Dead Politician Society

Chapter 21: Matthew

“Jesus, Mom. You talk to me like I have no clue how to run my life.” Matthew shoved his plate away. He cringed to hear his voice sound like a petulant teenager, but it was the reaction she provoked. Always. “I could be prime minister of this country and I wouldn’t need an opposition party to tell me what I was doing wrong. You’d be right there with a checklist.”

His mother opted for a hurt look, which Matthew didn’t buy. “I only want to give you the wisdom of my years. You won’t enjoy middle age if you arrive there alone. You need to snare a wife now while you still have something to offer.”

Snare. Like single women were walking around in a forest full of traps, and all Matthew had to do was set one strategically and wait.

“I have plenty of women in my life. But I refuse to settle down because society decrees it’s time.”

His mother clucked and shook her head. She looked like a chicken from a nursery rhyme he’d read long ago. Henny Penny, who always went around saying, The sky is falling!

“I know you were in love with that girl you brought home four years ago. The one who went to jail.”

“Elise?” He tried to disguise his shock as outrage. “She was my student. I brought her home for Thanksgiving because her family was going through a rough spell. I thought she could use some home cooked charm. God, you always reach the wrong conclusions.”

“I saw the way you looked at her. And the way she looked at you. I knew she was your student, that you couldn’t admit you were an item. But I liked her. I was sorry when all that happened.”

“Really? You never said so at the time.” Matthew smoothed his paper napkin on the stained linen tablecloth. How could he have lived in this house for eighteen years without being depressed by the tackiness of everything?

“We wanted to give you your space.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. Again, what a petulant teenager, not a successful professor, would do. This house was like a museum of dysfunctional smothering. He needed to get away from this damn table, the sooner the better.

“But it’s been four years now. It’s time for you to date again.”

“So glad I waited for you to tell me that.”

“Come on Matthew. Don’t pout. You’re a good-looking man. You have a…well, a steady job, if not a particularly well-paying one. You’re only a little past your prime. Lots of unmarried women would find you a real catch.”

Matthew stood up. “I’d love to stay and finish dinner. I do enjoy an overcooked pot roast. But if I listen to this drivel for a moment longer, I might start to believe you about my own limitations. Which I can’t afford to do when my life’s work is to encourage young people to see the world as limitless.”

“Sit.” Matthew’s father spoke softly, which somehow made the dog command more offensive. “I won’t have you insult your mother’s cooking.”

“But you’ll have her insult your son.” Matthew grabbed his wallet and keys. “I have to go.”

He was shaking when he got to his car. Why, why, why did he still let his parents get to him? He never managed to leave that crumbling bungalow with as much confidence as when he arrived. Not even by half.

And the worst part was that they didn’t mean any harm. He wished he hadn’t said that about the pot roast.

He backed out of the driveway and had no clue where he wanted to go. He was tempted to get onto Kingston Road like he used to when he was frustrated as a teenager, and take it all the way out of town until it turned into Highway 2. A few times, when he was really angry, he’d made it all the way to Kingston before stopping to load up with coffee for the drive home.

But Kingston made him think of prison. And prison made him think of Elise, rotting away in the Grand Valley Institute in Kitchener. And Elise in prison made him think of…well, the biggest goddamn fuck-up of his life.

She’d euthanized those victims because Matthew had empowered her to do it. Sure, she was a little bit crazy or she wouldn’t have taken those steps. But what college age girl wasn’t a little bit crazy? Especially in love.

What Matthew needed right now was release. He wanted to go to a keg party in the back woods and get so drunk he forgot about himself. But his friends were too old for keg parties, and he could hardly crash his students’ dorms.

So the second best option was mindless sex.

Annabel was starting to get clingy—she’d be the wrong person to see right now. Besides, she’d left him a message and it sounded like she had a cold. The last thing he needed was to get sick.

He scanned his mental Rolodex. Too early for a first year student by a week or so. He had to wait for the first assignment to be graded, let them come into his office to discuss their mark. He could tell who he could make his moves on not by how low-cut their top was or how persuasively engaging their eyes were, but by how they reacted when he sat next to them on his couch. If she inched away, he’d leave the girl alone. If she leaned in toward him, he could have her.

But that was next week. Freshmen couldn’t be rushed.

Tonight…hmm…

Maybe Elly wasn’t busy. He hadn’t stoked that fire in a while. She gave enough of his students jobs, he kind of owed her one. He pulled over to the curb and fumbled in his pocket for his phone.

“Elly’s Epicure.” Her voice was all business. That was hot.

“You expecting a work call at this hour?”

“I’m a caterer. I get business calls right up to midnight.”

“So…is this a bad time?”

“Not the best.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Can you get away?”

“Away for what?”

“You know for what.”

“Oh. That. I need to put the kids to bed, then Emmett should be home around nine. At which point I have to pop out to an event. My manager’s running it but David Schwimmer says he’ll be there.”

“Who?”

“Ross from Friends. Also Uma Thurman and David Suzuki are strong maybes. And the hosts want an appearance from me. The earliest I could be free—and we’re talking a spare hour; two max—is eleven.”

“I’m tired listening to all that. And impressed by the people you’re meeting.”

“Welcome to my life. But don’t be impressed by it. I’m their servant, nothing more. Should we try for another night this week?”

“Sure,” Matthew said. “What’s the event?”

“House party. Libby Leighton and Sam Cray trying to impress the film fest crowd.”

“What? I would never have guessed they’d care about Hollywood.” Leighton and Cray were the most mismatched political marriage in the country. Libby was a city councilor who rode her bike to work; Sam was a federal senator who wanted to industrialize every piece of Canada’s wilderness.

“Please. Politicians are socialites. They’ve climbed to the top of Toronto, now they want to play in Hollywood. They were beyond disappointed when Nicole Kidman and Robert DeNiro said they already had plans to go to the Schwartz party tonight.”

Matthew smiled. “Maybe I could meet you at the party. We could sneak out back and do it in the alley. Live on the edge like bad kids.”

Elly snorted. “After the day I’m having, that sounds perfect. Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s practical. The staff will likely use the alley for their smoke breaks. Can’t afford to be seen sneaking off with you. I have a marriage to protect.”

Matthew nearly asked Why? But she’d told him before; she stayed for the kids.

“Oh, come on. How about I head there now and scope it out? I can idle around the corner, you can hop in my car and we can find a deserted parking lot. Like first year university when we both lived in a dorm with roommates.”

“Oh, fine. That does sound kind of fun.” Elly gave him the Leighton/Cray address.