Living on Perfectly Remembered Memories

Franchesa

Three weeks have passed since I visited Matthew at the hospital. My parents went to the hospital once a day, sometimes taking Kenny with them, sometimes leaving him at home with me. My family still couldn't understand why I didn't want to see Matthew. I never told them why, and I don't plan to.

The phone sitting on my bed rang. I forgot to put it back in its pedestal when I finished talking to Jessica. I picked up. She probably forgot to talk to me about something. That's Jessica for you.

"Hey," I sighed, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Franchesa! Can you come over please?"

Amy?

"Over where? Do your parents know you're using the phone?"

"My brother does. Please come and visit him! He misses you."

"Amy, how do you know that?"

"He talks in his sleep about you," she whispered.

"Oh, uh, really? That's nice for him. I'm busy though Amy." I tried to play it cool but if we were having this conversation face-to-face, she'd see how floored I am.

"Please come over. I haven't seen you in a long time!"

Damn it. She's lucky I love her as much as I love Kenny. I reassured her I would arrive at her doorstep in a few minutes. I sighed, slipping shoes on and walked to their front door. Amy greeted me and gave me the biggest hug her eight-year-old self could before running off to play with her toys.

I met Mr. Sanders who was watching soccer in Spanish on the TV. He met my eyes, smiling warmly. "He's up in his room," he told me, already knowing my intentions. I nodded, heading for Matthew's door. The door was open but I thought it would be rude to barge in there. I knocked on the wall, catching his attention. I then stepped inside. The room was so clean. That's a new one for him.

The light shone on his chest, leaving his scars on display. I couldn't help but to feel guilty about this. If I never asked him at the party, we would've still been best friends. I would end up going to the party with him and watch over him as he drank his weight in alcohol. I would've been able to prevent the nasty fight that did happen.

Water from my tear ducts clouded over my vision. Matthew hugged me tightly against his bare chest. There was the guilt, staring me in the face. His scars were even clearer to me now. I touched the raised areas where the stitches used to be. How deep were the wounds?

I found myself screaming at him. "You're so stupid! What if you died?" I'm stupid too but I'm not going to admit it.

"I know. I didn't though. Isn't that what matters?"

Oh sure, he always looks on the "bright side" of things. Well bright sides don't happen unless something dark happens first. I gave in though. "Yeah."

We're opposites; I can't deny that fact. I'm pessimistic when he's optimistic. It's like this all the time. I usually get into bum moods for the reality of things happening while Matthew is all bright and cheery, telling me the good side of whatever happened. It's annoying, it really is, but sometimes I'm in a better mood because of him.

"I love you Matt."

He shut his eyes, breathing onto the top of my head. "I wish you didn't."

"Why don't you ever say it back to me?"

"Can't tell you," he said stubbornly.

"And here I thought things changed," I spat.

Why do I feel like I owe him something? I surely don't when he lied to me just about everything.

I traced his scars with my index finger. If you broke the tip off a beer bottle and shoved it at someone's bare skin, their skin would take shape of the broken bottle. That's exactly how Matthew's scar is. It's terrifying.

He shuddered from me touching his scars. Oh my god, did I hurt him?

He pushed away from me, muttering that he needed to put a shirt on. I guess I did hurt him. I didn't mean to! God, I feel so horrible about this. He didn't deserve for a drunken lackey to stab him in the chest. He looked back at me, giving me a reassuring smile. And just like that, I forgave him for everything.