Angelic Salutation

I miss Matthew. I love that his name was Matthew. I have no other Matthew in my life. It’s a nice name, it fit him. I am getting a puppy and would love to name it after him. My family would think I was talking to a dead person all the time though. Quite frankly it’s the plan. I can talk to the dog and have my friend back.

I am outside of a Funeral Home right now. Number One is paying his respects to a friend’s mom. She was 92. I opted to not go in. My friend was the last person I have seen in a box and that is just how I’d like to keep it for now.

 I met Matthew when I was in my early twenties. He died when he was 28. I knew that he was dead before I was told. I met him where I worked, he was my boss’ son. His only son. Matthew was also The Mute’s cousin. First cousin. I have no idea how I always am wrapped up in a family but whatever. It happens. Number Three called me at the casino to tell me what I already had known. I hung up and gambled some more.

Back from the funeral, Number One is asleep at my feet while I write.

{It’s working just fine. I can smoke freely, watch a giant tv and it removes some of the guilt of not being home like a ‘normal’ mom.}

Matthew was a dry wit genius. He got it from his dad. He wouldn’t freely admit that, but he knew it. Matthew was cynical as a teenager, never mind the angst and awkward phases young men go through. Matthew liked white jeans on just about any woman. And BeBe sweats on girls with nice asses.

After I had met and married Number Three, Matthew started to work for us and I started raising my kids. He looked up to me. Although he always thought my housekeeping was questionable at best. He also thought it was so ghetto that the soda is never cold in my house.

In the two years since Matthew died (I usually say left because I took it so personally) my life has changed more than Casey Anthony changes her story.

After The Boy was born I knew my marriage was in trouble. I was depressed, business was busy and I was home alone with the girl and boy. Every morning Matthew was my sunshine. He had a snarky comment, a cigarette and a sweet smile. Every day.

{This is starting to make me sick. I have been so anxious lately. It’s like all the doomsday nonsense Number Three and Sweet Dee spew is getting to me. I need to breathe and keep writing.}

Often after work Matthew would come inside to wash his hands, he’d say hi to a kid and see what I was doing.

{ I was retransforming into a woman.}

Sometimes he would have a sandwich. A cup of tea was my favorite. That meant he didn’t want to go home to whatever was torturing him and he would stay and chit chat for hours. Sometimes about nothing and often about his mom and dad. He loved them so much. He worried terribly about his mother. Her state of mind, her physical ailments that began cropping up in full force the last two years of his life. I was close to his mom too. I have since pretty much detached.

{Hmph. Detachment.}

Matthew would watch me do my hair and makeup. No else had ever done that. Although Miss Carry would and probably has. He didn’t like when my hair was too many colors and laughed that I started wearing high heels in my pajamas doing housework. He liked the LAMB Sandals the best.

Number One is still asleep. I am still smoking weed and typing. Like he said earlier, this relationship is ideal for me. A few times in the past year I was almost in astounded joy that I had found a way to have my cake and eat it too.

{Though-having adopted Matthew’s cynicism when he left – I am left with only questions and more heartache.}

Matthew had crashed his truck when he was drunk, he’d gotten jumped and beat up on occasions, transformed his body multiple times. He was grumpy, cynical, very white. He was a boy’s boy. But he loved a Prada shoe. I liked when he drove a Caddy best, it suited him and the man he would someday become.

Matthew certainly didn’t make it to 92. He was only getting started. He always told me he had been born fucked. I didn’t and don’t believe that. I told him I didn’t believe that. I told him that he was smart and handsome. I told him that he was a good son and a good friend. I told him how much he made me laugh and how sometimes I just needed a hug or hello with a shitty grin.

I never told him goodbye.

Number one will be happy I stayed late. He says I leave ten minutes after he is asleep and sometimes he thinks I am in the bathroom and I never come back.

{Hmph. Detachment.}

2 thoughts on “Angelic Salutation

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