Matt stepped out of the shower with a contented sigh, the warmth flooding the bathroom and pulling on his eyelids. He longed sleepily for his bed.
Ignoring his wet hair, he focused on drying his hot skin with a towel before turning to the sink and picking out his toothbrush.
When his breath smelt satisfyingly like mint and flowers and his mouth was cool and tasteless, he gently pushed open the bathroom door and stepped into his room. The steam didn't follow this time.
In quick robotic movements, he pulled on his pyjama bottoms, flicked off the light switch and slid under the covers. They weren't nearly as thick as the duvets he'd used in Oklahoma where the weather was cooler. In fact, they weren't thick at all but he'd still die from heat and suffocation if he dared cover himself completely.
Fluffing up his soft pillow with his arms, he plopped his wet head onto it, sighing in content.
Finally, he thought, ready to lose himself in a dreamless sleep. Of course his phone would never really let him rest.
It dinged with incoming messages from his WhatsApp. Grunting with annoyance he picked up the iPhone lying beside him on the bedside table.
Glancing at the name on his screen, he sat up immediately, the sleepiness he'd felt a second ago flying out the metaphoric window.
Jess:
Hey Matt. How are you? :)
He stared at the message for while, still not believing that she was the one texting him. It seemed like mere hours ago when she'd been just a house away.
There would be no more sneaking out to hang out on the rooftop.
Ignoring the familiar longing in his chest for home, he began to type a reply.
Matt:
I'm good. You?
Her reply was immediate.
Jess:
Peachy.
Matt cracked his head for something to say. Maybe something goofy but not too silly, or something sweet but not desperate. Definitely not desperate.
He sighed. Chatting with her had never been this difficult.
He decided to be honest, to tell her exactly how he felt instead.
Matt:
I miss you.
For a mortifying minute, as he stared at the "typing" beneath her name, he dreaded her reply. He was terrified that she'd push him away, or worse, ignore him all together.
She was very good at ignoring people.
"Chukwudi!"
Matt sighed and stared at his blue walls in exasperation, tempted to pretend he didn't hear his mom scream his name at ten fifteen at night.
She wasn't giving up. "Chukwudi!"
"Yes Mom!" He yelled back pushing back the thin cover and running for the door, his phone left behind on his pillow.
Rushing down the stairs, he made a beeline for the kitchen where he suspected his mom was.
He glanced around at the empty kitchen. "Mom?"
"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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