Sometimes

Fifties music blared out of juke boxes that fell securely under the description of ‘old school’, harmonizing with the sizzling of burgers on the grill. The smell of hot, fresh fries filled the air like the perfume of one of the waitresses, who you would half expect to be wearing roller skates as they delivered trays of malts and shakes and oh-so-fattening but undeniably delicious diner food to tables of hungry, laughing customers.

For a moment, Matthew let himself get caught up in it all, let himself lose his worries and cares to a simpler time--but only for a moment. He would have lost it to the boisterous shout of “MATTIE!” that came from across the restaurant anyway, and if not that then the tight hug that came less than a minute later.

“Hi, Morgan,” Matthew said, patting his twin brother’s shoulders to persuade him into letting go before all of the air could be squeezed out of him.

“It’s great to see you. Man, it’s been forever! Did you get my postcards?” Morgan asked.

Matthew wasn’t sure how to answer. He had gotten Morgan’s postcards, but had also thrown them away before he could even look at the pictures. It was the same with the letters and the messages left on his answering machine. Morgan had only been able to contact Matthew at all by using their adoptive father’s cell phone to call.

“Mattie? You okay? You’re making a face,” Morgan said.

“Sorry, I was just thinking. No, I didn’t get your postcards.”

Morgan looked surprised. “I thought I had the right address. Anywho, the table’s this way…”

Matthew already knew where it was. When they’d been a family, they had frequented Mel’s Diner for birthdays and promotions and just-because treats; it was the first place where they had eaten together as a family after the twins’ adoption. The booth beneath the American Graffiti poster was always open for them.

However, Matthew was surprised to see that both of his fathers were already seated at the table--on the same side, no less--and seemed to be talking civilly. When he’d last been around them, they hadn’t been able to be in the same room without fighting, sometimes physically. Even though he was in college and living in a dorm, the custody battle over him had never really ended and he usually had to act as their go-between for everything.

Regardless, Matthew sat down and began sipping down the vanilla milkshake that was already there.

“We ordered for you, I hope you don’t mind,” his dad said.

“It’s okay,” Matthew said, a little uneasily. His eyes moved back and forth as he struggled to focus on something, finally turning his attention to the cardboard car that the kids’ meal at the table across the aisle had come in, and not for the first time he wondered what had possessed him to come in the first place. He could still hear the door slam, the engine of the car starting up in the dead of the night when Morgan left and didn’t come back. Their dad had been too proud to admit that he was wrong, so he blamed Papa, accused him of taking Morgan’s side and for helping him buy the car in the first place. Not long after that, Matthew had come home to find Papa packing.

That was the day that Matthew stopped missing Morgan, and started hating him.

He listened passively while Morgan talked about what he’d been doing, about all the places that he had been to and his job fixing up vintage cars, all the funny little side-stories of his life. Their dads laughed, even gave him that ‘attaboy’ look.

Matthew couldn’t stand it. Before the food even arrived, he stood from the table and walked out of the restaurant, toward his old beat-up Volvo. Just as he grabbed the handle of the door, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Mattie?”

“Go away, Morgan,” he snapped. “You’re good at that.”

“And leave you like this? Come on, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong? My whole life has been wrong, since you ran away! Do you have any idea what it did to Dad and Papa’s relationship? Or me? While you were out having a grand old time, Papa had to get his own apartment! I got shuffled back and forth between two hateful houses, all the while waiting for you to come back so everything could be normal again! But you never did! You left me all alone there and I hate you!”

Morgan’s face twisted into something stunned. For a moment, Matthew thought that he might have actually struck him speechless, but then he opened his mouth.

“Well, that’s too bad, because you’re my brother and I love you.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, it’s true. Do you think I wanted to leave you behind, or for Dad and Papa to split up? But I couldn’t come back until I’d made something of myself.”

“That’s a lie!” Matthew yelled. “You could have come back! Do you think any of us cared what you were out doing? You could have come back!”

“I’m back now. Doesn’t that count for anything? I talked to Dad and Papa about it, and they’ve forgiven me. But you’re my brother, the only blood family I have in this whole world--I want your forgiveness.”

“Well, you can’t have it! Not now, not ever!”

“I want to try! Mattie, I’m sorry!”

“Sorry isn’t good enough!”

Matthew got the door open and stepped into the car, slamming the door shut before Morgan could try to stop him. He sped out of the parking lot and onto the freeway. But the further away he drove, the more regretful and guilty he felt, until tears were falling onto the steering wheel.

Is this what Morgan felt that night, when he decided to leave everything behind him?

Maybe… maybe Matthew didn’t hate Morgan after all.