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It had been so long since Matt had done this—just sat with another adult and experienced a normal human interaction, one not related to his work—that the impact of her attentiveness came as something of a shock.
But not a threat. This was a moment out of time for both of them. Life was suspended for these hours, and they understood that. Understood each other.
“It’s by William Bennett, not anyone I’ve ever read before.” Guard down, Matt warmed to his subject. “It’s about the flaws and foibles of the people we consider our heroes. Our cultural icons.” He paused. “Did you know that George Washington had a violent temper? One he worked very diligently to control?”
“I’d never heard that before.”
“Thomas Jefferson died more than one-hundred-thousand dollars in debt.”
“No way!”
“Yep.” Matt nodded.
“That was a lot of money in those days.”
It was a lot of money today, too. More than four times the amount Matt sent off each year, making what reparation he could.
“I do know Abraham Lincoln was prone to depression,” Phyllis said.
“Some say he was bipolar, but he certainly didn’t let it slow him down. He, too, struggled to control his temperament so it didn’t interfere with the job he was here to do.”
Phyllis widened her eyes. “He was a man of almost unbelievable strength and self-reliance.”
Matt nodded. “Ben Franklin had a thing for ‘lowly women,’ as he called them.”
“Prostitutes?”
Matt shrugged carelessly. “Don’t know if he paid them, but immoral women, at least.”
“Wasn’t he married?”
“Yep.” But Matt knew firsthand that a little thing like marriage didn’t stop a man from taking what he wanted. Or a woman, either, for that matter.
“It’s fascinating, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I wonder how much flack Bennett’s taken for writing this stuff.”
“I hope none,” Phyllis said, raising her knees beneath the covers, reminding Matt what she was—and wasn’t—wearing under them.
It was kind of hard to be with her in a bedroom, even if the room was in a hospital, without remembering that they’d had some pretty incredible sex together.
“Why do you say that?” he asked, forcing himself to concentrate on the topic at hand—to return to the innocuous place they were occupying for the evening.
“Because he’s done us all a huge favor,” she said, her eyes alight as she spoke with a fervor that Matt admired even while he wondered where on earth she was going with this. “Think about it,” she continued. “We’ve had these men held up to us all our lives. From the time we’re in grade school, we hear about their greatness. We’re raised to believe that we, too, can make a difference, that if we could be like these men, even a little, our lives would have merit.”
Matt frowned. “And you think it’s great that because of Bennett we’re now disillusioned?”
“No! I’m not disillusioned, are you?”
Matt didn’t have any illusions left to lose. Hadn’t since he was about two.
“Don’t you see?” Phyllis said, sitting forward to place her cup on the bedside table.
Matt got a glimpse of her almost-bare back and looked quickly away.
“These men were great. They accomplished miraculous things. And they were human, too. Knowing that doesn’t take away their greatness. It makes it more impressive—and potentially obtainable for the rest of us imperfect human beings lumbering around on this earth.”
He thought about that. “I like the way you think.”
