Matthew knew the voices he heard were Mary talking with his mother. They were laughing together, and both the sight and the sound made him feel relief. Maybe he had pulled himself from bed, just because he could. A strange fog was settled in his brain; he didn't feel particularly upset just vaguely confused since he had awoken. Just as he was approaching, their warm smiles a pleasant greeting, Mary's phone rang. She grabbed it, and kissed him fondly on the cheek before she exited the room with a smile at Isobel. Matthew sank into her vacated chair. Mary had been sitting close to the gas fireplace in their living room, and he relished the warm location.
"How are you feeling?" his mother asked him pleasantly.
"I don't know," he said, "I'm only half awake," Matthew responded with noncommittal to her question.
"Mary has been telling me about some of your honeymoon ideas," his mother said. "They sound very meticulous. It is a splendid notion."
Matthew's brow furled. He barely heard his mothers' words as he noticed the open curtains. He was distracted by the white landscape.
"When did it snow?" Matthew asked. He leaned on the arms of his chair and rose to his feet taking the few steps to the large bay window that took up much of the front wall of the condominium he shared with Mary.
"A little last night," Isobel said. "It is really quite pretty, just enough to add a little sparkle to the city."
Matthew held the frame of the window and continued to stare almost transfixed. Snow was a magic form of nature; it was science and maths sprinkled on the landscape of the world. His favorite mathematician Edward Lorenz had started his career using meteorology as the subject for most of his experiments. Ever since he was a little boy the sight of snow had held him this way. Snow was a transformation of the ordinary, a rare glimpse into something special; it was mathematical evidence. The cold didn't bother him as much now that he possessed this new knowledge, especially when he remembered holding Mary in his arms and twirling in the snow last year. The first days of their engagement they had been alone together in New York, and not even their families had any inkling of what was happening. William had canceled all his appointments when a snow storm delayed their return. Matthew sighed with bittersweet nostalgia at the memories; so much had changed since then.
"So," his mother said, "Four trips will make up your honeymoon, one for each season. Where will you go this winter?"
Matthew turned his attention away from the snow outside. He walked back to the chair and sat down again. Although this time he wasn't able to contain the mumble of relief. His mother eyed him rather suspiciously, but her gaze was kind and thoughtful.
"I take it your back hurts," his mother said with a frank expression on her face.
"When does it not." Matthew started curtly. "Sorry," he added quickly.
She looked at him compassionately her gaze was that of not only of his mother but a nurse.
"It's really not that bad," he said meeting her intense stare as he put his cane aside. "I'm just a little out of sorts," Matthew confessed.
Isobel rose from her own chair and retrieved a nearby footstool placing it before him. She nodded toward the item, and Matthew used it without any further prompting. It did feel good to put his feet up especially closer to the warm fireplace.
"Tell me about the destinations for your trips," his mother said coaxing him.
"Well," Matthew said with enthusiasm. "All we have decided so far is that we will each pick two of the four destinations," he smiled as he thought of the long list of places they would have to narrow down. They had been collecting the list since their impromptu wedding when he was in the hospital.
"Well, I want Mary to pick our first destination. Because …" Matthew couldn't finish the last of his sentence, but he trusted his mother would still understand. She could fill the in the blank. Some times when his mind wandered he thought of Lavinia and how when her cancer had returned and was terminal, it had never occurred to him to propose marriage to rally his girlfriend's spirit. He took a deep breath trying to shake the cobwebs from his thoughts.
Isobel smiled at her son, profoundly grateful that he had Mary in his life. Her early reservations had not come to fruition. She not only loved him unreservedly, but she also acted as both his translator and buffer when he needed one.
"Where do you think she is going to pick," Isobel said fondly as she watched her son. He looked content when they spoke of the future, of the honeymoon that had been so long delayed. A small sneaky smile crept onto his sleepy face.
"We can't go far," Matthew said as stared at his cane; however, a whimsical smile appeared on his face, which intrigued Isobel. "And actually I already know because Robert has insisted he is paying for everything, it was non- negotiable. And he told me Mary picked the French Rivera."
"He spoiled your surprise?" Isobel said raising her eyebrows in shock.
"Robert gets so excited mother; he just can't help it," Matthew said actually chuckling when he thought of Mary's father. "He was the same way with the Jaguar." Suddenly he bit his lip between his teeth. He turned his head to look outside at the snow as he willed himself to be calm. It took Matthew a moment, but he maintained his composure.
"Well," his mother said energetically. "I have errands to run before my shift tonight. I should be going," she concluded. It pleased him that his mother could return to work; she had taken a few months sabbatical during his recovery from the car accident after all. And yet as he saw her rise to her feet he wasn't ready for her to go all of a sudden. He felt like an idiot, but since Mary was on the phone he did not want to be alone. Remote feelings of panic swirled through him unexpectedly.
"Mother," he said quietly. "Can you stay another minute," he said.
He watched the way she instantly sat back down and was grateful.
"Something on your mind my dear?" she asked him astutely. And then she teased him, "Jealous I'm going back to work?" she alleged in a jovial manner.
Matthew did huff a small breath. He was anxious to have something to do that didn't involve his back injury. Writing their maths book only took so much of his copious free time.
"I'm going to try and meet some former clients next week. The bank where I used to consult has a spare office I can use," he said proudly.
He watched his mother smile at him; work was something they had always relished in his family. It would be safe to describe his father as having been a workaholic.
"What does Mary say about your desire for work?" Isobel said without a shred of reservation at addressing the topic.
Matthew grinned at his mother. "It is safe to say that she is emphatically against it," he said shaking his head.
Isobel once again marveled at her daughter-in-laws dedication to her son. He nervously stuck his hands into the pockets of his robe. What scared him the most about starting over and going back to work was that he would be alone and without his personal assistant, without William to help him. There was a place in the back of his mind that feared he would never recover enough to go back to work.
"Matthew," he heard his mother call his name the way she always had when he was dawdling. She had just caught him with his mind having wandered a million miles away.
"Tell me," she said simply.
He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. In a way, he was frustrated with himself, always caught up in a whirlpool of his emotions. It was exhaustively counterproductive.
"I met William working at the gastro pub near campus at Cambridge. We were both students, but we didn't share any classes," he said softly. Matthew looked at his mother whose serious attention to his evolving story gave him a boost of confidence.
"Well," Matthew said and he paused. He knew his mother was already aware of this part of his story and yet he felt he had to explain from the beginning as his thoughts were so jumbled.
"I remember sitting there, and I was so completely overwhelmed. But, not by the school or required studying…."
"And William helped you," Isobel said poignantly.
"Yes," Matthew said repeating his mother's statement. "William helped me. I'd would go there and request him as my waiter, and we would talk. We became friends. It was odd because he spoke to me, even then, as though we had already been in the middle of a conversation. He'd just randomly mention a band or a book and want to know my opinion."
"Dearest," his mother said fondly. "What is really bothering you?"
Matthew felt his eyes blur and he bit his lip at his mother's direct question.
"We lost touch for a bit after graduation," he continued. "I came back to London with my law degree, but he stayed in Cambridge with his English degree. We were so different…" Matthew was quiet for a moment.
"Do you know when I knew I wanted him to work for me? I just offered him a job out of the blue when I had switched my career to financial consulting."
"I believe," she said leaning forward, "If I remember correctly, it was when you told William about the see-saw story and he didn't laugh," Isobel said faithfully. She looked at her tender hearted son with fierce devotion.
Matthew smiled despite himself at his mother's memory; she always remembered the details of such seemingly trivial conversations. In ten, years, she would no doubt be able to give an accurate recounting of this very moment.
"Yes," he said quietly as his mind forced him to relive that moment from his childhood.
Matthew had been taking a walk with his father, when he saw a newly installed seesaw in a local park. To him it was an example of a mechanical system with two equilibrium positions, and it fascinated him. His father put him on one side of the long narrow board, and he sat on the other. They enjoyed the activity together for several minutes until another child approached them. Matthew watched as his father smiled and vacated his seat; offering it to the boy.
Since he was home schooled and a very shy child, Matthew remained quiet. He knew that to speak of the equilibrium they were sharing on the seesaw, would probably end the fun diversion. Matthew only spoke of maths with his parents. So, he listened to the other child when he talked and tried very politely to give him his full attention. Matthew however was distracted as he saw his father had taken a phone call from work. He kept his eyes on his father as he sat on a nearby bench. And then when he was next suspended in the air, he did not come down. Matthew watched as the older bigger child he was dependent on abandoned his seat on the ground and simply walked away. Matthew flayed his legs and gripped the handle to try and achieve momentum to return to the ground. But, his weight did not automatically offset the necessary balance to return him to the ground. Matthew understood the science of why he was stuck. The seesaw's heavy weight from the long and narrow wooden planks was offsetting him. The weight distribution didn't matter that it was not equally divided. Matthew had the maths proof he feared; he was insignificant to his surroundings.
He couldn't even call for his papa's help; he was too overwhelmed. Matthew couldn't make the words come. So, he quietly sat there suspended in the air until his father noticed and saved him. He couldn't do it himself; he needed help.
"Matthew," his mother said calmly, and he was pulled from his memory. "You're not insignificant," she said firmly.
That feeling of desperation still lingered within him; it was a constant threat. He had wanted William by his side, therefore, even though it was selfish. William should have been working at a better job; he should have been perusing his own interests and passions. Then he wouldn't have been in the jaguar. Matthew was trying not to feel the ache that surrounded him. But it was no use, the panic surged through him. In the hospital, his first memory of when he learned about his friend's death haunted him.
"Ask William", he had told Mary when she requested his help. He self-consciously shook his head trying to gather his thoughts.
"I yelled at William," Matthew blurted out and then took a deep breath through his nose since he was biting his lip. "And that is probably the last thing he heard before he died."
"Matthew," his mother said evenly. Secretly Isobel was relieved; she had been waiting for him to talk about William this way, not about his friend, but about his death.
He looked at his mother defiantly; he didn't want to be comforted. He wanted to explain.
"In the car," Matthew said, unable to use the word jaguar. "William was driving me crazy." There was a pause as he cleared his throat. The thoughts in his head moved faster than his tongue would allow. "He was constantly in motion that was normal. But, in the car he was adjusting the overhead mirror to brush his hair. He was pulling a bouquet of flowers out of his backpack. And then he took off his seat belt. He wanted to read Daisy a particular poem, but his poetry book had fallen between the seats, he couldn't reach it. Well, I finally lost my patience and yelled at him…."
Matthew stared at his feet and adjusted himself in his seat. His hands felt clammy bunched into fists in the pockets of his robe. He wasn't shaking, but he could feel the nervous tension thumping through him, building and growing. His mouth was dry, but he kept speaking anyway.
"I don't remember what I said, but I yelled at him," he paused his gaze still firmly directed at his own feet. "I yelled at him mother."
Matthew took his left hand out of his pocket and uneasily ran it through his hair.
"I will tell you what I think," Isobel said determinedly keeping the focus of their conversation. "You are not remembering the reason William was in the car with you. Why was he in the car with you?"
Matthew felt tears slide down his face. It slowly dawned on him. Everything was topsy-turvy. He tried not to remember the moment in the car just before the impact of the accident. But he failed. And he winced as the memories assaulted him.
"Answer me," his mother said forcefully, "Explain the rest of the story dearest." She leaned forward to lightly touch his feet. It got his attention. His tears stopped as suddenly as they had started. He took a deep breath.
"I offered to drive him," Matthew said quietly.
"You wanted to help your friend," Isobel said gently, she kept her voice level as she spoke. "So, the fact that your last action with him was to yell at him does not change how much you revered his company. You were yelling at him because you cared for him," she stopped for a moment and let the words try to sink into her son.
Isobel watched the way his mouth gaped open, and he took shallow breaths. His troubled gaze was unfocused. However, she was well versed in helping Matthew through the minefields of his thought process. After a moment, she resumed speaking.
"Matthew, you're punishing yourself because it is how you cope with his death and because you miss him. But, you did nothing wrong." Isobel watched her son as he leaned his head back against his chair with his eyes pressed shut.
Mathew tried to concentrate on what his mother was saying. She patted his feet again. There was no air in his lungs when he thought about what she was saying.
"Matthew," she said raising her voice suddenly, "Look at me," her plea was so loud it seemed to echo throughout the living room. He was stunned and forced his eyes open at her strongly worded request. It occurred to him that she had just yelled at him.
Matthew finally took a breath of air gasping as the oxygen burned his deprived lungs. Everything his mother said made sense. She smiled as their eyes meet. His last action with William wasn't as harsh as he had previously thought. It didn't take away the pain, but it did ease his anxiety. William had been happy; he was smiling in the car, and that wasn't a false memory.
"Sorry that took so long," Mary said walking back into the room. "I was talking to Lucy about the fashion show in Milan were still planning to go per our annual pilgrimage…" she stopped talking having gauged the emotional temperature of the room.
Mary looked at Matthew's uncomfortably rigid posture and the unwavering way his mother was staring at him. She took in his bare feet elevated on the ottoman, and the faint tear tracks on his cheeks. Mary decided to try and break the tension by referencing another awkward moment she and Matthew had experienced recently.
"Darling," she said to Matthew, "You look just about as miserable as when we walked into my parent's anniversary party."
Matthew chuckled despite himself. He beaconed for her to come towards him with an outstretched hand. A shallow breath expelled before he rolled his eyes and proclaimed; "Now that truly was awful."
Mary quickly exchanged a meaningful glance with her mother-in-law as she moved to perch on the arm of his chair.
"Isobel," she said, "You should have seen all the attention he was forced to endure," she continued fondly taking her husbands hand. Mary used reflexology to tenderly rub the joint of his wrist, the coordinating zone for lower back pain.
"What happened?" Isobel asked her calm voice boisterous. Mary's gamble to make a joke about Matthew's obliviously upset disposition had so far paid off.
"We walked into the restaurant for her parent's party," Matthew said huffing in exasperation. "And John, Robert's vice president of the holding company for the entire Crawley Empire, requested everyone raise their glasses in a toast to Robert's son-in-law."
"Matthew was just a little uncomfortable with the entire room's attention on him," Mary said with glee, her eyes twinkling in amusement. "It was priceless."
"And your father did not help matters when he thanked John for the impromptu toast," Matthew said with annoyance. "The drones then circled around me like sharks during a feeding frenzy."
He rolled his eyes with petulance and Mary laughed as he recapped the uncomfortable highlights of her parent's anniversary party.
"Oh my," Isobel said. "Tisk, Tisk," laughing herself at the strange scene they were describing.
"It was ridiculous mother. Everyone called me, 'Robert's son-in-law, nobody called me Matthew,' not even once."
"I almost forgot your name too," Mary said affectionately.
"So, that is why you called me darling all night?" he asked a fond tease having returned to his voice.
"Well, Robert's son-in-law," Mary said while laughing, "The fact that you didn't want their attention and only displayed wretchedly good manners must have driven everyone insane," Mary said with a snicker. "After all, my darling, I can relate to poor John. Historically speaking once upon a time, long ago, you used to drive me insane for similar reasons."
"Oh yes! Those looks on your face when I would arrive! What on earth he is doing here again?" Matthew said in mock exasperation.
Mary's smile grew, and she squeezed his hand. She was relieved that the tension in the room had all but vanished. Matthew looked up at her and shook his head at the memories. But then he grew reflective suddenly.
"The first time I visited after meeting your father, I accept his next invitation because when he made pledges for chances to win my stock picks at the Leukemia fundraiser, he didn't see it as simply a clever tax-right off. When we talked he was earnest about the research the money would provide."
"Yes," Mary said, "He put me to shame because he loved you right away."
"Well," Matthew said affectionately, "You caught up eventually."
Mary turned her loving gaze from her husband to her mother-in-law. She put the palm of her free hand across her forehead dramatically.
"You see the way he talks to me?" she said feigning outrage. "What a brute!"
Isobel smiled deeply as she rose to her feet; she was exceedingly happy with Mary's quick thinking. But she was also proud of her son for having made some equally significant strides working through his grief about his friend William. She was very pleased she had stopped by to check up on both of them.
"Well, I will be going now," she said collecting her purse and walking to their nearby coat rack. Mary rose from her perch. After another moment, Matthew uncrossed his feet and gingerly moved them back to the floor. He stood just as his mother was approaching him.
"Matthew," she said affectionately. "Have a good day my dear." She kissed him lightly.
"Thank you Mother," he said solemnly and they embraced, "Thank you," he said again.
Mary watched the loving moment curious as to what had transpired while she had been out of the room.
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Thanks for reading!
FYI: The title of this chapter comes from Marcel Proust, as shown in previous chapters, Matthew's father Dr. Crawley was an aficionado of Proust. So, even though he isn't mentioned he is still a source of inspiration.
Next on TML: Brace yourself for the first honeymoon trip!