Crazy in Love (Matt & Anna Book 1)

by Annabelle Costa

  Chapter 38: Matt

  I can’t describe how dumb I feel when I make my way into the office the next day with the can of jellied cranberries. I’ve got it in the plastic bag from the supermarket, hanging off my wrist, which makes it even dumber. But then again, what am I supposed to do? Gift wrap the can? That would be over the top.

  I get to Anna’s cubicle and I see that she has partially rebuilt her tower of cans from the ones she could salvage, but it’s much, much smaller than the original tower. To be honest, the tower was getting ridiculous. Someone needed to tell her that (someone who wasn’t me).

  “Hey, Anna,” I say as I hover at the entrance to her cubicle. I’m wearing my KAFO again today, and I’ve resigned myself to the new brace being a permanent fixture. It’s better than falling.

  “Hi, Matt,” she says as she smiles up at me. My heart flutters in my chest.

  We stare at each other for a few awkward seconds. I know I’m supposed to be giving her the can, but it’s too ridiculous.

  “Hey,” she says suddenly, “Calvin apologized.”

  I feign ignorance. “Did he?”

  She smiles again. “I know you told him to do it. He never would have otherwise.”

  “Oh.” I laugh nervously. “Yeah. I guess I did. But… it was the right thing to do. He shouldn’t have done that to you.”

  Anna nods. “He was very nice. I think it will be okay now.”

  Yeah, until next time she’s honest with him about his programming abilities.

  “Good.” I take a deep breath. “Listen, Anna… um, I was at the supermarket yesterday and I sort of… got you something.”

  I hold out the plastic bag to her. Wow, this feels like the stupidest thing ever. I can’t believe I’m giving a girl I really like a can of cranberries from the supermarket. I’ve completely lost my mind. The MS has got to be affecting my brain. I mean, at least I should have gotten her two cans. Or… or I don’t know, something better than a can. I feel like a complete moron.

  Anna takes the bag from me and pulls out the can. Her blue eyes grow wide.

  She hates it. What was I thinking?

  “If you don’t like it, it’s okay,” I say quickly. I almost feel compelled to apologize. “I just… I saw it and I thought of you. I thought maybe you’d like it. For your collection?”

  Christ, I sound like an idiot right now.

  I watch her face, waiting to see if she’ll laugh at me or tell me it’s unacceptable. I deserve to be laughed at. This should go down in history as the absolute dumbest thing that a guy has ever done for a girl he liked.

  But after what feels like five hours, a smile spreads across her lips.

  “I love it,” she breathes.

  And she places it right on top of her new tower of cans.

  If there were ever a moment to ask Anna Flint on a date, this would be it. I have scored big with my gift of a can. But as I watch her adjusting the cans, tapping each one as she goes, I sense that there might never be such a moment.

  Chapter 39: Anna

  All morning, I can’t stop thinking about that can of cranberries.

  I’ve gotten a lot of presents over the course of my life, usually from family. For Christmas last year, my mother bought me a sweater that she insisted would look “gorgeous” on me, which of course I will never wear because it’s a ridiculously bright shade of blue. For my birthday, Lisa knitted me a hat and scarf that I will also never wear because I guarantee her fingers weren’t clean at every moment that she was at work on the hat and scarf. And for no particular reason, Matt bought me a can of cranberries.

  It’s maybe the nicest present I’ve ever gotten.

  It’s not something I would have picked out myself. There’s nothing about this can of cranberries that speaks to me like some of the other cans have spoken to me. I’m not going to lie and say there is. But the fact that Matt gave it to me makes it the most special can in my entire collection.

  I fantasize about him standing in the aisle at the grocery store and picking it out for me. He was at the grocery store and he was thinking about me. If that’s the case, it must mean that… well, could it mean that he has feelings for me?

  No, that’s silly. Matt is too normal to become infatuated with someone like me. Although he’s not as normal as he was before the cane and that brace that runs all the way up his right leg. Maybe…

  No. Unlikely. Impossible even.

  Not that I would even want such a thing.

  At 10:40 a.m., I stand up to head to the break room to eat my lunch. I fish my turkey sandwich from within my purse and I’m ready to go. As I walk past, I happen to see Matt still working at his computer. His blue eyes are pinned on the computer screen as he works on his latest project. He’s a great programmer—nearly as good as I am.

  I wonder if I should ask him to join me for lunch.

  No. It’s a terrible idea. First of all, I’m sure he would say no. He’d probably give me a strange look like I was crazy for even asking. He’d probably be sorry he gave me that can, thinking maybe I got the wrong idea.

  Second of all, even if he said yes, which he’d probably do just to be nice, I’m not sure if I’d feel comfortable doing my cleaning ritual with him in the room. And there’s no way I’m eating in that room without spraying it down with Lysol.

  Third of all, what would we talk about? I’m painfully aware that I’m not particularly skilled at the art of small talk. If I started talking, I’d probably start going on and on about cans or palindromes or something that would make him look at me the way Tom did at the end of the evening at my parents’ house.

  No, it’s better that I eat alone. The way I do every day. It’s safer this way.

  Chapter 40: Matt

  At exactly 10:40 a.m. every single morning, Anna stands up from her desk. She rifles around in her purse, pulls out a lunch bag, then hurries off to the break room. You could set your watch by that girl.

  Not that I’m keeping track or anything.

  Today I notice that before she leaves, she stands in front of her cubicle for a good minute, like she’s thinking about something. I have no idea what. Who knows what Anna is ever thinking? But for some crazy reason, when she leaves, I get up and follow her to the break room. She’s got her bottle of Lysol, and she’s vigorously wiping down the table. She startles when she sees me and hides the Lysol behind her back. I can’t help but smile—she’s adorable.

  “I was wondering why the table in here is always so clean,” I say.

  Anna’s pale cheeks turn pink. “Yes,” she says.

  I take a deep breath. “Do you mind if I join you?”

  Anna studies me for a moment. If she says no, I’m going to feel like an idiot. “Okay. I guess so.”

  I quickly get my lunch out of the refrigerator before she can change her mind. I packed a tuna sandwich. Anna has also brought a sandwich, packed away carefully in a lunchbox with an icepack inside. I’ve noticed that she always keeps her lunch at her desk and never puts it in the refrigerator like the rest of us. I wonder if she has something against the fridge. I wouldn’t blame her. It’s disgusting.

  I take my mug from the cabinet above the sink and position it under the water cooler. The water cooler gurgles in protest as my cup fills with cold water. As I put the cup of water down at the table, Anna’s blue eyes grow wide. I hear her suck in a breath.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask.

  Anna stares warily at my water. I can see her internally debating whether or not to say anything. “Nothing,” she finally says.

  “Tell me,” I say.

  She chews on her lip for a moment. “It’s just that… water coolers are cesspools for bacteria and you just know that nobody ever cleans that one. Also, how can you drink from an open cup like that? You don’t know what sorts of things land in it. I mean, all the toxins in the air are now in your cup.” She gestures at her water bottle. “That’s why I bring my own water in a bottle from home.”

  “Oh,” I say, beca
use what the hell else am I supposed to say to that?

  She averts her eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.”

  Except Anna most definitely is not capable of “forgetting it.” She keeps staring at my cup, tapping on the table, looking more and more anxious. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore, so I get up and pour it out in the sink. “I’ll just get a bottle of water from the vending machine later,” I say.

  “It’s so much safer,” Anna says gratefully.

  I nod. If I start eating regularly with Anna, I’ll just have to buy a water bottle. It’s not a big deal.

  Anna looks at my sandwich and smiles. “A nut for a jar of tuna,” she says.

  I look down at my tuna sandwich. What the hell is she talking about? Is she trying to offer me a nut for my sandwich?

  “It’s a palindrome,” Anna says, her cheeks coloring. “That’s a word or phrase that’s the same forward and backwards.”

  “I know what a palindrome is,” I say.

  “You do?” She seems delighted. “I love palindromes. My name is a palindrome, you know.”

  “True,” I say. I add, “Mine isn’t.”

  “I know,” Anna sighs sadly. “But that’s okay. Not many people have names that are palindromes like I do. If I have children, I would name my daughter Eve and my son Otto.” She gazes at her water bottle thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ll have children though.”

  I would have to agree with that.

  “That’s why I love the number eleven,” Anna continues, growing more excited. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her talk so excitedly about anything in all the time I’ve known her. “It’s the smallest palindrome number. But my absolute favorite number is 121. Because it’s eleven times eleven, and it’s also a palindrome itself! That’s why I’m trying to get to 121 cans at home, and I bring the extra ones here. In fact—” She stops talking abruptly, her cheeks pink.

  “In fact what?” I say.

  Anna shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to talk about this. You… you’ll think I’m weird. For liking palindromes so much.” Her cheeks redden further. “I don’t want you to think I’m weird.”

  I almost laugh. There’s nothing Anna Flint could say that would make me think she’s weirder than I already do. But I wouldn’t say that to her. It’s cute the way she’s looking down at her food, all embarrassed. I want to make her feel better about it, but there’s only one thing I can think of to say that might help.

  “Rise to vote, sir,” I say. It’s a palindrome, in case you hadn’t noticed.

  Anna lifts her eyes. A smile spreads across her lips. “Now Eve, we’re here, we’ve won.”

  “Taco cat,” I say.

  She giggles. “Are we not drawn onward, we few? Drawn onward, to new era.”

  “Naomi, did I moan?”

  “Was it a bar or a bat I saw?”

  I reach into the recesses of my brain and pull out the very last palindrome I can think of: “A man, a plan, a canal—Panama!”

  Anna’s face lights up. “A man, a plan, a canoe, pasta, heros, rajahs, a coloratura, maps, snipe, percale, macaroni, a gag, a banana bag, a tan, a tag, a banana bag again (or a camel), a crepe, pins, Spam, a rut, a Rolo, cash, a jar, sore hats, a peon, a canal – Panama!”

  Don’t tell anyone, but I think I’m in love with Anna Flint.

  Chapter 41: Anna

  Don’t tell anyone, but I think I’m in love with Matt Harper.

  Year Four

  Chapter 42: Matt

  It’s almost quitting time on Friday afternoon, and I can hear Calvin making plans. He used to do this every single Friday—he’d come to my cubicle at five or so and figure out what bar we were going to hit up. It was the best moment of the week.

  Right now, Cal is making his usual Friday night plans, except it’s not with me. It’s with Joe, who’s two cubicles down from me. Joe came to the company about a year ago, and although Calvin will claim I’m still his best buddy, you’d never know it. It’s Joe who acts as his wingman these days. Going to bars isn’t my thing anymore.

  That’s not the only thing that’s changed about me.

  Not surprisingly, things have deteriorated further in the last year. About two months ago, I got a KAFO for my left leg too. The cane wasn’t giving me nearly enough support anymore, so I also switched over to something called Lofstrand crutches, which are basically forearm crutches. They have metal circles that loop around either forearm and a handle I can grip. I tried to get away with just using one, but really, I need them both. I’m more comfortable with a walker, but I just can’t bring myself to use that in public.

  Back when I yelled at that girl Sue for calling me crippled, I actually looked normal. Right now, not so much. I look like a guy with a significant disability. There’s absolutely no hiding it anymore, although I did buy baggier pants so that the KAFOs could be worn under them instead of over. That helps.

  So yeah, everyone knows. I had to fill my landlady Rosie in on the whole deal when I needed her permission to install a grab bar by the toilet. I told my boss Peter, which is why I’m able to work from home half the week, and only come in two or three days. Every single person in the office is aware that I have MS.

  Which probably explains why hardly anyone talks to me anymore.

  Well, except Anna.

  Not that anything has happened between me and Anna. Of course it hasn’t—this is Anna we’re talking about. But we talk every day at lunch, during which time I’ve learned that she doesn’t eat at restaurants and she doesn’t allow other people in her house aside from her immediate family (and even that she doesn’t seem too thrilled about). So I haven’t been able to figure out how to ask her out, and I’m so afraid of getting shot down that I’ve just given up.

  But I like eating lunch with Anna and talking to her. She doesn’t use that patronizing voice everyone else uses when she talks to me. She doesn’t avoid eye contact. She doesn’t act like MS might be contagious. She acts like I’m completely normal, like it isn’t a problem at all that I’m hobbling around in full-length leg braces and forearm crutches.

  “Did you hit that nine you took home last week?” I hear Calvin asking Joe.

  Still calling girls by numbers. How goddamn immature.

  Don’t tell anyone that I miss it.

  “Her goddamn roommate cock-blocked me,” Joe complains. “Then she got all weird about giving me her number and… I don’t know, fuck it. She was too high maintenance.”

  If possible, Joe is an even bigger asshole than Calvin. I hear the two of them laughing about Anna and her reconstituted collection of cans. When I listen to them talking, I wonder if I used to sound like that big a jackass. I kept Calvin from giving Anna as hard a time as he probably would have. I’d like to think I was nice.

  Calvin and Joe fist-bump each other, and Calvin heads down the aisle toward his own cubicle. As he passes by my cube, our eyes meet. I can’t remember the last time Calvin asked me to come to a bar with him to hit on girls. Not that I blame him—I’m not much of a wingman anymore. At this point, I scare girls off.

  But I’m sure Cal knows that I overheard him talking to Joe, and he gets all flustered. He hesitates, probably deciding what would be worse: to snub me or to have to bring me along.

  “Hey, Matt,” he says.

  “Hey, Cal.”

  He smiles awkwardly. “You… doing okay?”

  I hate that he uses that voice with me. That patronizing voice, like I’m going to fucking drop dead soon.

  “Sure,” I say.

  He rakes a hand through his hair. Cal’s hair has been receding a bit lately—I’ll bet it bothers him. My hair is still thick, but I doubt he’d trade places.

  “Listen, Matt,” he says. “Joe and I are going to hit the bar after work today. Do you… want to come?”

  I can read Calvin’s thoughts: Please say no. Please say no.

  “That’s okay,” I say. May as well let the asshole off the hook. At least he tried. Gold star for being nice to
the crippled guy.

  Calvin looks relieved. He starts to walk away, but then he stops. He turns around. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

  What?

  “You should come, Matt,” Calvin says. “Really.”

  Does he mean it? He can’t possibly.

  “Come on.” Calvin grins at me and it isn’t that sympathetic smile I’ve gotten used to. It’s the old Cal Fitzgerald grin. He slugs me in the arm. “When’s the last time you got laid? I bet it’s been ages.”

  He’s right. It’s been ages. I don’t even want to think about it.

  “Okay,” I agree before I can change my mind.

  “Awesome,” Calvin says. And I have to hand it to him—he actually sounds like he means it.

  Chapter 43: Anna

  Matt has become my best friend.

  I haven’t had a best friend in a long time. Not since before high school, when I started to become more and more anxious about the idea of being physically close to other people. My last best friend was probably Sophia Chin, who I met when we were seated next to each other in homeroom in seventh grade. Sophia was quiet like I was, with the straightest, blackest hair I’d ever seen, and the two of us always had the highest scores on math tests. We sat together during lunch every day, although I can’t for the life of me remember what we used to talk about. Probably not palindromes.

  Near the end of eighth grade, Sophia suggested we join some new friends of hers for lunch. I had absolutely no desire to join a new group of girls, but I didn’t want to eat alone either. The new friends were playing Hearts while they ate, and they invited me to join them. I thought about it, but then I saw them touching the cards with hands they had just used to eat, and I told them I didn’t want to play. The next day, Sophia joined her new friends again, and I ate alone for the rest of the year.

  Most of the time, I find it preferable to be alone. Solitude makes me feel safe—there can be no contamination if nobody else is around. I recognize that very few people are able to live up to the standard of cleanliness that I require. Yet sometimes I’ll see other people together and I’ll get a deep feeling of… I don't know what, exactly. Loneliness? Yearning?