Aviary

I didn’t feel like arranging another funeral, but there were no other family or friends who could do it. It was only Matthew left, so I just arranged everything with the insurance company and the funeral home.

The house burned down completely. The floors had collapsed so Matthew had literally nothing left. How could I not take him in? But I realized that I knew nothing about this boy, and I had no idea how to deal with it.

Val and I had made a guest room in the attic, which her parents used when they were over at Christmas. But her mother had died a year ago and her father was highly demented by now. This room had no use to us anymore, so I gave it to Matthew.

I didn’t think twice about taking Matthew in. I had decided it as soon it was clear he had nowhere else to go. So the next day, I took him to Whiteleys to buy him clothes. I already thought of him as part of the family, and I had to take care of him. He never complained.

He had slept in the attic, but I had l was awake all night, pondering whether I should go over to him and hold him while he wept. But I didn’t.

I had called in sick and worked in my study in the morning, peering out of the window and into the garden where Matthew sat in the aviary. I brought him a sandwich at lunch time, but he never ate it. I caught him feeding the bread to the birds and the chicken to a passing cat.

As head of a school, I earned a lot better than any of my teachers, so I took Matthew to shops where I would take my own kids to. I bought him an entire wardrobe and didn’t care about the price on the receipt.

I took him to Boots to buy him products he would need like shampoo, soap, deodorant and a toothbrush. He didn’t ask for more.

As the cage his bird was in right now was rather ‘ incomplete’, we paid a visit to a pets shop to buy the whole lot: perches toys, swings and sand. Again, I never cared about the money.

We returned home, and I dropped him off because I had to pick up my kids from school. When we arrived home, I found all the bags still in the hallway, as if he had dropped them all down on the spot. I called his name, but no reply came.

I soon noticed he was in the garden again, so I told my kids to go and watch TV, and I entered the garden. Matthew sat in the aviary, his legs crossed underneath him.

‘Matthew?’ I asked, as I stepped into the aviary as well. He didn’t even look up. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked, as I crouched down beside him, folding my hands together.

‘I’m fine,’ He replied, his eyes following the fluttering birds above us.

‘What would you like to have for diner?’ I asked. He didn’t reply.

I rubbed my hands as I sat there with him, staring at the floor and pondering what to say to make him feel better. We were both grieving at a recent death and it was making us feel uncomfortable – I feared for what we had. There were things I wanted to ask – about us and if he wanted to continue with our fling. I could imagine he wouldn’t have wanted it now because he was mourning, but I wasn’t sure if I would be able to deal with that. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would have taken him in, if he hadn’t allowed me to fuck him. I didn’t care about his burned down house, or his dead grandmother. I just wanted to love and fuck him.

But instead of talking, I placed my hand on the nape of his neck, kneading his skin with my hand. I wanted him to be comfortable around me, because I was afraid he would decide to leave me. I knew he had nowhere to go – but I also knew this boy wasn’t right in the head. Who knew what he could do to himself?

I was afraid he would shrug my hand away but instead, he leaned into me. I dropped myself down on my knees and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I was surprised to find his arms around my waist, almost squeezing the life out of me. He buried his face in my armpit, and I could feel him shudder as he cried.

I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing. I was holding this boy like I used to hold Alf when he had been dreaming badly. But there was so much more passion in this embrace. It felt good, but wrong at the same time, because this boy wasn’t my son. He was my lover.

‘Matthew?’ I asked, because I simply had to know. ‘Do you – really want to stay with me?’

‘Yes,’ he answered without hesitation. I forced myself not to sigh from relief.

‘And -,’ I hesitated again but I decided to go on. ‘Do you still want – us?’

‘Yes.’ Again, no hesitation.

I wondered why the boy agreed on this, especially after his grandmother’s death. But I never asked. I figured he needed the same attention as I did right now. So I was happy for myself.

That night I lay in bed and heard the floor boards above me crack. I held my breath as I heard footsteps descend the stairs. I genuinely hoped Matthew wasn’t going to the bathroom or something. But when I heard him stop in front of my bedroom door, my heart started to race. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as the door opened. Matthew stood there, dressed in his new pyjamas. Almost automatically, I moved aside in the bed, making room for him. He closed the door behind him and hurried over to the bed, crawling underneath the covers. He moved close against me, cuddling up against my shoulder.

And I closed my eyes and slept as I hadn’t done in weeks.