A Love Song for the Sad Man in the White Coat

by Roe Horvat

  After an hour, they sat next to each other on the sofa pretending to watch the late-night news. Simon had no idea what was on the TV. He was focused wholly on Matěj’s every breath.

  “It’s really okay I came here?” Matěj asked slowly, carefully, looking away as if bracing himself.

  Simon couldn’t hold back anymore. Something had to give.

  He turned, lifting his hands to Matěj’s face. His thumbs touched Matěj’s lips and cheekbones, and he watched the slightly stunned expression in Matěj’s eyes. Beautiful. They both had trust issues. They were greedy cowards when it came to their emotions, gathering and hiding them away like a junkie’s secret stash. Tenderness was rare. Now, when Simon gave into it…it was like opening the floodgates.

  He felt Matěj tremble when his lips skimmed Matěj’s jaw, their uneven breaths mingling, Simon’s mouth brushed over the soft texture of Matěj’s eyebrows, tasted the wetness in the corners of his eyes. Matěj sat unmoving, but Simon could feel his pulse throb violently. As their tongues slid against each other, Simon felt a surge of victory hearing Matěj moan helplessly into his mouth.

  It was the first time Matěj let Simon take him. They’d had all kinds of great sex before. In the beginning, it seemed they fucked more than they talked. Matěj was not one to relinquish control in bed, so this particular night was like a feast for Simon. He did what he wanted, his lover pliant, trusting and in the end overwhelmed in his embrace. They made love face to face watching each other until Matěj’s eyes fluttered closed, other senses taking over. The strangest thing was when Simon became self-conscious, his insecurity threatening to disperse the sensual fog, Matěj said only two words.

  “Take everything.”

  Simon felt high on the raw strength pulsing in his limbs. Maybe he was even a little rough. Seeing Matěj exposed and trapped, the possessiveness got the better of him. He bent and bit hard on Matěj’s shoulder seeking an outlet. The words coming from Matěj’s mouth became tangled and broken.

  “Everything. Simon… Everything.”

  For a few seconds, Simon was almost convinced they both felt the same. Then the euphoria faded, and the old fears came creeping back, their crooked, sticky fingers circling Simon’s throat.

  Simon never knew if sex was a moment of ultimate clarity or just a vivid hallucination of a hormone-flooded mind. He had to take a shower alone or he would have choked on his own words.

  Before they fell asleep, Simon managed a vague, “I’m glad you came here.” Matěj only nodded and turned on his side, his back to Simon.

  In hindsight, it occurred to Simon, Matěj’s absolute surrender was a declaration of love on its own. Maybe he tarnished it by backing off just a minute after the exhilarating orgasm they shared. Hope was an unreliable counselor. It was just as possible Matěj was simply exhausted, and the whole incident was only a silent I-don’t-care-anymore.

  ***

  When Simon woke up in the morning, he was facing the window. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and gather Matěj in his arms, cling to him, and forget about possible consequences. He argued with himself for a couple of minutes before he turned. The other side of the bed was empty, cold. Sometime during the night, Matěj had dressed and left.

  The apartment was silent, and Simon started when he found Matěj in the kitchen. He sat at the table, books and notes spread all over the surface. He’d borrowed Simon’s Latin medical dictionary. There were three empty coffee cups on the counter.

  “How long have you been up?”

  Matěj’s head snapped up. “Oh, good morning. I don’t know, a couple of hours.” He looked around himself, closed-off, nervous. He was even more pale than usual, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. Simon felt a pang of guilt.

  “The library opens in an hour. I’ll get out of your hair,” Matěj said. He stood and immediately started washing the used coffee cups.

  The last semester in med school was pure torture, Simon knew. The finals were spread over many weeks, even months, no room to breathe, no time to recover. Matěj couldn’t study at home when his father was there. He suffered from the additional stress of taking care of his sister. In between, he frantically looked for a job to start immediately after the finals, so he and Marta could find their own place as soon as possible. Not all the residencies were paid properly, though, and the most prestigious clinics were the worst. Doctors freshly from school got twenty or forty percent temporary contracts but worked ten hours a day all the same, plus night shifts. Matěj couldn’t afford it. He needed a full salary to support Marta at school.

  Simon felt the wave of sadness. And love. Always the crazy, stupid, unrequited love.

  He caught Matěj’s hands and put the last dirty cup in the sink. “Stay here. The library will be crowded, you’d be lucky to find a place to sit. I’m leaving my laptop, use it if you need to.”

  Matěj stood looking down, his hands trembling infinitesimally. Simon could do nothing else than hug him. His lips brushed Matěj’s temple. “There is some pasta left from yesterday, you can have it for lunch. Don’t go home today. Not while he’s still there. Let him cool off. Bring Marta here after school. She can sleep in the spare room; the sheets are fresh. I’ll be home at six, and we can have takeaway.”

  “I can’t force myself on you like this.”

  “You aren’t forcing anything. I’m inviting you to stay here whenever you need to study or just be left in peace. Just until the last of your finals. I’m at work all the time, anyway. There is a spare key in the blue cup on the shelf by the door.” Simon paused. He needed Matěj to let him help. “You have to finish school, Matěj. That’s what’s most important now.” His tone allowed no argument. He kissed the man’s temple again and released him. Matěj sat back down to his notes looking slightly dazed.

  Simon fixed two simple sandwiches, packed one to go and put the other in front of Matěj on the kitchen table together with a tall glass of water.

  “See you at six,” he said upon leaving the kitchen. Matěj looked at him still stunned, his eyes glassy and his jaw tight as though he was holding back tears. The choking sadness accompanied Simon until the evening.

  ***

  Matěj stayed over eight times during the following months. Simon didn’t ask for explanations. Only one time there was a visible bruise on Matěj’s throat. Simon felt nauseous when he saw it.

  Once or twice each week, he came home and saw small traces of Matěj’s presence, when he came during the day to study in Simon’s kitchen instead of the crowded student library. Everything was always immaculate, but sometimes there was a leftover from a quick lunch in the fridge, a new carton of milk would be open, a piece of some fruit or a chocolate bar left on the counter for Simon as a wordless welcome-home note. The trash which had been there in the morning would be gone in the evening; a few times there was an empty can of coke in the crate on the balcony. Those small changes made Simon happy.

  He was happiest when he found Matěj in his home, always in the kitchen—he said he could concentrate there and stay awake longest. He would sit surrounded by his heavy books and stacks of notes, sometimes Simon’s laptop screen would cast bluish highlights on Matěj’s face as he typed.

  During those weeks, Simon learned a lot about Matěj. The man had an unusually precise memory and flawless logical thinking. He had a few tics which showed only when he was immersed in high concentration—the chewing on the corner of his lower lip, and the fingers of his left hand scratching his right ear. Sometimes he would ask Simon for an explanation only to answer himself before Simon could, as if voicing the question helped him to make sense of the answer. He was incredibly bright, and Simon was proud of him even though he knew he had no right to be.

  In between the endless studying, Matěj relaxed by cooking and running. They even went running together. Those times, Simon would be drowning in lust, high on the endorphins, drugged from the sight of Matěj’s body moving in sync with his, their feet slapping on the concrete together in perfect
rhythm. He’d join Matěj in the shower, aroused beyond any control. Later, Matěj would sit back at the table reading, his hair still wet, a secret little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Simon had to leave the room and hide out in front of the television.

  It occurred to him to ask Matěj to just move in after the finals. Marta too, of course. He wanted to come home and find them there every evening, cooking, complaining about the news on TV, studying, bickering, and teasing each other. Like a family.

  He understood, though, Matěj needed to prove himself, to overcome the years of abuse and recognize his own self-worth. Consequently, Simon never asked. Instead, he coveted the idea—maybe after a year or two, if they miraculously managed to sustain their relationship, maybe then it could work.

  —New Town, Prague, May 2013—

  The ringing startled Simon in his deep concentration. Disoriented as he was, it took him a while to locate his phone between the piles of books and papers on his desk.

  “Simon? I’m sorry to disturb you. I know we weren’t supposed to see each other tonight.” Matěj sounded distraught, and Simon straightened in his office chair, immediately alert.

  “What is it?”

  “Marta and I, we argued. He came back from a job early, and I told him I’m looking for an apartment and taking Marta with me. Except she heard me.” Matěj paused, probably searching for words.

  “Marta is okay?” Simon asked.

  “Yes, she’s fine. I’m… Can I come over? Are you at home?”

  Simon looked around the office as if he needed reassurance of his own whereabouts. Silly. “Now?”

  “I can wait. It’s not—”

  “Come. I’m on my way. I should be there in half an hour.” He stood as he said it, collecting the worksheets he was revising into a neat stack.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, of course I’m sure. You have the key, let yourself in. I’ll be there soon.”

  Matěj paused, his breath audible, sounding like he was walking outside, muted sounds of a busy street crackling in the background. “Thank you,” he said finally.

  “See you soon,” Simon answered and ended the call, hastily throwing his phone into his bag.

  ***

  “She doesn’t want to move,” Matěj said, seated by Simon’s kitchen table, a beer bottle in hand.

  Simon was taken aback. “Why not?”

  “She found a sheet of paper on the table a few days ago. I think the fucker must have left it there intentionally. He keeps blackmailing her, and she lets him. It was a lab result. He’s got hepatitis C. Child–Pugh score 13. He has maybe two years left if he stops drinking.”

  Simon sat down, the information not computing at first. He’d worked with many alcoholics over the years. Matěj’s father had seemed functional when it came to his physical health. That he was a psychopath was another issue. Hepatitis C, chronic and probably untreated, with the additional drinking… Yes, the man was dying.

  “Where the hell did he catch C?”

  “No idea. Bar hookups? Hookers? Licking the floor at the railway station bathrooms? I don’t care what the fucker does. Except he’s messing with Marta’s head.”

  “He told Marta he’s dying?”

  “No. When she found the lab results, she made me explain. I couldn’t lie to her.”

  “Shit.”

  “Today, he was sober. I haven’t seen him sober in months, I swear. But today, he had to be sober. And so calm. I wanted to punch the sad smile off his face. I told him we’re leaving regardless, and I don’t care if he rots to death. And Marta heard. I didn’t know she was even at home. She must have been studying in her room.”

  Matěj shook his head, his small ironic smirk turning into a disgusted grimace. “So basically, I told my father I don’t care if he dies, turned, and stood face-to-face with my little sister. She was horrified.”

  “Jesus, Matěj, it’s not your fault. She knows how much he’s hurt you over the years—”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “I…he’s never hit me in front of her.”

  “She doesn’t know?” Simon was stunned. The bruises and cuts… She must have noticed.

  Matěj looked away and took a deep gulp of his beer. He swallowed and exhaled.

  “I think she knows about some of it. But I haven’t…advertised it every time it happened.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Matěj, tell her! He’s dangerous!”

  “He won’t hurt her. He’s never touched her.”

  “That’s why you ran to her every time there was a risk he’d come home?”

  “If I tell her now, she might not believe me!” Matěj’s voice rose, and Simon realized he was overstepping. “I could push her even further away from me.”

  Don’t offer solutions. Just be there for him.

  “She says if she leaves now, he’ll die,” Matěj continued quietly. “But he’ll die anyway. Except like this, he’ll ruin her life before he goes.”

  Simon drank his beer, at a loss for words.

  Matěj chuckled brokenly, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. “He was smiling when I left. I swear, he was laughing at me.”

  “He’s counting on her compassion. You don’t need her, but he does, so he’s pitching her against you,” Simon concluded coldly, utterly disgusted.

  “Exactly,” Matěj confirmed and finished his beer.

  Simon stood and opened the fridge, offering Matěj another bottle. Then he opened one for himself.

  “Simon, I can’t leave her there with him. I can’t move without her and leave her there. I don’t know what to do.”

  He drank, wiped his mouth with a shaking hand, and drank some more.

  “And I can’t stay. I’m done with him. I’m so done. Every time I see him, I…”

  One more gulp, the beer bottle half-empty already.

  “Maybe if you let her be for a few weeks, she’ll come around?” Simon offered somewhat lamely, but Matěj seemed lost in his own head again.

  Matěj’s face changed with the force of emotions beyond his control. A grimace of pure hatred. The beautiful features contorted into something animalistic. “I wish he was dead already. If I wouldn’t have a lifetime in jail to look forward to, I’d kill him myself.”

  “Matěj…” Simon understood; Matěj wouldn’t do anything like that. He always only defended himself. But carrying this kind of hate inside him—Simon couldn’t imagine the weight of such a burden.

  Matěj rubbed his face with both hands in a familiar gesture, mumbling through his fingers. “I know. I’m just… God, Simon, I’m so tired. I’m just so fucking tired.”

  Simon had seen his patients fight addiction, starve themselves to death, or lose their mental capacities to a degenerative disease. He’d witnessed suicide attempts, both unsuccessful and successful ones, and he’d treated those who were dying but didn’t want to. He’d been the one to deliver the most gruesome news to life partners, parents, and children. This time, he was clueless.

  He reached out and grabbed Matěj’s hand over the table, squeezing.

  “You can stay here whenever you want. You know that.”

  Matěj nodded.

  “Do you want me to talk to her?”

  “No. Don’t do it. You’d only make her hate you, too.”

  “She doesn’t hate you!”

  “But she still loves him. And I can’t. I don’t give a flying fuck about what happens to him. Which makes me a bastard.”

  “He failed as a parent. He doesn’t get love in exchange for abuse.”

  Matěj was silent, but he squeezed Simon’s hand back.

  They didn’t have sex that night. Neither of them suggested anything. They took turns showering, and then Matěj joined Simon in his bed, reaching for him wordlessly, plastering his smaller body over Simon’s back like a second blanket.

  Simon had a seminar early in the morning. He didn’t wake Matěj; the young man had slept poorly. He cast one last look toward the war
mth he was leaving behind in his bed, wishing things were different.

  ***

  Over the weeks that followed, Matěj kept coming to study at Simon’s, but he rarely spent the night. With the worst of the finals looming over his head, he seemed distracted and exhausted. Every time Simon found Matěj in his loft, the young man apologized for his presence there. It made Simon wary.

  Marta wasn’t angry with her brother, but she was still unwilling to move away from the apartment they shared with their father. The old man had been allegedly sober since he found out about his diagnosis, but Matěj didn’t believe it would last. He’d been disappointed many times, and trust and hope became too painful.

  Matěj continued looking for another place and interviewing for jobs. He passed exam after exam with outstanding results in spite of the stress of his family situation.

  Simon waited.

  —Dejvice, Prague, June 2013—

  The acceptance letter lay in the middle of the table. Eighty percent contract in orthopedic surgery. The salary was ridiculously low but enough to survive on. The innocent piece of paper completely changed the atmosphere in the room. No one talked about it, but they thought of nothing else.

  Marta looked between the two men confused, not understanding the tension as they moved around in the kitchen. They prepared dinner silently and studiously, avoiding each other in the confined space.

  Matěj was supposed to start his residency in a few weeks. They would be equals soon. Simon was surprised by his ambivalence to it. In a self-destructive way, he enjoyed the thrill of the secrecy, the forbidden flavor of his sex life. But Matěj was finished with school, and they both felt the demand to define their relationship. Or move on.