He forced himself to rally. Again. He crossed the room and sat down next to her. “You need to eat. I got you a sub from that unsanitary hole-in-the-wall place that you like.” Matt set the plate on the coffee table.

How much longer could he do this? It had been five months since Finn died. Five months and twelve days. Erin and Roger were barely holding it together as it was, so they were of minimal help. Matt understood how it was nearly impossible to see past your own grief to deal with somebody else’s, but he was doing it, for God’s sake. Couldn’t they help him? Couldn’t somebody help him? Evidently not. Yes, Celeste allowed him to take her to and from school, she did her homework, she ate (when he made her), and she could sometimes engage in watered-down conversation. But there was no healing. He was going to have to think of something.

Matt brushed her hair from her face and set a pile of curls behind her shoulder. “I should take you to get another haircut soon, huh?” Matt paused, waiting for a response that wasn’t going to come. “Baby girl, please.”

Celeste continued looking out the window. “Do not call me that, Matthew.”

Matt sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“That is what he called me, and I do not want to hear those two words adjoined like that. Especially from you.”

He had to give her credit. She really knew how to drive the knife in further.

The smell of the sub was churning his stomach. Granted, everything seemed to churn his stomach, but today it was worse. “Come on. Eat.” He managed to strengthen his voice, wanting to sound as directive as he could. “It’s not a choice. We eat, we sleep, we keep going.”

She turned from her spot and looked at the coffee table. She stayed still for a long moment. A standoff between Celeste and the sandwich, Matt thought. Who would win this battle of wills? Who would claim victory? The tension was great…

“Just. Eat. Stop thinking and eat.” Matt put the plate in her lap. Maybe he could distract her and just shove food into her mouth without her noticing? That would be easier than this ritual of negotiation they always had to go through. “Finn would never want you like this.” It was a cheap shot, he knew, but, like Celeste, he wasn’t above that these days.

Celeste glared at him, but she did pick up the sandwich.

Ha! Small victories.

They sat uncomfortably as Matt oversaw her eating. He knew if he left the room that she would stop and probably spit out whatever was in her mouth.

“So, look, you have a birthday coming up in a few weeks. What should we do to celebrate?”

“There will not be a celebration, Matthew.”

“We have to do something. I want to do something. How about dinner out? Or we could see if any of the theater groups have productions running now. I’d love to see a show with you. And is there a particular gift you’d like? I have a few things for you, and Mom and Dad, too, of course.” That wasn’t exactly a lie since he had bought her some gifts on their behalf.

“I do not see a compelling reason to acknowledge the day as anything but another insignificant, if not torturous, twenty-four period. Do you?” she asked accusingly. “Do you, Matthew?” She shoved the plate with the now half-eaten sandwich across the table and lay on the couch.

Matt rubbed his eyes. He simply didn’t have the energy to do this with her right now. The cycle was all too familiar to him; he’d spend twenty minutes trying to be animated and kind and (if he was really trying harder than usual) funny, and she’d either be totally silent or heartbreakingly abusive. Then he would try to reason with her, tap into any part of her that still lived, then get angry and say something that he’d regret. But today, he wasn’t strong enough. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here.” He tossed a credit card on the table as he stood. “Go online and buy yourself whatever you want. You should have something nice, especially this year. Do it for me, for yourself, for Finn…. I don’t care who. Just do it.”

Matt walked out of the room.

**********

The screen glowed brightly in the dark of Matt’s room, and he just now noticed that evening had set in. He unconsciously glanced at the calendar on his laptop. Five months, twenty-six days. Stop counting, stop counting. He lifted the next bill from the pile and arranged an online payment. While everything else in the house had fallen to shit, at least there was money in his parents’ account. When the electricity had been turned off because Roger and Erin forgot the two shut-off notices that had come in the mail, Matt had offered to deal with the bills. At least the loss of power had presented him and his parents with a conversation topic. A sterile and unhappy one, but it provided an excuse for interaction. Aside from specific logistical issues that had to be dealt with, no one talked to each other, and no one made much eye contact. Certainly no one smiled.

He scrolled through the checking account, confirming that everything was normal and then did the same for the credit cards. He let out a small smile for only the second time in ages. It was hard not to feel a brief moment of levity when he’d first seen the charge last week. A little over a hundred dollars had been charged to an online party shop. Celeste had gone ahead and bought herself something, presumably the makings of a birthday party. She must have come around to the idea of the family celebrating her birthday in some form. It was probably just a mess of decorations, and all likely done from some sense of obligation to Finn’s memory, but Matt didn’t care. For the first time since that ungodly awful day last February, Celeste had done something positive.

When the last bill was scheduled for payment, Matt collected the papers, ran them through a shredder, and sat back. He knew it was inexcusable that he was in charge of this, but it was much less complicated to simply tackle what had to be done than to try and get his own parents to handle this right now. It wouldn’t be forever. Mom was doing… well, she was making progress. Dad had to focus on his wife, so Matt would hold down the rest of the fort until life got back to normal. Or whatever normal was going to be.

He lifted an envelope from his desk and sighed heavily. The letter was from MIT. This could have been, should have been, the one saving grace in what was otherwise a cyclone of misery. At least the admissions office was exceedingly understanding about his situation, and Matt had been able to defer for a year. Had he told his parents about this yet? He wasn’t sure. But now what did he have to look forward to? A year at home in this entirely depressing environment? This house where no one was allowed in? There was always the possibility of auditing a few classes, but he certainly couldn’t take on a full course load until things… settled.

Well, it wasn’t really about him. It was about Celeste. And while ordering herself birthday party paraphernalia was a nice act, it didn’t exactly signal a monumental leap out of depression. Celeste was just as dreadfully shut down as ever, and no amount of effort on Matt’s part had made a difference. He was missing something. He had to be. There was a way to unlock the old Celeste.

Finn would know what that was, but Matt didn’t.

His brother would be horribly disappointed in what Matt considered his near-total failure in managing Celeste. But he didn’t know what else to do, how to cheer her up, how to glue together what was left of her. God damn Finn. He had always been so well thought-out. A risk taker, yes, but always with a solid understanding of the danger. He prepared, he planned, he executed smartly. Finn had never spontaneously hopped into a raft and ridden haphazardly down an unknown river. Daring acts always came with a level head.