She decided to wipe the cabinets out again just to make sure they were really clean. With the aid of a stepstool, she began working on the top ones. She had to kneel on the counter to reach the top one. The height and limited kneeling space made her uncomfortable.
Matty’s footsteps trotting down the stairs made her pause, and then she resumed.
“Babe, be careful up there,” urged Matty when she entered the kitchen. Her hair was still wet.
“I am. I just need to clean out this other side.” She began to scoot over to the other one on wobbly knees when hands found their way to her thighs. She had changed into shorts and a T-shirt.
Matty’s hands were strong and secure and creeping higher up by the second. “I’ll spot you.”
“You just want to grope me,” Reese giggled.
“That too.” The warm press of lips against her outer thigh made her already wobbly knees even more so.
“You can’t be doing that if you want me to stay steady,” she gasped.
“I got you.”
She rolled her eyes at the response but smiled as she finished the last top shelf.
As she was climbing down, which Matty insisted on helping with, there was a loud knock on the door. “Perfect timing.”
One large man and one scrawny man, neither very talkative, worked rather efficiently to bring in her new fancy refrigerator. Well, fancy for her. She hadn’t had an ice maker in years. The sheer amount of excitement she got from just having one was peak adulthood happiness.
When they pulled out the old refrigerator, she had very quickly swept the debris that had been behind it. Dirt, paper, and a few caps from Coke and vodka bottles littered the floor.
The men weren’t there for very long. They unloaded the new one and hooked it up. She was very happy that the waterline still worked. It would have ruined the fun of the moment to find out there was a setback, though she had no doubt Matty could have fixed it. The woman was great at her job.
Once they left, she all but skipped back to the kitchen to check out her new, shiny, really expensive appliance. She opened the doors, pulled on the empty drawers, and was grinning widely when she turned to show Matty but stopped short as the feeling of horror grabbed her.
“Reese, what is this?” asked Matty, a concerned look on her face.
In her hands was a familiar sight. Another one of Joyce’s notes.
Her face flamed as she looked away. “It’s, uh, it’s a note from my mother. She tucked them all over the hoard. I have a box of them upstairs.” She mentally kicked herself for adding the last part. Matty didn’t need to know there had been enough for a box or that she was still keeping them instead of throwing them away.
“Babe, this is awful. Like, it’s so awful. The names she’s calling you.”
She shrugged one shoulder, running her fingers over the handle of the refrigerator. “It’s not a big deal. It was her way of getting back at me for going no contact. I guess she had to have the last word even after death.”
Frustration brimmed under the surface along with tears in her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. It was embarrassing, and they were having such a nice afternoon.
She could see Matty’s form moving in her peripheral vision. Reese resisted the hands that tugged on her but then gave in. Walling off Matty would be the exact opposite of what they needed. She wanted to be vulnerable with Matty, even if it went against her instincts.
With some self-encouragement, she allowed herself to sink into Matty’s strong arms and bury her face in the hollow of Matty’s neck.
“You are a good person. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. It speaks more about her than you. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this.”
Matty’s kind words and the way she nuzzled her face against the top of Reese’s head made Reese’s resolve crumble. She didn’t sob or cry out, but tears streamed down her face, wetting Matty’s neck. Her chest was heavy, and her face was getting stuffy. She hated crying. The act made her mad. It felt like a useless process, but she knew that was wrong. Getting emotions out was important, but she hated how weak it made her feel.
“I hate crying,” she sniffled.
“Crying is good for you. Holding in your emotions isn’t healthy. It’s important to release them so you can process them instead of bottling them up.”
“Now who’s the counselor?” she joked lightly, wiping at her eyes. She pulled back but stayed in the embrace.
“I’ve picked up a thing or two here and there. Seriously, though, crying doesn’t make you weak. In fact, I think it’s a privilege that you’re letting me see you like this. I know it’s got to be hard.”
“It is, but I don’t want to shut you out. I feel like I’m actually doing this whole thing correctly for the first time. We’re not rushing, but we’re not dragging our feet. We’re trying to uplift and support each other. I like this. I just need to remember that it’s okay to be open. I’ve kept people at length for so long now. It’s almost weird.”
