Blacks And Blues

13| Ex-husbands and late night messages

"I'm in the dining room, dear."

Matt found his mom sitting in one of the four dining chairs, her hair packed up in a black knitted hairnet and her shoulders covered with a blue ankara wrapper. She clutched a glass of water in one hand and her phone in the other.

"Matt, here," she offered him her phone, "your father wants to speak with you."

Matt stared at her in shock, he never once imagined that she'd actually let him speak to his dad. Not after what he'd done.

"Matt?" His dad's voice was so soft, Matt barely caught what he'd said. "Good evening, son. I hope I didn't wake you up?"

"No, it's fine, I was awake. Good evening dad."

"It's so good to hear your voice, Matthew. Oklahoma isn't the same without you, all of you."

The phone was on loudspeaker so Matt's mom heard every single word. She scowled and pulled the wrapper tighter around herself, as if she needed extra protection from his words.

"Yeah. It's good to hear yours too," Matt answered, guilt rising in the pit of his stomach.

If anyone should be guilty, it's him. Not me. Yet, Matt's words weren't any convincing even in his own head.

"I tried calling you on your cell but..."

Matt blushed in embarrassment. "Yeah. Um, Ive been really busy lately." The lie was so obvious.

But how was Matt supposed to admit that he'd blocked his own father?

"I understand. What of Gina? I tried calling her too but her phone's been switched off."

"Oh, well,Gina's not with her phone at the moment. It's kind of a long story."

"Okay then. Guess I'll face time her on her laptop instead."

"Yeah."

There was a minute of awkward silence and Matt was about to greet him good night when he spoke again.

"Matt, you do know that whatever happens, I will always love you, your sister and your mother, you know that right?"

The anger shot off into Matt's brain like a flair gun and suddenly, Matt was able to feel again. He glanced at his mom, she was hunched over in her seat, shielding her face with her folded arms. Mrs. Matthew was always strong and in control, only dad's words could do this to her.

You have no right to say that, Matt seethed in his head.

"Matt..."

"Yeah we know." But we don't care.

"Good. So tell me about school, have you made any friends?" His started conversationally. "Pssh, what am I saying? Of course, you have. You're Matthew Michaels," he joked.

A corner of Matt's lips twitched at his words, the inside joke releasing a wave of nostalgia. But Matt was too tired for this.

"Yeah, I've made some nice friends. School is fine." He sighed and ran his hands through his still damp curls. "Look, can we talk later, I'm really tired. It's ten o' clock over here."

"Oh right! Sorry, I'm still getting used to the time difference," he chuckled.

"Yeah, me too. I'll text you..." Which was code for 'I'll unblock you. Don't tell Mom.' "Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Matt. Give the phone to your Mom."

Matt did as he was told and made his way back up the stairs.

The call seemed to have sapped the remaining strength he had left and as soon as Matt's head hit the pillow, he was out.

Waking up to the sound of his mom screaming his Igbo name and telling him to be ready before the school bus came to pick him up, he turned to check the time on his phone.

There was a text from Jess from the night before.

Jess:
I miss you too.

...

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