Grief
By Jacob Coates
Approx. Word Count: 2,000

Matthew had been crying again. Not that that was any surprise to anyone, least of all himself. The otter had spent many hours curled up on the couch, oblivious to everything around him but the dark depths of his mind. He knew he was losing himself in his grief, but he did not particularly care.
“Well, what do you say, Matt?” 
“Huh?”
Matthew struggled to bring his reluctant consciousness to attention. He had almost forgotten he was not alone. There, in the seat opposite him, and with a despicably bright smile on his face, was Sam.
“Drinks. Tonight,” the dingo said with utmost patience. “Here. Remember?”
Matthew did not remember. His days blurred into one another so completely he no longer knew what day, or even month it was. Conversations were just an annoyance that were forgotten as soon as they ended. Matthew looked down to the floor, staring at the swirling pattern in the carpet, wondering when his best friend could have possibly organised drinks at his place. There was a wall of amnesia about five minutes into the past, which he wasn’t too eager to try and break down. Too many bad memories were held behind that wall.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sam’s voice said. Matthew did not look up. He barely even heard the dingo. He was trapped in that annoying five minute memory span between the present and the wall. It was the wall that kept him in this state of limbo, not quite falling into insanity, but never wholly sane either. He barely spoke to anyone, and would often fall into long periods of brooding silence, losing himself in the depths of his depression and grief, meaning that even when he did have some form of social interaction, they would give up on him and disappear without him even noticing.
Sam had already gone.
He was alone with his grief. 
He cried until he couldn’t remember why the tears continued to fall down his face.

By the time Matthew stopped crying, his memory of the conversation with Sam had diminished to a simple, nagging feeling that there was something important about to happen. As he tried in vain to remember what it could possibly be, he slowly extricated himself from the couch and paced his ostentatious apartment. Though he had not worked for months, he had been able to burn through his sizeable savings that were the inheritance of one who had richer-than-rich parents, and a creatively inclined mind that could earn a considerable amount of money without exerting much in the way of effort. Matthew was blessed with both of these in abundance.
All around the apartment were signs of his great riches. Everything was of the highest quality and spoke of absolute extravagance, from the widescreen television to the automated cheese grater – something which no one had yet worked out a definitive purpose for, but was there in the kitchen nevertheless, not once used.
A knock at the door.
Matthew stopped pacing. He stared at the door, completely and utterly confused. No one had knocked on his door for so long he had quite forgotten what to do about it.
The handle turned, slowly at first. Matthew stood perfectly still, watching it move. Then the door swung open. A blue scaled dragon was stood in the doorway. His smile was as bright as his floral-patterned shirt, and offended Matthew almost as much.
Matthew turned from the door. Jordan was not the distraction he really needed right now, even if some small and hidden part of him wasn’t glad to see his friend. They hadn’t seen each other for months, and no part of that was the fault of the dragon, yet here he stood, with a forgiving and understanding smile on his face; for Matthew knew that’s what the smile meant. He knew that because he understood Jordan more than anyone else. Except Katherine. He didn’t want to understand him.
“Sam’s on his way. Got held back by Maria, didn’t say why. She probably had him clean the house or something,” Jordan said, pulling Matthew into an embrace. The otter was very deliberate in keeping his arms firmly by his side.
That made Matthew remember. Sam has organised drinks here, but he had never mentioned Jordan. Or at least, not that Matthew could recall. For a brief moment, Matthew allowed himself to worry if he actually had any drinks in his apartment, but that thought was soon replaced by wanting Jordan to leave, and for Sam to not even arrive. But Jordan showed no sign of disappearing on Matthew’s thoughts, so the otter sighed wearily and went to check for some drinks in the fridge. Jordan followed right behind.
“So how have you been?” Jordan asked as Matthew opened the fridge door.
No answer.
“That bad, huh?” Jordan said, undaunted as Matthew silently handed him a bottle of beer. If Jordan’s intention had been for his bright mood to rub off on Matthew, then it was failing quite dismally. Instead it only pushed the otter into a darker mood. The wall in Matthew’s mind was unable to withstand the barrage of memories Jordan’s mere presence was recalling. Memories of better times, when he too had been capable of happiness and joy. Matthew hated remembering.
Taking a beer for himself, Matthew pushed past Jordan and back into the lounge room, letting the fridge door shut by itself.
Matthew slumped back onto the couch.  Jordan was about to follow suit when, after a hard glance from the otter, he changed his mind and scurried to one of the armchairs instead. In any other circumstance, the silence that fell would have been considered awkward, but Matthew didn’t mind it. In fact he preferred it. It meant Jordan wasn’t talking. 
The two shared a complicated past. Throughout school they had always been best friends. They had been so close many of their classmates had teased them about being gay for each other. As a joke, Matthew had replied that they were. For almost a year, they ‘went out’ with each other, always laughing at how uncomfortable their charade made some of the other students in their year. Then two things happened to end the facade of their relationship.
The first was that Matthew began to realise that it was no longer just a joke. He had always known Jordan was gay, but then he slowly started to understand that Jordan had genuine feelings for him that went much further than just friends. That he could have been comfortable with. What he did not expect was that he was beginning to return the feelings. He was falling in love with Jordan, and that had terrified him.
And then Matthew met Katherine. For five years, he was with Katherine, and he loved her more deeply than anyone else. They were to be married, but those plans had all come to a jarring halt after she was smashed from behind by a drunk driver. She had died instantly, taking with her Matthew’s ability to love again.
Matthew felt tears welling in his eyes as the memories began to break through the wall in his mind again.
“Speak to me, Matthew, what’s wrong?” Jordan said. Matthew jumped. He had already forgotten that the dragon was with him.
“Nothing, just something in my eye,” he muttered in reply struggling to contain the memories in his mind, and the tears in his eyes. He turned on the television in a futile effort to forestall further questions.
“So you can still talk,” Jordan said with that annoying smile. “And you still can’t lie to me. I know something’s wrong. I’m here for you to talk to me.”
“I’ll give you three guesses,” Matthew said bitterly, before turning up the volume on the television. There was some rugby league game on, though he was not a big enough follower to know which two teams were actually playing, and the inane banter between the three commentators wasn’t telling him that much either.
“I thought as much. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you do need to move on,” Jordan said, the smile vanishing from his face as his voice turned serious.
“I can’t do that,” Matthew replied instantly, without even a moment of hesitation. His fists clenched, though he knew he would be incapable of hitting Jordan. He had never lashed out at the dragon before, though he had been given very good reason to do so on one prior occasion. But that was one of those memories he had suppressed, and did not want to bring back to the surface.
“Don’t think I’m asking you to replace her. I would never ask that. I know what you had –”
“No you don’t. You don’t know what we had. She was pregnant, Jordan. Katherine was pregnant when she died,” Matthew said, giving up on holding back the tears as they came streaming down his face. He did not resist as Jordan came across onto the couch and held him in a tight embrace.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Jordan said softly, stroking Matthew’s back.
“Nor did I. I was told after the autopsy,” Matthew said dully, pulling away slightly from Jordan. “I didn’t just lose her. I lost my only chance at a family of my own.”
“Who’ve you told about this?”
“Just you.”
Jordan sighed and pulled Matthew back to him. The otter didn’t resist Jordan’s approach at all. He even put an arm around Jordan’s shoulder and nestled his head against the dragon’s neck.
“There’s your problem, right there,” Jordan said. “You need someone to be there for you, someone who will always be willing to listen, to offer advice and, most importantly, the shoulder to cry on.”
Matthew laughed mirthlessly. It was the first time he had come even close to a laugh in months, and the noise sounded strange coming from his mouth, even if it was devoid of any amusement. It was not lost on him that he was currently crying into Jordan’s shoulder.
“If you’re going to make me feel guilty for leaving you, stop now, because it won’t work. I won’t ever regret the time I had with Katherine. She meant everything to me, and you, nor anyone else, will ever replace her,” he said.
“I understand that. I never once felt badly of you for Katherine. I knew she offered something I could not give. And I do not ever want you to replace her. I want to be there for you,” Jordan said, looking Matthew in the eyes. His hand crept across Matthew’s shoulder and onto his chest. Matthew looked away from Jordan almost immediately. 
“So you want me to take you back?” Matthew asked. He could not keep the scepticism out of his voice, and he was very much aware of the fact his tone could so easily offend Jordan.
If it did, Jordan didn’t show it. “Only if you feel you’re ready.”
Matthew didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t know what to think. After five years, Jordan still loved him, and held no bitterness for the sudden end to their first relationship. But Matthew wasn’t able to shake the feeling that if he started a relationship up with someone again, he would diminish the memory of Katherine, and that was something he refused to do, even if he knew that was what had brought him into the wretched state he was in.
“I’m scared, Jordan,” Matthew said quietly, looking down at his clasped hands. It was about as close to saying he was ready as he was willing to admit, and it was all that Jordan needed to hear.
“Don’t be,” the dragon said. With gentle and methodical care he lifted Matthew’s chin so they were looking each other in the eyes.  Jordan leaned across to cover the remaining distance between them, and was stopped halfway by Matthew’s mouth as they shared a kiss.
As Jordan pushed Matthew down onto his back, the otter put his arms around Jordan and let the dragon take command. He could feel the wall dissolve inside his mind, but the memories that had been held behind it did not overwhelm him. He acknowledged their existence, and their significance, and allowed himself to move on. He felt happy as he lost himself in the passion.

Sam arrived half an hour later to find the two asleep on the couch in each other’s arms. Matthew was clinging tightly to Jordan as though fearing he was about to lose him.
“I knew it,” the dingo whispered with a smug smile on his face. He helped himself to a beer from the fridge before settling down on one of the vacant armchairs to watch the game still showing on the television. He raised his beer bottle to the sleeping pair and said, “All the best to you both.”