Mr. Wallis

Part 53 (Mathew's POV)

The way I was fighting the control of my hands, and to suppress everything into the deepest parts of me, it was killing me. I tried to murder my emotions, but the decaying screams only joined cries I wanted to give for the death of our father.

I could hear my brothers call my name over and over, trying to break my mask, but I refuse to acknowledge their existence right now. Right now we just needed to get back home.

We were foolish to all leave father alone. One of us should had stayed behind.

Badly did I want to say it should have been I to have stayed and watched after him, but something in me disagreed that that was what I would have wanted. If I had stayed...I wouldn't had met her.

Again her face smacked my chest.

"Argh." I groaned while zipping my suitcase.

Peter again was calling her, and she did not answer. The worry in me was clashing with my urge to leave her behind and forget.

Answer the phone, say that you are well. Say it so we can leave.

"Nothing," he replies while Jack cracks his knuckles.

I know Jack was still upset at the fact that I have refused to see her, but it had been for both our sake. Whatever she felt, it possibly wasn't real. What was in me...it had to be a joke. A bitter one.

Doing what I am best at, I order them to focus on the matter at hand. "Hurry, and pack up. We must take the earliest flight back."

"We cannot leave her like this," Jack states. His brown hair shows signs that he has been slicking it back constantly. It was due to his lack of smoking which had surprised me that he hadn't pulled out a cigarette since the horrid news. Wetting his lips, he reaches out for a pack, then as we stare at each other, he shoots it down into the trash.

She had convinced him to stop.

Lania never failed to surprise. She was far too caring to have let his smoking pass up. I had known she would have scolded him for his smoking, but not that she would succeed in having him cut back.

Hell.

One slip memory of Lania, and suddenly a flood of thoughts about her come in, and blind me. The times she was in my reach, the times she was far away, and even the moments when we would just be sneering back at one another had me by the ribs. My breath was shaking as I recalled her scrunched up nose when she met me.

Had I fallen for her even in the beginning?

"Mathew-"

I cut Peter off. "We have granted his last wish. Our business here is finished. Lania, she will be all right."

Will I be well, too?

Continuing, I prop up the case, and toss them a map back to the airport. "I will go first, and you can catch the next one. I have written down the departure times, choose the one closest to your arrival back from her home."

"Her home?" Jack asks, and quickly I drop an envelope into his hands. Without explaining, he knew what it was. Father's handwriting was over it. Replying, he says, "This is not for me to give her. He handed it to you. You must give it to her."

"It doesn't matter who gives it to her."

"You face-ached, cold bastard."

"I beg your pardon," I turn to face Jack. To our surprise, it was Peter who had said it.

Peter's good eye pierced throughout the room, and jabbed at my heart to speak truthfully. Yet I wouldn't. I wouldn't say those things. They were just illusions, and little school boy day dreams. An American fantasy that had sprouted just for mere fun only. That is what I assured myself it all was. And if it helped me believe it didn't mean anything, then maybe I'd easily forget this ever happened.

"Father is gone, I know. I want to go home, too, but you are behaving as if this all --Lania was just a problem to be dealt with. She wasn't," Baby Boy, as Jack would always call him had spoken with a firm tone, and stood straight to reveal just how much he's grown. "You will leave America with a regret."

He walks away, and goes to get his belongings ready. Jack sighs to clear out the thick atmosphere. Swinging my head to his, he then taps the envelope on my shoulder.

"I will drop it off for you. But, if I may say something," he pauses.

"Yes?"

"Tell me why you won't do it yourself, the truth, please."

Jack had never showed such a matured side to him. Shaking my head away, I leaned over, and had my forehead touch my suitcase.

The truth was something that involved my feelings, and not just basic happy, sad, or anger. It was love. I don't know if it was love for certain, but my ears rang while I spoke.

"I cannot bear to see her." My breath softly slithers out the small opening between my lips. "The last time I had her," I lift my head up to reveal my clear eyes to Jack. "I would so much love to have that be the last time I am to see her."