I dropped my keys on the coffee table and stretched on the couch. I needed a minute before I called home and possibly had another meltdown like I did when I got halfway down Route 6. Needless to say, I wouldn’t be in attendance at next month’s dinner. 

I picked up the phone, but there was no dial tone, only silence. All of this, and now my phone was busted. A voice came through the receiver when I yanked the cord.

“Darzsa?”

“Hello?” I was still frazzled from the day, but his voice was a breath of clarity. “Mathieu?”

“I’ve been trying you all afternoon,” Mathieu said. “Where have you been?”

“I had dinner with my parents. Did you need anythi—”

“You’re home, so that’s all I needed.”

The phone went dead, and I flattened into the cushions again. Mathieu never ceased to disrupt my life somehow. I reached for the phone again and dialed home, but one thing went right, and the line rang busy. It wasn’t as late as I thought—or hoped—so I put up my dinner for the next day and turned on the radio. Some noise would drown out the sound of my racing thoughts.

Until the knock at the door.

The peephole revealed Mathieu bouncing on his feet outside. Great. At this point, I’d prefer Lou; he’d rival the radio. I opened the door, and Mathieu barged in.

“I’ve been sitting on this all afternoon,” Mathieu started. “It’s nothing official yet, and I was going to call my parents about it, but I wanted to tell you first.”

“What is it?” All his shaking was making me dizzy. “Did something happen?”

“Only the best thing. Well, if it’s true. I might find out tomorrow. But if I don’t, then that’s fine too, I guess it—”

He was too excited, and his Mid-Atlantic accent slipped under his hybrid southern accent. “Just tell me.” 

Mathieu plopped on the couch, taking me with him. He covered his mouth and looked at me, eyes wide and chest inflated. “I might be getting a screen test.”

“Really?” I matched Mathieu’s eagerness. “For what?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll take anything.” Mathieu sprawled across the couch and sighed. “It’s all paying off, Darzsa.”

I was proud of Mathieu. His prospects made up for the horrendous day with my family. “If all goes well, I can make you a suit for one of your scenes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pearl is trying to get a deal with RGE.” Sharing with Mathieu would fare better than my parents, but that bar was low. “I may be making the costumes for their movies.”

“That’s crazy,” Mathieu said. “Just get one of your nifty dresses in one of those high-budget flicks, and we’ll be made in the shade. See, told ya those late nights would pay off. Except now you’ll be there.” He rocked me in his arms, holding tight to my shoulders as he kissed me. “Maybe we can find an empty spot on the lot, go at it like we did the other night.”

I didn't have to hide with Mathieu within these walls on this couch. With his lips on mine, I wanted them to say those words to me. But they never came. I could tell him first, but they always strangled me. Maybe I was scared that it’d be in vain or only to placate me. Or worse, he meant it, and I still couldn’t have all of him. 

“What’s wrong?” Mathieu asked. 

“I—Nothing, I just… I wish I’d gotten the same reaction from my entire family,” I admitted. “Well, not this part.” 

“Your dad again?” 

“Yea.” I smoothed my forehead out of habit. “He went all out today and called me a fairy.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby doll.”

“And with the way my brother talks, I’m sure he suspects something.” My dad couldn’t see past his own nose, but he was sharp; one good thing I got from him. “Living here corrupts you, and I should have stayed in nowheresville to grow apples or build spaceships. My brother is a fan of yours, though.”

“Our dads would be tight.” Mathieu played with the buttons on my cardigan. “And your brother has good taste.”

“Just once, I wish he’d show anything other than disgust about my job. Daniel sits around and does nothing all day, but he's some hero because he did jack shit in the war. I came here with nothing, and my designs could be on the cover of a magazine in no time.”

Mathieu slid his warm hand under my collar and pressed our foreheads together. “They may not see it, but I do. We probably work twice as hard as we would at one of those factory jobs. You’ve put a lot into this, baby doll.”

I halted his advancement of loosening any more of my clothing. Talking about my family while in this position was confusing enough, but expressing this to someone who understood was better than where this eventually led. Almost.

His hand was still underneath mine, itching to undress me. I held on, wanting to get any comfort I could from it, and I shouldn’t have to beg for it, but he had a one-track mind. 

“Can we...not do this tonight?” I reluctantly buckled my belt. “I still want you to stay.”

“You sure you don’t wanna take your mind off things?” He kissed my neck and got his hands any place I would crumble; he never played fair. 

“Mathieu,” I insisted. “I just want to talk, that’s it.”

Lou’s voice was in my ear, telling me that Mathieu wasn’t capable of what I asked, that he only came here for one thing. A part of me wanted to prove him wrong, that Mathieu would stay with me if I asked. 

Mathieu nodded and made space between us. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. “So talk.”

“I never intended to tell them, but sometimes I wish they knew so I could get it over with—they’d get all their yelling and crying out.” I never had to hear one of my dad’s talks again. “I can take it from my parents and brother, even Pops, but my Nanny, I can’t—” I took a deep breath and blinked away the prickling in my eyes. “She’s the reason I’m here; she’s the only one who never tried to change my mind.”

“Don’t worry about it too much.” Mathieu patted my arm. “I’m sure she wouldn’t treat you any different if she knew.” 

He was probably right, and after tonight, she couldn’t be that oblivious. Yet, her indifference to my childhood “whims” wasn’t acceptance. The reassurance should’ve helped a little, but whatever I expected from him after spilling so much wasn’t this.

“I guess so,” I said.

The radio switched from rockabilly tunes to some classical blasts from the past, and it was more interesting than the snoozefest between us. Mathieu didn’t reply or say much for a while, neither did I. 

“I should call my mom before it gets too late.” Mathieu stood and headed to the door. “I wanna tell her the good news.”

“You’re not—” A blip of self-preservation stole the rest of my question. “Yea, you should.”

Mathieu turned the knob, but before opening it, he turned around. I thought he would kiss me again or say those three words I needed from him, but he lifted my chin. “Cheer up, okay?”

I braved a smile and wished him goodnight. Back on the couch, I smothered my face in one of the pillows that had enough time to absorb Mathieu’s scent. Not the cologne, but his natural musk, still enough to kick myself for what just happened. Over the ballad of some crooner, my instincts screaming for me to listen were the loudest. But I got too good at tuning them out.