“I had them glazed. Two have your initials and two have Grace’s on the bottom,” Aletha explained as Matt pulled them out of a box.
“Huh,” Matt said. “These are great, Mom. Thank you.”
He handed her a large wrapped frame. “It’s from both of us.” I squeezed his hand gratefully. He knew I hadn’t been able to buy her anything.
She unwrapped it and stared. I didn’t know what she was looking at so I got up to stand behind her. When I finally saw what was framed, I swallowed and felt tears fill my eyes. It was a matted collage of us. You couldn’t see our faces in any of the photos but they were all of Matt and me, just our legs, arms, hands, hair, mostly on each other, or embracing, or lying across one another lazily. Some were blown out by the light so you could only see our silhouettes. It was a breathtaking collection, and it truly showcased Matt’s talent so beautifully.
“Matthias,” Aletha started, already breathless. “Son, these photos are so incredibly stunning. And Grace, you are such a naturally beautiful subject. I will cherish this always.”
A tear fell from my cheek and landed on Aletha’s shoulder as she hugged me. She looked up at me in surprise. I shook my head, embarrassed, and looked away.
“You hadn’t seen this, Grace?” she asked.
“No,” I said, my voice strained. “It’s amazing, Matt.”
“Glad you like it, ’cause I got you the same thing.” He laughed. “It’s waiting for you in your room when you get back. I snuck it in there right before we left.”
I plopped onto his lap and kissed him quickly. He hugged me close. “I love it. Thank you.”
When I gave him the belt, he examined it. “Gracie’s eyes,” he said, and I nodded.
“I told you he would get it,” Aletha added.
ONCE WE GOT back to New York in early January, we fell into a regular routine. We’d explore the city, go to our classes, study together in the dorms, or are at least try to study. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. On the nights Matt worked at the PhotoHut, I’d practice music with Tati.
About a month later, Matt asked me to meet him in the lounge, with only the hint that he was going to take me somewhere special.
“This is the other part of your Christmas present I was waiting to give you,” he told me, his eyes twinkling as he grabbed my hand and led me out of the dorm.
All bundled up in coats and scarves, we walked to Arlene’s Grocery, a small venue where local bands played. “Don’t look at the signs,” he urged.
We made our way through the crowd to the stage. Matt forged ahead, pushing people to the side, but I couldn’t see anything beyond people’s backs. When I finally looked up, I was staring right into Jeff Buckley’s eyes as he tuned his guitar.
Holy. Shit.
We watched the entire set, right there at the front of the crowd, swaying back and forth, three feet from my favorite musician of all time. At one point, I thought I caught a smile from Jeff but then he looked away and started rambling about his nicotine patch. I looked back at Matt and mouthed, “OH. MY. GOD.” I knew I was in the presence of greatness.
Jeff disappeared after the show, but I didn’t bother looking for him. A year earlier, I might have waited around like a groupie so I could get a handshake or tell him what a devoted fan I was, but that night I just wanted to get back to the dorm with Matt. I was inspired. I wanted to play music.
Walking home, I said absently, “He didn’t play ‘Hallelujah.’ That’s too bad.”
“He’s probably sick of playing it,” Matt replied as he swung our hands back and forth.
“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, by the way. That was amazing.”
“Anything for you.”
“Don’t go getting mushy on me, Matthias.”
He laughed. “Now who’s the one who can’t be serious?”
15. Gracie . . .
Matt
After the holidays, Grace and I spent as much time as we could together—mostly naked. It felt like we were trying to condense a whole relationship into a few short months before I left for South America. We must have told each other a million times that what we had was casual, but it didn’t feel that way. Grace avoided all conversations about what she was going to do when I left for the summer. She’d constantly reminded me that we were young, which sometimes felt like she was minimizing our relationship. I think she was trying to protect her heart. Maybe I was, too.
We hung out with Tati and Brandon a lot and went to seedy music venues on the Lower East Side and in Brooklyn every Friday. On Sundays, we’d lounge around, playing games or studying together at Senior House. But as the winter ended and we headed into early spring, we all got busy preparing for the end of college and the next phase of our lives. If I hadn’t lived right next door to Grace, I don’t know how we would’ve seen each other.
Finally, on the first warm day of April, Grace, determined to get the four of us together, gave us strict orders to meet up outside of the Old Hat at ten in the morning. The Old Hat was a grimy dive bar we’d go to after nicer bars closed for the night, so it was an unusual place to start the day.
I rubbed my hands together and clapped once. “All right, lady, what’s this all about?”
“Whiskey,” she deadpanned.
Brandon chuckled.
“It’s ten a.m., Grace,” Tati said with her hand on her hip, clearly not amused.