"When you're not around to hear him out, because God forbid I'll listen, he rants out loud, Matt. So because of that, guess who has to listen to all that constipated shit?"
"He's mad at me."
"Yes, you dumb shit," Liza whispered. "To be fair, though, he's been holding that in pretty much since...since Yang..." She didn't finish the thought. She gestured to the door to the makeshift kitchen before her hand fell back against her side. "Tobias Schroeder, the emotionally constipated sponge, everyone."
"I heard that," Toby snapped from the other room.
"Good," she said back. "No wonder you two are friends. Both emotionally constipated in different ways. Beautiful."
Edward sat forward. "I think...if you think you should sit down with Yang before you go, you can. But my concern is, just, you'd be reopening something that's trying to heal up. What good would it actually do, in the long run?"
"Closure," Matthew snapped.
"But why does it matter, now?" Liza asked. "It happened. It was such a shitty thing to do, and Yang's clearly torn up over it, as he should be."
Edward glanced around the table, clenching his jaw. "Matt, even if you both sat down to talk, would that stop you from leaving? Would that change things?"
Matt faltered at the questions. "...of course not."
"Then if it won't change anything, why are you considering it, then?"
"Be – because it's for the – "
"Is it?"
Matthew clenched his jaw and glanced down, wringing his hands together until the tips of his fingers were red. The roof above them ached with wind coming from the West, and the silence was so unbearable Matt he regretted asking anyone to come over. Regret not putting up more of a fight when the children left. Not leaving sooner than he could've. 'Even if they were going to come over anyway.'
"We prodded," Audrey sighed, standing. She scooped up her food, chopsticks, and drink. "I'm going to go sit in the kitchen."
"Are we all done?" Liza asked.
"No, but Matt has that look on his face where he's not listening anymore. Even if we wanted to say more, it'd just pass through one ear and out the other." She frowned. "Got that look a lot when we were dating." Audrey glanced away and shrugged. "You know, there gets to a point where...when you can't stop the people you care about from beating themselves up, you try less and less." She met Matthew's stare, a sad look in her eyes, and shrugged again. She moved into the kitchen.
Liza sat down beside him. "So, pros and cons for doing this," she started, though they lacked the normal self-assuredness she was known for, "Con: it won't change anything. Pros: it'd give you closure...maybe. Con: everyone thinks it's a bad idea. Pro: – "
"Liza?"
She stopped.
Edward gave her a smirk, soft and undetermined. "Do you want to go check on Toby?"
"Not really."
He narrowed his eyes.
Liza rolled hers. "Fine." She collected her dinner and disappeared behind the door into the makeshift kitchen.
Edward turned to Matthew. "Tell me what you're thinking. Talk it dead. I want to hear it all."
"What difference does it make?" Matt asked, more to himself than anyone else. "They're probably right, though. I'm some kind of masochist for this kind of stuff. I suffer and I think it's my fault that I need to suffer, or something like that."
"That's not true."
He stood and started pacing. "Everyone knows it. You know it. I know it. They know it. God, I just, I just wish I knew how to rewire my brain like that. Turn off that thing inside of me that says I need to work because, otherwise, what's the point? Working is not everything, I know that. I can spout all the bullshit about work-life balance and the importance of mental clarity and health and all that shit, but what's the point of it, then, if there's no work in that? What are we working towards, then? What's the point of living if we can't make money, make connections, and work? What are we supposed to do?"
He said nothing. He stared at Matthew, waiting.
Matthew gritted his teeth. "I didn't work for, what, ten years, of working and studying to not help some poor kid sitting in some sterile classroom wondering to themselves, 'Why have I been left behind?' I didn't fight with my parents for years and years and years of them not understanding where I was coming from, not understanding why I needed to go into education. Because if, if that doesn't matter, then what was that all for?"
"Matt."
"You told me to talk it dead."
"I did, but – "
"But what?"
Edward stood, his hands flat against his legs. "Audrey did what she said she was going to do. She went back and opened those doors she closed for you. I know I told you to talk it dead, and I'm not saying you should stop, but..." He paused, and the quiet between them stretched for eons. "It's...great, you're still here for Lilly and Eli. You give them something that they didn't have before – a safe place for them to explore their interests, and who they are right now, and someone to give them structure and unconditional love, because we all know you love them. But is that enough, to keep you here?"
Matthew frowned. He glanced away, crossing his arms.
"I know I just hit a nerve," he continued, "and I don't want to make you feel like I'm not in your corner. I'm a friend, first and foremost, regardless of how I feel, and I, just, want to be there for you when you need me, unconditionally." Edward grunted. "Sorry, rambling. I just..." He paused and glanced at the ceiling. "What would have to happen, for you to stay here?"