Chapter 6 - MATTHEW GOT ANGRY
Everybody worried about Luke.
Almost nobody worried about Matthew.
That became a problem.
Teachers asked him about his “miracle twin.”
Donors sent gifts for both boys.
Reporters waited outside school.
Adults said:
“You must be so happy!”
Matthew smiled.
Said yes.
Then one night Isabella found him smashing tennis balls against the indoor practice wall hard enough to leave marks.
“Matthew.”
“I’m practicing.”
“At ten-thirty?”
He hit another.
“Stop.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“Matthew.”
He finally screamed:
“EVERYTHING IS LUKE!”
The ball dropped.
Isabella froze.
Matthew’s face crumpled.
“Everybody asks about Luke.”
“Everybody looks at his birthmark.”
“Everybody says you got your baby back.”
Then:
“Wasn’t I enough?”
Isabella’s heart broke.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“No!”
He backed away.
“Don't say that.”
“You keep crying when you look at him.”
“You never cried when you looked at me.”
There it was.
Eight years old.
Too young to understand that grief and love were not competing accounts.
Old enough to feel replaced.
Isabella sat on the floor.
“I did something wrong.”
Matthew stared.
“What?”
“I thought because you were safe, you didn’t need as much attention.”
His eyes filled.
“That was unfair.”
He said nothing.
“I am not happier to have Luke than I was to have you.”
“That doesn't even make sense.”
“I know.”
She smiled sadly.
“Motherhood doesn't always fit into good sentences.”
Matthew sat.
Then whispered:
“What if he gets half of everything?”
There.
The trust.
Kids hear things.
Isabella became careful.
“You mean money?”
“Yes.”
“Then he gets what legally belongs to him.”
Matthew stared at the floor.
“Do I lose half?”
“Possibly.”
He looked hurt.
Then ashamed for feeling hurt.
Isabella touched his hand.
“You are allowed to have complicated feelings.”
“Even bad ones?”
“Yes.”
“Feelings are not court testimony.”
He almost smiled.
Then:
“I don't want Luke poor.”
“I know.”
“But I don't want everyone acting like I stole his money.”
“You didn't.”
“You were a baby.”
Matthew nodded.
“Does Luke hate me?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Ask him.”
So Matthew did.
The next afternoon, he found Luke outside.
“You know about the trust?”
Luke shrugged.
“Lawyer lady talks too much.”
“Rachel?”
“Yeah.”
Matthew shoved his hands into his pockets.
“You get half.”
“Okay.”
“Does that make you happy?”
Luke looked at him.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Can it buy Miller back?”
Matthew stopped.
“No.”
“Can it make me not sleep behind the laundromat?”
“No.”
“Then it’s just money.”
Matthew sat beside him.
After a while:
“I was scared you were taking everything.”
Luke looked confused.
“Like what?”
“Mom.”
“The house.”
“Dad’s stuff.”
“Everything.”
Luke was silent.
Then he handed Matthew something.
The brownie wrapper from the gala.
Folded neatly.
“You gave me this when I thought everybody was sending me away.”
Matthew stared.
“So?”
“So you were nice before you knew I was your brother.”
Luke shrugged.
“I remember.”
Matthew’s eyes filled.
Then Luke said:
“You can keep the stupid money.”
Matthew laughed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Mom would kill me.”
Luke laughed too.
That night Isabella found both boys asleep on the same couch.
Not hugging.
That would have been too easy.
Luke’s feet were in Matthew’s face.
Matthew had one hand wrapped around the television remote.
Normal.
May you like
That was better.
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