4: The Tears of The Cruel Doctor Frost
—Dejvice, Prague, April 2013—
Two weeks later, Simon was busy preparing dinner for one when he heard the doorbell. He hated the sound. He should have changed the damned machine long ago.
He stalked toward the door expecting some nosey neighbor. Instead, Matěj stood in the hall, rocking on his heels nervously, his old messenger bag heavy with books.
“I should have called,” he started. “But I…need to stay somewhere.” He looked down. “I really should have called.”
Should Simon be worried about Matěj arriving unannounced? His main worry was if he had enough pasta for two. He shook his head. “It’s fine, come in.”
He headed back toward the kitchen, but Matěj caught his upper arm, turning him back to face him. The look in his eyes was strained, wary. He searched Simon’s features for something.
“What’s wrong?” Simon asked, confused.
Matěj didn’t answer. He scrutinized Simon for a few more seconds and then leaned in, kissing him hard and demanding. Simon almost stumbled but then he caught on, his right hand sinking in Matěj’s messy hair, his left diving under his T-shirt, stroking his waist and lower back, soaking up the warmth. Just a few hours ago, Simon had tried to convince himself to take a break from Matěj, to get some distance, gain some perspective. And yet, here he went again, head first, recklessly, stupidly, wonderfully crazy.
He let his fingers smooth over Matěj’s shoulder, circle his biceps, skim his forearm. He intended to catch Matěj’s hand to stop for a while. There was pasta cooking on the stove, after all. As soon as he reached for Matěj’s hand, the young man cringed. Simon took a step back studying the bruised and scraped knuckles.
“Shit. Again?” He asked on an annoyed exhale.
Matěj shrugged self-consciously. “He didn’t even manage to get a good one in. I smashed his face against the kitchen door and left.”
Simon looped his arms around Matěj, pulling him closer, his nose in Matěj’s hair, feeling him breathe heavily against Simon’s shoulder.
“Marta is okay?”
Matěj lifted his head, sending Simon a disbelieving scowl. “Of course!” he said sounding hurt. “She’s at a girlfriend’s. She’s supposed to check in with me in the morning, and I am meeting her after school.”
Simon knew Matěj’s concern for his little sister was profound. He didn’t doubt him for a second. He just wanted to know the practicalities. Never mind.
They ate dinner together, but it was strained. Simon was glad Matěj had sought him out when he felt threatened. Usually, he’d just go out with friends and get trashed. At the same time, Simon was afraid to read too much into it. This was supposed to be a fling, a casual arrangement of sorts. Lately, Simon was scared his feelings would show and send Matěj running. This was what a casual relationship looked like? Simon hadn’t touched anybody else in months. During the days, he counted the minutes until he could see Matěj again. Needy and pathetic, yes. Definitely not casual.
After an hour, they sat next to each other on the sofa pretending to watch the late-night news. Simon had no idea what was on the TV. He was focused wholly on Matěj’s every breath.
“It’s really okay I came here?” Matěj asked slowly, carefully, looking away as if bracing himself.
Simon couldn’t hold back anymore. Something had to give.
He turned, lifting his hands to Matěj’s face. His thumbs touched Matěj’s lips and cheekbones, and he watched the slightly stunned expression in Matěj’s eyes. Beautiful. They both had trust issues. They were greedy cowards when it came to their emotions, gathering and hiding them away like a junkie’s secret stash. Tenderness was rare. Now, when Simon gave into it…it was like opening the floodgates.
He felt Matěj tremble when his lips skimmed Matěj’s jaw, their uneven breaths mingling, Simon’s mouth brushed over the soft texture of Matěj’s eyebrows, tasted the wetness in the corners of his eyes. Matěj sat unmoving, but Simon could feel his pulse throb violently. As their tongues slid against each other, Simon felt a surge of victory hearing Matěj moan helplessly into his mouth.
It was the first time Matěj let Simon take him. They’d had all kinds of great sex before. In the beginning, it seemed they fucked more than they talked. Matěj was not one to relinquish control in bed, so this particular night was like a feast for Simon. He did what he wanted, his lover pliant, trusting and in the end overwhelmed in his embrace. They made love face to face watching each other until Matěj’s eyes fluttered closed, other senses taking over. The strangest thing was when Simon became self-conscious, his insecurity threatening to disperse the sensual fog, Matěj said only two words.
“Take everything.”
Simon felt high on the raw strength pulsing in his limbs. Maybe he was even a little rough. Seeing Matěj exposed and trapped, the possessiveness got the better of him. He bent and bit hard on Matěj’s shoulder seeking an outlet. The words coming from Matěj’s mouth became tangled and broken.
“Everything. Simon… Everything.”
For a few seconds, Simon was almost convinced they both felt the same. Then the euphoria faded, and the old fears came creeping back, their crooked, sticky fingers circling Simon’s throat.
Simon never knew if sex was a moment of ultimate clarity or just a vivid hallucination of a hormone-flooded mind. He had to take a shower alone or he would have choked on his own words.
Before they fell asleep, Simon managed a vague, “I’m glad you came here.” Matěj only nodded and turned on his side, his back to Simon.
In hindsight, it occurred to Simon, Matěj’s absolute surrender was a declaration of love on its own. Maybe he tarnished it by backing off just a minute after the exhilarating orgasm they shared. Hope was an unreliable counselor. It was just as possible Matěj was simply exhausted, and the whole incident was only a silent I-don’t-care-anymore.
***
When Simon woke up in the morning, he was facing the window. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and gather Matěj in his arms, cling to him, and forget about possible consequences. He argued with himself for a couple of minutes before he turned. The other side of the bed was empty, cold. Sometime during the night, Matěj had dressed and left.
The apartment was silent, and Simon started when he found Matěj in the kitchen. He sat at the table, books and notes spread all over the surface. He’d borrowed Simon’s Latin medical dictionary. There were three empty coffee cups on the counter.
“How long have you been up?”
Matěj’s head snapped up. “Oh, good morning. I don’t know, a couple of hours.” He looked around himself, closed-off, nervous. He was even more pale than usual, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. Simon felt a pang of guilt.
“The library opens in an hour. I’ll get out of your hair,” Matěj said. He stood and immediately started washing the used coffee cups.
The last semester in med school was pure torture, Simon knew. The finals were spread over many weeks, even months, no room to breathe, no time to recover. Matěj couldn’t study at home when his father was there. He suffered from the additional stress of taking care of his sister. In between, he frantically looked for a job to start immediately after the finals, so he and Marta could find their own place as soon as possible. Not all the residencies were paid properly, though, and the most prestigious clinics were the worst. Doctors freshly from school got twenty or forty percent temporary contracts but worked ten hours a day all the same, plus night shifts. Matěj couldn’t afford it. He needed a full salary to support Marta at school.
Simon felt the wave of sadness. And love. Always the crazy, stupid, unrequited love.
He caught Matěj’s hands and put the last dirty cup in the sink. “Stay here. The library will be crowded, you’d be lucky to find a place to sit. I’m leaving my laptop, use it if you need to.”
Matěj stood looking down, his hands trembling infinitesimally. Simon could do nothing else than hug him. His lips brushed Matěj’s temple. “There is some pasta left from yesterday, you can have it for lunch. Don’t go home today. Not while he’s still there. Let him cool off. Bring Marta here after school. She can sleep in the spare room; the sheets are fresh. I’ll be home at six, and we can have takeaway.”
“I can’t force myself on you like this.”
“You aren’t forcing anything. I’m inviting you to stay here whenever you need to study or just be left in peace. Just until the last of your finals. I’m at work all the time, anyway. There is a spare key in the blue cup on the shelf by the door.” Simon paused. He needed Matěj to let him help. “You have to finish school, Matěj. That’s what’s most important now.” His tone allowed no argument. He kissed the man’s temple again and released him. Matěj sat back down to his notes looking slightly dazed.
Simon fixed two simple sandwiches, packed one to go and put the other in front of Matěj on the kitchen table together with a tall glass of water.
“See you at six,” he said upon leaving the kitchen. Matěj looked at him still stunned, his eyes glassy and his jaw tight as though he was holding back tears. The choking sadness accompanied Simon until the evening.
***
Matěj stayed over eight times during the following months. Simon didn’t ask for explanations. Only one time there was a visible bruise on Matěj’s throat. Simon felt nauseous when he saw it.
Once or twice each week, he came home and saw small traces of Matěj’s presence, when he came during the day to study in Simon’s kitchen instead of the crowded student library. Everything was always immaculate, but sometimes there was a leftover from a quick lunch in the fridge, a new carton of milk would be open, a piece of some fruit or a chocolate bar left on the counter for Simon as a wordless welcome-home note. The trash which had been there in the morning would be gone in the evening; a few times there was an empty can of coke in the crate on the balcony. Those small changes made Simon happy.
He was happiest when he found Matěj in his home, always in the kitchen—he said he could concentrate there and stay awake longest. He would sit surrounded by his heavy books and stacks of notes, sometimes Simon’s laptop screen would cast bluish highlights on Matěj’s face as he typed.
During those weeks, Simon learned a lot about Matěj. The man had an unusually precise memory and flawless logical thinking. He had a few tics which showed only when he was immersed in high concentration—the chewing on the corner of his lower lip, and the fingers of his left hand scratching his right ear. Sometimes he would ask Simon for an explanation only to answer himself before Simon could, as if voicing the question helped him to make sense of the answer. He was incredibly bright, and Simon was proud of him even though he knew he had no right to be.
In between the endless studying, Matěj relaxed by cooking and running. They even went running together. Those times, Simon would be drowning in lust, high on the endorphins, drugged from the sight of Matěj’s body moving in sync with his, their feet slapping on the concrete together in perfect rhythm. He’d join Matěj in the shower, aroused beyond any control. Later, Matěj would sit back at the table reading, his hair still wet, a secret little smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Simon had to leave the room and hide out in front of the television.
It occurred to him to ask Matěj to just move in after the finals. Marta too, of course. He wanted to come home and find them there every evening, cooking, complaining about the news on TV, studying, bickering, and teasing each other. Like a family.
He understood, though, Matěj needed to prove himself, to overcome the years of abuse and recognize his own self-worth. Consequently, Simon never asked. Instead, he coveted the idea—maybe after a year or two, if they miraculously managed to sustain their relationship, maybe then it could work.
—New Town, Prague, May 2013—
The ringing startled Simon in his deep concentration. Disoriented as he was, it took him a while to locate his phone between the piles of books and papers on his desk.
“Simon? I’m sorry to disturb you. I know we weren’t supposed to see each other tonight.” Matěj sounded distraught, and Simon straightened in his office chair, immediately alert.
“What is it?”
“Marta and I, we argued. He came back from a job early, and I told him I’m looking for an apartment and taking Marta with me. Except she heard me.” Matěj paused, probably searching for words.
“Marta is okay?” Simon asked.
“Yes, she’s fine. I’m… Can I come over? Are you at home?”
Simon looked around the office as if he needed reassurance of his own whereabouts. Silly. “Now?”
“I can wait. It’s not—”
“Come. I’m on my way. I should be there in half an hour.” He stood as he said it, collecting the worksheets he was revising into a neat stack.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, of course I’m sure. You have the key, let yourself in. I’ll be there soon.”
Matěj paused, his breath audible, sounding like he was walking outside, muted sounds of a busy street crackling in the background. “Thank you,” he said finally.
“See you soon,” Simon answered and ended the call, hastily throwing his phone into his bag.
***
“She doesn’t want to move,” Matěj said, seated by Simon’s kitchen table, a beer bottle in hand.
Simon was taken aback. “Why not?”
“She found a sheet of paper on the table a few days ago. I think the fucker must have left it there intentionally. He keeps blackmailing her, and she lets him. It was a lab result. He’s got hepatitis C. Child–Pugh score 13. He has maybe two years left if he stops drinking.”
Simon sat down, the information not computing at first. He’d worked with many alcoholics over the years. Matěj’s father had seemed functional when it came to his physical health. That he was a psychopath was another issue. Hepatitis C, chronic and probably untreated, with the additional drinking… Yes, the man was dying.
“Where the hell did he catch C?”
“No idea. Bar hookups? Hookers? Licking the floor at the railway station bathrooms? I don’t care what the fucker does. Except he’s messing with Marta’s head.”
“He told Marta he’s dying?”
“No. When she found the lab results, she made me explain. I couldn’t lie to her.”
“Shit.”
“Today, he was sober. I haven’t seen him sober in months, I swear. But today, he had to be sober. And so calm. I wanted to punch the sad smile off his face. I told him we’re leaving regardless, and I don’t care if he rots to death. And Marta heard. I didn’t know she was even at home. She must have been studying in her room.”
Matěj shook his head, his small ironic smirk turning into a disgusted grimace. “So basically, I told my father I don’t care if he dies, turned, and stood face-to-face with my little sister. She was horrified.”
“Jesus, Matěj, it’s not your fault. She knows how much he’s hurt you over the years—”
“No.”
“What?”
“I…he’s never hit me in front of her.”
“She doesn’t know?” Simon was stunned. The bruises and cuts… She must have noticed.
Matěj looked away and took a deep gulp of his beer. He swallowed and exhaled.
“I think she knows about some of it. But I haven’t…advertised it every time it happened.”
“For fuck’s sake, Matěj, tell her! He’s dangerous!”
“He won’t hurt her. He’s never touched her.”
“That’s why you ran to her every time there was a risk he’d come home?”
“If I tell her now, she might not believe me!” Matěj’s voice rose, and Simon realized he was overstepping. “I could push her even further away from me.”
Don’t offer solutions. Just be there for him.
“She says if she leaves now, he’ll die,” Matěj continued quietly. “But he’ll die anyway. Except like this, he’ll ruin her life before he goes.”
Simon drank his beer, at a loss for words.
Matěj chuckled brokenly, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. “He was smiling when I left. I swear, he was laughing at me.”
“He’s counting on her compassion. You don’t need her, but he does, so he’s pitching her against you,” Simon concluded coldly, utterly disgusted.
“Exactly,” Matěj confirmed and finished his beer.
Simon stood and opened the fridge, offering Matěj another bottle. Then he opened one for himself.
“Simon, I can’t leave her there with him. I can’t move without her and leave her there. I don’t know what to do.”
He drank, wiped his mouth with a shaking hand, and drank some more.
“And I can’t stay. I’m done with him. I’m so done. Every time I see him, I…”
One more gulp, the beer bottle half-empty already.
“Maybe if you let her be for a few weeks, she’ll come around?” Simon offered somewhat lamely, but Matěj seemed lost in his own head again.
Matěj’s face changed with the force of emotions beyond his control. A grimace of pure hatred. The beautiful features contorted into something animalistic. “I wish he was dead already. If I wouldn’t have a lifetime in jail to look forward to, I’d kill him myself.”
“Matěj…” Simon understood; Matěj wouldn’t do anything like that. He always only defended himself. But carrying this kind of hate inside him—Simon couldn’t imagine the weight of such a burden.
Matěj rubbed his face with both hands in a familiar gesture, mumbling through his fingers. “I know. I’m just… God, Simon, I’m so tired. I’m just so fucking tired.”
Simon had seen his patients fight addiction, starve themselves to death, or lose their mental capacities to a degenerative disease. He’d witnessed suicide attempts, both unsuccessful and successful ones, and he’d treated those who were dying but didn’t want to. He’d been the one to deliver the most gruesome news to life partners, parents, and children. This time, he was clueless.
He reached out and grabbed Matěj’s hand over the table, squeezing.
“You can stay here whenever you want. You know that.”
Matěj nodded.
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No. Don’t do it. You’d only make her hate you, too.”
“She doesn’t hate you!”
“But she still loves him. And I can’t. I don’t give a flying fuck about what happens to him. Which makes me a bastard.”
“He failed as a parent. He doesn’t get love in exchange for abuse.”
Matěj was silent, but he squeezed Simon’s hand back.
They didn’t have sex that night. Neither of them suggested anything. They took turns showering, and then Matěj joined Simon in his bed, reaching for him wordlessly, plastering his smaller body over Simon’s back like a second blanket.
Simon had a seminar early in the morning. He didn’t wake Matěj; the young man had slept poorly. He cast one last look toward the warmth he was leaving behind in his bed, wishing things were different.
***
Over the weeks that followed, Matěj kept coming to study at Simon’s, but he rarely spent the night. With the worst of the finals looming over his head, he seemed distracted and exhausted. Every time Simon found Matěj in his loft, the young man apologized for his presence there. It made Simon wary.
Marta wasn’t angry with her brother, but she was still unwilling to move away from the apartment they shared with their father. The old man had been allegedly sober since he found out about his diagnosis, but Matěj didn’t believe it would last. He’d been disappointed many times, and trust and hope became too painful.
Matěj continued looking for another place and interviewing for jobs. He passed exam after exam with outstanding results in spite of the stress of his family situation.
Simon waited.
—Dejvice, Prague, June 2013—
The acceptance letter lay in the middle of the table. Eighty percent contract in orthopedic surgery. The salary was ridiculously low but enough to survive on. The innocent piece of paper completely changed the atmosphere in the room. No one talked about it, but they thought of nothing else.
Marta looked between the two men confused, not understanding the tension as they moved around in the kitchen. They prepared dinner silently and studiously, avoiding each other in the confined space.
Matěj was supposed to start his residency in a few weeks. They would be equals soon. Simon was surprised by his ambivalence to it. In a self-destructive way, he enjoyed the thrill of the secrecy, the forbidden flavor of his sex life. But Matěj was finished with school, and they both felt the demand to define their relationship. Or move on.
Maybe it wasn’t urgent or necessary, but the question shook like a huge pressure cooker in Simon’s head.
Simon braced himself. He’d suspected for months what the outcome would be. He thought he was ready.
When Marta fell asleep in Simon’s guest bedroom, it was just the two of them. And the monstrous elephant in the room.
Simon watched Matěj’s profile, the gorgeous expressive face only centimeters away. The amount of feeling was debilitating. Matěj’s jaw twitched a couple of times as if he was trying to put together the right words.
“What’s going to happen now?” Simon asked, unable to wait any longer. Let it be over fast.
Matěj blinked and with a deep frown said in a low voice: “I have three different places to look at next week. Marta’s still undecided.” He dragged his palms over his face. “I have to convince her somehow. Every time I know she’s alone in the apartment with him, even if only for one evening…”
Simon wanted to say something wise. Give advice, offer help. There was nothing he could do, and they both knew it.
“But that’s not what you asked,” Matěj said, looking at Simon anxiously.
“No, it’s not.”
“Simon. I don’t know how to do this. I…there’s so much right now. I feel like…like I’m using you—”
“Absolutely not!”
“You want someone whole. Someone to build a life with. I thought after everything’s done, I could… But I’m so not ready it’s ridiculous.” His head bent over his knees, Matěj rubbed his neck, unable to sit still and hold Simon’s gaze. He looked guilty. And sad. The sadness was palpable—it seemed to emanate from him, a sadness way heavier and older than the young man himself. It stretched and reached for Simon, enveloping him, chilling his skin.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Matěj asked.
Simon nodded. He couldn’t lie about it to save his life. Matěj looked at his hands, now limp in his lap.
“I wish I could be that person. I would love to be that person for you one day.”
Simon took a breath. “But not now,” he murmured.
Matěj shook his head, looking just as defeated as Simon felt. And Simon understood. He even agreed. No, Matěj was not ready. It would never work. Simon would try to swoop in and save them both when it was the last thing Matěj needed. It wasn’t fair to continue like this when they both wanted different things. He knew all that. And he hated it. He hated himself for knowing it was useless, agreeing they didn’t fit, and loving still.
“I’m so sorry,” Matěj whispered.
“Look at me,” Simon implored with a composure of someone who had nothing to lose. If only he could make his feelings agree with his reason.
Matěj lifted his head, and Simon saw tears in his eyes, selfishly relieved Matěj was the one to cry. Simon leaned closer, cupping Matěj’s cheek. “One day?”
It was strange. Matěj said he didn’t want this. Yet he seemed to be the one whose heart was breaking. Maybe Simon’s had already broken long ago. Maybe he was used to that feeling.
“I kind of expected you to throw me out after this,” Matěj said, his voice low and hoarse. One tear escaped, and he wiped at it swiftly, grimacing. “Fuck,” he mumbled, looking away.
Simon slipped his hand around Matěj neck, and the young man sagged forward, laying his head on Simon’s shoulder with what seemed a full-body sigh.
“Simon,” he whispered against Simon’s throat.
“Yeah?”
“I…can I—”
“Yes. Stay.”
“I will leave you be after tonight, I swear.”
Was the promise supposed to reassure Simon? In a way, it did. He would get through this. He knew from the beginning they weren’t compatible. They’d served a purpose, played a part in each other’s lives. But it was time to act like the responsible adult he was. After tonight.
They made love quietly, in the dark, on borrowed time. Matěj said he wanted to have Simon inside him one more time, and Simon pushed into him, reaching deep, making Matěj bite the pillow to stop himself from crying out. He didn’t mean to be aggressive, but Matěj seemed to want it, whispering words of encouragement, clutching at Simon’s thighs, pulling them closer together. Matěj came first, long before Simon was ready, but he turned onto his back, holding himself open with his hands under his knees and offered his body to Simon again.
Simon sank inside all the way in one long movement. He saw the clenched jaw, those bright blue eyes squeezed shut, and he almost backed off.
“Don’t stop,” Matěj bit out. “Come inside me.”
So Simon took and took and watched as Matěj failed to hide his discomfort. A vicious voice in Simon’s head shouted he deserved this and more. Anger rose and spurred him on. When Simon finally came on a silent cry, filling the condom, Matěj dragged him down into his arms and kissed him gently. Simon only wanted to bite and claw at him.
“Thank you,” Matěj whispered.
Simon was so angry at the man who had stolen his soul, so angry at himself, angry at the world which couldn’t bear to see them together.
One day. He repeated those words in his head when he listened to Matěj’s breathing slow as he fell asleep, pressed against Simon’s side.
One day.
***
Four days later, Matěj left.
—Dejvice, Prague, August 2013—
Marta was asleep in Simon’s bed. She was exhausted after the nightmare she’d had the previous night, so Simon let her sleep even though it was only half past six in the evening. They’d finished clearing out the old apartment on Jagellonská street. It was sublet and expensive, so they had to get rid of it fast. They gave some of Marta’s father’s things to charity and threw out the rest. There was no inheritance to speak of except for a debt with the Prague public transport company—unpaid fines for fare dodging. Simon laughed like crazy when he found out. He paid the fines and considered his hands washed.
Going through Matěj’s belongings was much worse. Marta kept all Matěj’s books and music; they packed his clothes in boxes and put them in Simon’s storage room in the basement. Simon took a couple of T-shirts, though. They were now squished in his nightstand. Maybe he planned to sleep in them? But then he felt embarrassed it even occurred to him so he never did. Half the time he did not know why and what he was doing so it was just as well.
His cell phone rang, and Simon jumped, snatching it from the counter. He still hadn’t given up the hope the caller might be Matěj. At the same time, he was terrified of what the next news was going to be. Every phone call had his stomach heaving and heart hammering.
“Simon Mráz, hello?”
“Dr. Mráz, it’s Detective Janáková.”
Simon’s hand shook violently, and he leaned against the wall steadying himself. The tone of the detective’s voice was careful. Not good. They’d almost become friends over the past two months. And yet he hated when she called.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this. Officially, you don’t know.”
As Simon was not a direct relative, the law did not give him the right to demand information from the police. He was bound to rely on their compassion. Luckily, detective Janáková had superior understanding of his situation and his concern for Marta.
“We have some news. Mr. Chrs was in Munich two days ago. He made a large withdrawal from his bank account. He sent most of the money to his sister’s account—approximately sixteen thousand euros—and kept a small amount in cash.”
Simon let that sink in. He didn’t know what to say. He sucked in a breath. “They are sure it was him? Nobody stole his passport or anything? He’s all right, then?”
“He’s not listed as a missing person anymore.” A few seconds of meaningful silence followed. “I’m sorry. I think it will be best if you tell his sister yourself.”
He’s okay. He’s not hurt. He’s not coming home. Simon fought the urge to vomit.
“I’m not sure I want her to know,” Simon blurted breathlessly.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Mráz.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d say you’re welcome but in this case…”
“Yeah. Thank you for telling me anyway.”
“Goodbye, Simon.”
“Bye, Detective.”
How was he supposed to tell Marta? He was never going to tell anyone. The betrayal landed on his shoulders, humiliating, infuriating, so painful.
Simon slid to the floor, a sobbing mess. It wasn’t the first time he’d cried because of Matěj, but he promised himself it had to be the last.
***
Yet here he was, more than three years later, the same four walls witnessing his breakdown over the same man. A sobbing mess again.