Never Been Loved(14)

Sometimes it takes no more than two minutes to convince myself that I’m doing fine, and there’s no reason for me to be feeling this shaky, or thinking about what my blood sugar levels are at. Sometimes it takes longer, but always, always, I can do what I need to because I refuse to die and leave Matty all alone.

Pain helps, too, especially when I’m on the verge of passing out. Once, it happened when I was driving Matty to daycare. The little guy was singing some rock ballad in the back seat, while a curtain of darkness started to descend over my vision, and the car in front of me didn’t seem so important anymore.

All I remember is mustering up enough energy to punch my radio, gouging my knuckles on several on the buttons. Pain has a way of violently reminding you where you are, and how much you don’t want to be there. It centers you, it brings you back out of that dark place you could’ve gotten lost in.

I don’t need pain right now, or food, and convincing myself I don’t have to throw up

won’t be needed after all. I just need to kick Aly out of my life. Whatever my dick wants is not worth Matty’s welfare.

Peeking into Matty’s room, I watch him sleep. I pad into his room and close his blinds, shutting the room in an understated darkness. Crouching down, I move my hand to touch his little back.

Matty’s so breakable, fragile. I can feel his ribs, and his heart thump-thump-thumping against my hand, like it’s reminding me it exists. I swallow past the pain in my throat and watch his little face, trying to compare him to Jules.

My sister is going to be leaving his face soon, and I think I might forget what she looks like if I don’t move my ass back home and go through all her stuff and snag some pictures for myself. But for now I have a living, breathing portrait of her memory and I have to start doing a better job of taking care of him than I already am.

Matty’s going to need a mom, and I don’t see Aly fulfilling that role.

“Daddy? Are you okay?” Matty asks, sleepy eyes slowly opening to look at me. Blue eyes. Like mine. Like Jules’.

How in hell can this kid reduce me to a sack of shit with one little question? How can he ask me if I’m okay, when nothing is okay? How can he ask me if I’m okay now that his mom’s dead, and Aly’s using me for rides on my cock, and everything has turned to shit?

I clear my throat, and feel that telltale itch on my skin for a tattoo. Endorphins – the post-tattoo rush; I need it. I’m going to have to call my guy to ink me sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow. Yeah, definitely tomorrow.

“Yeah, Matty. I’m okay. Are you okay?” I notice that he doesn’t move, like he doesn’t want to remind me that my hand is on him. Shit.

“Yeah, Daddy. I feel much better now. I might be hungry.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? You might be?”

Matty nods, and uses a hand to rub his eyes into full alertness. My nephew’s so fucking cute, he’s going to destroy all the teachers’ panties in kindergarten next year.

“I’m not sure. My stomach is rumbly, but I don’t want vegetables.” Vegetables comes out like veg-a-tables. I grin, totally forgetting that Aly’s in my bed, and I can’t feed the kid right away without causing some problems.

“How about some eggs? With ketchup?” I ask.

Matty’s eyes pop at the sound of ketchup and eggs. Personally, I don’t how he can eat the stuff, but he likes it just fine, and I’d rather he eat protein than sugary cereal. Christ, I sound like a soccer mom.

“You’re the best, Daddy! Can I have some now?” The kid still hasn’t moved. I ruffle his hair, and watch his eyes slide closed and a little smile chase its way across his mouth.

I’m the goddamn lowest of the low. But I mean, I survived without the whole affection thing – but I had Jules. She was always there for me, and Matty has nobody – except his asshole of an uncle. Poor kid doesn’t know how shitty his life is.

“Just wait a second, buddy. Aly’s here, and we need to be quiet for now, yeah?”

Matty closes his eyes again and nods. He stays still a long time, and I watch him, wondering if he fell back asleep. Nope. The kid pops an eye open and gives me an exaggerated wink. I wonder where he learned to do that, or how he’s using it in the right context. Little genius. He sure as fuck didn’t get it from my side of the family.

I put a finger to my mouth – the universal sign for keeping your trap shut. Walking into my bedroom, I’m not surprised to see Aly still staring up at the ceiling, still naked, and not looking like she’s going to move any time soon. My dick twitches again at the sight of her naked limbs, her legs open, her pussy still glossy from what we did minutes ago.