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“Don’t panic, babe. I’m not selling dodgy porn videos or trading ivory.”
He filled me in on his nefarious essay-writing activities, and my jaw dropped. On more than one occasion Ryan’s headteacher had read the riot act, warning the kids of the perils of paying for the services Matt offered. Thank goodness he hadn’t told Ryan.
“It’s not against the law, either, before you get your knickers in a complete twist.”
He turned to face me, his voice softening. “Listen, Alex. We can’t all have our lives mapped out perfectly. The memorabilia website is just a hobby, but your boy doesn’t need to know that. This one gives me enough cash to live on.”
We were quiet for a moment, the only sound the low hum of cars on the nearby dual carriageway. I closed my eyes and inhaled, releasing the breath slowly through my nose. With a brisk movement, Matt unclipped his seatbelt. “I knew you wouldn’t approve.”
At best, his enterprise was dubious, and at worst, facilitated people in obtaining qualifications they hadn’t earned. So in that regard, he was right. I did not approve. Mostly because I was a small-minded, provincial dullard, programmed to follow rules. To join a queue, not jump it, to walk around the slippery edge of a swimming pool, not dive bomb into the deep end. To attend hospital appointments. To trust in policemen to keep me safe. To never question authority.
But this was my Matt. With his own moral compass. His own home and his own life. I couldn’t mould him into mine no more than I could mould myself into his. We could overlap a little, though, because it suddenly occurred to me, as we shared the quiet space of the dark car, that I would always love him. No matter what. With every ounce of my being, and however he made his living. He could be Pablo Escobar’s natural successor for all I cared. I wanted to order him to put his seatbelt back on, collect his belongings, and come home with me for good. To never pen another essay in exchange for money for the rest of his life. To be my house husband, to lounge on the chaise longue all day and let me feed him grapes.
I didn’t say any of those things, of course.
“Are you good at it?”
His left hand was poised on the door handle, ready to climb out, so certain of my disapproval.
“The essays, you mean?”
I nodded. Reaching for him, I threaded his cool fingers through mine.
“What do you think?” he chuckled, “I’m fucking brilliant. I provide the best essays out there.”
Of course he did. Matt Leeson had a brain the size of Jupiter. Under a different set of circumstances, future students would have been writing history essaysabouthim.
“You told Ryan you’d been ill. Were you…?”
“Depressed?” His mouth softened into a fond smile. “It’s okay, you can say it.”
Not letting go of my hand, Matt’s gaze drifted to the side window, away from me. Shrouded in darkness, the caravan park didn’t provide much of a view, just the tail end of his neighbour’s caravan. It could have been the Mona Lisa for all Matt cared, he saw the past, not the present.
“You need to know I’m not always this way, Alex. Consider this a warning. You’re seeing me when I’m well. When my combination of meds is balanced, and when the chemicals in my brain talk sensibly to each other. Sometimes they forget how, for weeks, months even.”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied inadequately. Five years at med school, countless postgraduate exams and I came up with an inept response like that.
Matt studied our interlaced fingers.“I don’t want your pity. I just need you to know what you’re getting yourself into. I’m a guy who can’t hold down a proper job. I’ve been sectioned a couple of times—years ago now. I’ve tried to top myself on countless occasions. I scarcely drink these days, but sporadically, I go on benders and, as you saw, get myself beaten up.”
If he was attempting to scare me off, then he’d have to try harder. “You don’t need to feel like that anymore. You’ve got me now.”
With a small shake of his head, he brought our hands up to his mouth and rubbed my knuckles against his lips. “Oh, Alex. If only it were that simple. Cartwright couldn’t understand either. How I’d be fine one minute and then sink down, without any warning. First thing he’d know about it would be a call from the coppers, or the psych ward.” He side-eyed me. “I’m a quieter depressive these days, now I’m older. Burnt out, they call it. The anger’s gone.”
I almost started the engine right then. Forget about seatbelts and belongings. I wanted to scoop him up, drive away with him, and never let him out of my sight.
“Let me look after you when it happens again? Please? I can be like Cartwright.”
He let go of my hand, but only to slide his arm around the back of my neck. His fingers tangled in my short hair. Christ, no one had touched me like that for years.
“I don’t want another Cartwright.” Matt’s dark eyes strayed to my mouth. “Because I never needed to kiss Cartwright like I need to kiss you.”
Our lips met in the space somewhere above the gearstick. Tugging me closer, Matt brought his other hand up to cup my face between his palms. Our mouths melded together and his tongue danced around mine, both of us relearning familiar paths, learning to fit against each other as wonderfully as we’d done so many years ago. A tight knot unfurled in my belly at the absolute rightness of it, even as the rest of my body trembled with need.
“Matt” I breathed his name, my voice breaking, “I can’t believe…You and me, like this. I never…I never…”
My words were swallowed by another searing kiss, and then another, and another after that, his mouth as hungry for me as I was for him. When we finally broke apart, gasping, he still cradled my head in his hands, as if between them he held the most precious of long forgotten gifts.
“I can’t believe it either.” He moved in for another kiss, this time a gentle slant of soft lips across mine. “When I saw you that morning in the hospital, I thought I must be hallucinating after all the medication. Or I’d died and gone up to heaven.”
