His heart is beating far too fast as he yanks the door open to Max’s room, only to find his son fully clothed on the bed with his headphones on. Fast asleep. Snoring with the lights on full as always.
Yet the doorbell rings again.
TOM
He automatically checks himself in the mirror and runs his hand through his hair. He looks presentable. Ordinary. Tired.
The door falls open and Tom just stares. Because the boy on the doorstep is soaked to the bone in the heavy rain, water dripping from his nose as he pulls his wet fringe to the side and looks up. He is carrying a rucksack that hangs heavily on his back. Shoes that slosh slightly when he takes a step to the side. Almost like he is about to run.
“Is this Max’s house?” the boy asks. Blinking water out of his eyes.
It takes a few seconds until Tom starts to function. Until he reaches out and opens the door wide enough, gesturing for the boy to come inside.
“Fuck kid, you’re soaked. Come in. Come in.“
“Sorry,” the kid says. “I didn’t have an umbrella and my phone is out of battery. I tried to ring Max earlier, but he’s not answering.”
“He’s asleep with his headphones on.” Tom smiles. Well, tries to smile. Because this isn’t Tom’s first rodeo and everything about this kid is putting him on full alert.
He sees these kids every week. The rough-around-the-edges kids. The bags full of belongings. Kids who have nothing or everything and throw it away for a few hits. Kids who have fallen on the wrong side of the tracks. Kids with problems larger than Tom can comprehend.
He shouldn’t judge, but if Tom could bet, he would bet on runaway. Problem family. The kid is sober. Full of the cold and frozen to the bone, but he’s not drunk. No signs of obvious drug related damage. Fingers are clean. Clothing looks okay. The bag is too full though. Unless he carries bricks around for fun.
“Hang your jacket up and come in. We can see if Max will wake up if you need to speak to him.”
Friends are good. Max needs friends. Max having a cool nice Dad will improve Max’s chances of keeping said friends. Even if Tom is doubtful that this kid is anything but trouble.
“I’m Tom,” Tom says, and reaches out his hand.
“Matteo,” the kid replies, and Tom almost chokes on his tongue.
“You’re Matteo?” Tom knows all about Matteo. Because Max talked today. Talked like he was possessed. Tom knows everything about Matteo. And this is Matteo. Fuck.
“Yep,” Matteo says, and folds his arms around himself as he reluctantly follows Tom into the kitchen. The kid is shivering like he has a fever. And his shirt is soaked right through.
“Kiddo. Look.” Tom needs to figure this out. But. First things first. “You are fucking frozen. The bathroom is here, get undressed and have a warm shower. When did you last eat?”
“What?” the kid asks.
“You need to get dry and warm and you are kind of eye-fucking my sandwich on the table.”
Tom shouldn’t swear. It’s not cool. He’s not cool. But it’s true. Matteo looks paler than pale. And he’s Max’s age, obviously with an age-appropriate bottomless pit of a stomach.
“Sorry. I don’t want to be any trouble. I was just hoping to see Max.”
“You won’t see Max when you get pneumonia from sitting around in wet clothes and not eating when you’re obviously starving. I have a kid your age, remember?”
The kid who is apparently the love of my son’s life nods quietly. Water dripping everywhere. And he has holes in his socks. What parent does not at least provide proper socks for their kid?
“Please, just go and have a shower and warm up. There is a green bathrobe on the hook, that’s Max’s. He won’t mind if you borrow it. I can find some dry clothes for you if you give me a sec. Do you drink coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?”
“Water will be fine,” the kid says. His eyes flickering like he is actually scared.
“Look. I’m a doctor. Deal with people every day. Kids like you. I have a duty of care, but I am also bound under strict laws. I am a good listener if there is anything you want to tell me, but I also know to shut up when I need to. You are Max’s friend, and please feel at home. Just please go and get dry and warm before I have a nervous breakdown from watching you freeze to death.”
Yeah, Tom sounds like a twat, but it’s actually a little painful watching the kid shiver like that, lips a little blue from the cold.
“You even sound like Max,” Matteo says. Smiling. And Tom can kind of see it when the kid smiles. There is something there that Tom can relate to. He can kind of see what Max is saying. That this kid smiles, and the world is a better, brighter place.
“Fucking go and get warm, kid. Ham, cheese or peanut butter on your sandwich? I haven’t got marmalade, even though marmalade and cheese are like my favourite thing on bread. You’re not allergic, are you? To peanuts?”
Now he is rambling, being back to being an overbearing, overexcited parent. It’s like meeting the son-in-law. Max’s first boyfriend. Kind of. Be cool, Tom. Be super cool.
“No.” The kid laughs. “Cheese. Please. Thank you.” He’s polite at least. The kid. Even though he leaves a wet trail on the floor as he quietly shuffles out to the bathroom. The lock clicks shut behind him and the water in the shower flips on after a few minutes.
TOM: Lukas, I am so So SO sorry. I really need your help. Are you still awake?
LUKAS: What the fuck, Tom? What?
TOM: This kid turned up on my doorstep looking like a drenched rat.
LUKAS: NOT. MY. PROBLEM. Good night.
TOM: No, I know, but everything about him screams runaway kid. Kid who lives on the streets. Homeless. Trouble. He’s a student at Östra Real and a friend of Max’s. I just want to know if you know him. Is he safe?
LUKAS: What do you mean is he safe?
TOM: Is he one of these kids that are in trouble all the time?
LUKAS: Like your kid, Tom?
Ouch. That hurt. Yes. Tom is being a judgmental prick.
TOM: I just need to know if he will rob me blind as we sleep or if I should hug the shit out of the kid and feed him sandwiches?
LUKAS: Tom. Give the kid a hug and feed him sandwiches.
TOM: You don’t even know who this kid is, Lukas!
LUKAS: I am a teacher and I am bound by privacy laws. I can’t tell you anything.
TOM: His name is Matteo. Just tell me if I should be worried.
The phone is quiet. Too quiet. And the shower isn’t running anymore.
TOM: Please, Lukas.
LUKAS: Matteo is an amazing kid and he adores your son. Please feed him sandwiches and let him stay if he needs to. Now go look after him and then go to bed and leave me the fuck alone. I was asleep. Seriously, Tom, have you got no boundaries?
TOM: Thank you, thank you, thank you.
LUKAS: Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tom, what do I need to do to get rid of you?
TOM: That hurt, Lukas. Why do you have to be such a prick all the time?
LUKAS: Because you wind me up and drive me crazy! Arsehole!
Tom is cutting the bread. Thick, angry slices chopping the life out of the loaf. Buttering the poor slices until they look like shit. Slapping uneven slices of cheese on top and slamming the plate down as the microwave pings in the corner.