“Don’t fall in love with her,” Matt warns.
Paul nods his head in agreement. “Fuck her and be done with her,” he says.
She’s not like that.
Paul exhales heavily. “You haven’t slept with her yet, have you?”
I slept with her. I hang my head. But all we did was sleep.
“You’ve never slept with anyone, dumbass,” Paul says.
I haven’t. Not since my mom died. I used to crawl in bed with her when I was young. Her bed was always warm and smelled like her. After she died, I used to crawl in her empty bed just so I could smell her, until Paul changed the sheets and took that room as his own.
I know. I’ve had plenty of women in my bed. But none of them stayed.
“Stay smart,” Paul says, tapping his temple.
“He’d have to be smart to stay smart,” Matt says, bumping my knee with his. “He’s already half in love with her.” He looks down at his fee and then glares at me. “If you don’t want her, can I ask her out?”
She’s mine! I sign.
He holds his hands up to fend me off. “I know! I know! I said if, asshole. I just wanted to see where your head is.” He heaves a sigh. “Apparently, you really like this one.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think she has bad intentions. But I’m worried about you. Be careful.”
Matt’s in love with April. But she dumped him when she found out he was sick. Self-serving bitch.
“She brought me a bucket when I was sick last night,” Matt admits. “It was nice of her.”
Paul’s eyebrows draw together. “That was you, puking your guts out?” Paul asks.
This is Matt’s second round of chemo. The first didn’t work. This is his last chance. He nods.
Why didn’t you tell us? I ask.
He scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m scared,” he admits. He looks me in the eye and then his gaze moves to meet Paul’s. “I’m going to fucking die,” he says. He grins but there’s nothing funny about it. “So you don’t have to worry about me asking her out.”
“Don’t joke about that shit,” Paul bites out.
“I’m not joking,” Matt says. He’s serious.
Paul leans forward and squeezes Matt’s knee in his hand. “You have to believe it’s going to work. If you don’t, you don’t stand a chance.”
Matt pushes forward to perch on the edge of the sofa. “You guys believe for me, ok?” he says. “Because I’m too fucking tired to do it.” He gets up and goes to his room, closing the door behind him.
“When did he start admitting he’s afraid?” Paul asks.
I shrug. It’s the first time I’ve heard him say it. I look up at Paul. Fear clutches my heart in a death grip. He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?
“I don’t know,” he admits. He swipes a hand down his face.
I pat my shirt pocket, reaching for my cigarettes.
“Matt has fucking cancer, dumbass,” he snarls at me, his hands flying wildly. “And you want to smoke?”
I jerk the pack from my pocket and toss it across the room, into the waste basket.
Paul nods. “Thank you,” he signs dramatically. He sags back into the lazy chair.
He’s going to make it, right? I ask.
He nods. “Of course he is.”
I believe him. Because I can’t imagine a life without Matt in it. I won’t allow myself to think he’s going to die. I just won’t. If Matt can’t believe he’s going to live right now, I’ll believe enough for the two of us.
Paul stands up and ruffles my hair, and it quickly changes into a noogie. I brush his hand away. “Don’t worry,” he says.
The starts down the hallway, and I clap my hands to get his attention. He turns back to me, scratching his stomach. “What?” he asks.
“I want to talk to her,” I admit.
His eyebrows draw together. “Yeah?” He shrugs. “So talk.”
I want to tell him about her dyslexia, so he won’t feel like I’ve been holding out all these years, but that’s not my story to tell. It’s hers. I shake my head. It’s just too hard to explain. She’s making me feel things I’ve never felt before. She makes me want things.
“I wish you’d just fuck her and get it out of your system. Then you can be done with her. And stop wishing for things you can’t have.”
She gasps behind him. Her mouth falls open and her eyes fly open wide. I can imagine her gasp, even if I can’t hear it. But Paul must hear it. His eyes clench shut. “She’s right behind me, isn’t she?” he asks. He opens one eye and looks at me.
Kit’s wrapped in a towel with another turbaned around her head. Paul turns to her, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. It had better be a profuse apology.
She glares at him for no more than a moment, and then she ducks into my bedroom and closes the door behind her.
“Shit,” Paul signs. “I fucked that up.”