Page 101 of Matteo

Two minutes later, I’ve fixed it. I clean off some corrosion with a tissue that Elizabeth gets for me, then turn it on. There's a moment of static followed by music.

“Sinatra!” Irene's face lights up. “Oh, Arthur.”

Arthur takes the radio from me and sets it on the table in front of Irene. She giggles excitedly. “Did Richard fix it?”

Arthur pats her on the shoulder gently. “Yes, he did.”

I turn to Elizabeth. “Who's Richard?”

“Their son,” she whispers. “She gets confused sometimes. Calls me Tillie. She thinks I'm her granddaughter.”

“Oh.” I stare at Irene again, a heaviness in my chest. Suddenly her confusion feels cruel, not amusing.

Arthur comes up to us before I can say anything. “You fixed it.”

“I did.”

“You're a wizard.”

I laugh. “No. Just reasonably competent.”

He pushes his spectacles up again. “You're useful,” he says, nodding. “I like that about you.”

I nearly choke. “Why, thank you. I’m glad to be of use to you.”

He nods at Elizabeth. “You can marry her, if she'll let you. You've passed the test.”

I blurt out laughing. “What test?”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “Arthur, you can’t just marry me off to random men.”

“I’m not random,” I say.

Arthur grins. “See? I like him. I like him a lot.”

One of the helpers comes over, and asks if I can help, so I do. Some more groceries have been delivered and I help carry boxes into a storage room. When it’s all done, I lean against the wall for a moment, watching Elizabeth with Arthur and Irene.

She’s so good with them; patient, and gentle, stroking Irene’s hand like she has all the time and attention to offer her. Elizabeth is like a chameleon. She can fit in anywhere. She fits into the tech department, and she fits in here. Maybe she’s had to learn how to fit into places, like the foster homes she was sent to.

A pang of sadness punches in my gut, and I’m about to go over to her when she gets up, turns around and catches me staring at her.

“What?” she mouths, walking towards me.

I wait until she reaches me. “You’re so good with everyone.”

“I like being here,” she says, moving her bangs out of her eyes. “These people don’t want anything from me. They don’t care where I work or how much money I make or what I look like. They just want help opening jars and fixing laptops, but most of all they just want someone to sit and talk to them. To listen to them.”

She’s good at those things, too. I fell asleep with my head resting on her lap. I felt the most at peace I’ve felt in a long time. I’m not even sure what I was blabbering on about, but she listened.

Elizabeth leans toward me slightly. “They’ve been married for fifty-eight years,” she whispers. Just then Arthur reaches over and adjusts Irene’s scarf like it’s something he’s done a thousand times.

Elizabeth gazes at them adoringly. “That’s love,” she murmurs, a hint of yearning in her voice. “Not the big dramatic stuff. Not expensive dinners in fancy places, or champagne and glitz. That is true love.” She nods at them. “Making someone tea every morning for decades. Knowing where they leave their glasses, or their teeth.” She giggles. “Arguing about sugar, or medication because you want them to live longer. Sitting next to each other even when neither of you has anything left to say.”

She looks at me, waiting for a reaction, but I’m barely listening to her words anymore, because what I see in her face isn’t just admiration—it’s hunger. A yearning so deep and wide that it catches me off guard. It’s like she’s spent her life looking in through a window and seeing what everyone gets to have. It’s like she’s looking for a place to belong, and for someone to belong to, just like Arthur and Irene.

Elizabeth is looking for home.

The realization hits me hard. I swallow, trying to tamp down this sad feeling rising from the pit of my stomach. “It’s pretty sweet, I guess.”