Sold Into Freedom - 19. Chapter 19

"Hello, Matthew." Dr. Maria Flores smoothed her skirt and settled onto her chair. "How have things been the last couple of weeks?" She opened her patient’s file and glanced at it. "You’ve been ill and couldn’t get in last week."

"I’m doing all right, Doc. It was just a bad cold. Otherwise, I’ve been working and dealing with Mom and home, you know. I've also been working on those drawings you suggested I make and doing the journaling thing."

Dr. Flores nodded and rolled the pen between her forefinger and thumb."Great. Most of that sounds positive. How are things with your mom?"

The mahogany-coloured leather sofa Matthew sat on creaked a little as he shifted his weight. "Things are…okay. I mean, my mom has never been stable, you know? She’s always been anxious and nervous. So, she flies off the handle sometimes. But mostly, she’s been okay. I think she’s trying hard."

"How do you cope when she’s upset?"

Matthew stared up at the ceiling briefly. Then he offered a twisted smile. "I just try to stay calm and to give her space. Usually, I just make her some tea and then retreat to my room." He rubbed his hands over his thighs. "Leaving her alone seems to work best."

"That sounds like you’re working on positive solutions by giving her space. Has your mom ever tried therapy at all?"

"Not that I know of. She’s kinda old school. She thinks she can cope with anything."

Dr. Flores smiled. "She likely can in her own way. Therapy isn’t a cure-all. It’s just help and support."

"I think of it like that, you know." Matt moved again, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. "Like it's guidance by someone who listens and cares. I find my way, but you're here to steer me in the right direction and make me consider things I may not have."

"That's right." The doctor nodded and made some notes. "Tell me. Is that dream still recurring?"

"Yeah, most nights."

"Did you draw what you remember or write about it at all?"

"Yeah, I keep trying to draw it, but I’m not very good."

Maria Flores smiled. "It’s not an art competition. It’s simply better out than in your mind. I want you to try to see the details next time. Focus on those and try to draw them or write them down."

"Okay. I’ll try."

Once again, the doctor jotted a few words. "What about panic attacks? Any more of those since the visit to the FBI?"

Matthew drew in and blew out a sharp breath before saying, "No. No more of those, thank goodness."

"Great." Flores looked at Matthew. "So, let’s go back again to the dream. The welcoming figure you see. Male or female? I think we’re fairly sure it’s human."

Matthew smiled. "Yeah, human-shaped for sure. I’d say from the build, it’s male. There’s still no color in the dream, and it’s like an old black-and-white movie."

"I’m not too skilled at interpreting dreams. However, that intrigued me, so I did some research and spoke to a friend who does dream therapy."

"And?" Matthew leaned forward. "What did they say?"

The doctor smiled at Matthew’s sudden interest. "He said that often dreams present in black and white because of a sense of loss. The subconscious offers them this way to protect you, to help keep you detached."

Matthew nodded. "That kinda makes sense."

"Yes, it does. He also said that the color black often symbolizes mourning, mystery, and potential while white can mean rebirth, purity, and potential."

"Hmm, okay. That’s sort of interesting. I know I wake up feeling very disappointed."

"Because you cannot determine who the person is?"

"I guess so. I mean, they disappear just at the moment I reach them. I’m drawn to him. He’s standing there, like he’s waiting for me. Usually, his arms are open, like he wants to hug me, and as I walk closer, he just gets thinner and sort of see-through and then fades away. I feel so sad and disappointed."

Flores nodded. "I asked about that as well. It seems that chasing someone means something is unresolved or that you have an attachment you’re unable to realize in your waking life. Does that make sense? I know you’re not exactly running after them in your dream, but I guess, in a way, you are."

"Yeah, sort of. But if that figure is supposed to be Andrew, because I know in the dream, we’re on Windy Island…I mean, we never had anything between us."

"Are you sure about that?"

A frown settled on Matthew’s face. He was quiet for a few moments as he considered the question.

"Think about it. He rescued you. He kept you safe in his own home. He gave you money so you could realize the dream you had to travel. He set you free with no strings."

Matthew’s eyes locked onto the doctor’s eyes. He whispered, "What does that mean?"

"What do you believe it means, Matthew?" The therapist gazed at her patient. "I don’t think you should answer me right now. Look at it and consider it carefully. Next week, you tell me what you think."

Flores looked at the clock on the wall. "Now, let’s move on, as our time is nearly done for today."

"Sure, Doc."

Once the session finished, Matthew left the doctor's office. It was a beautiful day, and the young man decided to walk along the Atlantic City Boardwalk. The breeze off the ocean was salty and a little bit damp.

People walked alone, in couples, or with galloping children who laughed and ran before strolling parents. Parents' language was the same the world over, as were their children's replies of "Aw man. We're just havin’ fun."

Matthew bought a small bag of saltwater taffy from one of the many candy stores along the Boardwalk. He selected a piece and popped it into his mouth. He enjoyed the soft, sweet treat while he stopped to watch the ocean waves roll onto the beach.

The conversation with the doctor came back to him. There was never anything between me and Andrew. He was kind and did the right thing. Didn't he? Matthew found a bench and settled onto it. He ate another piece of taffy. Did Andrew feel more? Do I? How can I when I don't even know him?

The sound of the ocean before him reminded Matthew of the waves that crashed against the rocky shores of Windy Island. He realized he missed it, but why?

It doesn’t matter now. Matthew rose and twisted the top of the white paper candy bag closed. I better get home and have a nap before work. I'll email Andy as well before I sleep.

⸛

Dinner had been a quiet affair, as had many other dinners and days of late. Maeve sat with Andrew and watched him pick at the favourite meal she'd made.

"Och, lad. Why don’t you go over and see him? Or write to him at least?" Maeve spoke to her employer. "That is once you’ve moved that piece of carrot back to the other side of the plate for the tenth time."

Andrew looked up at her and then back to the round slice of carrot impaled on his fork. He dropped the utensil like it was a viper. "Sorry. I'm just … I'm sorry, Maeve. It's delicious, it's just—"

"Aye, I know it’s just. It’s been just for months. Write to the lad. You care about him, Andy. Tell him. Ask him to come back, or you fly over and see him." Maeve smiled. "What’s the worst that can happen? He tells you how he feels? It may not be what you want, but at least you’ll know." The housekeeper paused and waved when Andrew started to reply. "I’m not finished! It may not be what you want, but there’s an equal chance it might be! Live your life, take the chance, boy. You can't go on like you are."

Andrew stared. "Are you finished now?"

After crossing her arms, Maeve replied, "Aye. I am. Say your piece."

The writer opened his mouth and then closed it. "It’s not that easy."

"Easy be damned, lad. Life isn’t meant to be fecking easy. It’s meant to be lived! That means in good and bad times. It means handing your heart to someone and hoping they don’t drop it. Broken hearts mend, but time, boy, time, we never get back." Maeve put her hands on the table. "Don’t waste the most precious thing we have by doing nothing."

The younger man listened to his good friend. "You’re right. I need to find out. I can’t keep doing this because I’m not writing. I’m just in limbo." He picked up his fork and ate the carrot. "I’ll go and see him. Figure it out."

Andrew's resolve waned over the next couple of weeks, and he made excuses for not flying to America and why he had to give Matthew time and space.

"Time and space?" Maeve added milk to the cup of tea she’d poured. "What else does he say when he writes?" She placed the mug of tea before her boss.

"Thanks, Maeve," Andrew added a half teaspoon of sugar and stirred his drink with the small spoon. "He doesn’t say much. Just that he’s working, um, he’s seeing some kind of therapist now. Which is really good, I think." After laying down the spoon, the writer sipped his tea. "Things like that."

The housekeeper stared at her boss and joined him at the kitchen table. "Do you think you could read between the lines?"

Andrew sipped his tea and smiled. "What’s to read? He sounds okay."

"Okay? That’s enough for you?"

The writer drew in a breath and let it go. "I don’t know what you mean. He’s working, and he lives with his mum at the moment. They’re getting along. He’s taking art classes to fill his time. That all sounds good." After a pause, he said, "And he never asked for any of this—me or anything else. We helped him, but then we had to let him go. He’s not my project…or responsibility."

As Andrew spoke, Maeve thought about Matthew's notebook and the pictures of the island landscapes that had been poorly drawn inside.

"Aye, lad. That’s true, but he’s not happy. Don’t tell me you believe he is, Andrew." Maeve glared from across the table. "Neither are you. It’s so damn obvious a blind man and his dog could see it! And you’re involved with him on some level, so how is he not partly your responsibility?"

The writer sipped his tea. Damn it, how does she know? Okay, I'm not happy, but I don't understand why. Matthew, I think about him. I want to see him. He wasn't very happy here, but why should he be? Why should he come back or think about me? He didn't ask for any of this. What right do I have to ask for or expect more? Andrew stared down at his denim-clad knees, avoiding Maeve's piercing gaze. She’s right. Like always.

The writer looked up. "You’re right. But what do I say to him?"

"You can't just jump with both feet. Start by just calling and talking about what he’s doing, how he’s getting on with things."

Andrew stared at his housekeeper. "I’m going to fly to New Jersey and see him." The writer got to his feet. "I’m going to email him now and find out when I should come."

Maeve nodded. "You go on. You and he deserve to have the best life you can."

She watched Andrew go into his office. "I wonder if he’ll do it this time?"

 ⸛

The soft sound of his ringtone crept into Matthew’s dream. He groaned and turned over while groping for the phone. Pachelbel’s canon continued while he swiped to unlock the phone and answer. "Yeah? Um…hello?"

"Matthew?"

"Mmmm, yes?" Matt squirmed and yawned.

"Hi. Did I wake you up?"

Matthew forced his eyes to remain open and looked at the screen. Andrew, it said. He sat up a little. "Andy?"

"Yes. Look, maybe this is a bad time. You sound like you were sleeping, and now I’ve woken you. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the day or time. You work nights and—"

"It’s okay. Is everything okay? Is Maeve okay?" Matthew pulled his second pillow behind his head. "I was asleep, but it’s fine. It’s nice to hear from you."

"We’re fine here. I-I—Shit, this is not a good time, is it?"

What’s he saying? "Andy? Why did you call? It’s okay. Don’t worry about the fucking time."

"Look. This may be way off base. Stupid. But. But, well, I’d like to come over and see you."

For Matthew, the world seemed to stop at that moment. Before him, the open-armed figure from his dreams materialized, only it wasn't as dark this time. A brighter dawn replaced the storm that had haunted so many of his dreams.

Matthew blinked himself back to reality. "Yeah?"

"Yes…only if you think it’s a good idea. I mean, maybe you don’t want to. Just say."

Matthew thought briefly before answering. "Yeah, Andy. Yes, it’s a super idea."

"Really?" Over the ocean, Andrew’s smile beamed. "Good. I’m glad. Um, I’ll look into flights and things then."

"Yeah. I can get you a good room. Sorry, we just don’t have space here."

"That’s fine. Likely for the best anyway." Andrew smiled. "I’ve not even looked at the calendar. Why don’t I make some plans? Can you get a few days off?"

"I’ll ask tonight. Any sort of idea when you’d like to come over."

"Now?" Andrew laughed and felt himself redden. "But back to reality. Let’s say in two weeks. How’s that? You see when you can get a few days off, and I’ll work my plans around you."

"Yeah. I’ll ask tonight and see what they say."

"Perfect. Let me know then."

There was a brief period of silence. The two realized what this meant to each of them.

Matthew whispered, "I’ve missed you and Maeve and that place. I dream about it all the time."

Andrew moved the phone to his left hand to relieve the pressure on his right. He’d been squeezing the little device hard. "Do you?"

"Yeah. My therapist says those dreams mean I’ve got unfinished business."

Andrew closed his eyes. "Maybe we both do, Matt."

"Yeah."

After another short silence, Andrew sighed softly. "Email me? I mean, once you know about the days off?"

"Yeah, sure. I’ll find out and let you know."

"Okay. Sounds good." Andrew swallowed. "I-I’ll be waiting to hear from you."

"It’ll be soon. I’m glad you called."

"Me too. I hope you get back to sleep. Bye, Matt."

"Thanks. Bye, Andy."

After the conversation ended, Andrew pressed the phone to his forehead and whispered, "I miss you too."

Matthew put his phone back on the nightstand. He lay back and put his arms under his head. He couldn't keep the smile away, and he only stopped when he yawned. He turned to his left, pulled up the soft flannel sheet, and let sleep come again.

⸛

Later, Matthew requested to see his shift manager, Sheila Nevison. She agreed to see him once he'd finished moving some equipment back to the storage rooms in the lower basement.

He knocked on her door once the task had been completed.

"Come in."

"Hey." Matthew smiled as he entered Sheila’s small office. "Those polishers are stored. Do you have a few minutes?"

"I do. Come in and sit." The manager looked up at her employee. "How are things?"

Matthew sat on the simple chair. "Good. Busy. I like the physical work."

"Well, we have zero complaints about you. What’s on your mind, Matthew?"

"I was wondering if I can get a few days off." Matthew sat up a bit straighter. "Not right away, maybe in two or three weeks?"

Sheila leaned forward and tapped on the keyboard in front of her. "I have no problem with that. Let me just have a look at the schedule. Only issue would be if others have booked off already. Let's see …" She peered at the screen. "Toby is off for a week next week. Olive the week after, the week after that is free. Are you looking for the full week, Matthew?" She gazed over at him.

Do I want that much time? Matthew stared. He'd have yet to think about the actual number of days. Why not? Andrew is flying over for a week or two. Why not then? "Um, if that’s possible. A friend from Scotland is going to be in town."

"Scotland? Wow. Well, you’ll want the time to spend with him or her. I’ll book the full week for you." Sheila entered the data and updated the monthly schedule. "I hope you have a great time."

"Thank you. I appreciate it, Sheila. Do I need to make up any time?"

The woman smiled. "No. You have vacation coming. I’m glad we were able to get this booked for you. Enjoy your time off. You’ve earned it and it's important you take it as well." Matthew’s manager made some final entries and explained, "You’re off from Sunday the twenty-fifth to the twenty-ninth. We’ll see you back the following Sunday."

He grinned at her. "Wow, thanks so much. That’s great. I’ll bring him here to check out the casino." Matthew got to his feet.

"It's my pleasure. I’m sure your friend will like to see where you work." Sheila smiled. Now, there was an issue with a light fixture on the twentieth floor. Can you take a run up and have a look at it, please? Let me know if we need an electrician."

"Right away." Matthew grinned as he left the office.

Once his shift was done, Matthew left work. He was tired and hungry, so he stopped on his walk home at the local bakery. He bought six muffins.

"I’ll surprise Mom with some fresh ones for breakfast."

He bought three oat bran and blueberry and three light bran and raisin. These were packed into a white box and tied with string. He finished his walk home after paying and thanking the lady at the counter.

He opened the door to the house. "Mom? I brought some muffins from Griswold’s."

"I’m in the kitchen, Mattie." Gwen answered. "Perfect timing. I was just ready to make some toast!"

Matthew walked into the kitchen, happy to find his mother smiling. "I’m glad I got here on time. These should still be warm. I got some of the blueberry ones you like."

"You spoil me. Thank you. The coffee is fresh if you want some." Gwen untied the box and rolled up the string. She popped the saved string into the junk drawer. "Oh, mmm, these look so good. I think we have butter."

Mother and son sat down to share the fresh baked goods and coffee.

Matthew watched Gwen break open a muffin filled with fresh blueberries. She spread butter over both pieces. He picked up a bran and raisin and added butter. He took a bite of the sweet muffin.

"Oh, this is so nice, Matthew. Thank you so much." Gwen wiped her fingers and took a sip of coffee. "How was work?"

"Busy. You know. But it was good." Matthew rubbed the crumbs off his fingers. "So, I booked a week off, starting the twenty-fifth. Andy is gonna fly over to visit."

"Andrew MacCabe. The writer?"

"Yeah."

Gwen stared for a moment. "He can’t stay here. I won’t have you two … no, not in my house!"

"Mom …"

"NO! I won’t have it." Gwen got to her feet. "I should have known. You just want something, so you bring home muffins! Do you think I’m this stupid?"

"Mom, stop it." Matthew exclaimed. "Just stop. He’s not staying here. I booked him a room at work. I know we don’t have space here. Jesus. I thought by now you’d trust me to do the right thing. Sorry, for bringing you something you enjoy. I’m sorry I just wanted to make you happy." He turned and walked out of the kitchen. "I’m going to bed."

Left alone, Gwen blinked. Realizing what she’d done, she sat down. "Shit." You've done it again, Gwen. I assumed the worst and did not bother to ask. You're so selfish. He's a good boy, and you just … Gwen tried to wipe away the hot tears that threatened her carefully applied makeup.

She got up, left the kitchen, and walked to her son's room. She tapped on the door. "Mattie?"

There was only silence.

"Mattie. I’m sorry." Gwen leaned against the door frame. "Matthew? I’m so sorry. I just don’t stop and think. I am sorry, honestly. I’ll make a nice meal when your friend is here … or we can go out. He saved your life and I can only think about myself."

Inside his room, Matthew sighed. She has such a short fuse. There is no sense in being angry with her. He opened the door and embraced his mother. "It’s okay. Andrew is a super person. You’ll like him. And if I know him, he’ll arrive with presents."

"Will he?" Gwen smiled. "I love presents."

Chuckling, Matt released his imperfect parent. "I know."

⸛

The day before Andrew was due to arrive, Matthew sat in the office with Maria Flores.

The therapist watched her client. "Matthew, you seem anxious. Is everything all right?"

Mattie got up and paced. His hands flew as he talked. "Andrew will be here soon. I feel so—I don't know."

"So, what? What’s got you so on edge? He’s your friend."

Matthew retook his seat. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees. "What if he wants more? Like sex or more?"

Maria sat back and wrote quietly for a few moments. "What if he does? What you feel and want are important, too."

"I-I’m not ready for anything like that. I thought I was, but I’m not."

"What do you want to do? Stop him from coming?"

"No! I mean, I want to see him." Matthew sat back and raked his hands through his hair.

"Then you and he need to talk. From what you've said, he sounds like a kind, caring person."

She gazed at Matt. "Listen. You’re not a prisoner now. You have a voice, and Andrew will hear you and respect what you feel and say. Trust yourself and him."

After several deep breaths, Matt managed to nod. "You’re right. I’m just nervous. Andrew is a good guy. I know that." He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face. "Thanks, Doc."

"You’re welcome." Maria stood up and walked her client to the door. "Have a wonderful week off. Enjoy yourself. If you need me, call, but otherwise, remember who you are and that you’ve got a voice. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Matthew opened the door. "Thanks again, Doc." He entered the waiting room, smiled at the doctor’s assistant, and left the office.

It was Friday, Matthew’s first day off of his regular weekend. Andrew was arriving tomorrow. He decided to walk along the boardwalk and buy some saltwater taffy and a bunch of flowers for his mom.

He watched the waves rolling in. Seabirds flew overhead, swooping and squawking. Matthew drew in a deep breath and smiled.