5

Uncle Matthew

X

Everyday Seems a Little Longer

No one crossed Uncle Mattie's path, especially when it concerned Samantha. Once Alfred's hysteric girlfriend had foisted the crying bundle on the man and had vanished into the night, Matthew swooped in and starting caring for the girl. And once she had been swathed in his protection, she may as well try to get out of a sealed cement box.

And today, since Alfred was at work and she had no school, she was staying with Uncle Matthew. Uncle Matthew greeted her with a swooping hug, his massive, bulging muscles enveloping her and his laugh ringing out.

"I haven't seen you in forever, kiddo!" He cried out. He set her on the floor and waved to Alfred in his truck.

Alfred, who watched through the window, pointed two fingers to his temple and flicked them towards Matthew. It was his trademark, cool good-bye. And Matthew didn't mind. Sam had started picking it up, using it on Francis on their previous visits. Francis and Arthur were baffled, thinking it was a military salute.

She told about the two professors to Matthew, who listened with a big smile.

Uncle Matthew was a hockey player, having lived a majority of his life in Canada, away from Alfred. His build, tall, prone to be lanky, was a sure sign of his training. He was built like a tank and his personality did not match. Not at all. Samantha liked that about him. He was full of surprises. She liked surprises, she concluded, therefore she liked people. Flawless logic, Francis said when she explaining that. Flawless.

But now she was with muscular, tough Uncle Matthew with a bad habit of caring for injured animals (he always had a bird or cat in his house at all times). It was no time for stingy professors. She walked into his living room and plumped down on the couch, her arms thrown over the side of the sofa.

"Uncle Mattie?" She called out.

Matthew walked towards her. He had been doing something near the window. She narrowed her eyes at him. He gave her a tense smile.

"What are you on about, Sam?"

She giggled at his accent.

"Do you think that Daddy will learn from the men? That he can make his life better? We're in this apartment and I think it's better. And dad smiles a lot less. I don't think that's good. He should be happy, shouldn't he? Why should he be upset all the time? It doesn't suit him at all."

Matthew had drifted back to the window, his massive form hunched over a cardboard box. Sam slid off the couch, regretting leaving it so soon, and walked casually towards it.

"Knowing your dad? He'd be fine even if he was living with only a sock and a paperclip. Somehow he'd find a way." Matthew said with a nod.

Sam peered over his shoulder, standing on her toes. Matthew moved so she couldn't see. She was growing flustered as her curiosity expanded. She walked around the other side. Matthew shifted again. The game continued. Sam pestered him with questions and he gave her vague responses.

"Where did you grow up?"

"Ottawa."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Why because? My teacher say that's not an answer."

"Because because because. See?"

"I don't think that makes sense."

"It will when you're older."

"Why does everyone say that?"

"People say 'that' because it's a useful word."

"No—I meant that whole 'when you're older' thing?"

"Because we're filthy liars and cowards, that's why."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Okay, next question. Did you fight with dad a lot?"

"Yes and no."

"Was it good having a brother?"

"Yes and no."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes…"

"…and no?"

"No. He's my brother."

And on and on it went. The dodging continued and Sam grew angrier and angrier. Her tongue grew sharper and her questions more cunning. She noticed Matthew wasn't doing anything to the cardboard box anymore. He was standing still, now. His beefy arms were planted on either side of the box, obstructing Sam's view.

She glared.

He looked back sheepishly.

"Can I please see?" She asked, giving up with a sigh.

"Ok." Matthew stepped aside.

Really? Sam should have been enraged, positively infuriated with how easy that was. She was too exhausted from the battle to care anymore. She peered into the box. A checkered red kerchief lined the inside. A few bread crumbs were scattered around a light blue bird with a bad wing.

She made a shrill sound of happiness that was something like "awwsocuteohmysooooocute!" but Matthew couldn't be sure.

She wanted to pet it. Matthew reached into the box and with a finger that really could constitute a smaller man's hand, delicately petted the bird's head. It ducked in affection. Sam started to suspect that Matthew was related to a princess.

His soft voice sounded next to her ear.

"It's a sweet thing, isn't it? So simple…"

Sam's smile vanished.

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"Didn't dad specifically tell you not to bring birds in?"

Matthew's grin didn't fade or waver, but his cheeks turned red and a flame of horror leapt into his eyes.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Well, I could."

"But it was so helpless!"

"Dad says it brings in disease. I don't want my uncle sick." Sam argued.

"But… it was crying. I swear it was weeping." Matthew's smile turned into a pleading pout that somehow, on his body, looked intimidating.

"Birds don't cry!"

"It was gong to perish in the cold!"

"Evolution!"

"No! Please, don't tell your father. I forgot. Once it gets better I'll let it out. Promise. I'll never, ever bring in another bird."

Sam narrowed her eyes. She was not against keeping the helpless animal, but it was so, so terribly, cruelly fun to argue with her uncle. Especially since when he argued back it was purely out of emotion, not cold logic like her father.

Matthew must have noticed her hesitation.

"You won't tell him?"

"I won't tell him, but he'll find out. He can smell those things, you know."

Matthew furrowed his brows. "Your father isn't a hound dog."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Well, now that you mention it I can see what you meant."

And on it went. It was refreshing, thought Sam, to have a simple man to talk to rather than the over complicated professors and… whatever tangle of complexities her father was. How did she manage all this time? What would she do without Matthew? She didn't have answers to those questions, and she didn't really want them.

A bit of a different view on Matthew. I thought it would be a little fun.