Nine

180 7 4
                                    

Once we had finished the film, Matthew and I had expected some sort of response from Jordan and Chloe but they said nothing. Instead we fell into a fairly average conversation about Matthew's fear of horror films. He didn't protest any accusations; in fact, he voluntarily admitted that he got nightmares from watching the Conjuring. I'd never seen it, but it sounded convincingly boring.

Jordan and Chloe left the room to go order pizza, leaving me stranded with Matthew who was still shaken up and wrapped up in a blanket on the couch. I'd known him for just about eleven years but I'd never encountered this side of him - mostly because I don't watch horror movies.

He shifted on the couch next to me and complained that he was hungry. "They're ordering pizza, Matthew," I answered. "Be patient." I heard him sigh heavily and I imagined he was cocooned tightly in one of Jordan's mother's designer couch throws.

"Hey, is your mom alright these days?" I asked after a silence. Immediately, the tension rose and I suddenly became very aware of the sound of his and my breathing. There was a great deal of movement and I guessed he sat up to speak to me.

"I suppose. She broke up with Carl." Despair was evident in his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't pretend like his leaving is a loss, because it isn't. It's better now that he's gone." Even though his words suggested otherwise, I knew that Matthew wasn't okay. He was trying to convince himself that it was better now. It was difficult to understand why he felt sad over a man who he disliked so much and it must've been confusing for someone who always knows what he feels.

"It's okay to feel sad, Matthew. If it was a crime, I'd be in prison by now."

He sniffed loudly and forced a chuckle and I reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't often that tears were brought to his eyes and I hoped I hadn't set him off.

"I sometimes wish I wasn't blind," I said, not to downplay his depressions but to shift the unwanted attention from him. "But I try not to live like I need my sight. I adapt to my other senses." I paused listening as his breathing steadied. "It's alright to feel this way, but don't hold onto it because it was your mom's decision to break up with Carl. Try to see that it's best for her."

"I'm trying," he choked out. "I'm just so worried that she'll be alone forever. At least before, she had someone, even if he was probably the most self-centred person I've ever met. Now all she has is India and I."

"You and your sister are more than enough," I reassured and slid my arm around his shoulders, tucking the blanket higher up towards his chin. His warmth radiated through the fabric onto my hand. We sat for a while and I knew that Jordan and Chloe would return from their phone call soon.

"Kayla?" Matthew's voice sounded distant and small - almost as if he was somewhere other than a cold room in a large house, curled up in a ball of his own despair.

"Yes?"

"Will you hold my hand?" he whispered loudly like a child who didn't understand how to speak softly.

"Of course," I gave him a small smile as he took my hand in his, his heat thawing my cold fingers. I was willing to comfort him because I knew he would do the same for me. Nothing would come between us, I decided, as long as we both lived.

After I learnt that it was past ten o'clock at night, Matthew offered me a lift home and I gladly accepted, not wanting to disturb my parents' evening. When Matthew's mom, Gina Wilson, arrived to pick us up, I could tell she was happier than I could ever remember her being. Even though I couldn't see her bright smile, I could hear it in her greeting and that was enough. I didn't need to see her almond eyes to know that they were sparkling, just as Matthew's often did.

Follow The RainWhere stories live. Discover now