Nothing Matters (Family Matters Book 1) (16 page)

"Hi," Flynn says first, smiling.

"Hi," I say, looking at him, then his friend.  His friend has wavy, blonde hair, thick, like it needs a cut.  Hell who am I to judge.  "Uh, this is my brother Cash," I say, and elbow Cash gently.  Cash puts his hand out, he always shakes people's hands, like he's in a business meeting or something.  There's a hesitation.  Flynn's wearing a t-shirt, but his right arm has some sort of bandage on it, a white bandage from his elbow to his handless arm.  Cash notices he doesn't have a hand.  He drops his own hand with ease and puts his knuckles of his left hand up. Flynn  knuckle bumps him.  He does it to the other boy too, who introduces himself as James.

There's small talk, how's it going, what's happening, are you both starting at school in the fall.  Cash talks more than I do.  James is chatting easily.  I'm just smiling, nodding.  Flynn's cheeks are pink, like he's embarrassed, but he smiles at me.  Cash says we better go, damn him and I give a wave and follow him.

"Why did you have to leave?" I whisper when we are out of earshot.

"You weren't even talking," he laughs.

"Well I didn't have a chance, with you gas bagging away," I say.

He laughs even louder.  "He looked too embarrassed to say anything anyway.  I think you scare him."

I punched his arm.  "I do not scare him.  You probably did, flexing your muscles, standing tall.  You intimidated him."

"Ha!" Cash scoffs, "he didn't even look at me. He only had eyes for you.” Cash puts his arm around my shoulder, pulls me close and we walk along.  "What's with his hand?" he asks.

"Magdala."  We both turn at the sound of my name.  Flynn is standing there.  Cash and I look at each other, feeling guilty, hoping he hasn't heard our conversation.  Cash removes his arm from me.  Flynn  comes towards me, his cheeks still flushed.  James is lingering a few metres behind.

"Hey, I wonder if I could get your number," he stammers.  He is holding his phone out towards me, "if it's okay?"

"Yeah," I say, and Cash turns away, giving us some privacy.  I spell my name for him and he puts it straight into his phone.  We are both smiling. I put his number into my phone. 

"I'll give you a text," he says. 

"Cool," I reply.  And Cash laughs about it all the way home.

FLYNN

To see her in the food court seemed like it must have been fate.  I wasn't even supposed to be there, but for some reason Aaron and Will had stopped by to pick up James and me and we'd gone to Aaron's to listen to their band practicing.  Aaron, Will and two other boys had formed a band, tentatively titled Idle Hands, and wanted our feedback.  We weren't that honest, saying they were sounding great, and then we had all decided to get something to eat.  James saw her first, and when I first saw she was with a tall blonde guy my heart sunk.  But when I looked closer, I thought he might be her brother, you could see the resemblance in the hair color.  No way you would date someone with hair color the same as you.  James agreed.  Aaron stared and proclaimed that there was no way she'd be interested in me, and if I hadn't asked her out already, she was fair game.  James told him to fucking shut his mouth.  That's why he's my best friend.

And in what I construed to be another twist of fate, while James and I were window shopping, she walked by and stopped.  She introduced us to her brother and we stood there talking.  Well her brother and James did.  I hardly said a word, cursing my mute tongue, which didn't seem to have anything worthwhile to say.  James beat me to every comment or question, I had nothing original to add.  Her brother lead her off after awhile, probably bored by the lack of conversation.  I felt pathetic, unable to talk to the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

"Why didn't you ask for her number?" James asked as they walked away.

"Well how am I supposed to do that?" I smarted.

"Just open your mouth, Flynn.  Let the words come out," he said slowly and sarcastically.  Then in a normal tone, he added, "She's into you, you can tell."

So under James' direction, without having a chance to think about it, I ran to catch her, got her phone number and then later that night texted her.

Me:  glad I saw u today

Her:  me too :)

Me:  do u want to go out some time

Her:  ok

Me:  a movie?

Her:  yeah, which one

Me:  whatever you want.  When?

Her: whenever you want

Me:  are u busy on Friday night

Her:  I work till 7

And, as easy as that, it seemed I had my first date.

I fussed around for ages getting ready, choosing what to wear, trying to cover up my arm.  I'd seen her staring at it when I bought the t-shirt from her, but I could hardly begrudge her that.  I'm use to people staring at it, though that doesn't mean I like it.  Funnily enough my arm never bothered me till I got to junior high.  Because I'd never known anything different, why would it?  Junior high is where you meet new kids, kids who haven't known you since elementary school, don't know your history.  I got stared at a lot.  I started to cover up more.  I became self conscious.  I hated being different, hated being a freak.  I got into trouble for awhile,  I skipped school, swore a lot, was moody, rebellious, angry, things that weren't me, but at the time were the only coping mechanisms I had.

I was born normal, but when I was very small, like weeks or months old, I was burnt, boiling water, hot coffee or tea, no one knows.  My birth mother didn't do anything about it.  It was days, maybe a week before I was taken to a doctor or hospital.  My right arm had become grossly infected, amputating the hand was the only way to save my life.  Apparently.  The skin from my forearm peeled off like radiation burns from nuclear fall out (my own analogy, by the way).   There was only one doctor in the hospital who I responded to, goes the story I've been told.  While I screamed the whole place down, when she held me, I was quiet.  Apparently.  The woman later adopted me after my birth mother died from a drug overdose, brought me up as her own, fell in love with me from the day she saw me.  That's her story, and she sticks to it like glue.  My Mom, Dr Julie Surridge.

I needed skin grafts, repeated skin grafts, year after year.  My right forearm from elbow to wrist a jigsaw of collected skin from other parts of my body, ugly, red, white, scarred, a patchwork.  But ugly only because others told me so.  Once it just use to be my arm, then it became my burden.

The obvious thing is to wear long sleeves, second, if it's too hot, is to wear a bandage around it.  On the night of the movies I chose a hoodie over a t-shirt and jeans.  There would be air con in the movie theatre, so I wouldn't swelter, hopefully.  Magdala asked if I would meet her straight after work, so I did.  She didn't look at me strange, she was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her hair straight, cascading down past her shoulders, her make up perfectly applied, her perfume fruity.  I walked on her right side, keeping my bad arm away from her.  I longed to slip my hand in hers, but didn't dare, too scared.  Scared of stuffing up, scared of rejection.  We went for pizza, finger food, my favorite kind, wouldn't need to awkwardly cut it up.  I felt awkward enough, didn't need any other additions. 

We bought our tickets, then she went to use the restroom.  I stood in the foyer waiting, checking my phone, trying to look casual, a boy waiting for his girl, a totally new experience for me.  As the minutes went by, a panic washed over me.  How long did it take to use the bathroom?  Should she be back by now?  Was there a queue?  Or, my worst fear, had she slipped out while I wasn't looking, done a runner, realized she'd made a mistake, realized I was a loser?  My heart started to pound, I felt sick, like ill.  How long does it take before you realize you've been abandoned?  I looked at the time, had she been gone five minutes already?  Was she having toilet issues, had the pizza gone right through her?  That was hardly a pleasant thought either.  I started to feel nervous.  A kid standing near me had his girlfriend return.  So did an older guy with a beard.  Should I text her?  Was she all right?  What if she'd collapsed?  Maybe she did have some illness that only my Mom knew about.  I felt like I was deep in despair.  I was wondering whether I would go to the movie alone and then lie about the date, or should I...she returned.  I'd never been so happy to see someone in my life.  My heart did a somersault to rejoice.

"I was getting worried about you," I confidently admitted now she was back.

"The queue was crazy and there were two out of order signs up," she said, "plus I did a touch up."  She pouted briefly, the gloss on her lips tormenting me.  "Strawberry gloss," she remarked.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

She frowned, "Sure of what?"

"That its strawberry," I said. 

She looked at me, then smiled, "Ha, you're funny," and she punched my arm, and then, remarkably, held on to it.  "Would you like to check for me?" She tilted her head at me, flirting.  I was too slow, had no witty comeback,  well no comeback, witty or otherwise. The moment passed and I felt my cheeks with the too familiar burn.  She held my arm tighter, smiled, like she knew I was was not going to be good at this, that I was terrified, that I had absolutely zero experience in anything.  Yet she was with me.

She took me home in her car.  She didn't think it strange that I didn't have my license yet.  I didn't mind biking everywhere, it's just what I did, though somehow I thought I'd better get a move on in that department.  She stopped in the driveway, there were lights on in the house, so I wasn't going to invite her in.  Imagine Mom or Dad sitting in the kitchen or lounge, introducing her, her already knowing Mom.  It would be too uncomfortable.  So I just sat there and said, "Thanks for the ride home."

"No problem," she said.  She hadn't turned off the engine, so I gathered that meant she was not going to be lingering.  "What's the best way back home?" she asked, but then google mapped it as I started to tell her to go back up to Ocean.  I unbuckled my seat belt, strange feelings in my chest, a mild panic of what to say and do in the next three seconds.

"It's been great," I said, a feeble sentence, a feeble voice.

She looked up from her phone,  "Yes, thanks," she said smiling, and then looked back at her phone, frowning slightly at the map on screen.

"You okay with that?" I asked.  I knew she was not that familiar with the area yet.

"Will I get onto 3rd here?" She leaned closer, pointing to an intersection.

Yeah, and if you go up here, you'll come out on Ocean," I said pointing.

"Okay, thank you."  She seemed to regain some confidence and smiled.  I wanted to kiss her, to see what it was like, to taste her lips, strawberry or not.  She was still holding her phone.  She didn't lean closer, or run her tongue over her lips in anticipation (read somewhere that's what girls do if they want you to kiss them).  There was no indication she wanted me to, so I opened the door and got out.  I wanted her to stop me, to say my name, but she didn't.  A feeling of disappointment flooded me, reality set in, this was my life, not a romance novel.  Magical things weren't just going to happen to a kid with a scarred arm and only one hand.  I obviously hadn't made that much of an impression on her. She lowered her window and I went round to her side.

"See you," she said brightly.

"Yeah," I tried to match her voice, but don't think I pulled it off.  "Drive safe."  Who says that?  She only lived five minutes away, maybe six.

"Hope I make it."  I wondered if I detected a slight fear in her, maybe she didn't like driving at night, or alone, or alone at night.

"Text me when you get home," I said, thinking she did seem afraid.

"Okay I will," she said and I stepped back so she could reverse out.  She gave a wave and drove off.  Mom and Dad were sitting on the sofa, Mom leaning into Dad. Both looked up as I  came inside.  I hadn't told them I was going on a date, just that I was going to the movies.  If I'd said I was going with Magdala, and then we never had a second date, it would be too humiliating, and the way things had just panned out, a second date didn't seem very likely.

"How was your movie?" Mom called.

"Good," I said, just stopping at the top of the stairwell, which descends five steps to the lounge.  I just stood there for a moment.  I wanted to ask advice.  I wanted to know how you knew if a girl liked you or not, how you should kiss a girl, how you act around them.  Because obviously I hadn't done something, or anything right. 

"You okay?" Mom asked, maybe because I was still there.  Of course I wouldn't ask.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said, checking my phone.

"Yeah, goodnight Flynn," they both said, and I went to my room.  I texted James.

Me:  Date over.

He immediately called, wanting the details.  It was a short conversation, there wasn't much to tell.  He told me to be positive, it was early days.  Magdala had texted me, and I smiled:  Made it!

I texted back:  knew u would, thanks for an awesome night.

Her:  do it again?

Me:  definitely  (But thinking hell, yeah)

Her:  goodnight, sweet dreams xx

Me:  you too xx (the bravest thing I'd ever done - add those two xx)