Page 88 of Come Back to Bed
Sigh.“I honestly don’t know anything anymore.”
He brushes hair from my face. “Are you okay? Are your channels opened up?
“You did not just ask me that.”
“So, after you left, your dad mentioned feeling like an idiot for falling off a ladder and then your mom got this really intense look on her face and started asking him all these questions about why he feels that way.”
“Oh no.”
“And he kept answering them until he kind of broke down and then your mom got up and hugged him and sat on his lap for the rest of dessert. I kept looking over at Elijah because it felt like we should leave because maybe your parents were going to start making out at the table, but he just sat there like he’s seen it all before.”
I’m basically trying to find a way to hide between the mattresses like a cat, because I’m so horrified that Matt witnessed that.
“Was that converge-sating?”
“Yup. That was a patented Steve and Leslie converge-sation.”
“Wow. That was…intense.”
“You have no idea.”
“Do they make you do that?”
“They used to. I’ve gotten pretty good at side-stepping it.”
“Well, I promise not to make you do that. Like, ever.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you really sad, though?”
“Not exactly. One of the reasons it’s so hard for me to visit is I don’t want to leave once I’m here. I mean. I love New York. When I’m there I don’t want to leave either. But it’s special here.”
“It is. I like it a lot.”
“Really? It’s not exactly SoHo.”
“What’s not to like? I like knowing that you grew up here. I can just picture you running around that field in your little floral handmade dresses, with your braided hair and a basket of flowers and a little pet lamb.”
“I never had a pet lamb.”
“This is my fantasy.”
“Okay.”
“Speaking of fantasies…I know your mom said we’re free to have sex in this bed, but I’m kinda tired. Is it okay if we just sleep tonight?”
“Oh, Matt McGovern, Esq. I thought you’d never ask.”
Spooning in bed with no sex and no talking? If this is what being in a relationship with you is, I’m all in.
* * *
I wake up with the realization of how I can best help my parents, who would never ask anyone for help. After breakfast, I pick up the phone and call their oldest friends in town, to say “hi” and to casually mention that I’m here because my dad hurt his shoulder and can’t do everything that needs to be done around the farm for a while. Within fifteen minutes I have five people offering to come by every week to help them out, and I have no doubt that more offers will come in once word gets around. Of course, my parents most likely won’t answer the phone, but their friends will show up uninvited eventually. It really does pay off to be a good neighbor.
Later, while my mom plays with Daisy, and my dad stubbornly plants rows of beans with one hand, Matt and I go for a walk in the woods behind the house together.
“Can I just say something?” he says, after minutes of only the sound of birds and our footsteps. “It’s not really my place, but in case you want someone else’s perspective—I don’t think you need to worry about your parents so much. They seem pretty functional to me. And really happy.”
