“Karen… It’s me. Sorry… Sorry about yesterday. It’s not your fault, and even if you said something sooner it wouldn’t have changed anything. Don’t— Maybe you shouldn’t tell anyone, for the time being. You’d only put yourself in trouble. We’ll cross that bridge when— Another time. I’d understand if you don’t want to— But please, call me.”
Day 19
“Your hand is probably broken.” Claire sighed, tone flat. “There’s nothing I can do about that. You should go to a hospital.”
Matt didn’t answer. Everything hurt, not only his hand -which had a minor fracture. It was nothing Matt couldn’t handle-. Clare had to sew so many injures it took her nearly two hours. He was exhausted. He needed sleep, and food. A new suit, also, probably.
“That bullet graze was starting to get infected, make sure it doesn’t.” She added tiredly when he didn’t answer. “And, for the love of God, eat something.
Matt nodded, slowly getting up. He fell right back on the bed Claire had pushed him on when she nudged his shoulder.
“Stay, you need to rest. I can clean the injuries and put fresh gauzes on you when you wake up.”
“I can’t sleep here—“ Matt started, as Claire pushed him down.
“You can and you will, you’ll drop to the floor in a block in the conditions you are now.” She replied, firm. “Stay down. Sleep. I’ll prepare something for you to eat later.”
“Claire—“
“Shut up. Sleep.”
Matt sighed, closing his eyes. He knew when to pick his battle, and this one was already lost.
“Did you find anything about your friend?” Claire asked, softly, after long minutes of watching over him. Matt shook his head.
Nothing— Even with the new… “info” provided by Karen. There was nothing.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, sincere, gently combing his hair away from his forehead with her fingers.
Day 31
With the help of Karen, they put everything away in boxes in a single afternoon.
They didn’t spoke much. Karen had gracefully accepted his apology for the show of temper, days prior. They briefly talked about what happened with Wesley and agreed to keep it to themselves. Foggy would’ve probably not approved of that, but Matt didn’t want to put Karen in trouble for defending herself, and it’s not like he was in any position to make moral judgments. Pot meet kettle, and all that.
But something stayed broken between them. There was a tension always humming in the background, making both of them jumpy and prone to snap around each other.
Matt had been mulling over the fact that he should do something about it. But, to be honest, he couldn’t muster the energy to really care.
He liked and cared about Karen, he did. But maybe, he had realized that what really had kept them connected was Foggy’s presence. Now that he was gone, now that the real Matt was surfacing without his best friend to keep him tamed, Karen was probably rethinking her choice to stand by Matt’s side.
And how could he resent her for that? Matt didn’t want to be at Matt’s side. Now less than ever, for sure.
Then Foggy’s landlord called. He was truly sorry, he said. He understood the difficult situation, he said.
But he couldn’t leave the apartment empty. It was only a matter of time before rats or cockroaches would invade the empty space that was not being cleaned and taken care of. He had a line of people waiting to get an apartment, so could they please come over and get Foggy’s stuff?
Karen had been fuming, but when Matt said that they were gonna take care of it without a single complaint, she followed. They brought empty boxes, filled them, and patiently dragged them to Matt’s place. There weren’t many, really. Barely took them an afternoon.
Matt pushed them in little neat stacks under the fire hose, so he wouldn’t accidentally trip on them.
“Maybe we should give them to his family?” Karen mused, voice low, chewing on her nail. Matt belatedly realize it was the first thing she had said in hours.
“It would be a pain to transport them to the other side of the city.” Matt replied with a shrug. “And Foggy wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, when he gets back and has to go get his stuff all the way to his parents’ house.”
Karen’s breath itched as she stopped abruptly chewing on her nail.
She said nothing, but Matt smelled the salty pang of tears as her gaze burned into the back of his head.
Day 33
Before he could really registered what he was doing, Matt was opening the boxes.
When they packed, he didn’t let himself think about what he was doing. He couldn’t really help in deciding what has to go where, so he let Karen pass him stuff as he put it away as neatly as he possibly could. It was a sign of how little Foggy had, that a blind man could help pack away his things in a single afternoon.
But now he was opening the boxes. There wasn’t much. A small tv and Foggy’s old, battered playstation 2. Some books. Five mugs Foggy had been dragging around since law school. Mostly clothes, suits and shirts neatly folded between the occasional piece of more casual clothing. Everything smelled of Foggy, so much, that Matt found himself drunkenly pushing his face against a shirt, breathing deeply. Breath itched in his throat as a broken sob escaped his lips, followed by another, and another one. It was hard to breath and his chest protested painfully at every each sob, but his eyes remained stubbornly dry.
Day 35
Foggy had a photo album. It was packed, some pictures stacked up all over the others. Matt had never quite missed his sight as much as he was doing now. He would sell his soul for just a minute of his sight back, to look at the pictures.
Foggy liked to take pictures, back at school. He used his phone, saying it might not be the best quality, but that way he could catch the moment super fast. Building memories, he said. He liked to take pictures of Matt, with Matt, even when they were doing something as boring as taking coffee. He liked to visit one of his uncles that worked a office job in Manhattan and sneakily use the office copiers there to print the pictures and put them in the album.
He liked to narrate them to Matt. “This one was from when we went to Jennifer Hale’s birthday party- It’s pretty cool, you are standing over the big windows and there’s the full moon behind you. Very suggestive.” but when Matt touched the picture printed on cheap paper, he could feel the indents of Foggy’s writing behind it. The date, and “Jennifer Hale’s birthday, just a second before Jhonson puked all over Matt’s shoes. Priceless.” “Foggy.” Matt scolded, with a smile, and Foggy snickered loudly.
But there were more recent pictures, one even dated just a week before Foggy disappeared.
”Selfie with sleeping Matt at the office.”
Matt was ready to bet Foggy was making a ridiculous face in that picture. Or maybe making obscene gestures over Matt’s head. He remembered that day, waking up from an impromptu nap with Foggy snickering, answering “Nothing!” when Matt asked what he was doing.
There were a lot of really recent pictures that Foggy never had the time to narrate to him. Matt read all of them, over and over, thinking that he would give his soul to be able to look at them.
Day 62
“You know that— After all this time— There might be the chance—“
Matt stood abruptly, effectively cutting Mr Nelson off.
“I’ll be right back, sorry.” He gritted out, marching toward the bathroom, not even pretending to use his cane. He banged the door open, his breath getting shorter and faster.
He didn’t know what was with everyone, approaching him like he was a lion in a cage, trying to convince him that Foggy—
It had been barely two months, and they were already giving up.
He shook his head, took his glasses off to scrub a hand over his face. It was as if the world was going insane. He approached the sink, opening the water on cold to splash on his face.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“ Karen murmured, clearly uncomfortable, from the other side of the diner. Matt perked up, drops running down his chins.
“No, no, you did the right thing, dear.” Mrs Nelson replied, tears in her voice. “You are worried, it’s understandable.”
Mr Nelson sighed. “I… got scared when I’ve seen him. That boy is wasting away in body and mind. I understand why you decided to call us.” He said, voice low. “I knew he and Franklin were close, but—“
“Do you really— I mean—“
“Believe that Franklin it’s not coming back?” Mr Nelson supplied with a mirthless chuckle when the silence stretched. “We are his parents, there’s nothing I want more than have him back.” He added, his voice trembling. “But we are his parents— Matthew, he’s still young. He needs to move on. Franklin would want that.”
Matt felt as if something inside him broke.
He climbed out the bathroom window, leaving the cane at the table with the three people that suddenly felt like strangers.
Day 63
Karen entered in the office, tense and closed off. She put the cane on his desk with studied slowness.
“Nothing to say?” She asked when he stubbornly kept his mouth shut.
“Mrs Nelson spent the entire afternoon crying, thanks to you. I hope you are proud.” She added, sharp, when he still didn’t reply.
“Oh, could’ve had me fooled.” Matt replied with a dark chuckle. “By how fast they were trying to convince me to let everything go, I was surely convinced they didn’t really gave a fuck.”
Karen’s breath itched. “That’s not fair, it wasn’t like that, and you know it.” She murmured, sounding dangerous.
“Do I, now?” Matt replied, getting up abruptly. “You deceived me just so the parents of the only person I ever considered family after my father could tell me to give up. Doesn’t that sums yesterday up about right?”
“Matt, that’s not it, you know that—“
“No, I don’t!” He yelled, banging a fist on the desk, cutting Karen off. “I fucking don’t! What I know is that you all are fucking quitters and are trying to convince me to forget this whole story, to forget Foggy, as if nothing happened!”
Karen took a deep breath, trembling slightly. “You are twisting everything.” She replied, trying to keep calm despite the tears obvious in his voice. “No one wants you— No one wants you to forget about Foggy, Matt. But you have to take in consideration the possibility—“
“No!” He interrupted her again, circling the desk to stand right in front of her. “Enough, ok?! You had no right to do what you did yesterday, and you have no right to tell me what to do! He was my only family, everyone keeps forgetting about that! He was all I had, and I’m not gonna shrug and move on as if he was nothing! I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish, but whatever it is, stop it.”
“What I’m trying to accomplish is making you take care of yourself!” Karen sobbed back. “You are a mess, Matt, ok?! You don’t eat, you clearly don’t sleep, and you get into the office every each other day covered in bruises or with a broken hand, or limping with blood stains on your shirts! I have no clue what the fuck you do when you are out of here, but whatever it is, it’s destroying you! All I want is for you to face reality, and stop!”
They both breathed heavily into the silence for long seconds, before Matt spoke, slowly.
“Fine, then you won’t have to look at me destroying myself anymore. Get out.”
He could hear Karen paling abruptly. “What?”
“Get out. I’m done with you, I’m done with Foggy’s parents.” Matt continued, walking into the main area to go rummaging into a drawer. “I’m done with fucking everyone.” he kept muttering, until he found what he was searching. He took the sheet of paper out. Karen’s contract.
He ripped it in half.
“You can’t—“ Karen said, choked, but he cut her off again.
“I can. I did.” He replied, cold. “Get out.”
“Matt—“
“GET. OUT!”
Karen sniffed, an hand over and mouth, and rapidly took her purse, stepping out the corridor. Matt heard her sobbing as she got farther.
Fill: These days we've lost. (part 2)
“Karen… It’s me. Sorry… Sorry about yesterday. It’s not your fault, and even if you said something sooner it wouldn’t have changed anything. Don’t— Maybe you shouldn’t tell anyone, for the time being. You’d only put yourself in trouble. We’ll cross that bridge when— Another time. I’d understand if you don’t want to— But please, call me.”
Day 19
“Your hand is probably broken.” Claire sighed, tone flat. “There’s nothing I can do about that. You should go to a hospital.”
Matt didn’t answer. Everything hurt, not only his hand -which had a minor fracture. It was nothing Matt couldn’t handle-. Clare had to sew so many injures it took her nearly two hours. He was exhausted. He needed sleep, and food.
A new suit, also, probably.
“That bullet graze was starting to get infected, make sure it doesn’t.” She added tiredly when he didn’t answer. “And, for the love of God, eat something.
Matt nodded, slowly getting up. He fell right back on the bed Claire had pushed him on when she nudged his shoulder.
“Stay, you need to rest. I can clean the injuries and put fresh gauzes on you when you wake up.”
“I can’t sleep here—“ Matt started, as Claire pushed him down.
“You can and you will, you’ll drop to the floor in a block in the conditions you are now.” She replied, firm. “Stay down. Sleep. I’ll prepare something for you to eat later.”
“Claire—“
“Shut up. Sleep.”
Matt sighed, closing his eyes. He knew when to pick his battle, and this one was already lost.
“Did you find anything about your friend?” Claire asked, softly, after long minutes of watching over him. Matt shook his head.
Nothing— Even with the new… “info” provided by Karen.
There was nothing.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, sincere, gently combing his hair away from his forehead with her fingers.
Day 31
With the help of Karen, they put everything away in boxes in a single afternoon.
They didn’t spoke much. Karen had gracefully accepted his apology for the show of temper, days prior. They briefly talked about what happened with Wesley and agreed to keep it to themselves. Foggy would’ve probably not approved of that, but Matt didn’t want to put Karen in trouble for defending herself, and it’s not like he was in any position to make moral judgments. Pot meet kettle, and all that.
But something stayed broken between them. There was a tension always humming in the background, making both of them jumpy and prone to snap around each other.
Matt had been mulling over the fact that he should do something about it. But, to be honest, he couldn’t muster the energy to really care.
He liked and cared about Karen, he did. But maybe, he had realized that what really had kept them connected was Foggy’s presence.
Now that he was gone, now that the real Matt was surfacing without his best friend to keep him tamed, Karen was probably rethinking her choice to stand by Matt’s side.
And how could he resent her for that? Matt didn’t want to be at Matt’s side. Now less than ever, for sure.
Then Foggy’s landlord called. He was truly sorry, he said. He understood the difficult situation, he said.
But he couldn’t leave the apartment empty. It was only a matter of time before rats or cockroaches would invade the empty space that was not being cleaned and taken care of. He had a line of people waiting to get an apartment, so could they please come over and get Foggy’s stuff?
Karen had been fuming, but when Matt said that they were gonna take care of it without a single complaint, she followed. They brought empty boxes, filled them, and patiently dragged them to Matt’s place. There weren’t many, really. Barely took them an afternoon.
Matt pushed them in little neat stacks under the fire hose, so he wouldn’t accidentally trip on them.
“Maybe we should give them to his family?” Karen mused, voice low, chewing on her nail. Matt belatedly realize it was the first thing she had said in hours.
“It would be a pain to transport them to the other side of the city.” Matt replied with a shrug. “And Foggy wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, when he gets back and has to go get his stuff all the way to his parents’ house.”
Karen’s breath itched as she stopped abruptly chewing on her nail.
She said nothing, but Matt smelled the salty pang of tears as her gaze burned into the back of his head.
Day 33
Before he could really registered what he was doing, Matt was opening the boxes.
When they packed, he didn’t let himself think about what he was doing. He couldn’t really help in deciding what has to go where, so he let Karen pass him stuff as he put it away as neatly as he possibly could. It was a sign of how little Foggy had, that a blind man could help pack away his things in a single afternoon.
But now he was opening the boxes. There wasn’t much. A small tv and Foggy’s old, battered playstation 2. Some books. Five mugs Foggy had been dragging around since law school. Mostly clothes, suits and shirts neatly folded between the occasional piece of more casual clothing.
Everything smelled of Foggy, so much, that Matt found himself drunkenly pushing his face against a shirt, breathing deeply.
Breath itched in his throat as a broken sob escaped his lips, followed by another, and another one. It was hard to breath and his chest protested painfully at every each sob, but his eyes remained stubbornly dry.
Day 35
Foggy had a photo album. It was packed, some pictures stacked up all over the others.
Matt had never quite missed his sight as much as he was doing now. He would sell his soul for just a minute of his sight back, to look at the pictures.
Foggy liked to take pictures, back at school. He used his phone, saying it might not be the best quality, but that way he could catch the moment super fast. Building memories, he said. He liked to take pictures of Matt, with Matt, even when they were doing something as boring as taking coffee. He liked to visit one of his uncles that worked a office job in Manhattan and sneakily use the office copiers there to print the pictures and put them in the album.
He liked to narrate them to Matt. “This one was from when we went to Jennifer Hale’s birthday party- It’s pretty cool, you are standing over the big windows and there’s the full moon behind you. Very suggestive.” but when Matt touched the picture printed on cheap paper, he could feel the indents of Foggy’s writing behind it. The date, and “Jennifer Hale’s birthday, just a second before Jhonson puked all over Matt’s shoes. Priceless.”
“Foggy.” Matt scolded, with a smile, and Foggy snickered loudly.
But there were more recent pictures, one even dated just a week before Foggy disappeared.
”Selfie with sleeping Matt at the office.”
Matt was ready to bet Foggy was making a ridiculous face in that picture. Or maybe making obscene gestures over Matt’s head. He remembered that day, waking up from an impromptu nap with Foggy snickering, answering “Nothing!” when Matt asked what he was doing.
There were a lot of really recent pictures that Foggy never had the time to narrate to him. Matt read all of them, over and over, thinking that he would give his soul to be able to look at them.
Day 62
“You know that— After all this time— There might be the chance—“
Matt stood abruptly, effectively cutting Mr Nelson off.
“I’ll be right back, sorry.” He gritted out, marching toward the bathroom, not even pretending to use his cane. He banged the door open, his breath getting shorter and faster.
He didn’t know what was with everyone, approaching him like he was a lion in a cage, trying to convince him that Foggy—
It had been barely two months, and they were already giving up.
He shook his head, took his glasses off to scrub a hand over his face. It was as if the world was going insane.
He approached the sink, opening the water on cold to splash on his face.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—“ Karen murmured, clearly uncomfortable, from the other side of the diner. Matt perked up, drops running down his chins.
“No, no, you did the right thing, dear.” Mrs Nelson replied, tears in her voice. “You are worried, it’s understandable.”
Mr Nelson sighed. “I… got scared when I’ve seen him. That boy is wasting away in body and mind. I understand why you decided to call us.” He said, voice low. “I knew he and Franklin were close, but—“
“Do you really— I mean—“
“Believe that Franklin it’s not coming back?” Mr Nelson supplied with a mirthless chuckle when the silence stretched. “We are his parents, there’s nothing I want more than have him back.” He added, his voice trembling. “But we are his parents— Matthew, he’s still young. He needs to move on. Franklin would want that.”
Matt felt as if something inside him broke.
He climbed out the bathroom window, leaving the cane at the table with the three people that suddenly felt like strangers.
Day 63
Karen entered in the office, tense and closed off. She put the cane on his desk with studied slowness.
“Nothing to say?” She asked when he stubbornly kept his mouth shut.
“Mrs Nelson spent the entire afternoon crying, thanks to you. I hope you are proud.” She added, sharp, when he still didn’t reply.
“Oh, could’ve had me fooled.” Matt replied with a dark chuckle. “By how fast they were trying to convince me to let everything go, I was surely convinced they didn’t really gave a fuck.”
Karen’s breath itched. “That’s not fair, it wasn’t like that, and you know it.” She murmured, sounding dangerous.
“Do I, now?” Matt replied, getting up abruptly. “You deceived me just so the parents of the only person I ever considered family after my father could tell me to give up. Doesn’t that sums yesterday up about right?”
“Matt, that’s not it, you know that—“
“No, I don’t!” He yelled, banging a fist on the desk, cutting Karen off. “I fucking don’t! What I know is that you all are fucking quitters and are trying to convince me to forget this whole story, to forget Foggy, as if nothing happened!”
Karen took a deep breath, trembling slightly. “You are twisting everything.” She replied, trying to keep calm despite the tears obvious in his voice. “No one wants you— No one wants you to forget about Foggy, Matt. But you have to take in consideration the possibility—“
“No!” He interrupted her again, circling the desk to stand right in front of her. “Enough, ok?! You had no right to do what you did yesterday, and you have no right to tell me what to do! He was my only family, everyone keeps forgetting about that! He was all I had, and I’m not gonna shrug and move on as if he was nothing! I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish, but whatever it is, stop it.”
“What I’m trying to accomplish is making you take care of yourself!” Karen sobbed back. “You are a mess, Matt, ok?! You don’t eat, you clearly don’t sleep, and you get into the office every each other day covered in bruises or with a broken hand, or limping with blood stains on your shirts! I have no clue what the fuck you do when you are out of here, but whatever it is, it’s destroying you! All I want is for you to face reality, and stop!”
They both breathed heavily into the silence for long seconds, before Matt spoke, slowly.
“Fine, then you won’t have to look at me destroying myself anymore. Get out.”
He could hear Karen paling abruptly. “What?”
“Get out. I’m done with you, I’m done with Foggy’s parents.” Matt continued, walking into the main area to go rummaging into a drawer. “I’m done with fucking everyone.” he kept muttering, until he found what he was searching. He took the sheet of paper out. Karen’s contract.
He ripped it in half.
“You can’t—“ Karen said, choked, but he cut her off again.
“I can. I did.” He replied, cold. “Get out.”
“Matt—“
“GET. OUT!”
Karen sniffed, an hand over and mouth, and rapidly took her purse, stepping out the corridor. Matt heard her sobbing as she got farther.