Date: Sat, 18 Jan 2003 23:20:55 -0800 (PST)
From: Ehman Penn <ehman_penn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Matthew Figures It Out - Part 13

This is the continuation of the first story I've ever
written. The feedback has been great and has given me the
confidence to pursue a different story line than I had
originally planned. Please continue sending your honest
feedback to ehman_penn@yahoo.com

This story is 100% fiction and about 15% true. Don't read it
if there's any chance that doing so might send you or the
author to jail. This story is also copyrighted by the author
and cannot be altered or reproduced without his consent.

*****************************

Matthew Figures It Out - Part 13

The sudden flurry of large white flakes were the first this
California boy had ever seen in person and they made quite
an impression. I rose from the bed and gravitated straight
to the window, standing there completely mesmerized by the
sight. There was a chill radiating from the glass and I
crossed my arms, rubbing my own shoulders for warmth.

Chris eased in behind me and wrapped his arms around my
waist, resting his chin in the curve of my neck much the
same way I had done with him earlier on the bed. He was
still shirtless and his warmth was intoxicating. I felt my
eyes closing as they submitted to the relaxed comfort of his
embrace. Memories of the first time I had watched him
embrace Katie poured back into my head. Her reaction then
was much the same as mine now.

So much had happened since then and many of memories flooded
through my mind. I thought back to the moment Chris had
leaned against me on the old stump behind his house. At that
time, I could never have imagined all that would follow.
Now, I couldn't imagine ever being without him again.

The sound of the ringing telephone jarred me into full
sobriety and my body jumped with shock, dislodging me from
his embrace. It seemed to take my mom forever to answer it
and I turned and locked eyes with Chris, both our faces
flinching with each additional ring. As if guided by some
instinct within me, I leaned forward into him for one last
soft kiss and just held my lips on his for a moment, closing
my eyes.

I was relieved to hear mom call my name instead of Chris's
and my eyes opened with my lips still resting ever so gently
on top of his. His eyes were open too and it was hard to
bring the moment to an end.

"Matthew!" My mom yelled a little louder this time.

I rattled the doorknob, forgetting it was still locked,
before opening the door and replying "I'll pick it up in
here! Thanks."

As I picked up the cordless, I watched Chris out of the
corner of my eye as he bent over to retrieve his shirt from
beside the bed. The sight of fresh bruises on the left side
of his ribs brought my arm to slow-motion, stopping the
receiver short of my ear. A faint and familiar voice was
penetrating the open air prompting me to bring the phone
closer.

"Mattie." There was a frantic tone in Tommy's voice and he
didn't pause for my reply. My eyes caught Chris's as I
continued to listen. His face tightened as he could see the
look of dread drawing itself across my face.

"He's here Tommy, with me." My shaky voice brought a
reaction of alarmed confusion from Chris.

"What is it?" Chris wanted to know and he wanted to know
right now.

Tommy continued in my ear before my final reply "I'm sure my
mom would appreciate that. We'll see you soon."

I hung up the phone but my eyes never left Chris. He was
covered in fear and bewilderment and I could see him trying
to put together the small clues in his mind. I didn't want
to be the one to tell him, but I had no choice.

"Chris, your mom has been in an accident." With my words,
his mouth fell open and his face lost all expression. "She's
at the hospital in Charlotte. I don't know how bad she's
hurt." This was so hard and I was breathing heavily with my
heart racing away in my chest. "Tommy's dad is going to come
over in his Jeep and take us up there. Your dad's already on
his way there now."

His eyes closed and his head dropped, but not before I saw
the first tear run down his cheek. His mumbled tone was
barely audible. "What happened?"

"Her car ran off the road in town. One of Tommy's cousins is
a first-responder and that's how Tommy's mom found out."

Tommy's cousin had also said that Chris's mom was
unconscious when they sent her off in the ambulance, but I
didn't know what that implied and I wasn't about to try and
interpret it. Chris's head was still hanging straight down
but was also starting to slowly shake from side to side. I
had been frozen by the shock of the news and had left him
standing there without support. Just as I moved to embrace
him, he started to mumble again, freezing me in my tracks.

"I knew..I knew something like this was going to happen.
DAMN IT!" His shock was quickly turning to anger and he
yelled out the last part. I was sure my mom heard it too. He
then spoke the question I hoped would stay unasked. "No one
else was hurt, right? At least tell me that.. Matt?" He
raised his head and the pain on my own face was reflected in
his eyes.

"Matt?" His lips moved but his eyes were now begging me not
to tell him the truth. I swallowed hard.

"Her car jumped the curb and went across a sidewalk." I was
choking the words out now and didn't know if I could bring
myself to finish. I knew where this was headed and that the
weight of it all was going to wind up squarely on his
shoulders. Still, there was no turning back. He had to know
the whole story or at least all of it that I had been told.

"The car hit a boy on the sidewalk. He's at the hospital
too. That's all I know, Chris."

His hands went to the back of his head and he doubled-over
from the pain the words had brought him. Softly, he was
moaning "no...no...no...no."

Just as I touched him, he quieted, but he was beyond
consolation. He was receding again and I could feel him
drifting away from me. I felt like he was distancing himself
for the safety of others. In his mind, bad things just
seemed to happen to anyone who got close to him. My hand was
on his back, but there was no longer any warmth there.

I heard a soft tapping on my open bedroom door and turned to
see my mother standing there in obvious concern. I had to
let her know what was happening but I didn't want Chris to
have to hear the words again. Walking out into the hallway,
I pulled the door closed behind me and gave him some shield
from my conversation.

"His mom's car ran off the road and hit a pole. But first,
it went over the sidewalk and hit a boy walking home from
school. They're both in the hospital. Tommy told me all of
this and him and his dad are coming over to take Chris to
the hospital because Chris's dad is already on the way there
now. Mr. Johnson has a four-wheel drive and he didn't think
it would be safe for you to take the car since the roads are
getting bad. I'm going with them, mom. I can't let Chris do
this alone."

Mom had one hand over her face and she reached out with the
other and patted me on the shoulder.

I didn't want to ever have to tell this story again. I knew
it wasn't my fault, but I was still filled with guilt from
the pain my words had caused Chris.

"Do you know how bad they're hurt?" I nodded my head no.

"Poor Chris. How much more of this can he take?" I think my
mom's question had already been answered. He couldn't take
any more. He had already reached his breaking point before
the latest bad news.

I didn't want to leave him alone too long. When I reopened
the door, he was sitting in the corner of my room with his
back to the wall. His knees were tucked and his eyes were
fixed straight ahead. I wasn't sure if he had regained his
composure or simply lost the ability to compose himself in
any way at all. I decided the latter when he didn't
acknowledge my reentry to the room. His regression seemed
complete. Whether he had taken safe distance or provided it,
the distance was there all the same.

My mom looked in and I knew she wouldn't be able to walk
away from this. It just wasn't her nature to look the other
way. She came in and kneeled down on the floor in front of
him. His eyes lifted just enough to meet her but his face
remained emotionless. There were no more tears to give; they
had evaporated along with their source.

"Chris." My mother said his name as softly as could be done
and still have it heard. Just as softly, her hand went to
his cheek. I shuddered at the realization that even my own
mother's magic touch couldn't raise him from his hiding
place. I could see a steady rise and fall of his chest, but
no other outward signs of life were revealed. My mother knew
he was still there, and she spent several minutes just
looking into his eyes and silently communicating with the
boy trapped inside.

Selfishly, I wondered if I would ever have him back again.

The thick clouds and heavy snow had brought an early
darkness onto the neighborhood. There was little sound of
traffic and I wondered where my own dad was. I wished he
were here right now; he might be the only one that knew the
path to reach Chris. The sound of the vehicle entering our
drive was not familiar and I looked out the window to see
Andy Johnson's SUV. The headlights revealed a thick white
coating on the ground and still more heavy snow streaking
downward through the reflection of the beams.

"Chris, they're here." I reached out my hand to help pull
him up, but he never looked at me as he stood on his own and
moved toward the door. His shirt was still un-tucked and his
sneakers still lay near the bed. "Chris! Your shoes and
coat!"

He stopped and sat on the bed long enough to pull on his
shoes. Again, he forgot his coat and I caught up behind him
and gently held his shoulder, bringing him to a stop and
practically forcing his limp arms into the sleeves. His eyes
fell onto mine briefly, but there was no communication in
them.

I was so busy worrying about him that I almost forgot about
my own necessities. When I turned back to get my coat, my
mother was standing there holding it up and I eased into it
and gave her a look that told her just how lost I was too.

The short trip from our front door to the SUV brought me
into direct contact with snow for the first time. The sound
of it packing underneath my steps was a new revelation to my
ears. The spectacle of it all just didn't fit the pain and
trepidation I was feeling inside. On any other day, a first
snowball fight would have been in order, but the warrior was
in a different kind of fight now.

There were no formal greetings with Tommy and his dad; only
grim acknowledgements. The ride out into the snowy
countryside was painfully quiet and gave my mind its first
chance of the afternoon to catch up on everything that had
happened. It didn't seem possible that the first sexual
experience of my life had taken place such a short time
before. The recollection was so out of place with the moment
that my mind quickly pushed it aside and moved back through
time to earlier events of the day.

The day had started in an ominous fashion. Chris had said
that he "knew" something like this was going to happen.
Maybe I knew it too, or at least I knew that something bad
was about to happen. On top of our most current misery was
still the reality that awaited us again at school. It seemed
trivial in the grand scheme of things right now, but someday
it would seem much less trivial again. Like it or not, that
was still our world and we would have to live in it again
soon. In the middle of the thought, it hit me and hit me
hard. How would I feel if it were my mother in that hospital
and I had no idea how she was or even if she were still
alive?

The late realization almost made me sick to my stomach. I
had only looked at Chris's mom as some object of
disappointment. Until my dad had told me, I didn't even know
her name was Peggy. I still didn't know what she did for
work or anything else meaningful about her. But to Chris,
she was HIS mother. While I had never believed in her, he
had never stopped believing in her. Other than fear, I
wasn't sure there was an emotional bond with his dad, but
his mother was different. I had made the mistake of grouping
them together as parents. They were part of the same family,
but very different people with different problems.

Earlier today, I had asked him for the first time how his
mom was doing. I hadn't done right by her and as an
extension I hadn't done right by Chris. This only compounded
the guilt I felt for having had to break the news to him
about her accident. Again, selfish fear set in and I hoped
he wouldn't hold it against me.

It's strange how we piece together links in our minds and
how sometimes the links build a path to understanding. Even
though I never met him, I always resented my grandpa Jordan
for the pain he had put my father through. In truth, his
alcoholism was a sickness that eventually claimed his life,
but I faulted him for it just the same. I looked at Chris's
mom in much the same way. I didn't know her, hadn't made the
effort to try to, but I resented her for the pain she caused
Chris. I was so caught up in my judgment of her that I had
looked right past Peggy as a person. In my mind, she wasn't
only guilty of some portion of Chris's pain, but also of my
dads; a guilt by association due to her disease. The
resentment I carried against the grandpa I never knew was
transferred over to her. It wasn't fair to hold her
responsible for more than her fair-share of misery and I now
could only hope it wasn't too late for me to right the wrong
I had committed.

My dad was fighting his own struggle to right a wrong. Until
I came out to him and mom, he had never been forced to put a
face on the prejudice he had carried against those who he
held responsible for taking his brother from him. When the
face he was confronted with was that of his own son, he
resolved to confront his own demons. He would do right by me
and as an extension finally do right by the memory of my
Uncle Heath.

Chris's words flowed back into my head. He had opened up and
revealed at least one mystery while he was still unable to
resolve another. I couldn't keep the thoughts of him and Jay
together from hurting me. He had assured me that they were
never serious, but something intimate had happened between
them. As for the unresolved mystery, I had my own idea what
had happened. Finding a way to prove it would be another
thing. There are wrongs in this world that can never be
fully righted.

The snow was beginning to lighten up a bit but the roads
were already covered and there was no clear indication as to
where the road stopped and the ditches began. The silence in
the Jeep was overwhelming, but I could think of nothing
appropriate to say. I recognized the outskirts of the city
and assumed we would be at the hospital soon enough. I
thought of praying for Chris's mom and the boy she had hit,
but couldn't bring myself to do it. It just didn't seem
honest considering I couldn't recall the last time I had
prayed for anything. One glance at the absent look on
Chris's face changed my mind on the subject and I silently
and earnestly prayed the best I could remember how.

We finally arrived at the hospital and Andy let the three of
us out in front before finding parking. It dawned on me that
this must be awkward for him considering his history with
Coach Briggs, but it seemed like the Southern way to put old
grievances aside in a time of crisis. We waited for him in
the lobby. When he entered a few minutes later, he quickly
surmised that we hadn't asked about Peggy's condition and he
quietly checked with reception before joining us.

"Chris." Andy patiently waited a moment for Chris to snap
into focus. "Chris, your mom is in critical care up on the
sixth floor. Your dad is probably up there in the waiting
area. Let's go on up and find out how she's doing. This is a
fine hospital and your mother is getting the best of care."
He gave Chris a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he spoke.
Andy Johnson was a kind man and he delivered each word with
soothing compassion. I wished it could have been him to
deliver the initial bad news to Chris; hearing the strength
and understanding in his voice made me feel even more
inadequate about my own attempt.

On the elevator ride up, Tommy and I made our first
significant eye contact of the evening. Virtually any
expression would have been inappropriate to the moment, but
I held his eyes long enough to let him know I was glad he
was there.

The doors slid open and we walked down the hall. Tension was
building in my body and I feared for the worst. I watched
Chris closely for some sign of emotion, but still saw none.
Then suddenly, I saw his eyes narrow and an angry look that
cast blame took him over. Turning my own eyes straight
ahead, I quickly found the object of his attention; Coach
Briggs was menacing the hallway up ahead just outside the
waiting area. He must have detected the approaching
intensity and he threw up a shielding scowl and squared his
shoulders head-on to meet us.

Andy Johnson was the first to speak. "Robert, how is Peggy?"

Robert? Coach Briggs didn't seem whole enough as a person to
deserve a first name. He rudely deflected Andy's inquiry
with his scowl, and looked Chris over seriously before
latching onto his arm and pulling him to the other side of
the hall. If he was trying to deny us the courtesy of her
basic medical condition, he wasn't doing a very good job of
it since we could hear everything he was saying. He had a
voice that pierced anything in its reach.

"God damn it, she's gone and done it this time!" Those were
the first words out of his mouth.
"We're probably gonna get sued out of this deal" were his
second words; I guessed it was important to him to establish
her as to blame before he got to the legal wrangling.

"HOW IS SHE?" Chris said it loud enough for everybody on the
sixth floor to hear him; his frustration had quickly boiled
over.

His dad cast a wary eye around the hall before answering. "I
tell you right now, you better lower your fucking voice with
me!" He spewed it more than he said it. "She got banged up
really hard when the car hit the utility pole. The doctor
said she had a severe concussion and she has a lot of
swelling but they think she'll come out of it."

`They THINK she'll come out of it?" Chris said it much less
casually than his father had. The full reality of
uncertainty was now setting in. He stood there in stunned
silence for a few minutes.

"What about the boy she hit?" Chris's question brought an
audible hiss from his father.

"It was some god damn spook on his way back to the projects.
He had no fucking business being out there." Hate has a
distinctive tone to it, making it easier to distinguish from
just plain old prejudice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw
two heads turn and I imagined that the older black couple
sitting near the door in the waiting area had developed a
keen ear for this tone during their years.

"Oh, right. Yeah, he had no business being on the sidewalk!"
Chris was incredulous and very animated; his hands were
flying in the air and his head was shaking. "I mean, didn't
he know that's where all the abused drunk women drive?"

His dad's response was lightning-quick and the clap of an
open hand on the side of a face ricocheted down the hall.
The same hand instantly changed forms into a sharply pointed
finger and the next words out of Coach Brigg's mouth were
camouflaged well enough to avoid our detection. When he had
finished his delivery, he pushed past Chris and briskly
marched down the hall and out of sight. Affable Andy Johnson
was left in a not-so-affable frame of mind and he turned to
follow Coach Briggs down the hall.

I was in a complete state of shock. I knew that what I had
just witnessed was extremely mild in comparison to what went
on behind closed doors. Still, it shook me to my core; more
because of the emotional violence than the physical slap.

I could now add "spook" along with "pansies" and
"degenerates" to the growing list of those Coach Briggs
considered below himself. For a man like Coach Briggs, it
was very important that he have someone to place underneath
him; someone to cushion himself from that longest of falls
to rock-bottom in life. It really didn't matter what group
he deemed fit for his insults. He had long ago given up on
any illusions of crawling his way up in life. In the end,
all that really mattered now was that he could keep his
heals buried into someone else's back and feel safe in the
illusion that he was at least better than someone, anyone.

Chris kept his back to us and didn't move from his spot. I
wanted to go to him, but something told me he needed to
reclaim his own space first. I looked back at the couple in
the waiting area; the older lady was still watching Chris
through the glass-framed entrance that ran along the hallway
near the door. I saw her eyes blink several times in a row
and her head shake.

There was almost nothing that I could do, but there was one
thing. I went into the waiting area and took a seat next to
the lady. Looking around the nearly empty room, I surmised
that she could help me with the information Chris needed.

"Ma'am, excuse me. Would you know anything about the boy who
was hit by the car?"

She looked me over skeptically and I couldn't blame her for
doing so, all things considered. "That young man is our
grandson and who are you?"

"Ma'am, I'm not really anybody. But that boy there in the
hall is my best friend in the world." Oh, boy. Here we go
again. My bottom lip quivered and I had to bite it into
submission. My eyes quickly clouded over, but I tried as
hard as I could to restrain them. As usual, I failed. She
didn't need further explanation. Her large brown eyes had
gathered everything about me that she needed to know.

"You can tell your friend that our boy is gonna be fine.
Right now, he's in surgery. His hip is busted up pretty bad
and he's gonna have a lot of work ahead of him to get back
right after this thing, but he'll be fine. God's gonna stay
with him and he'll be just fine. You go tell your friend
that."

"Ma'am, what's his name?"

"His name is Michael. My name is Olivia."

Olivia was a lady who just radiated goodness and positive
energy. She looked to be at least in her sixties and maybe
even pushing seventy. I couldn't even imagine the things she
had seen in her lifetime. After the events of the last few
days at school, I was starting to be more sensitive to the
issues of prejudice myself. If my body ever managed to equal
Olivia's longevity, I hoped that I could have a spirit like
hers to match.

"Thank you, Olivia. By the way, my name is Matthew." Olivia
managed to extract a ragged smile from my face before I rose
to deliver the news to Chris.

He still hadn't moved. I stood in front of him and tried to
make eye contact, but he wouldn't join me. It hurt me deeply
to see him like this. It also hurt me that he would isolate
me from his pain; denying me the opportunity to try and help
him. It was no comfort to me that he might believe he was
protecting me in some way. Unable to draw a response from
him, my eyes drifted over his shoulder and I could see Tommy
standing nervously in the background. My eyes finally found
a partner, but Tommy looked down quickly.

"Chris, the boy has a broken hip. He's in surgery but his
grandmother wanted me to tell you he would be fine."
Finally, he looked me square in the eyes. Somewhere deep
inside, he was trying to tell me thank you, or at least
that's what I chose to believe. I rubbed my right hand on
his shoulder and desperately wanted to just take him in my
arms but his eyes fell away again, leaving me only inches
from him but very alone.

"I'm sorry, Chris." It was the best I could do and it was
painfully honest. "You want to sit down?"

He didn't and instead he moved down the hall beyond the view
of the waiting area and leaned himself against the wall. He
didn't invite me but I decided to move with him anyway. At
this point, all I could do was to be there for him in case
he tried to pry himself free from his shell. I motioned for
Tommy to come join us and the three of us took positions
along the wall.

My eye picked up a familiar swagger moving down the hall and
the sight sent my spirit soaring outward leaving a trail of
goose-bumps down my arms. I had never been so glad to see my
father. We needed him. Even a snowstorm hadn't chased him
from work early and for once I was glad since his office was
within easy reach of the hospital. I gave him a restrained
smile and a subtle nod to my left where Chris was standing.

Tommy was the first in line and dad gave him a kind smile
and a soft hand brushing across his arm as he passed. For
me, there was a knowing look of pride and love that I had
seen more often in recent weeks. Chris was too deep in
distraction to have seen him coming, but when dad squared
himself and placed a hand of top of each of Chris's
shoulders, I saw his face start to quiver and heard the
words "I tried" leak out of his lips. He had tried, but I
feared he would never live down the guilt of not succeeding
in getting his mom some help. The opposition had been too
strong and he never really had a chance.

"It's going to be OK, son." With my dad's reassurance, Chris
finally broke just enough to lean into him and rest his
forehead on dad's shoulder. I could see him shaking but he
was trying to avoid a complete collapse. My dad's soft words
"I know, son. I know" were whispered just loud enough to
hear.

Beyond understanding and reassurance, there was nothing more
that could be offered. The damage had been done and now the
consequences were left to be struggled with. This wasn't
going to end tonight; not for Peggy Briggs; not for a boy
named Michael who was just trying to get home from school;
and not for another boy who just simply wanted a real home
but couldn't seem to find one.

"Briggs family?" A relatively young doctor poked his head
inside the waiting area. Chris's dad was nowhere in sight
and I had the feeling that Andy Johnson was giving him a
long overdue piece of his mind. Chris still had his head
buried in my dad's shoulder. Not knowing what else to do, I
gingerly raised my hand the next time I heard the call
"Briggs family?"

The doctor offered a warm smile and made his way toward us
as he looked down at his charts. He looked up at my dad and
asked "you are Robert Briggs?" Merely the ridiculous thought
of it sent cold chills down my spine.

"No, no. I'm not sure where Mr. Briggs went. This is his son
Chris." Hearing my dad speak, Chris lifted his head to look
at the doctor.

"Chris, your mother is resting well right now. If you'd
like, we can get you in to see her for just a moment, but
she is under sedation and won't be able to respond to you.
OK? Listen, she has a lot of swelling around her head.
That's normal with her type of injury but you just need to
be prepared for that, OK?" The doctor spoke in the slow
exaggerated way that some doctors do, but the basic message
was `don't be shocked by what you see'.

Chris nodded his understanding. I'm sure he didn't want to
see her this way, but he likely felt bad about refusing any
opportunity to be by her side, even if she wouldn't know he
was there. The doctor told us where to wait and said a nurse
would be out in a few minutes to take him back. As we
waited, I grew more edgy.

The prospect of Coach Brigg's return had me nervous, even in
a hospital of all places. Our dads had never met but I
guessed it would be inevitable. Still, I didn't welcome it
at all.

Finally, the doors released and a kindly nurse emerged and
called Chris by name, motioning for him to step through. He
hesitated, drawing a sympathetic look from the nurse. Then
his head tilted slightly toward me and I felt his left hand
latch onto my wrist. He then proceeded through the doors
with me in tow right beside him. I don't think he realized
just how hard he was gripping me, but I ignored the building
pain and kept a quiet stride with him. The nurse informed us
that we would need to keep back six feet from the bed and
that we could only stay a few minutes. Chris almost ran into
the back of her when she stopped as he had failed to
recognize the woman lying in the bed in front of us.

There lay the swollen form of his mother, unconscious with a
large tube down her throat, and a frightening array of
monitoring equipment hanging over her head. His hand
loosened its grip around my wrist just enough for me to
slide my arm up and take his hand in mine. I watched his
eyes as they moved over her and I saw his lips mouthing out
a silent and involuntary "I'm sorry" in her direction as
tears sprang from deep within him and escaped down his face.
I applied a light squeeze to his hand and he squeezed back
much harder. I was helpless to do any more for him and I
choked back as many of my own tears as possible; not wanting
to cause a distraction during his short time with her.

It seemed like we were there an eternity, but the nurse was
leading us back outside the unit just a few minutes later.
As we neared the door, our hands separated and we were met
on the other side by the images of our dads standing on
opposite sides of the hall. Finally, they had met and I was
relieved that it was over and that I had no memory of their
first encounter.

I refused any attempt at eye contact with Coach Briggs. He
picked up stride alongside Chris and the two of them
separated from my dad and me as we walked down the hall,
partially because my dad was pulling at my arm and holding
me back. I gave him a questioning look and he responded by
stopping altogether.

"Matt, Chris's dad made it pretty clear to me that we've got
no business being here."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Surely, my dad wasn't
going to be bullied around like this. He could see the
familiar look of indignation in my eyes and quickly added
"Just give them a little space, son. We're not going
anywhere, but let's not aggravate the situation by crowding
them either." My old man wasn't a softie after all; he was
just much wiser than me.

Up ahead, the crowding issue was starting to resolve itself.
Chris and his dad were locked eye-to-eye in an argument that
was getting loud. I clearly heard Chris say "We can't just
leave her up here alone!"

His dad fired back. "There is nothing we can do for her! The
doctors have already said she is sedated and she probably
won't be conscious for another day or two. It makes no sense
just to sit around here and wait!" Coach Briggs wasn't the
sentimental supportive type. I don't know if he even still
loved his wife; it was hard to make the case that he loved
anyone. It was harder still to make the case that anyone
even liked him.

"I'm not leaving!" Chris on the other hand was the
sentimental supportive type. He had been nearly catatonic
when we came in the hospital, but he was willing to rise up
and fight before he'd let his mother be left here alone.

"Then your ass can just stay here! You seem to get around
pretty good for a little shit that doesn't even have a car!
I'm going home." With that, his dad turned and marched out.
The dull retreating thud of his boots hitting the polished
floor was music to my ears.

Once again, Chris was left standing alone and rattled by yet
another tirade. Once his dad was safely out of sight, Chris
muttered "what a fucking asshole!" As he spun around in his
tracks, he saw us approaching. He winced at the realization
that my dad was watching this play out.

"Come on son (his other son). Let's go down to the cafeteria
and grab a sandwich if you think you can eat something. I
imagine there are some recliners in this building somewhere.
We'll find us a few later and get as much rest tonight as we
can." Chris watched my dad speak as if he couldn't
understand what he was saying. He was bewildered by it
really. Or more likely, he was simply bewildered by the
comparison.

We ran into Tommy and his dad back near the waiting area. My
dad thanked Andy for his courtesy and told him that we were
staying the night and wouldn't need a ride back home in his
SUV. I saw the look on Tommy's face and I knew he was unsure
if he should stay or go.

"Tommy, go on home and get some rest. There's nothing you
can do. There's really nothing I can do either, but I just
want to be here for Chris. Really, go home. It was great of
you to have your dad bring us up here. There's no way we
could have gotten here without your help. You've been so
great."

Tommy deserved so much better. He had been maturing right in
front of me over the past few weeks. Looking back, I
couldn't believe I had underestimated him so. I really
hadn't been completely truthful to old Olivia when I told
her Chris was my best friend in the world. Chris took a
unique place in my world that didn't fit any conventional
category, but Tommy was my best friend and secretly I wanted
him to stay. Until Chris pulled me in to see his mother with
him, I wasn't even sure I was any value here to him at all.
Tommy probably felt the same way about me.

"Ok then, if you're sure Mattie." He still wasn't sure but
he reluctantly turned and walked down the hall and out of
sight with his dad.

I felt a little less sure of myself when he vanished. This
day had been both the one I didn't want to remember and the
one I didn't ever want to forget all wrapped into one. It
had definitely been too much and I was ready for it to end.

Chris asked if he could borrow change to make a phone call.
It struck me as very odd because I couldn't imagine who he
would be calling. I didn't have any change but my dad pulled
out his calling-card and handed it to Chris. I lingered
behind as he sought out a payphone. I figured if it were any
of my business, he would let me know.

He was on the phone for at least fifteen minutes and my
curiosity was fully peaked. I was starting to discover that
I had a jealous bone or two in my body and it wasn't
something I was happy to find out about myself. I had been
alone for so long and now that I finally had someone, I
feared that I might cling too tightly and smother him. It
was hard for me, because I really did want to cling to him
and know every single detail about every single thing. I
didn't want to control him but I did want to be fully
involved. There was a fine line in there somewhere. I had
always heard older people talk about how you had to `manage
relationships' but it seemed like the challenge was just in
managing me.

When Chris came back to us he had obviously been crying
again. He handed the calling-card back to my dad and told
him he would definitely pay him back for the long-distance
call. Sometimes, a jealous instinct can blind us from the
things that would otherwise be so clear.

"I called my sister to let her know about mom. Melanie is
going to get here as soon as she can, but the weather will
probably slow her down. She lives in Virginia." His delivery
was very flat and the courtesy of his explanation seemed to
have exhausted him.

I recalled the photo of her I had seen on my first trip to
his house. His only direct mention of her had been after my
first embarrassing remarks about his father being a hard-
ass. Not knowing yet that Coach Briggs was his dad, I had
asked if everyone in town was named Briggs. I'll never
forget his reply: "Nope, Matt. Actually since my sister
moved away, there are just three of us. Just me, mom and
DAD." I could have died from embarrassment then, but now it
didn't seem so embarrassing.

We had never discussed Melanie again. She had been so non-
existent; it had never seemed odd to me that we didn't talk
about her. Now, it suddenly seemed very odd. Why did she
move away? A better question was why wouldn't she move away?
Who, in their right mind, would have stayed if they had a
choice?

My dad gave me a good squeeze. I had wanted his earlier
focus to be on Chris; because Chris needed it so much more.
Still, it was good to feel his hug. I needed it too. Just as
we continued toward the hospital cafeteria, I got one more
thing that I needed. I saw Tommy get off the elevator and I
gave him a big smile. He had made it all the way to the
parking lot, but he never felt right about leaving and
decided to come back. I was so relieved to see him again and
I felt stronger just knowing he was there. Once again, he
had come through for me.

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Author's Note / January 18th, 2003:

The remaining installment will be posted on February 1st and
that will conclude the current storyline, but I have decided
to continue the story. It will be a seamless continuation
and not a sequel. I'll still need a few weeks off to work on
re-writing Part 1 along with a few corrections in the other
parts before finally reposting them all in HTML format. It
just became clear to me that I would be short-changing the
characters and the story if I ended it too soon. After Part
14, my future posts will likely be once per month, maybe
more often on occasion. I simply can't maintain my previous
pace and develop new ideas. It takes me almost 20 hours per
week to develop, write and edit a chapter. I do have a day-
job and would like to have a night-life at some point, so I
just have to find better balance with it all. I'll ask for
your understanding and hope you'll continue to support the
story with your emails. I need the extra fuel for motivation
more than ever before.

Again, I want to stop and say a heart-felt thank you to
every single one of you who have responded to this story. I
can never adequately express the amount of appreciation I
have for you all. Through your encouragement and
reassurances, this story has truly become `ours'. I no
longer feel that it's honest to simply call it my own. I
haven't accepted any plot suggestions, but there is no doubt
that the motivation supplied by your response has elevated
this story above the limits of my natural writing abilities.

I can also no longer honestly say that this story represents
the only true documented expression of how I really feel
about myself and the world around me. My inbox is a constant
source of education for me and my replies to you have
allowed me to realize things about myself that had
previously escaped my observation. Again, please accept a
sincere thank you!

I still truly enjoy corresponding with you and hope that you
continue to communicate your response to me. I do promptly
reply to all emails and welcome the chance to make new
friends.

Please keep the responses coming, positive or otherwise:
ehman_penn@yahoo.com

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