.
“You could still paint, you know. Maybe it’ll make you feel closer to her?” Like how I felt close to my mom when I looked at the stars on the fire escape. Or saw the color yellow. Or wore the sneakers she gave me. I swallowed down the lump in my throat.
He reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t have that much free time.”
Because of football practice? Because of me? Because of worrying about James? He didn’t offer an explanation. And I didn’t know if I should push anymore. He’d already told me his fears. He’d told me a secret he was keeping. He was finally letting me in. “She sounded like a wonderful person.”
“I didn’t even know she was depressed. How self-consumed was I that I never noticed?”
“It’s not your fault, Matt.”
“I should have seen it.”
“You’re just a teenager. It wasn’t your job to see it. Or fix it.” I saw the irony in my words. Because James was a teenager. And if his closest friends didn’t see his behavior as worrisome, who else was going to take the time to? The way Rob had described their parents was chilling. All James had were his friends. And his girlfriend, but his parents were pressuring him to break up with her. I didn’t know what to say.
We were stretched out on my bed. Close, but not touching except for our intertwined fingers. I wanted to pull him in closer, but I wasn’t sure if he was still mad at me. The empty Pringles can Matt had pilfered from downstairs was lying between us, like an impenetrable wall. And thinking about Pringles made me hungry all over again. I was never going to eat pot sugarcakes again. Focus. “What are we going to do about James?”
“You’re going to forget I said anything. And let me handle it.”