Page 50 of Rewrite the Stars
‘It’s a hive of music,’ Martin told me, his eyes joyous too at his own recollection of how immersed in the local scene they’d already become. ‘We’re just starting out but I’ve no doubt we’ll get even busier soon.’
My heart soared when they then brought me up to speed with Matthew’s new rehabilitation programme and how his medical team were constantly setting targets to build muscle and were encouraging him to work on various equipment and exercises to try and reconnect his brain to his limbs. Matthew was full of vigour when he talked about walking again, which lit a fire inside me too as I fed off his enthusiasm.
‘It’s a guessing game,’ Martin explained, equally as dedicated to my brother’s rehabilitation as Matthew was himself. ‘It could be months, it could be years, but a lot of it is down to a positive mental attitude and that’s what we’re working on every day, isn’t it, Matt?’
I caught them smiling at each other just as I had so many times before, like they shared a code that only the two of them knew, and I had to fight off so many mixed emotions as my tender state absorbed every move of Matthew’s happiness.
I gulped back a bitter taste in my mouth which caught me unawares. Matthew’s life with Martin was full of new beginnings and opportunity, whereas mine had been steamrolled down a path I didn’t choose, just to help Matthew. I reminded myself I wasn’t in a great place and forced myself to be happy for my brother.
I also looked, as I always do, for Martin’s halo when he spoke with such passion about Matthew, reminding myself that they’d only just met before the tragedy that changed their lives. Yet here he was, still dedicated, still totally committed to Matthew, and I knew that things would have been so very different for all of us without him.
That’s love, I told myself. That’s absolute true love.
‘I bet Jack has words of wisdom for you when you feel panicky, Charlotte,’ Martin said to me over dinner when I explained my whole work dilemma in greater detail. Once the subject came up, there was no hiding my low mood, even if I’d managed to escape showing it most of the time I was in their company.
‘Jack is as awesome as he always is,’ I told them, and that was true of course. In fact, Matthew and Martin reminded me of me and Jack in many ways. Our bond is strong and pure, unconditional almost, and I know that we care for each other in equal measure. ‘He keeps reminding me of how I’ve nothing to worry about, that better things are round the corner, but I feel like such a failure, you know? I feel like I’ve let everyone down. I was a teacher in a top-class school and now I’m nothing.’
But just as I was about to really open the floodgates and get going, Matthew brought me back to earth with a bump.
‘I know, let’s walk the prom tomorrow and you can bitch to me for the whole time about how shit your life is being a fully qualified, unemployed teacher with years of experience and loads of talent to boot,’ he said.
My eyes widened at the extent of his point. Ow.
‘I don’t think it’s fair to say that as if it’s my fault,’ I said to him, that bitter taste hitting the back of my throat again.
Martin tactfully excused himself from the table. One thing I’ve noticed about him is that, despite his deep love, he takes no shit from Matthew and is also careful enough not to get involved in family domestics.
‘No one ever said it was your fault that I can’t walk,’ Matthew told me, sipping his wine as if I should just forget the twinge in his earlier comment. ‘What I mean is that you’re married to a doctor, you’ve a few years of teaching behind you, you live in a spectacular home with no health concerns whatsoever. I just don’t get what you have to complain about when you say “now I’m nothing”.’
Ah, now we were getting somewhere.
‘So you think that just because I have it all on paper I should automatically be ecstatically happy?’ I questioned him. ‘Why do you always think you know what’s best for me, Matthew? You’ve no idea how I feel or what my ambitions once were or what they may be now. Being a doctor’s wife with a nice home I worked hard for doesn’t define me. I’m more than that, so please don’t judge me. I don’t cast the same judgements on you.’
Matthew rubbed his forehead.
‘Don’t tell me you’re going to say how you could have been off living a high life of fame and fortune with you know who.’
‘Tom!’ I said, knowing that just by saying his name I’d hit a nerve. ‘Tom Farley, yes, sometimes I do wonder! You know, I pressed pause on my life and the path it was going on to stay at home and help you get better, so don’t pass idle comments about how I “should” be happy with my lot when sometimes I do think that things could have been so different for me.’
Matthew took a deep breath.
‘I see him on posters everywhere I go,’ he said, more sternly now. ‘Do you think it doesn’t hurt when I see how he’s tasting all the fame and fortune I once dreamed of? But that’s where it ends, Charlotte. I’m over him in every other way, but I’m not sure I can say the same for you.’
Martin came back to the table and we both went quiet.
‘And I’m not saying you should be happy with your lot,’ Matthew continued moments later when we both had simmered down. ‘I just hope you’re being honest with yourself because, otherwise, the only person you’re fooling is you.’
He poured me more wine and Martin picked up the cue to change the subject, choosing instead to ask me how I was settling into life in Ardara and asking if I knew Peter who runs the bar there and Mary who runs the art gallery. I took the bait. I didn’t want to fight with my brother, nor could I stomach hearing what he had to say to me about Tom. I’d hoped we had crossed that bridge and burned it. I didn’t want to go back to that conversation again.
Despite that minor blip, all in all, I was delighted to see how Matthew’s new life in Galway suited him and even though I did manage to complain a bit, it did fill my heart to see him try his best to stay positive. His never-ending determination to get out of the chair one day was inspiring and humbling to say the least, and so with all that in mind, I didn’t mention my work worries, or dare to tap into any hidden angst over Tom Farley again.
Matthew, as assertive and perceptive as always, wasn’t going to let me get away just so easy when he had me all to himself, though.
‘You’re allowed to feel the way you need to feel, Charlotte,’ he told me as I was leaving to go back to Ardara that Sunday evening, totally contradicting his joke about walking the prom, but I know why he said it when he did. ‘I have days when I want to scream at how unfair it is that I’msodetermined to get on my feet again, yet my stupid, sorry excuse of a body doesn’t have the power to keep up.’
I sat beside him on their front porch, wondering how the hell we created this mess between us.
‘I look around at people with other problems, much more extreme than mine,’ he told me, ‘and I try to remind myself how I could be so much worse off, then I also try to give myself a metaphoric kick in the behind to make me grateful for what I have in comparison.’
