Page 93 of Requiem

Brett 34

When we arrive at the apartment, my mother is holding David to her chest, while Natalie is holding a bag of frozen peas to her swollen face.

“Matthew!” Natalie cries out, jumping off the stool, tears running down her face. “Oh, God, Matthew, I’m so sorry! I thought he was the pizza delivery guy. He had his uniform and the box … he punched me … so hard, Matthew … I was unconscious. Then he shot me up with something … I just woke up in your bed. That was hours ago,” she sobs in one, long miserable breath.

Matthew pulls her into his arms and pats her back – an extraordinary gesture, considering the desperate panic I know he’s experiencing at this moment.

“I know. I know, Natalie. I know. It’s not your fault,” he somehow manages to comfort her. “Is David okay?”

“He’s fine,” she sniffs. “When I finally came to, he was in his crib, crying.”

We turn to my mother, who is silently bouncing the sleepy child. She nods her agreement that he’s fine.

“Oh, thank God,” I whisper.

“But, you should know that he was ready to take David, Matthew. The diaper bag was packed, the stroller set up. I think Julia must have convinced him to leave David behind,” my mother informs us.

Matthew puts a hand to his face and shakes his head. He looks as if he’s about to start crying himself until Natalie speaks again.

“Matthew,” she says softly, “he left a note.”

I watch as he swallows hard, and I know exactly what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too. This is one of those moments. He’s sitting on the very edge of his world. In a matter of seconds, everything is going to change, and this may very well be the last second of ignorant bliss that he’ll ever have. The last moments when his life is intact. He takes a deep breath, and walks to the breakfast bar, where the single sheet of white paper sits, my brother’s unmistakably meticulous handwriting in bold, black marker. The instant Matthew picks it up and reads it aloud, he has slipped into the abyss.

‘Matthew, no police. Wait for my call and think about what I’m doing to her right now.’

And with that, I slide right into the void with him.

Matthew 35

“Mama!” David whines as I hold him in my arms, rocking him like I used to do in the middle of the night when he was just an infant. Now, I’m resting my head against his as he cries. He’s the only person on this earth who can bring me any solace right now. And clarity. This isn’t just about me bringing my wife home safely, it’s about bringing David’s mother back to him.

“I know, baby,” I murmur, holding him even tighter. I look up when I hear a quiet knock from the doorway to the nursery. It’s Trudy.

“Matthew, may I come in?”

“Of course.”

She comes in and sits in the armchair next to his crib.

“I’m so sorry …” she begins.

I shake my head. I know this can’t be easy for her either.

“Please, Trudy. This isn’t your fault any more than it’s Natalie’s.”

She doesn’t respond at first, only looks down at her hands, folded in her lap.

“It took a while for us to see it, Matthew. Danny and I … we couldn’t believe … we didn’t want to believe that our child was …was …” She has trouble finding the word.

“Mentally ill?” I offer softly.

“A monster,” she corrects me.

Holy shit. Well, there’s some self-awareness for you.

“I should’ve done something sooner, before it got to this point,” she explains. “But, I was selfish, Matthew. I wanted Jeremy out of my house. I wanted him out of our lives. It didn’t occur to me that it might be my job to …”

“To what, Trudy? To beat it out of him? Have him committed to some mental institution? There isn’t a damn thing you could have done to prevent him from becoming who he is,” I assure her, trying to assuage her guilt.