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The Education of Matthew Buchanan - Chapter 4   She knocked softly on his bedroom door, turning the knob slowly, calling out to him. “Matthew, may I come in?”   There was no answer and she pushed the door open. She drew in a quick breath as she surveyed the destruction. What was once the typical mess of a teenage boy was now a disaster area. His room looked like a tornado went through it. Beams of sunlight pushing through the partially closed window blinds made ominous shadows across the mess on the floor.   “Matthew,” she called again, stepping over the sports magazines strewed across the doorway. “It’s Mom. We need to talk.”   Silence answered her again and she looked towards the door that led to the adjoining bathroom. She moved towards it, stepping over clothes, bedding, scattered magazines and broken glass. The door was slightly ajar and she knocked, calling again. “Matthew, bud, you in there?” Receiving no answer, she pushed the door opened to find it empty. She turned back towards the vastness of the bedroom. She looked at the strewn mess from one end of the room to the other, the broken pieces of her son’s life lying about the room, telling the tale of his hurt and anger. This caused her own emotions of guilt to bubble back to the surface and overwhelm her and she covered her face with her hands for a few moments.   “What have I done?” she said softly, lifting her head from her hands and glancing around the room again. A shadow passed for a fraction of a second through the strips of sunlight seeping through the slits in the blinds and she blinked twice as she adjusted her eyes through the sunlight into the shadows along the far wall.   There was her son, sitting on the floor, curled against the corner, almost as if trying to become one with the wall. She could just make out his silhouette. “Matthew,” she whispered with relief. She moved towards him quickly, circling around the edge of the bed as she tried to avoid the broken glass splattered across the hardwood floor. Just as she reached the end of his bed, she saw his hand move from cradling his knees and extend out towards her, palm out. The silent stop sign; the universal sign for ‘don’t come any closer to me’. She stopped abruptly as if more than three feet of floor separated them. She stood for a few more seconds and stared intently at her son’s extended hand. Seeing that she got the message, his hand returned to hug his knees to his chest.   Nora glanced down at the floor, pushing some of the glass and chess pieces away with her foot, kneeling down and sitting back on her legs. They sat in silence for what seemed like forever. Her legs were falling asleep. She was about to move to a sitting position when he spoke, his voice almost in a whisper.   “I’m failing American History.”   “What?” she stammered, not sure she had heard him correctly. Certainly not what she had expected but she would follow his lead. He didn’t speak again so she nodded slowly. “You’re failing American History,” she acknowledged. “Okay. What can I do to help?”   He shrugged, still not meeting her eyes.   “Is it the material? Are you having trouble doing the work?”   Again he shrugged and then gave his head a quick shake. “If I don’t pass my semester project and my final I’ll have to go to summer school.”   “Okay,” she said again. “I can help you study for the final and we can work on your project together.”   “No you can’t. The project is ruined. I have to start all over and I don’t have time.”   “I’m sure we can fix it together.”   He shook his head. “It can’t be fixed.”   “Why?”   “I have to give a speech and presentation at a full school assembly AND turn in a written report supporting my presentation.”   “What kind of presentation?”   “I had to pick someone who represents American heroism and how that person compares to an American hero from the past. I picked the wrong hero.”   Her gut knew the answer before she asked but she spoke the question aloud, waiting for his response. “Who did you pick?”   He couldn’t answer. Instead, he flung the papers he had been clutching in his right hand at her. She scooped them up, scanning them.”   “You picked your father and compared him to Thomas Jefferson,” she said with a small smile.   “What a mistake that was. I’m supposed to be able to defend my presentation. How am I supposed to do that now?”   Nora scanned through the report again, picking up bolded paragraph headings like leader, politician, war veteran. Matthew had even scanned in pictures of Bo and Thomas Jefferson, along with maps of Texas and Virginia. “Everything you wrote is true; your dad is a Vet, he’s been awarded all of the military and civilian awards you mention…”   “How can you still defend him?” he cut across her.   “Because what you wrote is true,” she said again.   “No,” Matthew said, shaking his head. “What I wrote was based on truths you have told me my whole life. Turns out, you lied and my report is based on that lie. I can’t defend that. I won’t defend a lie.”   She pressed her lips together. They had reached the real issue. “I didn’t lie.”   “You did,” he said with more force. “You told me you loved him, you told me you were happy.”   “I did and we were.”   “That’s impossible. I heard you, I heard you both.”   “I know you heard us. But you heard one small piece about a time in our life when our marriage was breaking down.”   “But an important time of your life. It involved me.”   “No, it didn’t. Not really. It involved the death of a child and how your dad and I were handling it; which wasn’t very well.”   “You mean that HE wasn’t handling it very well.” He hesitated before he said the word out loud. “Suicide?” he asked in disbelief.   Nora closed her eyes for a quick second, thinking back to that time of her life when Bo had shut her out. How could she explain something she didn’t understand herself. She chose her words cautiously. “Your Dad has experienced many losses in his life and he just couldn’t handle another one, especially the loss of his only son. In his mind, he had nothing left to live for.”   “He had you.”   “He was afraid to lean on me.”   “Why? You were his wife, his family. Grandpa always said the Buchanan family sticks together in the bad times. Why was this different?”   “I can’t explain your father’s feelings, Matthew.”   “Because he can’t,” he shot back at her. “He can’t explain why you weren’t good enough for him to live for. But that didn’t seem to matter to you. You saved his life anyway. Why would you do that?”   “Because your father was worth saving.” Matthew gave a snort and Nora spoke again. “He lost his son. He was out of his mind with grief.”   “Then how do you explain what you said about Dad and Lindsay?”   Nora bit the inside of her cheek. “He was grieving and she was there to lend a shoulder.”   “And you weren’t?”   “It was complicated, with me and Drew and your Dad. I was your Dad’s wife but not Drew’s Mother.”   “And where was Drew’s mother?”   “She was in Tennessee. She came to Llanview as soon as she found out that Drew had died.”   “Why didn’t he lean on her instead of Lindsay? Lindsay wasn’t Drew’s mother either.”   “You’re right. It just seemed easier for your dad to lean on an outsider, someone who didn’t have any emotional ties to Drew or your Dad than it was to lean on me.”   “Did Drew’s mother want to kill herself? I mean, Drew was her son, too.”   “I can’t speak for her. I don’t even want to think about what she was feeling. She lost her son, her only child. She came to Llanview to be with her son’s father because she knew how much your Dad needed her, how much they needed each other and accept Drew’s death together.”   “And you couldn’t do that; help him accept Drew’s death?”   “I wasn’t Drew’s Mother,” she said again. “I didn’t raise him. Becky Lee did. Drew had lived with her his whole life. You’re father didn’t get to know him until he was a man.”   Matthew let out a sarcastic snort. “Another wife and child not good enough for him?”   “It’s not the same Matthew,” she explained. “Your father was never married to Drew’s mother.”   “Really?” Matthew retorted. “Apparently, neither of his children’s mothers was ever good enough for him. One he didn’t marry and one he dumped. A deadbeat AND a coward. Nice.”   “It wasn’t like that. Drew’s mother moved away from Llanview when Drew was little. Your father didn’t know where she was living most of the time. He searched for them for years. When Drew was old enough, he came to Llanview to find his father. He wanted to know him and became a cop because of him. Your Dad and Drew were very close when Drew died.”   “So what? That doesn’t explain why he wanted to kill himself. Or why you kept that fact a secret.”   “It wasn’t exactly a secret.”   “What do you mean?” Matthew asked confused. “Who else knew?”   His mother didn’t answer him but by the look on her face, she didn’t need to. He all ready knew and as much as it hurt, he spoke his suspicions out loud to her.   “Did Grandpa?”   She nodded.   “I can’t believe Grandpa kept it a secret. He HATED cowards.”   “None of us thought of your dad like that.”   “None of us? What does that mean? Who else knew?” he asked hollowly.   “Matthew, it was a long time ago,” she hedged, hoping he would accept that answer.   “Who else?” he asked again with more force. He began listing the usual suspects. “Uncle Clint? Aunt Viki? Grandma Renee?”   She nodded again.   Matthew shook his head in disbelief. “So in other words, everyone BUT me. And all of you kept it a big family secret from me.”   “It all happened before you were born.”   “I still had a right to know.”   “We told you about Drew. We told you how he died and how much his death affected your dad and how much he still misses him.”   “You left a big part out! The part where he tried to kill himself!”   “Your dad was hurting. Drew died in the line of duty. That fact alone devastated him. Add to that that he was the Police Commissioner and Drew’s father, he felt guilty that he couldn’t save his son.”   “Save him?” Matthew repeated with a sarcastic laugh. “He couldn’t even save himself. You saved him and he repaid you by leaving you.”   “Because I had betrayed him.”   “And he tried to kill himself. If anyone should have needed forgiveness, it was him. Instead, he turned to Lindsay and cut you out and me out of his life. He’s a jerk.”   Nora nodded to herself. Bo was a jerk when it came to Lindsay, but she wouldn’t say that to his son. For all of Bo’s faults, for all of the blinders he wore regarding Lindsay, his love for Matthew was true. She spoke those thoughts out loud. “He’s your father. You are his son and he loves you. You’re allowed to be angry with him but you will not disrespect him.”   “I’m ALLOWED to be angry with him?” Matthew gave a short laugh. “Thanks but I don’t need your permission to be angry at him. And for the record, I’m not angry. I hate him. And right now, I don’t like you very much either. You lied for him. You protected his secret. He wanted to kill himself and you covered for him and told me lies so I would think he was some kind of hero. My report is a sham. He’s no hero, he’s a coward. And I don’t want to be his son.”   “Matthew, stop this,” Nora said forcefully.   “No, I won’t stop. It’s the truth, even if telling the truth is still an issue for you.”   “Telling the truth is not an issue for me.”   “Then why are you still protecting him by hiding the truth? Why do you wear blinders where he’s concerned? He hates you.”   “He doesn’t hate me,” Nora tried to say with some conviction. Sometimes she wasn’t so sure about that either.   “Really? Then why does he fight with you all the time? You said it yourself. He forgave Lindsay for ruining your life but he won’t forgive you for giving him a son AND a reason to live. I’d take you over Lindsay any day. You’re the better woman. Take it from me, Mom; you’re better off without him. We both are.”   “No, we’re not. Remember how much help he was to you and to me when I was in the hospital?”   “Where he put you.”   She shook her head. “I had a brain aneurism. Your dad didn’t cause that.”   “Yes he did, by picking a fight with you. Rachel even said so. And I’ll bet he wished you had died too, and then he could have been rid of you for good.”   “Matthew, I understand you’re angry. But you can not continue…”   “To what? Blame him? Hate him? Well I do. And you, too, for protecting him and his secret and telling me lies about him my whole life.”   “Hate is a strong word and I don’t believe you hate either of us,” she said softly.   “Believe what you want. Just know this; I will never forgive either of you for holding back the truth from me.”   Nora got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach at Matthew’s words. It was as if the past was rearing its ugly head to speak to her through her son’s voice. She tried to compromise with him. “Matthew, telling you about our past would not have served any purpose, for you, me or your Dad.”   “Sure it would. It would have helped me ‘get’ why he hates you, why you two split up. It would have helped me ‘get’ his obsession with Lindsay.”   “The three of us need to sit down and talk this through. Dad and I will explain and answer all of your questions. Your dad wants to make things right between us.”   “It’s too late for that.” Matthew stood, moving towards the door. “I’m glad I overheard your fight. I got the real version, instead of some trumped up half truth you two would have planned over some fake family meeting.”   “We are not a fake family,” she corrected him. “We may not be a conventional family but the three of us ARE a family.”   “You keep telling yourself that,” Matthew chided her. “You’ll see what kind of family we are after he marries Lindsay. As for me, I get it now. The only person important to him is him. As for Lindsay, she’s his family, not you or me. You and I don’t even rate on his caring scale. And the sooner you accept that, the better off we will be.”   “That’s not true. We both need your father.”   “Fine. You keep needing. I’m done with him.” With that said, Matthew left the bedroom.   To Be Continued…