MoM TDM (reassembled from emails)

[dreamkid]

I. DE CHIMA

[ When the Porter brings Matthew back, he hangs on to the assumption that it's been a few days, maybe a week or two. Even so, he wants to get back to the Meadows as soon as possible, but when an elderly local lady approaches him at the bus stop, he innocently offers his assistance. A quarter hour later, she's still clutching his arm with one hand and patting it with the other, and it's glaringly obvious to anyone with half a brain (so, not Matthew) that she does not intend to let him go any time soon. They've crossed the same street four times, back and forth, and his bus is looong gone.

Oh, you're such a nice boy. My grandson wears your cologne, you know.

Matthew laughs, bright and tirelessly cheerful. ]

Really? Cool! [ He means it. ] Hey, which way did you say his apartment is?

[ Oh, it must be this way. Or... Well, I'm not sure. Maybe it's down that street there.

Someone rescue this boy. ]

II. THE MEADOWS

[ Despite Matthew's long absence, signs of the youngest Lynch's presence have remained tucked away at the Meadows since the day he left: a door in the hallway that refuses to open, warm light streaming 24/7 from the crack between it and the floor. A yellow Mini Cooper parked in the garage with the hoard of other vehicles, cheerful and driverless. A grafitti mural preserved on the side of the church, the obvious work of many hands, one pair of which was content to scatter the area with meaningless happy squiggles in every available color, like a child with a bucket of chalks. (Except the mural is in spray paint.)

When Matthew returns, he spends the first few days sticking close to these familiar places. The door to his room is thrown open, and stays that way much of the time, an invitation to any and all to stop by and hang out. Even if he's hunched up on the floor in front of his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest and scrolling through his phone with a rather perplexed look on his face and a plate with a half-eaten poptart sitting next to him on the floor. Perhaps especially then.

One sunny day, he carefully drives his car out into the front yard, climbs out, climbs back in to check that the windows are rolled up all the way, climbs back out and starts scrubbing the vehicle down with a large sponge and a bucket of soapy water. He doesn't seem bothered by the chilly March air.

On a different day, one might find him by the church, seated under the mural, the back of his head pressed against the wall. His eyes are scrunched closed. A few rose petals drift implausibly out of his curls ("implausibly" because the petals didn't exist a moment before), one coming to rest on his shoulder. ]

III. WILDCARD; hit me!

Comments

[dreamkid]

Ohh.

[ Matthew looks down at his hands as he considers this new information.

The barn, the house, those changes are a little troubling (where does Henrietta sleep now?) But the most troubling is the casual comment about Ronan.

Of course he is. Of course he's different from how Matthew remembered him?

He looks out the window, watching De Chima zip by. He wants to get back to the house, to Noah especially. ]

I guess a lot's different from what I remember.