The Muse's Undoing

I see they brought breakfast, a full spread of pastries. I head into the kitchen to make myself some tea. I need to get home, but I don’t see my parents that often, and I might as well buy myself another few months of privacy since I’m already here.

Hopefully, if I act normal, they will, too.

15

FISCHER

Matthew has an excessive amount of my attention this morning. When Donna commented that he looked thin, I found myself doing a full visual assessment, which left me feeling like he looked particularly good. He’s trim, but I wouldn’t call him thin. He’s all long, lean muscle and sun-kissed skin.

He takes a seat next to me at the table, smelling like me—my sheets—and I get slightly disoriented. My head hurts this morning, mainly where I hit it—a small lump and a bruise having appeared overnight, but also in general. Tylenol hasn’t helped.

In front of Dick and Donna, Matthew takes hold of me by the chin, turns my head and examines the injury with a scowl. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” I admit.

“You didn’t take aspirin, did you?” he asks.

“Just Tylenol.”

“Good.” To Dick and Donna he says while still examining me, “He hit his head last night—knocked him out.”

“I told them already,” I say, annoyed by all the fuss. “It was the first thing they noticed.”

“You didn’t say you lost consciousness,” Donna says. “You should see a doctor.”

“She’s right,” Matthew says, letting my chin go.

“I don’t remember you saying anything about that last night.”

“I have a feeling there’s a lot you don’t remember about last night,” he mutters.

I frown at that as Donna clears her throat. Ignoring her, I want to tell Matthew that I remember most of last night pretty well. Including the part where he used his undershirt to clean my cum off my slacks in front of a room full of people. This just went from awkward to awkward.

“Boys,” Donna says with a tight smile at us both. I’d think she’d appreciate how close her sons are now, especially given the fact that I spent the entirety of my teen and young adult years doing everything I could to deny the twins’ existence.

You’ve never seen anyone switch from angel to asshole the way I did at thirteen. College couldn’t come quick enough. When I changed my name, I was a breath away from annulling the adoption, too, but I didn’t.

The problem wasn’t Dick and Donna—the problem was me.

They told me I was adopted when I was in elementary school. Their love was so undiluted then that I didn’t even mind. I felt lucky. They chose me. But then came the twins—their own flesh and blood. Their miracles.

Now that I have a child of my own, I can’t imagine how hard having two newborns at once must have been. But the selfish teen I was back then felt attacked by it. My needs went immediately to the back burner, and I was left to more or less fend for myself. Dick and Donna were in survival mode.

Like I said, I get it now, but I can’t undo the feelings it brought up about not belonging—about not being enough. About being a burden it turned out they didn’t actually need to take on.

To be clear—they’ve never said anything like that to me. I’m relatively sure I broke their hearts. I think they see Vaughn as their do-over—either that or as a way to prove to me that they’ve never once regretted adopting me. They love him without reservation.

I’m grateful for them. Which is one of the reasons my feelings for Matthew are so complicated. Still, I care more about his opinion than theirs. And I refuse to fuck things up with him, no matter how good he looks in sweatpants. He’s seen me at my best and my worst, and, with the forever exception of my son, I love him more than I love anyone.

I’ve put far too much work and time into this friendship we’ve built to have it blow up over something as stupid as the fact that I sometimes want to touch more than his legs. He doesn’t think of me like that, and I’m way too attached to him.

Dick and Donna only stay for breakfast, and the conversation is mostly about how things are going with my kid. They’re excited for Maggie’s upcoming wedding, ecstatic she’s set a date, and eagerly anticipating new grand babies. I’ll be happy when that happens, too. Then maybe they’ll stop breathing down my neck about coming up to Larchmont every time it’s my weekend to have Vaughn.

As they’re leaving, I overhear Donna saying to Matthew, “You’re on your way home, aren’t you? We’ll wait for you to get your things if you want to come down with us.”

I glance at them to watch the exchange which involves Matty giving Donna an exasperated look. “What’s that about?”

“Hm? What do you mean, hon?”