“After everything happened with my family, my aunt put me in therapy. And I was diagnosed with PTSD. What you’re describing sounds extremely familiar. That’s all I’m saying.” I pause. “What do your parents think about all of this?”
“I’ve tried to keep as much of it from them as possible.”
“Why's that?”
“I don’t want to worry them. I mean, they know I had a stroke. They visited me in the hospital. My mom’s medical background as a pediatric nurse has put her in a position where she lectures me a lot. But, she thinks I only had one. I didn’t tell her about the second spot on my MRI.”
“Why not?”
“Because, what difference does it make? It would only make her worry more. Plus, the timing of the whole thing was really bad. They were about to leave on a cruise that my dad had been waiting for years to go on. Literally.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. To the Caribbean, for like 11 days. That’s where they are now. He booked it for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. I wasn’t about to take that away from them.”
“Knowing your mom, I can’t believe she even went,” I say.
“Kicking and screaming,” he replies.
I nod. “Other than your current situation, how are they?”
“Generally, they’re good. My mom loves that one,” he says, letting go of my hand to stretch out his back and look over at Brett. “She watches her at least twice a week after school.”
I take a small bite of broccoli. “What about your dad? How is he?”
“Good. He’s worried, but he keeps it to himself. I can tell. Not just about me, but about my mom, too.”
“Makes sense.”
“What about you? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t Google you every now and then. So I guess I know the basics.”
“Such as?” I smirk.
“Well, I know you still run that center in Queens.”
“Correct.”
“And I know you’re single.”
“Also correct.”
“Thank you, social media,” he continues. “Mind explaining to me how that’s possible?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just haven’t met the right guy yet, I guess.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “The worst of it was online dating. I tried one of those dating apps. Talk about a nightmare.”
“I can’t picture you doing that.”
“I know. It’s definitely not my thing. I went out with one guy a bunch of times only to discover that he was married. And another guy put up pictures from like 15 years earlier, and when I met him, he was old enough to be my dad. Oh! And this one guy said he was a venture capitalist, so you could imagine my surprise when he tried to take me home—to his mother’s basement.”
Matt laughs. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”
“You’d be surprised how hard it is to meet a nice, normal guy who has interests and hobbies and isn’t a total scumbag.”
“Hmm.” He swallows.
“Especially now that I’m in my thirties. All the good guys are married.” I take a sip of water and notice Brett curled up in a little ball on the couch. “I think she might be asleep.”
Matt stands up and walks quietly over to the living room. “She’s out like a light,” he confirms, smiling. He bends down and carefully removes her glasses, setting them on the coffee table beside her. Then, he covers her up with a gray, knitted throw blanket that looks like a chunky sweater and plants a light kiss on her forehead. Watching him move with such intention overwhelms me. I feel like a pair of hands is squeezing around my heart, and I’m a little disgusted with myself for thinking about how sexy he is as a dad.
