Matthew Perry Memoir Audiobook Novels & Stories

"I am good at doing. Fixing. Controlling." "I know." "None of those things work with you." "I know." She put her head back down. --- I thought about Matthew. He was twenty five. An engineer. Lived in Seattle. Had a girlfriend named Priya. Wore glasses. Played guitar. Did not drink coffee. I knew all of this from a private investigator. Not from him. Because he had not spoken to me in seven years. The last time I saw him, he was eighteen. Standing in a parking lot. Yelling at me. Telling me I was a monster. That I had ruined his mother. That I had ruined him.

There was only the friction of his skin, the gravelly break in his voice, and the absolute certainty that whoever I had been before the crash, I had belonged to him. Then I saw him. Mathew was sitting at the small wooden desk in the far corner focussed on his laptop. He hadn't dressed; he was just in his dark sweatpants, his broad back hunched forward, his shoulders rigid like a statue carved from granite. He was so still he didn't even seem to be breathing. "Mathew?" I called, my voice thick with sleep as I slid my legs out from under the blanket. The cool hardwood floor sent a sharp chill straight up my spine.

he murmured with so much emotion in his voice. “Don't thank me yet,” I warned. “I don't know the outcome, I am just hoping it works in your favor.” “Doesn't matter to me, either way, I am grateful.” His words brought tears to my eyes. After a minute or two, Matthew stood and climbed back to his bunk, and we fell into a peaceful silence. “A swim would be great,” he spoke up after a while. I kept quiet and waited for him to continue, and he did. “… I would like to drive around, and see how much the world has changed.”

I text instead. I know about the transfer. I know about the leverage note. Call me. We ride in silence for a block. My phone rings. Matthew. “Where are you?” I ask. “JFK,” he says. “My flight boards in forty minutes.” “You are running.” “I am leaving,” he says. “There is a difference.” “Matthew.” I keep my voice flat. “Divine paid you three times market rate with a transfer note that says leverage. You handed me the flash drive. You went on record with the Times. You burned your own cover and your contract.” I pause. “I need to understand why.”

She almost burst into tears as Dr Matthews pursed his lips together and started to write notes on his clipboard. Eva's words had caught Dr. Matthews off guard. His smile wavered, and a flicker of unease crossed his face. "Eva, I think you may be slightly confused. Your memories are still fragmented. We need to work together to recover them," he insisted, his voice faltering slightly. "It's okay, and please do not be afraid. I am here to help you. Nothing, and nobody will harm you." He said in a gentle tone.

After Isabella brings us both a beer, she makes her way to the bedroom, then finally, Matt speaks again, "I have enlisted." Okay, I think I must be hearing voices in my head; maybe even I am thinking about myself wanting to enlist to become a Raider. So perhaps I have heard him completely wrong. Then for some odd reason, I swallow rather deeply before I take a breath, "I don't think I heard what you said, Matty." "I said," then he goes all quiet. I think perhaps, but wait, "I said that I have enlisted." That shock that was there before returns again, "You mean as here at Pendleton?"

"Andrea informed me that you had all been on leave for four months, which I found out from her." With a nod of her head, Amira acknowledged the response. "Yes." Matthew took a deep breath and swallowed. His words couldn't express his longing to travel back in time, but his thoughts were with him. Emily was taken aback by the deafening silence that followed her thinking. As Emily inquired as to when he would no longer be able to hear a voice in his head, he replied, "Are you sure you don't have anything further to say?" Matthew made a complete 180-degree rotation in an instant. He took a long, deep breath and bit the inside of his lip with his index finger.

Chapter 9 Down the Drain It was quite a while later, going by the dark window and the glow of the lamp on the nightstand, when I crawled out of a groggy sleep to the sound of quiet voices. Long practice with waking up in strange places had given me the ability to come to consciousness without stirring or making a sound, so I lay there perfectly still, figuring out who was there before I let them know I was awake. “…saved my life,” Matthew was saying. “He’s a little shit, but he’s obviously not a total psycho.”

“Hi Matthew, I am Sianna. I am one of the volunteers for today and I need to complete your file by asking you some questions. But first, how are you doing today? Are you in pain?” His grey eyes gave a quick roaming on my figure. His rubbed his bald head and appeared to be blushing. “Just the headaches as usual from the nightmares that I have. I came to refill the prescription.” He was trying to look anywhere else apart from my face. “You can call me Matt.” Concerned, I checked his pupil, temperature and pressure. “Alright, a doctor will have to do that but let me get a few information so I can send the request in.” I opened the folder again and looked at the missing slots. “I need the last s

"Try impossible. Why are you here, Matt? I don't understand." "I think I told you that I've taken a disability retirement from the Air Force, right?" Summer nodded. "Was that real? Were you honestly hurt?" Matt tugged up the hem of his shorts to show the bottom edge of the surgical scar on his hip. "Yeah." Then he turned to show her the collection of angry welts on his back. "Everything I ever told you in the dreams is true. You want my sister or my mom's phone numbers? Hell, look them up. They're in the book. Sarah Warren and Tanya and Mike Stephens, all of Morgan's Creek, Texas."