PSYCHOMACHIA // matty healy

5.

Matty and I ended up in a beautiful Italian house with tiled flooring and fruit bowls filled with luscious, ripe treats. We sipped on bellinis as the sun shone bright into the kitchen and fed each other prosciutto. There was a loud ringing in my ears, I searched the house for the source but no matter how hard I looked I couldn't find it. Finally, I woke up. The ringing had just been my alarm and the Italian house was just a vivid dream of mine. I turned off my alarm, noticing an abundance of messages from the girls. I opened Frida's first,

What the fuck is going on
Esther, answer me
Explain.

The messages read, attached was an image of me stroking Matty's arm in the cafe last night. Fuck. I couldn't deny it looked a little dodgy, but it was harmless. I groaned and made my way to the kitchen, this time Matty was already awake.

"You've seen it?" He held his head in his hands as he sat on the side of the pull-out sofa. I nodded,

"It'll be fine, it's just been blown out of proportion. I'll say something, if you want?"

"It's fine," he shook his head, "I don't really care that much. I just hoped you wouldn't take it badly."

"I don't really care either, hopefully my song gets more streams now." I jeered and Matty laughed. "How are you feeling?" I tilted my head and looked at him, I was still wearing my nightdress but I didn't really care at this point as he was only wearing his boxers again.

"I don't know, numb?" He said, like he was asking for approval of his emotions from me.

"That's okay, don't rush your feelings. It's hard to comprehend sometimes."

"I'm thinking of selling my place."

I tilted my head, "why?"

"Once she's gone I won't be able to stop seeing her in every corner. I won't be able to sit alone in my own silence in the living room, I won't be able to stand the empty bedroom or the space in my wardrobe where her clothes used to be. Once she's gone, I want to lock up all my memories of us in that little apartment."

"Do whatever you think you need to do," I sighed, "But you are allowed to feel. If you don't address these feelings now they'll just come back to haunt you at a later time."

"Thank you, genuinely." He smiled a melancholic smile at me and I rubbed his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, I know it must be difficult. I'm here if you need me."

We ate toast with marmite together before he decided to get dressed and depart and brave going back home. I'd developed a soft spot for him, maybe I wouldn't mind being his friend after all. He was clearly a troubled soul going through a difficult time, I didn't mind being his shoulder to cry on. It was unusual to see such vulnerability from someone you wouldn't expect, but it was my reminder we all have moments of darkness. I'd texted the girls back and explained the situation, they were slightly confused at first but understanding. Frida announced she'd just bought some lovely garden chairs and needed an excuse to use them, so I decided I'd bring her some croissants from the local bakery and sit outside with her. The croissants were still warm in their little brown paper bag as I took a taxi to her cottage-esque home. She had a bottle-green door with a black door knocker and an abundance of lavender bushes surrounded the house. I knocked on the door three times and I was greeted with her bright, toothy smile.

"Esther! Come through this way, I've set everything out nicely." She beamed as she led me through her house and into the back garden. Frida lived in South Africa until she was eighteen; there were little pockets of the country dotted around the house. She liked to collect artwork from local street artists in Port Elizabeth, her childhood city, that punctuated every room. One time, she brought me back a beadwork flower I kept on display in my apartment with vibrant red and yellow beads intricately threaded on wire. She brought me to the chairs and table she had set up on the patio, there was a jug of cloudy apple juice in the middle of the table with two pink glasses.

"It's gorgeous here," I smiled at her as I sat on one of the chairs. Butterflies and bees danced around the flowers and green grass, the blue sky was dotted with white chemtrails and birds twittered amongst themselves.

"Isn't it just?" She poured us both a glass of cloudy apple juice and I passed her a croissant, "Thank you, lovely." I crunched into my fresh croissant, licking the flakes off my lips as I tried to contain the mess I would inevitably make. "How's your new bezzie mate?" She giggled mischievously,

"He's.....complicated." I chuckled,

"In what way?"

"Well," I sighed before continuing, "I think he might just be going through a rough patch with his girlfriend. They had a massive row last night when I was in the studio."

"Wow, do you know why?" She furrowed her brows in concern as she took another bite from her croissant.

"Something to do with him going out on the piss a lot, I think. He thinks she's gonna end things."

"Damn, that's a shame. He seemed quite happy with her."

"That's what I thought, bless him, I do feel sorry for him. That's what I don't miss about relationships, I can't stand the pain of someone who you love so dearly being ripped out of your life." I shuddered and swigged some apple juice as I remembered my last messy breakup. Everyone told us how perfect we looked, I shared every secret with him. I'd spend every hour with him, he'd ask me to sing him to sleep and we'd get high as we listened to Meat Is Murder by The Smiths on vinyl. He wrote me sonnets, he was a lawyer but had a passion for poetry. I remember him stroking my hair one night as he read me one of his poems and asked me to marry him. He proposed to me with a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring, I felt as if I was following all the correct steps in life. Get a job you like, find someone to marry and I'd probably have ended up having kids. It all flipped upside down after he proposed, he must've felt as if he'd finally got me tied down and I'd never leave. He cheated on me with several other people, blaming it on me because I wouldn't fuck him enough. Maybe I would've considered it more if he could actually make me cum. I told him I could never marry someone so vile, and his words tore my heart down it's seam. Oh Esther, but who else would want to marry someone as pathetic as you?

"Don't let Aaron put you off, he was a nasty piece of work. I would've lamped him one if I ever got my hands on him. You've been off the dating scene for a while, why not give it another try? Don't you get lonely on your own?"

I had to admit, I sometimes envied what Frida and her girlfriend had. They were madly in love, Frida would always invite her on tour with us because they couldn't bear to be apart. She was a kind soul, always baking things for us and always grateful to have Frida in her life. I shrugged, "Well I have you, and the other girls and I suppose Matty now. I have everyone I need, I would like a cat though."

Frida chuckled, "Well, you and Matty are quite friendly now." She smirked playfully.

"Never in a million years, if that's what you're insinuating. Besides, he's not even single yet."

"Exactly, yet." She bantered and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh shush, I've never even thought about it. Especially not while he's going through a shitty breakup."

"I'm only messing, people were shocked that you're friends imagine the reaction if you were dating!"

"Christ, I dread to think."

"Jokes aside though, don't rush into anything. Get a cat first." She winked,

I stayed a little while longer as we finished our croissants and I told her about my recent songwriting endeavours. She played me a demo she'd put together for a song of ours called "Midnight", Selma had sent across an intricate bass line that sounded immaculate.

"I'd best be off soon, I don't want to take up all of your time."

"Oh don't be daft, you're always welcome here. I'll see you tomorrow." We got up and she gave me a tight hug before waving me off from the door. I walked to the bus stop instead of calling for another taxi, I felt like I needed the exercise. As I took a seat on an ugly green seat on the bus, I wondered about Matty. I wondered if he'd gone home or whether he'd spoken to George or any of the others about what happened. I suddenly thought back to when I'd think to myself how she was too good for him and deserved better, a pang of guilt struck me like an arrow. I'd come to learn he wasn't a complete arsehole, I'd just been a bitter and sour person. I found myself worried about how he was coping and wanting him to confide in me, whereas I used to avoid him like the plague. I was quite sure he was just feeling lost.