Since I can’t afford to put him in a private facility, he stays here, where the state picks up the majority of the cost, leaving me with the rest. The amount of credit card debt I’ve racked up this past year has been monumental. He’s the reason I’ve been fighting so hard to stay at Georgetown. All that is over now, but no matter how bleak my future looks, I’ll do whatever I can to get him out of this derelict place and into a private facility.
I called last week to let them know that I would be taking Matthew for Christmas, so when I walk in to sign him out, the director is waiting for me to discuss Matthew. It comes as no surprise that the setbacks outweigh the progress. Matthew doesn’t handle change or stressful situations very well. They trigger his anxiety and temperament.
“Emma!” Matthew exclaims when he enters the director’s office with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “Why weren’t you here at five o’clock when you said you would be?”
I wrap my arms around my big brother and squeeze him. “I’m sorry. I got a late start this morning, but I’m here now.”
“But you said you’d be here at five.”
“I know.” I drop my arms from around him and step back, seeing the annoyance in his eyes.
“It’s after six. It isn’t five like you said.”
Resting my hand on his shoulder, I nod as I release a breathy chuckle. “I know. I’m late.”
“Yeah, because it isn’t five.”
“Matthew, sometimes people run late,” Mrs. Nguyen says as she stands from behind her desk. “I know you were expecting her at five, but we have to remember to be flexible, okay?”
Matthew nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says before adding, “But she said five.”
I shake my head and smile, taking his bag for him and pushing on his shoulder to lead him out.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Because the roads are bad and I just wanted to get here as soon as I could.”
“You should’ve called,” he continues, unable to let it go.
It doesn’t bother me at all. According to Matthew, you better follow through with whatever you tell him because he will make sure you know if you mess up.
“Come on. Get into the car so we can check into the hotel.”
Excitement lights his face, and as we head to the hotel, he rambles on and on about going swimming.
“It’s an outdoor pool, buddy. It’s way too cold to go swimming.”
“But I want to go swimming. It isn’tthatcold.”
“Dude!” I exclaim. “Do you not see the snow falling from the sky?”
“It still doesn’t feelthatcold.”
Matthew may be four years older than I am, but I’ve always felt like the big sister. Like it’s my job to protect him because he only functions at a child’s level, which is why he will never be able to be self-sufficient. It’s another layer of pressure weighing on me. I’m all he has.
After we check in and Matthew has claimed his bed, we head out to grab a bite to eat. While we wait for our food, he tells me in extreme detail about the last movie he got to watch during the facility’s monthly outing to the theater. I forgo mentioning that I’ve been wanting to see the film as he reveals the whole plot, including the ending. I smile as I listen, but when the waitress delivers the mac and cheese and Matthew’s expression drops, so does my smile.
“Is there anything else I can get for you two?” the woman asks, to which I quickly shake my head as he stares in disgust at his dinner.
“It’s white,” he complains. “It’s supposed to be orange.”
“I know, but remember, we have to be flexible. Try it. You might actually like it,” I attempt to encourage, but I know better. My brother isn’t one to be swayed at all.
“No.” He pushes the bowl away. “And the pasta is shells. I only like elbows.”
“It’s all the same.”
“It isn’t.” His voice notches up an octave. “It’s nasty.”