The Muse's Undoing

“Then why bring it up?”

“Maybe I thought you could read between the lines.”

“You get bored easy?” I venture.

“That’s not how I’d describe it, but if you asked Maggie, that’s probably what she’d say.” He takes another huge bite, this time of the hazelnut turnover.

“I’m more interested in how you’d describe it.”

He looks up and to the side while he chews, like he’s searching for a way to translate something only his brain could truly comprehend. “It’s like…obsession and burnout.”

“Hm.”

“I get fixated on things.” He briefly touches my arm. “Not that I think that’s what happening here, but…I wonder if you think that’s what it is.”

“Ah.”

“Do you ever feel like it’s hard to trust your own feelings?” he asks.

All the time. “Sure.”

“I feel really fucked up sometimes,” he says before turning back to his coffee.

This is something I’ve always known we have in common. Both of us are mired in our own messy doubts and insecurities. One of the reasons I’ve always connected with Matthew is that he doesn’t judge me—not the way my peers can, or my ex did. He’s accepted my shortcomings, both physical and emotional. Always. He’s never pressed for me to be anything other than who I am in a moment. And I think I could match his fucked up with my fucked up brick by brick.

“I get that I have weird brain chemistry, and I could do more to deal with that, but I wonder, too, if there’s something deeper…”

“Like something that hurt you?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, wadding up his napkin and dabbing it on his mouth. “Maybe.”

“And no clue what that could have been?”

“I’m not sure if it’s just one thing. It’s more like—” he makes a broad hand gesture. “Everything that hurts. Like everything hurts,” he finishes softly.

I wish I knew what he meant by that. I want to understand—more than anything. I wish I could be inside his head sometimes. Take a look around. Hang out awhile. Check out the view from in there. I absorb his comment in silence while I finish my yogurt, starving suddenly.

Once I’ve scraped the cup clean, I say, “I have a question.”

“Is it gonna be impossible?”

I grin. “No. I’m taking mercy on you.”

“Okay, go ahead.” His eyes narrow slightly and it puts a flutter in my chest.

“How do you keep all these lovers of yours from falling for you?” I ask. Because I don’t see a way to avoid it.

Matthew’s silent for longer this time. “I’m not sure I can answer that. But it’s usually not like that.”

I frown, more at what he didn’t say than what he did. “What’s it like?”

“Sexual,” he says.

“Like what we’re doing?”

“No… I don’t even know how you can ask that. How do you have a straight face right now?”

“Why?” I ask. “What’s different?” Because I’m that desperate for reassurance.