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He had, whether by instinct or happenstance, taken control of every detail, freeing me up to just participate. Whether it was some silly activity he’d planned or a simple walk in the park, everything with Rhys was fun and engaged. Being with him had felt like what I imagined being a kid was supposed to feel like: no pressure, no responsibility, just enjoyment. He had given me exactly what I’d needed. What I hadn’t even known I’d wanted.
And now that he was gone, it was what I missed the most. The ease I felt in his presence. The ease that came from knowing that he’d ask honestly for what he wanted and I’d want to give it to him. Since he hadn’t asked for anything, I was going to use other means to figure out what he’d want.
Which is how I found myself on the phone with Rhys’s mother on Thursday evening, as she ran through a seemingly endless list of foods that Rhys loved. Apparently his hoover-like appetite was not a new development.
“It’s just, um . . .” How did you tell the mother of the man who married you that the extent of your culinary abilities was stirring in a flavoring packet? “Maybe something on the simpler end of the spectrum? Rhys has probably told you I’m not much of a cook.”
“Rhys has never said a single word about you that wasn’t glowing,” Mona said.
“So he lied?”
Mona laughed. “When Rhys loves someone it doesn’t occur to him to dwell on their weaknesses.”
“Lucky for me, I guess,” I accidentally said out loud.
There was a pause, and I heard a door close on Mona’s end of the line.
“Matt,” she said gently. “Why haven’t we met you?”
“Well, there was that blizzard last year when we were gonna come.”
“Yes, I remember,” she said, and then she waited. It reminded me so much of Rhys. The way he would stay silent but listening, waiting for me to speak.
“The Christmas before . . . we’d just met,” I said tentatively. “Rhys asked me to come with him but it didn’t seem—it had just been a couple weeks. I didn’t think he was serious.”
Rhys had held a hand out to me from his bed as I jerked my clothes back on. Come meet my family, he’d said. Please, I’m so crazy about you. I’d shaken my head. The offer was extended as easily as Rhys’s hand, and it had turned my stomach. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than a family at the holidays, but the idea of spending time with his . . . I didn’t know how it worked, didn’t know how I could feel anything but broken amidst a houseful of Rhyses.
“Then, I dunno, I guess there wasn’t another time?”
His parents had come to the city to see one of his shows not long after that, but they’d only stayed for the weekend. His sister had stayed with him for a few days a couple months later, but I hadn’t been living with him yet.
Now that I thought about it, Rhys had planned to go for his dad’s birthday and then his sister’s. I knew he’d mentioned it, but somehow the plans had never quite materialized. Why had he changed his mind?
Mona started to say something, then cut herself off and said, “Well, I hope we get to meet you, dear. All right, about this dinner. How about baked mac and cheese? Rhys always loved it as a boy.”
Promising visions of Kraft boxes danced in my head. “That seems okay.”
As Mona talked me through the recipe, I scribbled madly on the back of a junk mail envelope, trying to get every word of her instructions, Kraft boxes quickly replaced by things like béchamel and roux.
“You can’t go wrong,” she said cheerily, and I didn’t have the heart to regale her with all the many, many ways it wasn’t true. “Must be nice having the house to yourself while Rhys is gone,” Mona was saying dreamily, as I underlined the parts of my scribbles that were ingredients I’d need at the store.
“Oh, um, yeah, it’s okay.” I glanced around and all I saw were creeping shadows and scratching branches and an emptiness that threatened permanence.
“Or maybe it’s just lonely?” She said it so gently.
“I’m not really used to having much space to myself,” I admitted. “But, um, Rhys’ll be home tomorrow so.” My voice sounded thin and anxious and embarrassing. “Anyway, I guess I should run to the store and get all this stuff.”
“Just remember, good cheese makes all the difference.”
I chose not to tell her that I wouldn’t know good cheese from Kraft Singles on a sunny day.
“Okay, thanks. Thanks a lot for this.”
“You call me anytime, sweetie.”
“I—okay, bye.”
Once I’d hung up the phone, it seemed like the shadows crept closer and the branches scratched louder. I shoved my phone and wallet in my pockets and grabbed my keys. I took off toward the store on foot out of long habit, only thinking I could have driven after walking for half a mile. But it was a nice night, and it felt good to have somewhere to go.
