Shelbourne & Mattingly: Part 9
Part 9: The Morning 2
Part 9 of Shelbourne & Mattingly finds Erie and Seth at a crossroads on the bustling winter streets of Rockland Springs, where truth has a way of demanding to be heard even amid holiday cheer and NBC cameras. As carolers lift their voices near Santa's red mailbox, Erie wrestles with impossible futures, counting costs that can't be calculated and weighing dreams that can't be postponed.
Stand amid the decorated boxwoods and Victorian lampposts of the town square, feel the winter wind cutting through your coat, and witness how sometimes our hardest choices become crystal clear when faced with the question of how we measure the value of our days—in safety and certainty, or in moments of perfect, breathtaking connection that defy all practical logic...
PART 9: THE MORNING 2
December 22, 1992
Everything in me rose up against those words.
“Nobody is watching you die.” My voice came out ragged, my whole body shaking. “God, Seth. How can you—” I had to stop, catch my breath. “You think we’re watching some sad story? You’re so full of shit. I’ve been watching you my whole life and I don’t ever want to do anything else, see anything else, be anywhere else but with you. Happy, sick, sad. It doesn’t matter. You’re just being perfect you and—” My voice broke. “And I’m in love with you. The most insufferable, extraordinary person I’ve ever known.”
He smiled—that heart-stopping Seth smile I’d known all my life. “You’re in love with me?”
“You’re such a dork.” I grabbed his coat. “Of course I’m in love with you. You make every second of every single day better, just by existing. Even when you’re being an absolute ass.”
He laughed, a beautiful bell-like sound. For one perfect moment, he was just Seth, looking at me like I’d given him the world.
Then he coughed.
The sound turned sharp, and he pressed his hand against the brick wall beside us. “Speaking of insufferable…” His face went pale. “Give me a minute.”
“Let me help.”
“No. Stay here.” He disappeared between two buildings, each step careful but urgent. His hand trailed along the brick wall, steadying himself.
I fought the urge to follow, to protect him, to break this one small promise. Instead, I stood alone in the growing crowd, the cold cutting to my bones. As I watched couples press close to each other against the winter wind, my mind wandered to an impossible future:
In the imagined marriage of Erie Shelbourne and Seth Mattingly, there would be no honeymoon in Paris. No walking hand in hand to the Musée Marmottan Monet each morning, sharing pain au chocolat in sidewalk cafés. No hunting for our own Kentucky home, a quirky blue cottage with perfect north light for his studio. No stealing glances at him in his leather recliner—bare feet crossed at the ankles like always—while a child with his artist’s hands and my hazel eyes sits curled in his lap, watching him draw golden paths connecting all the magical places in her world.
Something inside me fractured. Hot tears welled as the fantasy shattered into truth.
In the imagined marriage of Erie Shelbourne and Seth Mattingly, twenty-two years of best friendship vanishes, replaced by the weightier, more precarious role of wife. The chemo trips that once ended with goodbye hugs become nights lying beside him, counting breaths, afraid to fall asleep. Learning the weight of silence behind bathroom doors. How long to wait before knocking. When to pretend I couldn’t hear what was happening inside. Measuring time in white blood cell counts and tumor markers instead of anniversaries. Planning our future in months instead of years.
Twelve months.
That’s all the forever we would get. If we were lucky.
Last night I’d been so brave with my star sapphire and my lists. Being with him filled me with such fierce joy—I would have held any pain to keep him. But standing in the cold, I could see our future with brutal clarity: me hovering like Maggie, him resenting both of us for trying so hard to keep him alive.
Maybe this really was another one of my stupid dares.
Maybe the cruelest one yet.
But I kept staring between the buildings where he’d vanished, remembering all the times he’d proven me wrong about what he could survive. He’d always come back grinning, even with blood running down his forehead, even after missing the ceiling by those crucial two inches. Making jokes, turning pain into art, refusing to let anyone see how much things cost him.
A handful of carolers gathered near Santa’s red mailbox, “What Child Is This?” rising soft and clear in the winter air.
Seth returned, pale but smiling, and the sight of him pushed back my dark thoughts, if only for a moment. He was holding a piece of cardboard against his leg.
“Had to throw up. Do I look okay? I want to be pretty for NBC.”
A bright spot of blood marked the corner of his mouth. I wiped it away with my fingers, my earlier fears rising like flood water.
“The prettiest.” The words caught in my throat. I handed him my travel-size mouthwash. He rinsed behind a hedge of decorated boxwoods.
“We’re about to go live!” Shannon’s voice rose. “Remember—SMILE!”
The red light blinked on. The reporter, who was neither Bryant nor Katie, turned to face the camera. “I’m here in historic Rockland Springs, Kentucky, for a special holiday broadcast.”
The crowd started cheering. A woman beside me raised a hand-lettered sign: “Rockland Springs: Home of Bourbon and Bad Decisions.”
My heart pounded, my brain spiraling into dark places I couldn’t control. I locked onto something real: the piece of cardboard that Seth held against his leg. He hadn’t shown it to me—Seth, who had never kept a single joke to himself, who turned every moment into our own private comedy show. Something flickered in his eyes when he caught me looking, that spark of mischief that had delighted me since the playpen.
The camera operator panned to Seth. He lifted his sign.
I saw Jess reach for Gabe’s hand. Saw Brother Elias cross himself. Saw Maggie press her hands to her heart.
The cardboard was covered in his careful, familiar handwriting, shaky but determined—because of course Seth Mattingly would come prepared with a Sharpie.
SETH + ERIE: TILL DEATH DO US PART.
The air left my lungs, just like the day he jumped from the highest point of the swing—that moment of flight before the sickening fall. But then he smiled at me, the same way he had through the blood, like he knew something I didn’t. Like he’d always known how this story would end.
He let the sign drop to his side. Then he kissed me, right there on national television, in front of God, Rockland Springs, the world. When his hand cupped my face, I felt it—the cool press of metal against my cheek.
He was wearing the ring.
The reporter beamed. “I think we just witnessed some holiday magic live on the TODAY Show!” Then the camera panned away, seeking safer moments than our raw, beautiful truth.
Seth stood there looking perfectly imperfect—his hair refusing to behave, shadows under his eyes, surrounded by half the town and somehow seeing only me. The carolers’ voices rose, harmonizing like sunlight through stained glass, and my heart knew. All my earlier fears felt paper-thin against the reality of him.
“Well?” His eyes sparkled. “Got something to ask me, Shelbourne?”
“Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” He grinned at his own joke. “Come on. Make it official.”
“Fine.” I tried to glare at him, but failed. For a breath, for a heartbeat, I held the words inside. Then I asked that terrifying and precious question:
“Will you marry me, Seth Mattingly?”
“Yes.” He gently placed a pair of reindeer antlers on my head. “I will marry you, Erie Shelbourne. You know I can’t say no to your dares.”
I smiled like an idiot, speechless. But as usual, he was ready.
“Look at you.” He touched the tip of my nose. “You’re the prettiest reindeer I’ve ever seen.”
“And you’re the weirdest person on the face of the earth.”
“Guilty. I’m also an old-fashioned gentleman, so I called your parents. I’m pleased to report that they agreed to another sleepover. A special sleepover. The kind where you don’t go back home in the morning.”
“A permanent sleepover?”
“Yes.” His eyes were full of that quiet joy that was pure Seth. “You. Me. For keeps. Forever and ever.”
I took his hands, held them to my lips, kissed his knuckles. “Jesus, Seth. Your hands are so cold. Let’s go home.”
He tucked my scarf around my neck. “I’m going to take really good care of you.”
The snow started falling then, soft and inevitable.
END
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"Something inside me fractured. Hot tears welled as the fantasy shattered into truth."
For me, this statement is life. It is about choosing to live fully in the imperfections and shortchanged timelines. Such beautiful writing. Thank you.
Just yesterday I thought to myself, when do I get another episode of those two love birds? Then I got a notification last night that you liked one of my posts. I was like, how’d she know I was thinking about her? Which led me here this morning. I was miffed when I saw that you’d posted this 7 days ago. I guess the final push of book camp has kept my nose to the grindstone! At any rate, I’m here to say you MUST begin to shop this story! It’s wonderfully delightful. Thank you for making it. Have a great weekend!