Chapter 4
Jack liked Felicia. He thought that was a pleasant change. She wasn’t rich, bratty debutante, she definitely didn’t work for the police, and she only ever introduced herself by one name. In short, she appeared simply, overwhelmingly normal, to the point where Jack quietly wondered how was she Matt’s type.
Matt brought her in the afternoon over the summer, and Jack knew she’d end up staying the night, because Matt specifically asked him when he had the night shift. He didn’t mind. He appreciated that Matt actually learned and asked this time.
Felicia was a pretty girl. Petite, but with big personality.
She worked at a clothing store near the university, she explained, and she took evening classes sometimes. Matt was actually out shopping and she helped him get around. Matt has a smirk on his face that felt like whatever her story was, it was probably a version edited for the polite conversation, but still interrupted to add how helpful she was and how the way she didn’t try to coddle him grasped his attention. They were sweet. Matt even proudly presented a sweater she helped him pick out, and he did look absolutely dashing in it.
His little boy, all grown up, handsome and charming, breaking hearts left and right.
Felicia has this fragile look, cute and beautiful, but at the same time something about her, however, that felt like she wouldn’t be one of those broken hearts. An aura of strength and confidence that spoke that she couldn’t be broken by a boy, and that if she and Matt chose to take this anywhere, they’d be a good match.
Would Matt move out, if he found a long-term partner? Would Jack mind that, or even want that?
He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the way Felicia seemed genuinely interested in everything he told her about his boxing career instead. She looked at the photos, sometimes inserting witty additional commentary for Matt with details Jack didn’t really pay attention to himself before. She didn’t ask about the lack of mom in the picture in the way some rude dates Jack himself brought home too, and he didn’t linger on the fact he didn’t have the right to judge Matt’s dating choices after his own. Maybe who he needed was someone like that too. He hoped Felicia could be what Matt needed, someone who made him happy.
„So you won a lot?” He was pretty sure she was just trying to make a good impression, but unfortunately those were still, even all the way into adulthood, words that activated the little kid in Matty. Jack laughed as his kid started listing just how good of a fighter he was, conveniently omitting the much more numerous lost fights.
Granted, Jack lost a lot of those on purpose. He was proud of the ones he managed to win.
„Do all boxing trophies look like belts? Why?”
„You know, I’m not so sure himself.” There was a time he actually looked for that answer. Matt was all four years old, and his favourite question was why. Why is the sky blue, why does Charlie from next door have a wheelchair, why did you win a belt and not a trophy, dad? „I looked into it once and some say it’s from an old greek legend. Hard to tell how much truth is in that though. This one though--” He brought out the red and gold, relatively small belt from his early days, one of the awards that got him to a spot where his name mattered. Matt always liked the engravings on it, how tactile those belts all were in comparison to plain cup trophies. „--this one’s real gold.”
Felicia moved her hand away, as if too afraid too touch after learning the value, and just nodded in admiration.
They had dinner together, take out. She didn’t comment on the fact it wasn’t a home-cooked meal either and even mentioned some of her own favourite delivery places. When he left for his shift, Jack didn’t mind leaving them together, and thought, strangely, that he trusted her with Matt.
He reconsidered his judgement when he came back in the morning, Matt still snoring, and Felicia as well as the real gold belt both gone.
Maybe it would have been better if Matthew actually took church’s celibacy lessons seriously.