Page 72 of Open Water

“But surely your Uncle should have come for you?” Tom shakes his head. This. Fuck humans.

“I don’t remember any of them. I barely remember what my parents looked like. I have no photos. I have nothing left, and sometimes I get so fucking angry about it. What kind of fucked-up person gets rid of a kid’s things? I had stuff. He didn’t even bring me clothes to wear? I don’t think he even came to the hospital. Fuck relatives. I mean, I would have nevereverdone that, just abandoned some kid.”

“Maybe you are better off without them? Maybe if you had grown up with them, you would have turned into someone just as thoughtless? You can’t live your whole life thinking what if?”

Tom has to stop himself. Because he has kind of lived his whole life just like that.

“Instead, you have grown into this strong, brilliant, smart, caring, loving, young man, who I am incredibly proud of.”

Matteo just shakes his head. Vigorously. “I’m not strong. I’m terrified that I won’t be able to cope if Max gets unwell. I know it’s inevitable, that he might get really unwell at some point. He has told me what happened last time. How out of control he felt. Everything he’s told me scares me. I’m not strong. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle him.”

“You won’t be alone. Promise. Max is stronger than he thinks, and he is very stable right now. But whatever happens, I will be right here with you. Max is not moving out for a few years. Not that he wouldn’t cope, because he would, but because he needs to get an education and it would be silly to pay for accommodation when we have all this space. If the worst comes, and he gets unwell, you and I will cope. We have each other, and we both love him. We just need to try to keep him safe from himself, and then, love him through the aftermath. That’s all we can do.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” Matteo says quietly, his voice trembling, and it’s obvious he’s not well, the shock of hormones and anger and grief pumping through his body, goose bumps on his skin, despite the sunshine and warmth of the air.

“Life is like that. We can only try. If it’s not enough, then we will still fight. I will fight for him all the way, because he is my kid, and I am nothing without him. I have loved him since the first time I saw him, and I will love him until the day I die. There is no in between with kids, Matteo. Your Mum and Dad will have loved you. They will have loved you so desperately, that nothing would have kept them away from you. I bet they are still here, all around you. Watching your every move and if they could tell you anything, I bet they would have wanted you to remember that they loved you. Your parents would be so damn proud of you, kiddo.”

Oh fuck.Now Tom is wiping away tears and Matteo is sobbing. Desperately and violently into Tom’s arms.

“Can I tell you what I want to happen?” Tom tries. Because he has to steer this back on track. Get some of this sadness out, and put some hope into the mix, because he can sense that this is something Matteo needs to process and fuck Social Services if they haven’t had this kid in therapy. At least, he should still be in grief counselling and have a rolling appointment with a support group.

Matteo just hiccups into his chest. Clinging to Tom’s shirt like he never wants to let go. Which is just messing with Tom more, because every kid should have parents. Who the hell leaves a kid to rot away in a hospital bed when their parents are no longer there? Yet, he sees people like that at work. Lonely hard people seemingly unaffected by grief. Selfish, frightened people. People who think it’s easier to shove parts of life under the carpet and conveniently forget about it, than manning up and dealing with the people who need them.

“There is a room downstairs that used to be the guest room. We used to have au pairs who helped me look after Max when he was little, they lived there. It’s a nice, big bright room and there is a small toilet and shower. Next to it is the laundry room, which some of the neighbours have converted to a kitchen. You see the Larsson’s house over there, with the hot tub outside? They rent out the whole basement on AirBnB for tourists. It’s apparently really popular. Anyway, I was going to clear out the room today, because it is full of crap I have just thrown in there, because I am too lazy to take it to the tip. I was hoping you and Max could help me.”

Matteo doesn’t reply, so Tom takes it to be a good thing and just carries on. Nervously blabbering on about his big masterplan. He needs to get Matteo to agree to this.Please.Because it would be good. It would be so fucking good.

“I have a carpool van booked tomorrow, so we can take all the crap to the tip, and then, I thought we would go to IKEA, and buy a desk and a new mattress for the bed, or if the bed is crap, we will buy a new bed. A big double. Anyway, I was hoping that you would like it to be your room. A place where you can keep your things. A safe place. I will never go down there. It’s up to you to keep it clean, okay? But it will be yours. Then, you have somewhere to chill, and you and Max can sleep down there, or you can sleep up in Max’s room. I mean it’s your space. You do what you want. And if you like it, we can kind of work on getting a kitchen built down there, and a little outdoor veranda where you can sit and have breakfast. Kind of. I will need help though, because I’m not doing it on my own. You can start by figuring out how to sort out the floor, because it’s all just concrete flooring in the laundry room and we need to get it plumbed in. Lots to learn. Go google it.”

He has to catch his breath. Deep breaths. At least Matteo seems a little calmer. Even though Tom is now probably killing him with his overbearing pipedream that is probably the last thing the kid needs.

“You serious?” Matteo croaks out into Tom’s shirt, and Tom holds him a little tighter.

“Of course.”

“You want to give me a room.” Matteo says it matter-of-factly. Like it’s totally ridiculous.

“Do you know what I really want?” Tom is on a roll. He might as well lay all his cards on the table. Not that he will ever learn. Go big or go home.

“What?” Matteo says. Sitting up. Leaning back into his own space, his face all mushed up and swollen from tears.

“You said you have a few months until you are eighteen. What I want you to do is take those last few months and be exactly who you are.”

“And who am I?” Matteo snivels and wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve.

“You are a seventeen-year-old kid. For the last months of being seventeen, let yourself go a little. You don’t have to be anything else. Be seventeen. Be a kid and let me look after the two of you. Just humour me. Let me be your kind of messed-up-Dad-person and let yourself relax a little. You don’t have to be all grown-up and responsible just yet. I mean, I can always go all out and apply for custody of you… if that is what you want. I would happily apply to adopt you. Seriously, but then, you would be in love with your brother and that would be kind of fucked up.”

Yeah. That worked. The kid is smiling. Giggling a little.

“Yeah, I suppose that would be… wrong.” Matteo looks up again. “But you mean it? About the room? Living here? I could pay rent, if I took on a few more shifts…”

“Bullshit. You are not paying rent. When you go to Uni and get your study grants, then you will both pay a nominal rent if you still want to live at home, but you might end up living in the dorms, or getting a flat. I mean… it’s up to you, but if I have any say, I want you living at home with me forever. But that’s just me. I’m clingy as hell, and I kind of want my babies where I can keep you safe.”

“Babies,” Matteo mutters and strokes the coffee stain on his leg. Like he’s embarrassed.

“You are both my babies. Fuck. I’m still in shock that Max has a boyfriend. He was only like a little squirt of a kid yesterday.” Tom shakes his head. Looking curiously at Matteo.Please say yes. Please.

“What if Max splits up with me?” He looks distraught again.

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