Trying To Endure

Chapter Eighteen

SONG: MGMT - Kids

🌺

April Levesque

I skim the article of Derek Matthews. I don't care about celebrities. In my opinion, they are hypocrites — give speeches to raise awareness at award shows, an influencing facade. When they go home, they sneak back into a bubble, reluctant. A few public figures commit good deeds, although I couldn't help but wonder if their actions are done for validation.

It is different for Samuel Matthews. He was a homeless man. There can never be a flicker of doubt. I think his family are the sole celebrities actually doing something. This February, Marlene Everston introduced a national train line that is affordable to everyone, consuming profit to boost the economy. Tanner — the school meals. Derek? It has to be this. 

A channel shows the fair young man: head low, sunglasses on, speed-walking to his black Lamborghini Aventador, enclosed in a throng of surveillance, disregarding the bellows of the ravenous paparazzi.

Mum switches it off, as astonished as most of the world is. Destiny leaked a few details after Derek broke up with her, but this revelation is more detailed.

Two days ago, on Saturday morning, the world awoke to Edgewater Bulletin's stupefying report clarifying the prestigious family's lies. Samuel Matthews wasn't killed in a car crash. It was a facade for the horrendous truth: a suicide.

Monday, and the second son perpetuates a global topic. People suspect the Matthews are thick-skinned. Others who used to be lovers of Samuel Matthews now utterly despise him, and bloomed commiseration as Derek attempted suicide several times, went to mental health institutions during his early teen years, self-harmed ... Self-harmed. My own scars tingle. It is till now I grasp that Derek habitually wears long sleeves in public like me — to hide. For the first time in forever, I feel ... visible. I'm not alone.

I read a sentence again. The journalists — Edgewater Bulletin, in general, are persistent, reckless if necessary. Depending on the situation, they will record you for their rare informal reports. Overall, their sources are credible, valid and somewhat reliable.

On June 1st, Derek collapsed due to a profound drug overdose and alcohol consumption. He survived and was hospitalised in Saint Maximilian Kolbe, the rehabilitation centre his father attended and lived there for three months. He lost his liver and had to get an organ transplant.

This is dumbfounding. Really dumbfounding. In school, hordes cleave apart for the quiet Moses. We were all aware something was off about him. Never in a million years would we presume it was this.

After I read the article on Saturday night, the ringing of Duke and Atlas's endearing yapping couldn't stop the tears that pricked my cheeks, nose, lips and chin. I couldn't stop thinking about Derek's left scar. He was just ten ... He suffered and fought tsunami after tsunami and survived. Honestly, what a role model. I want to ask how he did it — how did he endure? What are his techniques? His secrets?

My family is why I persevere — including God. Minus Him, it is forced. I don't want to be forced. I want to be motivated.

Ethan timidly enters in an oversized shirt and denim jeans, white trainers, his hair neatly combed into two floppy parts.

Mum pours the omelette mixture. "Took your sweet time, didn't you?"

I straighten. "Is everything okay?"

"Um ... I want to tell you something."

"Okay," I said.

"I ..." He takes a step forward, his hands gripping the back of a chair. "You all love me, right?"