After watching his parents’ marriage slowly implode, Matthew decided love was not for him. Theirs had lasted long enough to ensure his birth, but thereafter it seemed to diminish in direct proportion to the number of years they spent together.
The frown crease between his mother’s eyes became a permanent scar, growing deeper with each passing decade. She sniped and harried his father’s heels like a small angry dog. He lumbered through the house in silence, apparently having learned indifference was the quickest way to irritate his wife.
Such a life was not for Matthew. He carefully locked his heart away and refused to permit anyone near it.
Oh, there were close calls. During high school, a sweet-faced girl smiled at him every morning in the homeroom. Her attention burned like sunlight on his skin, until he switched his seat to the opposite side of the classroom. The girls decided he must be gay. His gay friends decided he must be shy of girls.
They were both wrong. He was just convinced that love was a trap. Two people locked in a contest to outlast each other. A game with no winners, which he had no interest in playing.
Having safely navigated his teen years with his heart intact, Matthew happily left home for higher education.
But in his first week of college, he almost succumbed once again.
A pretty redhead caught his attention in Introduction to Psychology. No matter how hard he tried to ignore her, his eyes kept sneaking in her direction. His pulse quickened every time he did, and there was a strange flutter in his stomach.
Matthew bore it for three weeks, trying everything he could think of to stamp out his traitorous feelings. Even aversion therapy didn’t work—snapping an elastic band every time he looked at her only left him with a red, swollen wrist.
Finally admitting defeat, he gave up his dream of becoming a psychologist and transferred to Business Administration.
Tired of watching his friends pair off, he decided to hire a hooker to see what the fuss was about. This clinical transaction reinforced his conviction that he’d made the right choice. After that, his most intimate relationship was with massage oil and a tissue.
He settled happily into this sterile life—refusing to admit he found Biz Admin a bit boring.
When his father passed midway through his first year, Matthew returned home for the funeral. His mother couldn’t stop crying.
“He was the love of my life,” she sobbed.
Matthew stared at her in disbelief. She’d loved his father? How was that possible?
He listened to her telling stories to her friends… recalling “teasing him about clinging to his favorite raggedy old sweater” and “worrying about his cholesterol—he did enjoy his fried food—"
As sudden as sunlight through stained glass, understanding poured over him. All those years became colored with a different perspective. His mother’s nagging was revealed as her way of caring for his father; his father’s silence, his way of accepting her concern.
Matthew stopped short, stunned by his mistake.
He wondered if it was too late to switch back to psychology.
Bio:
Jo Gatenby writes whatever the voices shouting in her head tell her to. She has published a dozen+ flash fiction and short stories, as well as five children’s books. Her first fantasy novel will launch fall/2025. Thanks to her grandmother, she is a status Algonquin of the Pikwakanagan First Nation, in Canada. Check out her website and join her reader’s club at www.jo-gatenby-books.com.