Afterlife - Douglas Clegg [47]
“For you,” he said. “I’ll brave the wilds of Jersey. I miss my old buddy. I miss you. I want to see Livy, too. And Matt.”
“We blocked you out, didn’t we?” she said, sighing.
“Not really.”
“No, we did. Hut didn’t like you. I guess I can say that now. I think he thought you were a threat in some way.”
Joe grinned, big and broad just like he was a wicked kid. “I am the all-powerful Oz.”
“I can’t throw all the blame on him. I went along with it. I should’ve fought. But I was busy with the kids, and I was busy with the house and my job. And I just let it all go.”
“Well, none of that matters. We kissed and made up. You’re my old buddy, Julie. And don’t read that Michael Diamond book. Okay? He’s full of it. Go get a John Edward book. Or even Sylvia Browne. She’s good. Diamond has something wrong with him. I’ve seen his show. He just gets pretty nasty. I don’t think he helps people at all. He does more damage than good.”
Another kiss, and Julie was in the car, and driving out to the Westside Highway, to the Lincoln Tunnel, and then, north up to Rellingford, the city vanishing as she entered the suburban wilderness.
9
“What do you know about this?” Julie asked, dropping the keys on the table between them.
Outside, with Matt, on the picnic table in the backyard.
“They’re keys.”
“Keys to an apartment on Rosetta Street. You used to go there with your father.”
“That’s crazy,” he said, looking up at her.
“Matt, I know this might not be easy for you. I know we’ve had our ups and downs. But I want you to tell me about this. It’s important.”
“Important to who?”
“To me.”
He didn’t look her in the eye. “You’re nosy.”
She glared at him. “Just tell me.”
“I feel sorry for you, Julie. I really do. Sometimes I hate you. But I feel bad for you because you’re too much like my mother. You stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
It stung when he said it. He’d never said anything like that to her before. He’s been through Hell. Cut him some slack.
“All right. Well, you can hate me. It’s okay by me. That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t remember,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“It means: I don’t remember. Maybe Dad took me there. I don’t know. I can’t remember.”
“You mean you don’t want to tell me,” she said, trying to remain calm.
“God, you are such a fucking bitch,” he spat, his face suddenly going red. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten this over-the-top angry. She’d understood—from Eleanor and from Hut—that Matt had something wired in his brain that just didn’t stop him from taking things too far. Knowing that helped her deal with it. “Why don’t you ask my mother about those keys? Why don’t you fucking ask her? She knows everything. She’s the one who knows it all. Quit fucking bothering me.”
Julie leaned forward, touching the edge of his hand. “Oh, honey. You know I love you. You know I’m not trying to upset you.”
“You know I love you,” he mimicked. “Love love love. Fuck this. Just ask her.”
Julie sat there, stunned. She knew from her sessions with Eleanor that Matt needed to feel safe. That he needed to act out. That he needed to say things that might be hurtful sometimes. It’s part of what he’s dealing with. He’s working out past abuse from his time with his mother.
“Ask her. Ask her whatever you want. Just leave me the hell alone, bitch.” He swiveled around on the bench and got up, one last look of contempt shot her way, and then stomped off into the house.
Then, she heard him go on a rampage—something that Hut had only referred to from the past—one of Matt’s fits of rage.
First, the sound of breaking glass.
And then, shrieking as if he were hurt.
10
In therapy:
“I can’t convince you not to pursue this?” Eleanor asked.
Julie shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What do you think you will accomplish?” “Closure?”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I’m not. Matt won’t talk to me. Not right now. He’ll yell at me, but not talk. I haven’t heard him swear in a long time. I’m not a prude about language. But it shocked me. It was so…sudden.”
“Violent?”
Julie frowned, slightly, nodding. “I didn’t feel threatened.