Page 22 of Then Came the Fall
“My head’s not right,” he admits.
“Yeah. I’m not trying to press my luck here, but after the earful you gave me the last time we talked, I honestly thought I might never hear from you again.”
“It’s all just been a lot,” he says. “I probably shouldn’t have come at you like that, but you caught me off guard, showing up at my house after seven years of silence.”
A twist of the knife.“I know. And I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to help. Iwantto help.”
Matt inhales deeply. “I need to be able to trust you, Taylor.”
“You can,” I say.
“It’s not just about me anymore,” he goes on. “I’ve got Brett to worry about, too, and—”
“I know. She’s beautiful, Matt.”
“She’s all I’ve got.”
“That’s not true,” I counter.
“It is. And I was feeling it last night, especially with my parents gone. I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry I called you.”
“I’m not. I’m glad you called.” I clear my throat.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Take the check back. I don’t want it. What you did last night was way more valuable to me than any amount of money.”
“But if you need it—” I begin.
“I don’t. My parents have plenty of money.”
“Then why is there a GoFundMe for you? It says you need money for medical bills and food and expenses while you’re out of work.”
He pauses. “Because sometimes, people do crazy things to assuage their own guilt.”
“Oh.”Drop it. Don’t push.
“Anyway, we can argue about the money another time. I was calling to apologize to you.”
“No need, Matt.”
“As I said, I’m not doing great. It doesn’t make what I did—calling you out of nowhere—okay, but I just thought I would explain myself.”
I close my eyes, noticing how the sound of his voice is closer to the Matt I always knew. “When you say you’re not doing great, do you mean physically? Or, like, emotionally?”
“Probably both," he laughs sarcastically. “But I mean emotionally. It’s just been a lot of change all at once. Like, one minute I’m fine, and the next minute I’m being carted off to the hospital—and then I come home to discover Leyla’s leaving me alone with Brett to take care of. Only, I can’t drive, so I’m fairly useless.”
“You can’t drive?”
“Not for another week or so, no.”
“How come?”
“They’re monitoring me. The doctors. Apparently, at my age, if you have a stroke—even if it’s a small one—you’re at a very high risk of having another one within the first few weeks. So until I finish all my upcoming appointments, I’m not cleared to drive.”
Another stroke?“Oh.”Did Leyla know this when she decided to leave?
