No Such Thing As Perfect

Matthias

The floor vibrated beneath Matthias' shoes as he slammed the front door behind him. As usual, his arrival was loud enough for everyone to hear except for himself. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of his home – cinnamon, pine sol and the inexplicably beautiful scent of sun-dried laundry. There was a hint of lilac too, from the bushes which divided his yard and Mrs West's, the widow who lived next door. Someone must have opened the windows while he was at school. Matthias brushed his fingers through the wavy strands of his windswept hair. The spring day, though somewhat warm, was certainly breezy enough to carry in the scent of flowers from out of doors.

He kicked off his Converses on the reed mat in the entryway; the bright red of his shoes stood out from the rich earthy tones of the decor. The furniture, walls, picture frames – everything was colored an earthen shade. Woven tapestries hung from the walls. Wooden jars and copper-toned mica figurines sat in neat rows on the shelves. Family photos in barn-wood frames were lined up on the foyer table, but Matthias rarely looked at those. Even now, he kept his head down, eyes locked to his phone screen, fingers tapping a mile a minute as he walked through the living room to the kitchen.

Satisfied with his message, Matthias hit send and set the phone on the counter. He pulled open the refrigerator, grabbed a bottle of lemonade and gave the cap a twist. His fingers numbed around the cold plastic as he gulped back the contents. The tart taste of fake lemonade bit at the inside of his cheeks. He tossed the bottle in the trash can at the end of the counter and warmed his freezing fingers in the fabric of his Green Bay Packers hoodie before turning to rummage through the fridge. A ham and potato chip sandwich after a long day at school sounded good.

The floor vibrated again. Someone else walking in the house. Matthias paid no mind until a hand tapped his shoulder. Then he remembered. A shudder crept up his spine. He forced himself not to reach a hand to his ear.

He'd made a big mistake.

A woman pushed the refrigerator door shut. He didn't move. She stepped in front of him and waved her hand in his face. He held back a sigh, lifted his gaze to meet hers. The woman smiled.

"Hi."

"Hi, Mom." He forced the words from his throat.

"Hungry?" He read her lips and shook his head, preparing to walk away. He could suddenly do without that sandwich. She blocked him off, smiling a bit more, not finished yet. "How was school?"

Before he could find an answer, she turned to look at something, and he followed her gaze. His phone vibrated on the counter, annoying flashes of light blinking from it to alert him of an incoming text. He grabbed the phone. Slipped it into his back pocket without looking at the message. Started to turn away. Her hand grasped his shoulder. Her lips moved but he missed whatever she had said as she frowned and lifted her hand to his chin. She gently turned his head to one side. His stomach twisted.

She turned her gaze to meet his again. He could see a tinge of frustration in the pale green haze of her eyes. He didn't need to read her lips to know her next question. "Where are your hearing aids?"

He shrugged. His mother glared at him. The knot in his stomach twisted further, and he shifted his gaze to stare at the magnets on the fridge. She jerked his head back to her again. "You took them off again, didn't you? After I told you not to!"

Her hand slipped away and she rubbed her nose between her fingers, eyebrows furrowed. Matthias stuffed his sweating hands into his pockets. His fingers played nervously with the hearing aids in his right pocket as he watched her. Natalie Smith was a small woman, two heads shorter than he, but mothers had a way of sticking to their guns no matter their size. He had watched her fight too hard in her life to give up easily. Her shoulders had carried too much for her to be weak.