#FlatFinnSaves
A Flat-Out Love Prequel Chapter
Matt Watkins Machine time a in polarity the reverse to how know anyone does: question quick?
“Please, Celeste. Please.” Matt couldn’t keep the pleading tone from his voice. It had become impossible to muster anything resembling a happy—or even neutral—tone when talking to his sister. Every word he spoke to her was loaded with begging, cajoling, or frustration. Sometimes anger.
Matt leaned against the wall that led into the living room. The girl before him was too despondent for him to look at, so he focused on the plate in his hand. Staring at the stinky meatball sub was preferable to looking at his sister. Celeste was seated on the end of the couch, her legs pulled in tightly to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them with her hands clenched together. She hadn’t cried in weeks. In fact, she hadn’t done much of anything in weeks. At least school was out now, so the morning grind of trying to get her functional enough to get to class was on hiatus. But now the days seemed endless. There was nothing to fill them with. Everything had a downside. Everything was a downside. Maybe he missed the crying, the noise, the reactions, because Celeste’s near-silence was worse. Her expressionless, stoic face destroyed him again and again. At least there was still something left to be destroyed. Ah, an upside! Matt thought bitterly.
He forced himself to rally. Again. He crossed the room and sat down next to her. “You need to eat. I got you a sub from that unsanitary hole-in-the-wall place that you like.” Matt set the plate on the coffee table.
How much longer could he do this? It had been five months since Finn died. Five months and twelve days. Erin and Roger were barely holding it together as it was, so they were of minimal help. Matt understood how it was nearly impossible to see past your own grief to deal with somebody else’s, but he was doing it, for God’s sake. Couldn’t they help him? Couldn’t somebody help him? Evidently not. Yes, Celeste allowed him to take her to and from school, she did her homework, she ate (when he made her), and she could sometimes engage in watered-down conversation. But there was no healing. He was going to have to think of something.
Matt brushed her hair from her face and set a pile of curls behind her shoulder. “I should take you to get another haircut soon, huh?” Matt paused, waiting for a response that wasn’t going to come. “Baby girl, please.”
Celeste continued looking out the window. “Do not call me that, Matthew.”
Matt sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“That is what he called me, and I do not want to hear those two words adjoined like that. Especially from you.”
He had to give her credit. She really knew how to drive the knife in further.
The smell of the sub was churning his stomach. Granted, everything seemed to churn his stomach, but today it was worse. “Come on. Eat.” He managed to strengthen his voice, wanting to sound as directive as he could. “It’s not a choice. We eat, we sleep, we keep going.”
She turned from her spot and looked at the coffee table. She stayed still for a long moment. A standoff between Celeste and the sandwich, Matt thought. Who would win this battle of wills? Who would claim victory? The tension was great…
“Just. Eat. Stop thinking and eat.” Matt put the plate in her lap. Maybe he could distract her and just shove food into her mouth without her noticing? That would be easier than this ritual of negotiation they always had to go through. “Finn would never want you like this.” It was a cheap shot, he knew, but, like Celeste, he wasn’t above that these days.
Celeste glared at him, but she did pick up the sandwich.
Ha! Small victories.
They sat uncomfortably as Matt oversaw her eating. He knew if he left the room that she would stop and probably spit out whatever was in her mouth.
“So, look, you have a birthday coming up in a few weeks. What should we do to celebrate?”
“There will not be a celebration, Matthew.”
“We have to do something. I want to do something. How about dinner out? Or we could see if any of the theater groups have productions running now. I’d love to see a show with you. And is there a particular gift you’d like? I have a few things for you, and Mom and Dad, too, of course.” That wasn’t exactly a lie since he had bought her some gifts on their behalf.
“I do not see a compelling reason to acknowledge the day as anything but another insignificant, if not torturous, twenty-four period. Do you?” she asked accusingly. “Do you, Matthew?” She shoved the plate with the now half-eaten sandwich across the table and lay on the couch.
Matt rubbed his eyes. He simply didn’t have the energy to do this with her right now. The cycle was all too familiar to him; he’d spend twenty minutes trying to be animated and kind and (if he was really trying harder than usual) funny, and she’d either be totally silent or heartbreakingly abusive. Then he would try to reason with her, tap into any part of her that still lived, then get angry and say something that he’d regret. But today, he wasn’t strong enough. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here.” He tossed a credit card on the table as he stood. “Go online and buy yourself whatever you want. You should have something nice, especially this year. Do it for me, for yourself, for Finn…. I don’t care who. Just do it.”
Matt walked out of the room.
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