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The morning had been foggy, though by late afternoon, it had thinned. The streets were slippery with bitter winter rain. This time of year, it should have been snowing, and the old people liked to talk about how the weather had been changing for the worse. Matthew had always been content in storms, though. He found them peaceful. Carlos’ laughter, perhaps the brightest thing in the air right now, rang through his ears. Jan and Tolys, on either side of him, made some comment about ‘failing biology’, and Matthew was dimly aware that this was some kind of innuendo about Jan’s love life…but he stared, trancelike, at the figure across the road. Matthew thought he’d seen him before. Maybe in a dream. Maybe in a long-buried memory.
The man was tall, even taller than Matthew, and broad, powerful. He wore a long blue raincoat. Flecks of black hair stuck out of the hood. Matthew remembered…a stubbly jaw, piercing eyes…rough hands.
“Matt! Careful!” Tolys yelled, and a hand yanked him back onto the sidewalk just as a car hurtled down the street. Close call. His three friends were staring at him in shock. Matthew could hear his heart pound in his temples.
“Thanks,” he smiled at Tolys, patting his shoulder gratefully.
“Pay attention, dude,” Carlos said. “You can’t die until the match next week, we need you.”
“Sorry…” Matthew turned back to where the man stood. He was walking away now, hands in the pockets of his raincoat. Rough hands.
“What’s wrong?” Tolys was frowning. “You seem almost…”
“Dazed,” Jan finished.
“Oh no, did you take a hit to the head?” Tolys’ frown deepened. “Ivan plays rough. I know I’m going to be sore all night.”
“I’m fine.” Matthew swallowed, squared his shoulders, and smiled once more. He hoisted his hockey bag higher up on his shoulder. “I’m just hungry. Where are we going to eat?”
They went to the Waffle Palace, Jan’s favourite place. His sister, Manon, worked there now. They got their stacks, loaded with sweet treats and toppings, and ate in large, boyish bites. They’d been playing hockey together since they were kids. From the earliest days, when they were skating on the pond in their neighbourhoods, to their first practices at the local rink. They all had the same dreams: Juniors, NHL, the Olympics. And they all worked hard for those dreams. They’d never been closer than now, the four of them playing high school hockey. These days, they bonded over their mutual dislike for Ivan, the new student who was an incredible forward but played so furiously that they always ended up with bruises and scrapes when they went head-to-head with him.
Honestly, Matthew secretly admired him. But he kept that to himself.
“What’s your plan when you get home?” Carlos asked Matthew.
“Oh, I don’t know. I think Allie is making his pot roast tonight, and he’s gonna ask for my help with the prep. And I gotta do some French composition thing.”
“That should be easy, you’re already fluent.”
“You’d think , right?” Matthew laughed. “Maman insists on looking over the assignments and always catches spelling errors or whatever. And then she’s all, Qui t’a appris le français ?!” he mimed her stern tone. His friends chuckled. “I mean, it’s just like a forgotten grave or cedille but it’s so annoying.”
“Can you do mine?” Tolys asked, a hopeful note in his voice. “I’m already swamped, I can't write a whole French essay on top of it.”
“No way. I’m not writing two, are you crazy?”
“I’ll do math for you.”
“Tol’s math never fails,” Carlos reminded him.
“Boy math, girl math, and Tol math,” Jan agreed.
“Fine,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “But I’m holding you to that.” They were standing now, to return their plates. Matthew checked his phone for the time. The sun had long since set, and he could already see a couple of texts from Maman, asking where he was. She needed to cool off a bit. He was seventeen, not seven. He’d be fine, even in the dark.
Matthew waved goodbye to his friends as they exited the restaurant. A black car was parked across the road. The streetlights were on now, glowing a ghostly yellow. Their town was fairly large, but also uneventful. Maman was from Paris, and hated the chaos of city life. Allie had spent his childhood in a village , so he was also not a fan of the noise and bustle. Matthew liked his town. He associated it only with good memories. They’d moved her after Maman remarried.
Matthew crossed the street, then walked down one of the by-lanes. It was a well-known shortcut.
It was then that he noticed the black car, following him.
Wait—was it following him?
Matthew glanced over his shoulder. He didn’t recognise it. But that was crazy, right, why would anyone follow him?
He walked faster. He wasn’t far from home. Instinctively, Matthew fumbled with his phone and called the first person on his call history, which happened to be—Ivan.
Right, Matthew had called Ivan this morning to ask what time practice was today.
“Hello?” Ivan answered after the first ring.
“Uh, hi.” They weren’t exactly close. “Um,” Matthew glanced over his shoulder again. “What’s…what’s up?”
“...Just dinner. You?”
“Walking home,” Matthew said honestly.
Ivan perhaps had a sixth sense, because he immediately asked, “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Matthew checked over his shoulder again. The car was still there. It was still there. “Stay on the call with me?”
“Okay. Where are you?”
“Near home.” God, was this really happening to him? This stuff didn’t happen to tall, athletic white cis guys, right? Matthew was definitely being paranoid. Fortunately, he could see his house up ahead. The lights were on. They were home, and he would be home soon, and everything would be okay. Matthew swallowed a breath of air, and burst into a jog. As he jogged, he spoke. “I’m—just—freaking—out—over—nothing.”
“Better paranoid than dead,” Ivan said in a dark, serious tone. “Are you running? Are you being chased ?”
Matthew looked over his shoulder once more. The car had stopped. It was getting smaller in the distance. Matthew didn’t slow down. “Not—chased,” he rasped. “But—”
“Stalked?”
“I…” he broke off, gasping, as the door of his home grew closer. He finally slowed his pace. “I don’t know? I just had a bad feeling. Anyway, I’m home now.”
“Get inside, shut the door, and then I’ll hang up. Are you home alone?”
Matthew fumbled with his keys. Turned the lock. “No, my parents are here.”
“Okay good.”
The door swung open, and Matthew hurried inside, shutting it with a bang. “I’m home,” Matthew said, both to Ivan and Maman, who was reading a novel on the sofa.
“See you,” said Ivan. “Text me later.”
“Thanks, I will.” Matthew hung up. His fear must have shown on his face because Maman frowned up at him, then got off the couch. He dropped his backpack, hockey bag, and stick on the floor as she approached, and without warning, grabbed her in a hug.
“Matthew? Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
“Sorry,” he said, instead of answering, and hugged her tighter. This had spooked him way more than he’d expected.
“You’re out of breath. Did you run here? What’s going on?” Maman stroked his damp hair. “Alasdair! Alasdair, come here!”
“I’m fine.” Matthew finally pulled away, forcing himself to take slower breaths. Heavy footsteps pounded out of the kitchen, and Allie’s red hair and large shoulders darkened the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, as Maman led Matthew to the couch.
“I’m being paranoid,” he said, which immediately got their attention. Allie took a seat opposite him, a soothing hand on his knee. Maman rubbed circles on his back. “I thought I was being followed. And it was kinda scary.”
“Followed?” Maman’s jaw dropped.
“Tell us slowly what happened,” Allie ordered, so Matthew did. He talked about the black car, and how it was inching down the street as Matthew was walking home, and how he called Ivan to stay on the line with him. Maman’s eyes grew wider and wider. Allie’s grew dark, frowning with his bushy brows.
“Do you remember the car’s plates?” Allie asked.
“Crap, no, I don’t. I should have made a note of it…”
“It’s okay.” Allie squeezed his knee again. “It’s okay. You’re fine, you’re home safe. You’re safe, okay?”
Matthew nodded. He was safe. Yes. He stood, his legs a little jellied, and said, “I’m going to…like…change and stuff…” Really, he wanted to be in his room.
By the time he’d showered and changed into sweats, Matthew felt marginally better. He went downstairs to help Allie with dinner. Allie had just begun, chopping broccoli florets. Chicken was marinating on the counter. Allie ruffled Matthew’s curls. “You all right?”
Matthew nodded. “Sorry for freaking everyone out.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you told us.”
“I was probably being paranoid, right?”
Allie hummed, noncommittal. “It’s good to be alert and aware. If you see that car again any time during the week, I want you to tell us. And Maman is dropping you to school tomorrow.”
Matthew groaned. “Okay, I don’t want you guys to be overprotective. She can already be so…”
“Matt,” Allie said in quiet warning.
“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” he muttered, grabbing another chopping board and some washed carrots. “But like, you know how she is.”
“She loves you. I know you love her too.”
“I do, of course! But she can be overbearing. I know she doesn’t even want me to play hockey because she thinks it’s dangerous.”
“But she does let you play hockey, because she respects your ambitions,” Allie pointed out, making Matthew hunch as he sulked. “I think you should respect her anxieties. That’s all I’m saying.”
Matthew sighed in defeat. He didn’t want to have that lecture again. “Fine,” he said, and chopped the vegetables in silence.
For the next couple of days, Matthew was dropped to and from school and practice, which was fun in its own way because Maman was fun, but in other ways very annoying, because he was seventeen being ferried around by his mother. He loved her, but why didn’t she understand that he was nearly an adult? He was beginning to think he’d imagined the stalking, anyway. He didn’t consider himself a target demographic for a kidnapping.
Then he saw the man again.
Matthew was with Ivan, exiting hockey practice. He’d finally convinced Maman he could come home by himself. His other friends weren’t with him. Tolys had a cold, and Jan and Carlos had left early because they both had family commitments: a birthday party and a hospital visit, respectively.
With the gear bag on his shoulder, as usual, and his stick in his other hand, Matthew had been discussing the upcoming game with Ivan when he spotted his…stalker. And being with Ivan emboldened him. Besides, it wasn’t raining that hard today. Matthew could make out the man’s features more clearly. He was standing across the road, making no attempt to hide the fact that he was staring at Matthew.
“That guy,” Matthew blurted, pointing. “He was there last week too.”
“Do you think he’s the same person who followed you with his car?”
Matthew ploughed forward. Was this smart? Probably not. But he wasn’t some scared kid. And he wasn’t alone.
“I don’t think this is a good idea—”
But Matthew ignored Ivan.
“Hey!” Matthew shouted. He was face to face with the stranger now. “I don’t know who you think you are, but unless you want me to call the cops, leave me the hell alone.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Matthew.” He had a soft voice. “I’m surprised you don’t recognise me. But I guess you were so young when I left.”
It hit him, then. Like one of Ivan’s famously brutal bodychecks. The dark hair. The piercing eyes. Those rough hands that left red impressions. “Dad,” Matthew whispered. Blood rushed to his head as he took a single staggering step backwards. “What—You—”
A hand steadied his shoulder. Ivan.
“ You were the guy in the car?” Matthew cried. “What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were some creepy pedophile or something!”
“I’m sorry!” He seemed so friendly, all at once, his hands up in apology. “I knew I’d frightened you off! I didn’t mean to. I—I’ve been…I didn’t know how to approach you, Matthew. I kept trying to work up the nerve and…I went about it all wrong.” He reached out, to hold Matthew’s arm, and Matthew flinched. His body remembered the things his memory had let go of.
Dad and his violent hands.
“Don’t touch me.” Matthew pulled away. And then a worse thought occurred to him. “Maman…you…does she know you’re here? No way,” he shook his head. “She doesn’t. You need to leave her alone.”
“I’m not interested in seeing her,” he countered, a sneer in his voice. “Her or that foolish Scotsman she calls a husband. I want to see you. My son.”
Matthew stared at him, at a total loss for words. He could feel Ivan’s sentinel gaze trained on the back of his head. “Leave me alone,” Matthew heard himself say. “And leave my mother alone.”
“Here.” Ivan handed him a hot chocolate. The coffee shop was loud and whirring and busy, but Matthew felt dazed and distant again.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the drink. “How much was it?”
“Buy me some food another time.”
Matthew rubbed his eyes. They were oddly strained. “I bet you’re curious.”
“I won’t pry,” Ivan said, taking a big drink of his own hot chocolate. The whipped cream gave him a moustache.
“He’s just my jerk dad. I mean, my biological dad. I haven’t seen him since…god, I don’t even know. My mom remarried when I was seven, and they’d been divorced for a couple of years before that. And he was…well…violent,” Matthew finished softly. The rainbow sprinkles on hot chocolate were melting into the glass. “I mean, I was a kid, but he used to hurt my mom. And I vaguely remember getting slapped once for crying too much. I don’t think she was there when it happened. She must have been at work. Anyway. Yeah. I don’t know what he wants. I don’t care.”
“I’m sorry,” Ivan murmured.
“Oh, please, don’t be.” Matthew raised his head at last and smiled. “He’s out of our lives. Maman and Allie are great, and Allie’s more of a dad to me than my bio dad, anyway.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear that. And I’m happy to hear that you weren’t being stalked by some creep,” Ivan added, with a small, playful grin. Matthew laughed.
“Small mercies, amirite?” he agreed. “Could you not tell anyone, by the way? I hate this kind of drama.”
“Of course. I understand.”
The silence that followed was a little awkward, so Ivan swiftly changed tracks. “I need to buy new skates. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Recommendations?” Matthew whipped out his phone. “I have a Pinterest board.”
Now that he was home, away from the distraction of a friend, and in sweatpants and a hoodie, Matthew found himself unable to concentrate on homework. All he could think about was his father. So much of that time was hazy in his mind. Repressed, probably. He used to be afraid of the man’s temper. He used to be afraid of silences, because when their house was too quiet, it meant his father was in a bad mood and anything could set him off. He remembered the way his mother always wore long sleeves and heavy makeup. He remembered watching her cover the bruises. But these fragments of his past were distant and formless. He couldn’t piece together a chronology of events. He had been young.
After forty minutes of doomscrolling, doodling in his notebook, and staring at the wall, Matthew finally gave up on physics and decided to wander the house. He could hear his parents in the kitchen. Maman was laughing, which made Matthew smile to himself. Allie was singing some old song, his baritone reverberating through the hallways.
Matthew stopped short at the kitchen door. They were dancing. Allie twirled Maman. He was wearing an apron, but his eyes were shining with warmth and Matthew wanted to laugh—and then he wanted to cry—because this kind of joy would have been unthinkable in his childhood.
“Oh! Mattie!” Maman cried, surprised, and then her face split into a wide smile. “Come here, petit! You know Edit Piaf, right?”
“Not really…”
“Kids these days,” she clicked her tongue. “ Non, rien de rien …” She took his hands. “ Chante avec moi!”
Matthew raised his eyebrow, grinning at her and then Allie. “Seriously?” he laughed. His mother kissed both his cheeks. And Matthew realised with a sinking feeling that he had to protect his family. So while Maman sang her song and Allie wrangled Matthew into helping with dinner, Matthew only thought, this is so fragile.
Happiness was fragile. It had to be protected. And his mother had survived enough abuse already. He could not let her go through the trauma again. He was older now. He was stronger, he was an athlete. He could finally take care of her. He could take care of them both.
Two days of peace and then the car was waiting. It was at the mouth of the cul-de-sac, and Matthew could see it from his bedroom window. Dad could get out and walk right to their front door! And if Maman opened the door, she’d see his face and his cold eyes and she would surely remember those horrible traumatic days and the stress would send her to bed. Matthew could not let that happen!
He was already dressed for school. He sprinted out of his room, barely remembering to take his hockey gear with him as he did. The breakfast table was laid out. Allie was reading the paper. Maman was making another coffee.
“Matthew! I made your favourite,” she said. “Pancakes!”
“Can’t! Late!” He tore out of the house without waiting for her protestations.
He ran down the street, nearly tripping over his stick twice, and ended up gasping for air in front of his father’s car. The window rolled down. “Mattie,” he smiled. “You ran to see me? Are you really that enthusiastic?”
“No,” Matthew rasped, breathing hard. “I told you, leave us alone. And don’t call me Mattie.”
“I just want to chat. You’ve become such a dashing young man.” His father reached out through the window to put a rough hand on Matthew’s elbow. Matthew wriggled free. He watched his father place his hand on the steering wheel.“Let me drive you to school.”
“I’m not getting into a car with you.”
“Come on. What do you think, I’m going to kidnap you? I’m your father. I just want to get to know you, and explain my side of the story.” His smile fizzled and his palm fell off the wheel. “I used to be a bastard. I lost my chance with your mother. But you’re a man now, and I only want to know the kind of man you’ve become.”
This was stupid. Dangerous, even.
“You like hockey?” His father glanced hopefully at the sports bag and his stick. “What’s your team?”
“The Habs,” Matthew replied momentarily.
“Come on. Let me drive you to school.”
Matthew came around to the passenger’s side. Stupid. Dangerous. Why was he agreeing to it? He loaded his gear in the back seat and buckled himself in. “If you screw around, I’m going to bodycheck you into the windscreen,” he warned.
“And I’ll deserve it.” His father handed him the aux. “Play whatever music you like.”
“Alasdair?”
“Aye?”
“Which of Matthew’s friends owns a black car?” Fran asked, pulling him out of the International news section.
“I don’t know, why?”
She was putting away Matthew’s untouched breakfast plate. Alasdair had to admit, it was a bit strange that Matt had left the house without eating. He liked breakfast, especially pancakes, and it wasn’t so late that he needed to race to school.
“I went after him because he forgot to carry his water bottle.” She set it down on the table. “And I thought I saw him getting into a black car. Didn’t Jan’s parents get him a car for his birthday?”
“I think that was red.” Alasdair noticed Fran’s brow pinch together in a look he was familiar with. Worry.
“What colour was that car that was following him?”
“Okay, now you’re being paranoid. Why would Matthew willingly get into some stranger’s car?” Alasdair picked up his phone. “Let’s just call him instead of fretting.”
Matthew answered on the first ring. “Hey, Allie.”
“Matt.” Alasdair knew nothing was wrong, but he was relieved to hear his son’s voice anyway. “Where are you?”
“Uh, just entering school, why?”
“You forgot your water bottle.”
“Oh, crap, really? That’s okay, I’ll buy some from the vending machine.”
“Okay, kiddo. Have a good day. Love you.”
“Love ya, Allie.”
Alasdair put his phone down. “See, he’s fine.” He came over and rubbed Fran’s shoulders as she sank into a chair. “You worry so much,” he joked softly, hugging her from behind. “He’s a good kid.”
“He likes to pretend he’s so grown up. But he’s a kid,” Fran agreed. Alasdair said nothing. He couldn’t fault her for being so protective. Not after all the things she and Matthew had been through.
“Was that your stepfather?”
“Allie, yeah, and he’s more of a dad to me than you ever were,” Matthew replied coldly. They were sitting at Waffle Palace. He couldn’t believe he’d just lied to Allie about being at school. But Matthew hadn’t eaten any breakfast and his father had offered to buy him something. Now there were two plates of waffles between them, plus two cups of milkshake. Matthew slurped some through a straw and avoided his father’s eyes. “You said you were going to explain yourself, so I’m all ears.”
He sighed, turning to the window. “I used to drink. I was out of control. And I hurt the people I love. But it wasn’t my fault, I went through a lot when I was your age, and I never recovered. Anyway, I went to prison for a while after the divorce. Petty theft, it’s pathetic. But I got out on good behaviour, and all I want is to stay clean and make amends.”
Matthew regarded him over his milkshake. “What happened to you? When you were my age?”
“You’re not the only one with a jackass for a father, kid. And unlike me, he never felt badly about hurting his son. But I…look, I just want to do better by you. Perhaps we can watch hockey together, or something. Whatever you like. Does the Scotsman watch hockey with you?”
“His name,” Matthew said archly, “is Alasdair. And yeah he does. He doesn’t understand it, but he knows I like it. He got me tickets to an NHL game on my twelfth birthday. We went together.”
A brief scowl crossed his father’s face, before he successfully affixed a smile. “I’m glad he takes such good care of you. I can buy you tickets too. To the Juniors, how about that? World cup game. It’s better, isn’t it?”
This was almost sad. Matthew wanted to tell him to give it up. There was no way he could compete with Allie, and attempting to do so would be awkward for the both of them. Allie had been there for Matthew through everything. When Matthew broke his arm falling off the swings, Allie sat with him in the ER for two hours, soothing him as he sobbed. When Matthew’s team came first in their peewee hockey league, it was Allie shouting the loudest in the stands. Allie taught him how to whistle, and how to change a car tyre, and when Matthew ended up drinking at some party last year with friends he no longer talked to, it was Allie who found him at the curbside and helped him sober up (before giving him hell for drinking while underaged).
Matthew pitied his father, who would never measure up to Allie, not even on his best day.
“Are you working?” he asked, to change tracks.
His father shrugged. “Gotta pay the rent, right?”
“Right…” Matthew didn’t know what to say. So he checked his watch. He needed something to do, something to distract himself. It was getting late, anyway. “I have to go to school,” he muttered, moving to stand.
“Wait, Matt.” He grabbed Matthew’s wrist. “What’s your phone number?”
…Seriously? This was such a bad idea…
Matthew swallowed. “I don’t know…” But then he sighed. Why was he doing this? Why, why? He typed it out in his father’s phone. “Text, don’t call,” he muttered on the way out, inwardly cringing. If Maman and Allie knew what he was up to, they’d be furious. He just wanted to go to class and forget about it.
-your favourite dinner: KD
There was a photograph with the text but Matthew didn’t open it. He used to like Kraft Dinner when he was little, but not anymore. Why was his dad texting him now? Matthew speared some broccoli with his fork and listened as Allie recounted a funny story from his office.
-you used to put BBQ sauce in it, remember?
-let’s get dinner sometime, what say you?
“Who is texting you repeatedly?” Maman asked with a disapproving frown. No phones at dinner. Yet Matthew’s phone was vibrating off the side of the table. Matthew pocketed it.
“Oh, nobody. Carlos,” he said. “Sorry. Go on, Allie.”
Allie was watching him thoughtfully. “You seem a little tense. Did you and Carlos have a fight?”
“What? No. Okay, maybe yeah.” Matthew rolled his eyes in an affected way. “He was being a bit of a jerk during practice today. But it’s fine, we sorted it out.” He was not a good liar. It stressed him out.
“Who picked you up today?” Maman asked. “I saw you get into a black car.”
Oh god, what? The horror must have shown on Matthew’s face because both she and Allie now frowned, and Maman leaned in closer for an answer.
“I…uh, Ivan. He’s, uh, a new friend. And he lives close by, so, uh, we carpooled.”
His phone vibrated again. Matthew forced a smile. “I’m going to tell Carlos to shut up,” he said, as pleasantly as he could, and hastened out of his chair, into the guest bedroom.
-Can you please stop bothering me, I’m eating!
-That’s not polite, Matthew, I expect an apology
-YOU expect an apology?
-I gotta go
Matthew switched his phone off for good measure before slipping it into his pocket. When he returned to the table, his parents were watching him, identical looks of concern on their faces.
“Is everything all right?” Maman asked, as Matthew sat back down. “You really do seem a bit anxious.”
“I’m fine.” Matthew ate the broccoli.
“Really, you know you can tell us anything, right?”
“I’m fine, really.” He chose a baby carrot, next.
“I don’t think you’re being entirely honest, mon chou .”
“Can you stop being so overbearing?” It exploded out of him. “I said I’m fine!”
“ Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Allie said as Maman reeled back. “She’s just worried. Apologise right now.”
Matthew gritted his teeth and exhaled, allowing himself a second to calm down. “Sorry,” he muttered. He stared at his plate, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron. He just wanted to be left alone. By Maman, by Allie, and by his stupid dad.
Whatever. Screw it.
He pushed his chair back.
“You’re not even going to eat?” Maman cried. She sounded angry now. But Matthew was already turning away.
“I have homework.”
As he stomped upstairs, he heard Allie say, “Let him be.”
Matthew exhaled roughly and slammed his bedroom door shut. It reverberated delightfully. He threw his phone on the table, then threw himself into bed. The pillow suffocated him as he dug his nails into it. It’s okay, he told himself. It’s fine. You can handle it.
Unfortunately, being an athlete meant that Matthew was always either starving or stuffing his face. Skipping a meal wasn’t an option, it drove him to distraction. After stewing in his room for a while, growing increasingly hungry, Matthew dug around his backpack for trail mix and protein bars. But even that wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger. Around midnight, he just gave up, and went downstairs.
The house was quiet. Maman and Allie were usually in bed by now. Matthew switched on the kitchen light and opened the fridge. Leftovers. He grabbed the Tupperware boxes and a plate. Maman had made sweet and sour pork and rice. Matthew also took the rest of the steamed veggies. He loaded it into the microwave and watched it spin in the darkness. He was tired and he felt a little ill. He didn’t like keeping secrets like this. But if he didn’t get through to his dad, then the man might go after Maman, and well, Matthew couldn’t let that happen. If he had the audacity to park his car at the cul-de-sac, he could just as easily follow Maman to work and back. Things could get out of hand. But if Matthew could just be his friend…then perhaps he could be convinced to back off and leave them alone.
The plate was hot when he took it out. He very nearly dropped it when he heard footsteps enter the kitchen.
“Thought that was you.”
“Allie.” Matthew placed a hand on his heart. “You startled me! What are you doing up?”
“Hungry, huh?” Allie raised a bushy brow and smiled. He pulled back a chair. “Sit. Eat.”
Matthew felt like a prisoner being interrogated in one of those crime shows. Allie towered over him as Matthew sat. He patted Matthew’s shoulder, then came around and leaned against the wall. “Aren’t you going to sit?” Matthew mumbled, stuffing a spoonful of rice in his face.
“I sit all day at work.” He stretched, cracking his knuckles. “So, what’s with the tantrum? Teenage angst? Unrequited love? Because I’m not buying this Carlos thing, and you’ve never raised your voice at your mother before.”
“Yeah, I felt bad,” Matthew muttered. He looked only at his plate. “It’s nothing, I was just stressed about school.”
“Why? Are your grades okay?”
“...Yeah.”
“So what is it, then?”
Matthew held his silence.
A chair screeched as Allie pulled it back and sat down. Unwilling to let Matthew get away with it, he reached out and tapped the table. “Look at me. Come on. Eyes up.”
Eyes up. Allie’s awful little rule. When Matthew was younger and more avoidant, Allie helped him talk about his feelings by teaching him to maintain eye contact. He couldn’t believe this was still happening. He just wanted to be treated like the adult he nearly was. Matthew let out a hard, irritated breath of air, and lifted his gaze. He made no attempt to hide the anger from his features. If Allie was surprised, he didn’t show it.
“Everything’s fine,” Matthew said, his tone level.
“Come on, Matt. What’s going on that you can’t tell me about? I’ve seen you puke after drinking a 64-ounce strawberry milkshake. If I didn’t judge you for that, you think I’d judge you for anything else?”
“Whose idea was it to buy an eight-year-old a 64-ounce strawberry milkshake, anyway?”
“You bet me that you could drink it on your own. I tried to convince you otherwise, but you wouldn’t let up until you proved your point.” Allie grinned. “Your mother bought it for you to teach you a lesson, and it worked. You didn’t drink anything but small iced teas for a year after that.” He tilted his head, still smiling. “It’s a lesson you seem to have evidently forgotten. Don’t bite off more than you can chew. And definitely don’t try to handle things on your own. Whatever’s going on, let us help you.”
“Oh, god.” Matthew rolled his eyes. He had to give Allie that. What a way to twist a funny story.
“Is it something to do with Ivan? You said he picked you up for school today? A new friend, you said? Is he on your hockey team?”
Matthew shrugged.
Allie narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a crush on him? Is that what’s going on?”
“Come on, don’t try to morph this into something it isn’t.”
“We’d love you no matter what.”
Matthew nearly groaned. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing. I’m sorry, I don’t lead a very interesting life. No drama, no gossip.”
Allie sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his large chest. He pressed his lips together, unimpressed, but ceased his questioning. Somehow, Matthew figured they weren’t done.
-What are you up to?
-Studying
-Ditch that and let me buy you dinner
-I have a test tomorrow
-are you a nerd?
-I need to maintain my GPA so I can play
-I was on the football team. We just bullied the nerds into doing our tests for us
-yeah that’s why you’re doing so well now
-that was uncalled for
-sorry, dad
-let me finish studying. another hour?
-i’m waiting downstairs
“What?” Matthew hissed, shooting up from his desk. He peered out of his window. He could see the car. Parked right outside his house. Maman will see. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck.” Matthew grabbed his jacket and threw on his shoes. He forced himself to walk calmly. If he ran outside at 9.30 pm, his parents would question him. They were in the den, watching reruns of some sitcom.
Matthew grabbed the house keys. “I’m going to Jan’s to study math!” he called.
“Okay, don’t be late!” Maman responded, without taking her eyes off the TV. She’d been very cool with him since he’d snapped at her. She wasn’t angry, per se, but he had a feeling she was annoyed.
“I’ll be back by eleven.”
“Uh-huh.”
He sighed and left, shutting the front door behind him. The car was right across the road, and Dad was in the driver’s seat. Matthew threw open the passenger side door and sat down. “What the hell was that? I told you, I’m studying. And don’t come around here, I don’t want Maman to see you.”
“Oh relax, she won’t.” He patted Matthew’s back. “Come on, I found this great place.”
“I already ate dinner.”
“You’re a hockey player. I’m sure you have a good appetite.”
Matthew hugged himself as his father began to drive. What was he doing? He had a huge test tomorrow, and he still needed to practice quadratic functions. “I can’t get home late. I need to finish revising. The test is in first period.”
“Yeah, you’ll be back home before you know it.”
It was a bar. Matthew just gaped at it as his father pushed him through the door. Didn’t he need an ID? Apparently not. Nobody asked. Inside, it was crowded and fairly loud. Matthew had to shout to be heard. “I thought you were sober!”
“They’re just beers, kid. Plus, the food here is great.”
Though he was dragged to a table, Matthew did not sit down. “I want to go home.”
His father’s eyes darkened. “Will you stop being such a pussy? I thought hockey players know how to relax.”
Allie would kill this guy if he knew what was going on. Matthew stared at him in utter disbelief. “Fuck you,” he snapped, turning to leave. “I’ll get a cab home.” He burst out into the night air, reaching for his phone as he did. Ugh. No data. This place was at the edge of town, and the area was surrounded by woodland. They always had network trouble in this part. It even screwed up the GPS at times. Matthew could have kicked himself.
He stood out there in the cold, listening to the thumping music, waiting to see if any taxis would drive by. But after ten minutes, his fingers had become numb, and after fifteen minutes, it had started to rain. Matthew cussed and went back indoors. His father just raised his eyebrows as he saw Matthew approach through the throngs of people. He kicked the legs of the opposite chair, so Matthew could sit down. On the table were two huge burgers with fries. He’d known Matthew would return.
“Here,” he said, pulling the tab on a Budweiser. “You ever had a drink before?”
“I’m underage.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Matthew rubbed his temple. “Yeah, last year, at a party. I had too much vodka, it was a mess. My dad was furious.”
“Your step-dad,” his father corrected, something bitter and sharp in his tone. “Your real dad is more willing to treat you like a man. Drink up.”
“I have a test tomorrow!”
“We’re not leaving until you man up and drink. Your Maman has made a softie out of you, as I knew she would. You want to go home quickly and go back to studying?” He shoved the beer further towards Matthew. “Let’s chug together.”
Matthew was trapped. This was getting ridiculous. His fingers curled around the cold sweat of the can, and the acrid taste of the drink coated his lips. He’d never had beer before. He nearly spat it out. His dad laughed.
“Chug, boy,” he said, and threw his drink back. At the same time, he held Matthew’s can at the base and pushed it up, effectively forcing the drink down Matthew’s throat. A lot of it spilled down his sweater. Matthew nearly choked. He managed to gulp down the rest. Immediately, the room jerked off-kilter. He wasn’t yet used to alcohol. It hit him too fast.
Maybe the burger would help? He’d just begun to eat when his dad ordered two more beers.
“Stop it. I don’t want more. I didn’t want the first one. I have a test, and we’re so far from home, and I’m underage, and you’re supposed to be sober! Aren’t you driving back?”
“It’s beer, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like whiskey or vodka. You’d know that if you weren’t so goddamn soft.”
Matthew just stared. He didn’t know what to say.
His dad rolled his eyes. “We’re bonding. Father-son activity. These are precious memories, you’ll treasure them when you’re my age.” He opened another can and tossed back its contents in a matter of gulps. Matthew swallowed.
“If I get to your age,” he muttered under his breath. “You are not driving me back home,” he added, louder. “It’s sleeting. You’ll crash the car.”
“Can you stop being such a little girl? Huh?” He opened Matthew’s beer. “Drink that. Nobody respects a hockey player who acts like such a pussy.”
“Stop saying that word.”
Something shifted. A shadow. His father’s face transformed, from annoyed to deadly. Matthew remembered that look. The silence before the violence. Rough hands. He banged the can down on the table, splashing it over his palm. “You’re acting like an ungrateful little bitch. I don’t raise ungrateful little bitches. Drink. And learn to have some fun.”
Matthew looked down. Blood was rushing to his head, the way it did when he was knocked around on the ice. His body was cold, and it had nothing to do with the weather or his beer-stained sweater. Wordless, he reached for the can and took a deep drink. It tasted the way burning rubber smelled, bitter and polluted, or maybe Matthew just wanted to get out of here—to be home, in his room, with his family, safe, warm.
But he was stuck. So he endured.
“You are so lucky I was awake.”
“I’m lucky the bar had a landline. Thanks for coming...Wait. Wait. I’m going to…” Matthew swallowed, a hand ghosting over his stomach. But the nausea passed. Ivan grimaced, heaving Matthew’s father over his back. Matthew opened the back seat of the black car and Ivan roughly dumped his dad down, before shutting the car door on him. The sleet had turned the roads into slippery slush. Matthew staggered, leaning on Ivan, and then turned away before he threw up on Ivan’s boots.
“All right. All right, you’re okay,” Ivan said, the words coming out in an exasperated sigh as he rubbed Matthew’s back. “Let it out. How much did you drink?”
“Lost t-track after the fifth beer.”
“Wow. Good thing you had the sense to call me, huh.”
“D’you think he’ll be okay?” Matthew managed to ask as he leaned against the car door. The plan was to leave him there, inside the vehicle, and let him sleep it off. Ivan went over to his own truck and produced a thermos of warm water. It soothed the raw feeling in Matthew’s throat and helped clear his head.
“Your father? Yes, he’ll be fine. I’ll drive you home meanwhile.”
Matthew groaned as Ivan led him to his truck and helped him into the seat. His vision was hazy and swimming. “I owe you,” he mumbled, hugging the thermos. Ivan plugged his key in the ignition.
“It’s nothing.”
“Seriously, anything you want…”
“I want to be friends with your friends.” Ivan turned to Matthew. “Carlos, Jan, and Tolys. They seem cool, but I don’t think they like me. And that’s frustrating. I don’t have many friends. I think people are scared of me.”
Matthew blinked, trying to clear the fog in his head. “Oh. Yeah, ‘course. You’re a good guy.”
“I know,” Ivan said. “Not many people would drive all the way up here at half past midnight.”
“Wait.” Matthew’s eyes widened. “Did you say—” He fumbled for his phone, digging around in his pocket until he found it. Sure enough, five missed calls and ten texts from Allie and Maman. Matthew groaned, pressing his head back against the seat. “I am so dead. I’m drunk. And I’m way past curfew. They’re going to kill me.”
“You could just tell them the truth.” Ivan slowed at a stop sign. “That your bio dad made you drink.”
“No.” Matthew shook his head but that made his nausea and dizziness much worse. “You shoulda seen him, he was so scary. I thought he was going to hit me, for real…What if he gets mad? He’ll take it out on her. I gotta protect her, Ivan. It’s my job, I’m not a kid anymore.”
He thought he saw Ivan widen his eyes and shake his head.
“I know, I know,” Matthew went on. “I shouldn’t be afraid to take a hit, it’s not like I don’t get checked during games. It’s a contact sport—”
“That’s not…no,” Ivan interrupted softly. “I think you’re out of your depth with this guy. He’s clearly not sober or safe. And I get the sense you’re afraid of him. If you told your parents what’s going on, they’d be able to help. Maybe even get a restraining order. You said you didn’t even want to go out tonight?”
“I have Edelstein’s math mid-term tomorrow! How am I supposed to do non-yu…” Matthew squinted. “Non-yuck…”
“Non-Euclidean geometries?” Ivan finished for him.
“Can’t even pronounce it,” Matthew muttered, shutting his eyes. Even the darkness was spinning.
“First of all, finish drinking that water, I got it for you. Then you go home, eat a bunch of bread.”
“I can’t eat anymore. I’ve already had two dinners.”
“Well, decide what you want to do, because you’re going to have a killer hangover tomorrow and I don’t know how you’re going to do a math test in that state.”
Matthew rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I should have let him drive me home. He would have crashed the car and killed us both, sparing me the torture.”
“Super healthy mindset.”
Matthew exhaled through his nose, a way to show his amusement. He continued to hydrate. “Okay, wish me luck, I’m going to call home.”
“Good luck,” Ivan muttered grimly.
Matthew dialled Maman’s number. She would normally be asleep at this time, but not if he was still out late. Sure enough, she answered the phone within seconds. “Matthew! Where on earth are you? I told you not to be late! Is everything okay?”
“Yes, it’s…yeah,” he mumbled. “Sorry. I was at Jan’s, we were studying, and, um, I fell asleep. I’m on my way back.”
There was a pause on the line. Then Allie spoke. “Are you drunk?”
“What? Am I on speaker?”
“You’re slurring.” Allie sounded pissed. “Where are you?”
Matthew shot Ivan a tense look. “Uh, twenty minutes away.”
“Get home and we’re going to have a chat about this.”
The line went dead. Matthew groaned.
“Quick, drive into a ditch, I’m already a dead man.”
“No way,” Ivan laughed. “You might be in big trouble, but I have concert tickets for this weekend.”
There was no talk. Matthew was just grounded. For two weeks. They let him play hockey, thank god, but they took away his phone and banned him from the TV. Maman was beside herself. She hadn’t known about last year’s drinking incident. Now she was angry at Matthew twice over.
“Do you want to be just like your father?” she’d shouted. “Drinking himself half to death and then taking it out on everyone else!”
“That’s a little harsh, Fran,” Allie had said gently.
“No, it’s not. Underaged drinking! It’s irresponsible and unjustifiable! And that’s how it starts. I don’t know what teenage rebellion nonsense you’re playing at, Matthew, but I am not having it, you hear me? I’m not having it.”
For days after that, the anger and dissatisfaction rolled off her in waves. Matthew kept his head down and behaved. He was honestly somewhat relieved to be separated from his phone. He was sick of his dad trying to get in touch with him, and furious with how things had unfolded that night.
He’d nearly failed his math test, too. He hadn’t got the revision done in time and he was too hungover to focus. Professor Edelstein had given him a 52% and written, Surprising and Unacceptable! on his test sheet.
Nevertheless, he had successfully managed to integrate Ivan into his friend group. He’d caved and told them the story. They would not let up until they knew the truth about why he’d been grounded, anyway. They all thought it was crazy, and Tolys had even told him to come clean to his parents—advice Matthew flatly ignored. At the very least, they’d developed new appreciation for Ivan as a person.
Those two weeks were relatively calm. He just did school, chores, and hockey, and by the end of the fortnight, he got the sense that he’d been forgiven. Maman ruffled his curls when she said goodnight, and he and Allie got into a spirited (albeit good-natured) debate about books. Normalcy was returning to Matthew’s life, and it could not be more welcome.
And then the black car reappeared.
They’d just finished dinner and Matthew had been putting away the dishes when he saw it from the kitchen window. He nearly dropped a plate in his haste to go downstairs. He darted past Maman and Allie.
“Matthew, where—” she tried to ask, but he just ran. Out of the house, towards his dad.
“Why are you here?” The words left his mouth before he could stop himself. His father was standing outside, grinning at him as if he hadn’t acted like a Grade A Asshole the last time they’d met.
“Matt. You weren’t answering my—”
“Leave me alone.” Matthew ran a damp hand through his hair, stressed, anxious. “And get out of here before Maman sees you. She doesn’t deserve the trauma. Please just leave!”
“You’re being very rude, Matthew,” he replied, dangerously calm. “I came to check on you because I was worried.”
“Oh, now you’re worried?” Matthew roared. He couldn’t believe this. “But when you were forcing me to drink and got shitfaced yourself, that was totally normal! If my friend hadn’t picked me up, I don’t know what would have happened. You’re a wreck. A fucking wreck, Dad, and I don’t care what’s going on in your life, I don’t want you in mine. So get out!”
Something hard and swift collided with Matthew’s face, hitting him in the eye, and he staggered backwards, nearly slipping on black ice. He blinked, dazed, stars invading his vision, and above him somewhere, he heard his mother scream.
Matthew’s spine recoiled at the sound. He knew that sound. He’d grown up with that sound in his ears, Maman’s desperate cries as he shoved her into walls and cabinet doors. When he was little, Maman would lock him in his bedroom until the fight ended, keeping Matthew away from the worst of the violence, keeping him safe. He had to protect her now. He wasn’t that kid anymore.
Before he knew it, Matthew had sprung up and shoved his father back. Things were happening too quickly, and yet too slowly to process. Maman was standing barefoot at the front of the house, screaming for Allie. Dad’s fist connected with Matthew’s face a second time, smashing into his cheekbone. And then Allie—towering, powerful, protective Allie—had Dad in a chokehold.
“Enough,” he growled, throwing Dad to the asphalt. “You come around here again and I’m going to kill you.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Dad jumped to his feet and spat at Allie’s face. He was outsized and outmatched. There was no doubt about that. He turned to Maman, instead, even while speaking to Allie. “Keep your whore and her bitch son.”
He stuck his finger out at them and threw himself into the car. With a screech of tyres and smoke, he was gone, down the street, out into the night, hopefully forever.
Maman rushed over to Matthew, an ice-wrapped towel in her hands.
“Here, come on,” she said, pressing it to his face. “Come inside. That looks bad.”
Matthew allowed himself to be led into the house, Allie following close behind. They made him sit on the couch. “I’m fine, guys,” Matthew mumbled, still in complete shock. He wasn’t bleeding, just a bit bruised. He’d dealt with way worse during his games. Maman was holding back tears as she nursed his swollen cheek. Allie’s expression was grave.
“Matthew. What’s going on? You’ve been spending time with your father?”
“I’m sorry.” Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, and then buried his head in his hands. “I tried. I really tried. I just wanted to keep Maman safe.”
Like pulling porcupine quills from his skin, Matthew slowly revealed the story. He spoke and he spoke, not bothering with any more secrets. And when he was done, his parents just looked so sad and disappointed that Matthew could have cried. At last, Maman put an arm around his shoulders.
“What were you thinking ?” she said quietly. “If he’d been reaching out to you, the first thing you should have done was tell us. I have no problem with you wanting to get to know your father, but trying to handle this situation on your own…it was reckless and foolish. You could have been hurt—you were hurt!”
“You went through a lot with him. I just…I didn’t want him to bother you anymore. I figured if I gave him what he wanted, he’d leave you alone.”
Her nostrils flared as she exhaled. “You had noble intentions, but you went about it the wrong way. I’m not angry with you, Matthew, but I’m heartbroken that you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about this. Maybe I should be the one apologising, if I’ve made you feel like you have to be the grown-up.”
“No!” He shook his head, but that just made his face hurt. “No, that’s not it at all. I was trying—I didn’t think—” he stammered, turning helplessly to Allie. Through it all, Allie had been silent.
Matthew didn’t know what to expect. Allie looked so serious and forlorn. He figured Allie was going to say the same things. That he was heartbroken and disappointed by Matthew’s behaviour.
But he just put a hand on Matthew’s knee, and then moved so he was sitting next to him on the couch. “Come here,” he said gently, pulling him into a big, long, enveloping hug. Matthew sank into his arms, pressing his bruised face into his shoulder. Allie rubbed Matthew’s back as he began to cry. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re all right. It’s going to be all right.”
“He’s awful,” Matthew confessed. “So why do I care that he hates me?”
“He doesn’t hate you. Nobody could hate you. He just hates himself. He takes it out on everyone else.”
“That’s true,” Maman said, stroking Matthew’s back. “He was always insecure and angry.”
Matthew finally pulled away, wiping his eyes and wincing as it hurt. “I’m sorry for the mess I caused.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Feels like it is.”
Maman stood. “There’s a huge box of Neapolitan ice cream in the fridge,” she declared. “I suggest we finish it tonight. What do you say?” She smiled widely, and kissed Matthew’s healthy cheek. With her thumb she stroked away the last of his tears.
“Ice cream sounds good,” Allie agreed. “Need help?”
“No. Stay with him.”
Matthew pressed his feet into the floor. Allie continued to rub circles on his back.
“Honestly,” Matthew mumbled, “any time I spent with him just reminded me of how awesome you are.”
Allie snorted. “Of course I’m awesome.”
“I love you.”
Allie’s eyes widened, and then softened, melting like Neapolitan ice cream. “I’m so thankful you’re my son,” he murmured, hugging Matthew again. He kissed the top of Matthew’s head. “I just want you to be safe and happy.”
“I promise I won’t keep any more screwed-up secrets.”
“Good.”
“I mean, I might keep the occasional normal one,” Matthew clarified.
“Everyone’s got a skeleton in their closet,” Allie laughed. “I love you too, Matthew.” He retrieved the towel from the coffee table and gestured for Matthew to ice his cheek. In that time, Maman returned with a tray laden with ice cream and toppings: syrups, nuts, rice krispies. Allie grabbed the TV remote and put on a movie, silently signalling the end of Matthew’s grounding.
They sat protectively on either side of him. And a part of Matthew even wanted to protest. I’m too old for this. I’m okay. I don’t need to be coddled. But the truth was, his heart hurt. It was a pain more raw than a bruised face. And while he wanted to be an adult, at the moment, he needed nothing more than for his family to sit with him. There would be time for adulthood later. Tonight he was just relieved that even though his biological father was a jerk, he still had two parents who would do anything for him. So he allowed himself to be loved.