Date: Sat, 1 Feb 2003 21:24:22 -0800 (PST)
From: Ehman Penn <ehman_penn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Matthew Figures It Out - Part 14

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.

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

NOTE: My apologies, but this is NOT the concluding part to
the current storyline. Part 15 WILL conclude the current
storyline and it will be submitted to Nifty on Sunday,
February 2nd.  Honestly, I didn't anticipate the requirement
of an additional part; things just developed that way as is
usually the case.


Matthew Figures It Out - Part 14


We all made our way down toward the hospital cafeteria.
Hospitals are so oddly intimate; the open door to a room
reveals a suffering face that we would normally never see.
Some were here to be healed and some had come here to die
and just didn't know it yet. Out of deep recess of my
subconscious, the image of Jay Henson bursting into the
vet's office that night popped into my mind. For most,
seeing the balance of existence delicately tilt between life
and death would bring them closer together. Not for the
Briggs family; even here, there was no healing grace for the
injuries that separated them.

Chris was starting to look like just a shadow of his former
self. All emotion had been drained from his face and his
trademark charismatic energy was long gone. Earlier in the
afternoon, I held him in my arms and brought him to a
physical and emotional release that we had both longed for.
It didn't seem possible that the same boy staggered ahead of
me as we drifted down the hallways. I felt a warm stare and
turned my head to see a familiar look of concern on Tommy's
face. The three of us had been locked in some twisted
emotional trinity for too long now. We needed a sign of hope
but there was none to be found.

My dad encouraged Chris to try and eat something. "You've
got to try and keep your strength up, son. We've got to stay
in this for the long-haul, ok?"

Chris weakly nodded and forced down another bite of his
sandwich. He looked nauseas and rose quickly, walking off
toward the restrooms. I watched him walk away and started to
follow him when my dad spoke up again.

"Matthew, just wait...Give him a little bit of space. He
probably needs that right now even more than he needs your
support. He'll be ok..." My dad's face showed a look of
remembrance that convinced me of his wisdom. Being patient
is hard when it requires you to watch someone you love
suffer, knowing there is just simply nothing you can do to
stop it. I thought I had felt helpless before, but now I
knew what it really felt like and I never wanted to feel
this way again.

Chris was gone for quite a while and my patience was growing
thin. Finally, he re-emerged but he walked along the outside
edge of the cafeteria wall avoiding us as he made his exit.
Just as he made his way out, I noticed his eyes widen and he
made an awkward and sudden change in direction that took him
toward the exit in the main lobby. This movement startled me
into motion and I followed him. As I too exited the
cafeteria, I caught the figure of Olivia coming down the
hall and I could only assume that Chris couldn't bear to
meet her face-to-face. I gave her a nod that I'm not sure
she even saw and then I continued after Chris.

He was leaning against one of the columns supporting the
elaborate canopy that shielded the main entrance from the
weather overhead. The snow had stopped falling and a bright
moon was trying to break free through the thinning clouds.
It was so quiet, you could actually hear a few loose snow
flakes skirting across the top of the ground driven by a
steady cold wind. Under any other circumstances, this would
have been a beautiful night. I didn't know what to say so I
decided to say nothing at all. I took a position opposite
from him and gave him plenty of space. It seemed so
inadequate to his needs. To make it worse, I could seem him
shivering and I so wanted to wrap my arms around him.

My mind raced trying to think of something useful to say. I
played out the questions silently in my head; "Are you OK?"
That wouldn't do, of course he wasn't OK; "I'm sorry." That
just seemed so pathetically unhelpful, bordering on selfish;
"Everything will be all right." I didn't even believe that
one myself.  Still, the silence was too unbearable and I had
to say something.

"Chris, I don't know what to say or what to do...I wish I
did, but I don't... I just know that I love you."

My words were lost, or stolen, along with the unrealized
beauty of this snowy night and along with the warm energetic
boy I loved so much. He had drifted off farther than I had
thought. As the word `love' escaped my lips, his head
started shaking from side to side. His eyes never moved,
staying locked straight ahead off in the distance.

"Don't love me." He could only say it once but his head
continued to shake as if to silently repeat himself over and
over.

His words may have been meant as a warning to protect me. In
his mind, this might have been the equivalent of throwing
himself in front of a stray bullet to save me. The immediate
effect was a paralyzing one on my brain and on my heart. He
may as well have told me not to breathe, for as long as
there was life in my body, I would love him involuntarily
and unconditionally just as I would continue to breathe; one
act was no more voluntary than the other.

He turned and walked back inside but I didn't follow him
this time. His words were still ricocheting off the insides
of my head and they stayed there most of the next two days
having not been replaced by any new ones since Chris had
stopped talking altogether. There was no eye contact either,
just a cold empty shell that resembled the real Chris less
and less with each hour that passed by. His mother's
condition improved enough for her to move into a normal
hospital room; a fact I learned by checking on her at the
main desk. However, Chris continued to deteriorate with no
improvement in sight.

I needed him. It was a fact that was never in doubt. On the
day I first realized to myself that I truly loved him, he
had told me "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Why would he do this to me? Why would he do this to himself?
He did need me and I could help him, but he had cut me off
completely. Was he trying to drive me away? Was this his
plan to `save' me? Long ago, I had decided not to give up on
him. I would wait him out no matter how long it took. Sooner
or later, he would come back to me. I just knew it, or at
least I had to believe it.

I hadn't slept for two days, except for an occasional
tortured nap. In the best of circumstances, you can't really
sleep in a hospital and these were far from the best of
circumstances. Each round of impending sleep was met by a
new wave of delirium as my mind and heart could not find
peace with each other. I hadn't changed clothes or showered
since arriving and my mom and dad had finally had enough.

The roads had cleared and my dad was coming by after work to
pick me up and take me home. I had protested, but I no
longer had the will or energy to win. I did get assurances
from my dad that I could come back after a night's rest in
my own bed. Tommy had spent the first night but his dad had
picked him up the next morning. Coach Briggs had come and
gone several times, still refusing to spend a night here.
The last night was really hard since it was just me and
Chris and he still wasn't talking. Where ever his spirit
was, I didn't know how to reach it. Instead, I just kept his
frame company in the hopes that the spirit might return. I
had regretted my insistence that mom and dad stay at home
and I wished that one of them had been here with me. Doing
this alone was too hard.

Now, it was late in the afternoon of the third day and I had
spent the better part of eight hours virtually alone.
Doctors, nurses, cleaning people and such all made their way
around me. I saw the now familiar face of Olivia a time or
two and I stopped her to ask how Michael was doing.

"He's doing a little better each day, but we've got a long
road ahead." Her courage wasn't quite as strong today, but
was still there in abundance.

"He'll be OK. I just know he will." My words brought the
same ragged smile to her face that hers had brought to mine
a few days earlier.

"Why thank you Matthew. He is a strong young man. You know
he's a basketball player too, like your friend. My husband
James pointed out to me that he had seen your friend in the
paper recently; something about a last second shot to win a
game. How is he doing?" I couldn't help but notice that she
had twice now avoided asking about Chris's mother. All
things considered, I didn't blame her.

I didn't answer right away about Chris. Better memories had
flooded my head and I could see the look on his face as he
pulled me up out of the stands after I had made my wild pass
that setup his heroics. Olivia probably didn't know about
that part of the story, just as she couldn't know other
parts as well.

"Matthew?" She was giving me a very curious look of concern.

"I'm sorry. I'm just so tired." I had to look away from her.
Even though she was really still a stranger to me, I found
it very hard to lie to her. "He's doing the best he can.
He'll be OK."

"Well, you take care of yourself too." With those words, she
broke company with me and I wandered down to the front lobby
to wait for my dad.


As I waited there in the main lobby, a young woman caught my
eye. She looked familiar, but I knew I had never seen her in
person. We briefly made eye contact and it was the eyes that
gave her away for sure. Chris's sister had finally arrived,
though she had no idea who I was. Maybe she could provide
him the strength that he refused to accept from me. It
seemed to be the most I could hope for right now.

I saw my dad come in and I caught him before he made it to
the elevator. He looked surprised to see me in the lobby.

"Let's go dad. Melanie just got here and they probably need
some time alone."

"All right, Matt. Let's get you home. I know your mom is
anxious to see you." Dad could see right through this by
now. I knew Chris was going through hell and I knew I had
done everything I could to help him. Without Chris's
acknowledgement or support, it was just too hard to be
there. To be totally honest, I wanted to be home again and,
even more than that, I wanted to see my mom. I wasn't giving
up, but I had to have a break.

As we made the drive home, dad turned his full attention to
me. I could see the concern in his face, but this time it
wasn't for Chris. "He's probably very confused right now,
Matt. He's had to deal with the possibility of losing his
mother, even though she should recover. Everything has been
turned upside down on him. I'm sure he feels like he let her
down somehow; like he should have saved her from this. He's
just carrying too much weight on his shoulders."

I had to remind myself of my own realizations during the
ride up to the hospital three days earlier. I couldn't even
imagine seeing my mom lying there like that. Chris had the
added trauma of somehow feeling responsible for it.
Strangely, reminding myself of this made me feel better and
worse at the same time. It reminded me that this wasn't
about anything I had done wrong, which made me feel better
in some selfish way. It also reminded me what this really
was about, which quickly made me feel worse because I still
had no idea how to help Chris.

"I don't know what to do to help him, dad. I don't think he
even wants me around. He's pushing me away."

"He probably just doesn't know how to accept your help right
now. Even though he might not show it, I'm sure he
appreciates that you're there for him. Whatever else is
going through his mind, most of all, he's very scared. Just
don't expect too much from him."

"Thanks, dad." He didn't realize just how deep my thanks
went. There are pivotal times when our fragile emotions can
be manipulated so easily and used against us. In his pure
expression of understanding and sympathy for Chris, my dad
had helped right me emotionally. He could have just as
easily used the opportunity to infect the moment with
bitterness toward Chris. His honesty was as true an
expression of love for me as he could ever make and I was
thankful for it, not that I ever expected anything less from
him.

Our house looked very different with so much snow around it
and the lawn was still completely covered. For a brief
moment, I wished that the snow would permanently stunt the
grass so I would never have to mow it again, but the
amusement of that thought quickly left me.

I was surprised and more than a little disappointed that mom
didn't greet me at the door. She had been upstairs and
hadn't made it down in time but she made a bee-line straight
for me and I only got two steps inside before she wrapped me
up.

"I probably smell terrible." I barely finished the sentence
before my eyes started to well up with tears. Mom squeezed
me a little harder and I heard her sigh. There was only one
other pair of arms I would rather have been in, but the
longer she held me, the less I was sure about even that.

"And I look like a rat." I did. It was true and I didn't
like it one bit. I could feel a layer of grungy crust on me
that I couldn't get washed off fast enough.

The warm water of the shower almost put me to sleep standing
up, but the dull thud in the back of my head helped keep me
awake. It may have been partially from a lack of rest, but
the pain seemed to be rooted deeper than that. Through all
of the problems and dramatics, I had spent the last few
weeks always lifted by reassuring thoughts of Chris. There
had been plenty of challenges but I felt like we were in
them together. For the first time in a long time, I felt
separated now; separated not just from Chris, but from a
part of myself.

The snow had sent us home early from school on Tuesday and
cancelled Wednesday and Thursday outright. Classes were back
on normal schedule tomorrow but I wasn't going. I wasn't
ready to go back. If I could just survive next week, then we
had two weeks off for Christmas break. Maybe everyone would
lose interest in us by the time break was over, but I
doubted it. Then there was basketball; how would the team
react now that the rumors had made their way all throughout
the school. Right now, I didn't even know if Chris would
play again. I didn't want to let Coach Hill down, but I had
no interest in playing if Chris wasn't there. Suddenly, so
many things were uncertain. The dull thud in the back of my
head was getting stronger and all thoughts led back to
Chris.

I decided that I should call Tommy and let him know I
wouldn't be at school. I didn't want him to worry and I also
wanted an excuse to talk to him. Betty Johnson answered the
phone and we exchanged greetings before she handed me off to
Tommy.

"Hey, Matt. How's everybody doing?" I felt better already
just hearing his voice, but I missed being called Mattie.
Maybe the serious circumstances called for something more
formal or maybe Tommy was growing out of his Mattie phase. I
hoped I hadn't heard it for the last time.

"Hey, Tommy. Chris's mom is doing better. They moved her out
of critical care and into a room. His sister finally got
here this afternoon."

"How's Chris doing? He seemed to be taking things really
hard."

"He is taking it very hard. It seems like everybody is
getting better but him. He's just crawled up inside of
himself somewhere..he hasn't said a word to me in two
days..."

Tommy was silent for a moment. I didn't want to make him
have to listen to me go on and on about this. It was bad
enough that I had to deal with it, but it wasn't fair to ask
him to as well.

"Listen Tommy, I'm not going to be at school tomorrow. I'm
so exhausted and I'm just not ready yet, you know? I feel
bad about you going alone. I feel like Chris and I have let
you down and I want you to be careful. If anybody gives you
any trouble..well, they'll have to deal with all of us." I
didn't need any more uncertainty, but I had just found it in
my fear for Tommy. I didn't really think anybody would hurt
him, but he had put himself in harm's way for us and now we
weren't going to be there for him.

I continued. "I just wanted you to know how much I
appreciate you. I haven't said it nearly enough, but I've
always felt it. You're my best friend and I'd be lost
without you. I hope you know that."  He couldn't see the
tears running down my cheeks, but my mom could. I looked up
to see her standing patiently in the hall outside my room.
She had come up to tell me that dinner was ready. I didn't
motion her away or close the door and I didn't try and hide
what I was feeling. This was all part of me and I wanted her
to understand.

Tommy was still quiet for another moment before he replied.
"I do know, Matt. Thanks for saying it. You know I'd do
anything for you, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I think you've already proven that. I want us
to spend some time together soon, just me and you. Maybe
after everything calms down a little bit, OK?"

"OK, and don't worry about me. I might not be very big, but
I'm wiry."

I burst out the sort of raw and uncontrollable deep laugh
that can only be produced under circumstances of extreme
exhaustion and anxiety. I laughed so hard that my earlier
tears of sadness were overrun by new tears of relief. My
body was definitely happy to have the moment of diversion
from all of the pain and stress it was suffering.

"You are wiry, but your dad was right, you should weigh 300
pounds! You eat more than Sky and Stryker combined!" The
family horses had nothing on Tommy in the appetite
department. The change in subjects had brought comfort, but
not for long.

"I'm going back up to the hospital tomorrow. I'll call you
tomorrow night. Be careful Tommy, really." Our short
conversation was over and so was my short respite from
stress.

Mom was still standing there with a supportive smile. "After
dinner, you're going right to bed and get some rest." She
threw an arm around me and we walked downstairs together.

Our dinner was quiet and what little energy I had left was
fading fast. I knew mom and dad had questions but they could
see I was beyond the ability to answer them. I labored my
way back up the stairs and collapsed face down on my bed. I
wasn't alone the last time I stretched out there, and my
eyes closed with the thoughts of more pleasant memories.

Later, dark formless images worked into my mind and
interrupted my sleep on several occasions before finally
relenting and allowing my body some measure of recovery.
When my eyes opened again, it was very bright out and I
instantly fretted with the assumption that I had no way of
getting back to the hospital to check on Chris. I had meant
to get up and ride into town with my dad on his way to work
but I was definitely too late for that. I was relieved to
hear movement downstairs that could only mean my mom had
stayed home today. I rumbled downstairs and found her in the
kitchen.

"You look a little more like yourself today. I was pretty
worried about you last night."

She had reason to be worried about me but today was a new
day and maybe this would be the day that Chris's emotional
fever would break. My concern for him never rested and it
didn't take my groggy head very long to realize just how
much I missed him.

"So you played hooky today too?" I gave her a tired grin as
I asked it.

"Well, my boys aren't feeling very well. Somebody's got to
take care of them." I knew she felt bad about not being
there the first night. I knew I felt bad about her not being
there the second night, though it was my fault for talking
her into staying home. It might have been the wrong instinct
to keep her away, but I wasn't sure it was best for Chris to
see mom right now. She cared greatly about him and he
responded well to her, but it just might be too awkward and
I didn't want to prod him emotionally anymore than he
already had been. I think Chris really did wish that his mom
was more like mine; I knew he had to wish his dad was more
like mine. Regardless, he didn't need any more guilt related
to his own mom.

"Mom, maybe you could just drop me off at the hospital. I
can ride home with dad again this afternoon. Chris is
feeling so much guilt about his mom.." My face tried to
express what my words were failing to explain.

"I understand." She gave me the obligatory smile of someone
who had to accept second place. "Tell him I'm thinking about
him."

"I will." This felt really awkward, but I still thought it
was best.

We arrived at the hospital around eleven in the morning. I
gave my mom an extra-long smile as she pulled away and I
felt regret the moment she was out of sight. After making a
quick sweep of the cafeteria to make sure Chris wasn't
there, I took the normal path to the elevators and across to
the small waiting area on the seventh floor where Peggy had
been relocated the day before. The waiting room was equipped
with one recliner, two small chairs and a tiny TV, but it
held a strategic position between Peggy's room and the main
elevator. I waited patiently hoping to eventually spot Chris
coming or going.

Around noon, Chris and Melanie walked right past the waiting
room on their way to the elevators. Indecision overtook me
and I decided not to approach the two of them. I was
starting to feel very out of place and it was making me
uncomfortable. Maybe I had no right to feel this way, but I
couldn't help or change the way I felt. Everywhere, there
seemed to be obstacles that stood between us. Just a couple
minutes later, Melanie came back down the hall alone. Again,
we made eye contact and she even flashed me a reserved
smile. I would have sworn that she thought she knew me.

I didn't waste any time getting downstairs, pausing only
briefly in the hallway to nod to one of the cleaning ladies
who always grinned at me. I was definitely getting way too
familiar with this hospital. A quick sprint to the cafeteria
found Chris with his back to me in the far corner. He wasn't
eating and his body language spoke "approach with caution."
He was sitting down and slumped forward, with his elbows on
his knees and face propped on his hands. I felt myself
hesitate, which only furthered my discomfort. I knew he
wasn't mad at me but there was something uneasy between us.
I needed for that feeling to pass.

Quietly, I took a seat across the table from him. His eyes
met mine for the first time in more than two days and I saw
his face brighten. Then, almost as if he caught himself, his
face resumed its dark tones and posture. He wasn't
responding to me naturally and I feared what it all meant.

"Hey." I started small, mainly because I was too uneasy to
try and say anything significant.

"Hey." His response was the minimum and was delivered
without the reassurance of eye contact.

One word had been volleyed between us and I already needed a
break to regroup. Where was he? Combined with the earlier
response of "Don't love me," I knew he was much further away
than the width of the narrow table separating us. I decided
to try being quiet for a few minutes in hopes that he would
start the next exchange. He didn't and the uneasy feelings
had moved into the territory of outright tension. My
puzzlement was bordering on resentment but I was trying to
follow my dad's words about not expecting too much from him
right now. Again, the silence was too unbearable for me.

"How's your mom doing?" I did care and it seemed rude not to
ask.

"Her swelling is down and she is conscious. They think
she'll be OK to go home in another week." He didn't sound
excited about it.

"That's great news." It should have been.

"No, it isn't. She wasn't legally drunk when the accident
happened."

"I don't understand." I still didn't understand why it
wasn't good news that she was going home and I also didn't
understand what `legally drunk' meant.

"She had alcohol in her system, but it wasn't enough to
charge her with drinking and driving. With the icy roads,
this will just be written up as a weather-related accident."

It snapped together in my head. Chris didn't want her to
come home; he wanted her to get help. Without the edict of a
DUI, she could continue to deny the true seriousness of her
problems. I felt the sinister influence of his father
involved here as well, pushing to get her home as soon as
possible. The Briggs house held too many secrets; one of its
captives being gone for too long must have been terribly
distressing for Coach Briggs.

He still hadn't looked at me again. There was more lurking
underneath the surface than he was letting on. His face,
body, voice-tone and everything else about him screamed of
defeat. He had given up. I just didn't realize yet how
complete his surrender was.

I saw movement in his face. His eyes had narrowed and he
looked to be in real physical pain.

"You've got to let me go, Matt." I wasn't prepared to
understand the true meaning of what he said.

"Yeah, you probably want to get back to Melanie and your
mom. I'm just going to hang around and if you need me for
anything, I'll be here." My words brought a wince to his
face and a quiver to his lips.

"No.." He was struggling to continue.  "You've got to let me
go..before you get hurt..."

"What?" My ears were rejecting him and protecting me. I
refused to understand him.

"I'm dragging you into a hole.a hole you'll never get back
out of. You've got to leave now before it's too late. You
deserve so much better." His face was distraught and he
still wouldn't look at me.

"You don't know what you're saying! You're under so much
stress right now and I know you haven't been
sleeping..There's too much courage in you Chris. You're the
bravest person I know! Don't give up!" I was speaking in a
panic, desperate to find the right combination of words.

"You think I'm brave?" His eyes cut across mine just
briefly. "You want to know why all of my bruises are on my
back?....It's because I'm all curled up in some corner! I'm
too much of a coward to face him, so I lay there and take it
and just wait for it to end.."

I was speechless. The imagery of it made me so angry at his
father that I couldn't find my voice.

"I'm weak like my mom and who knows how much of my dad is
inside me, just waiting to lash out again. Matt, if I ever
hurt you...." His eyes were filled with fear.

"You're not your parents, Chris! You'd never hurt me! I just
don't believe it." I didn't believe he could hurt me but I
couldn't seem to convince him. The mystery of his own past
was rising up and filling him with self-doubt.

"Jay didn't believe I could hurt him either. The doctors
said I snapped..." He was shaking his head violently.
"Nothing makes any sense to me. I really do think I'm crazy.
Just go home Matt. Please just go home!"

He was in so much pain. I had an overwhelming need to just
take him in my arms; I had to reach him and give him
strength. I spoke to him in a softer voice, trying to find a
tone that would calm him.

"Chris, please. I do love you. Don't tell me not to, because
I won't listen. Things will get better. Don't give up. I'm
not going away, you won't drive me away. I need you, Chris."

"No. I can't! I just can't! I can't let you, Matt.." His
voice started in a mumble but was quickly rising in
intensity. I moved around the table and reached out to him.

"NO!" He swung out knocking my arm away and throwing me off
balance enough that I fell against the wall. It wasn't much
of a jolt physically to me, but emotionally it couldn't have
done more damage to him. The fear and confusion in his eyes
turned to horror and disbelief. His hands raised and he
banged his clenched fists against his forehead. Memories he
couldn't recall about the incident with Jay were now being
substituted with the very fresh and real memories of me
being knocked away.

In my mind, he was wounded and cornered and I had reached
out to him too soon. He didn't lunge at me in aggression,
but rather in confusion and fear. In his mind, this only
confirmed his reasons for pushing me away and renewed his
fears that he could hurt me. My words and actions had failed
him miserably and completely.

"I'm OK." I tried to feign a smile as I straightened myself
up but even that came out wrong.

He spun around and faced the opposite direction, no longer
able to look at what he had done. The ruckus had already
attracted plenty of attention in the cafeteria and I feared
the appearance of security any second.

"I'm sorry, Matt. Please go home." His voice was muted with
anguish and he slowly walked away not looking back. He was
devastated and I could find nothing to pull him back. I
seemed completely out of sync with him and my own feelings
of devastation were taking me over.

I called out to him but he kept walking. The hand he had
knocked away was my best attempt to grab him and save him
from his own fall; watching him stride away from me felt
like watching him tumble downward, disappearing into some
murky abyss. My body went numb and I feared that I would
never get him back again. At that moment, I hated his mother
and father for their twisted conspiracy of dysfunction that
had robbed Chris of the will to fight and the hope required
for love. I hated fate for having been so cruel as to place
him with such a vile excuse for a family, and I hated fate
for bringing him and Jay Henson together. My mind reminded
my tormented heart that fate had also brought Chris and me
together. The warrior within me had been beaten today. Could
he rise up to fight again another day?

Sure enough, security showed up and an old guard was pointed
back to where I now sat collapsed in my chair. I assured him
that there was nothing to be concerned about and that we had
been "goofing around" when I lost my balance and stumbled as
I was prone to do. He let me know that "horse-play" and
disturbances in general were not allowed and I doubly
assured him that it would not happen again. After he finally
left, I sat idly for a considerable amount of time. I had
nowhere else to go and I wasn't sure I could make my shaky
legs carry me to the cafeteria exit.

Eventually, I drifted out to the main lobby and took the
same seat I had occupied the afternoon before. It was almost
three o'clock and I decided to wait for my dad rather than
call my mom. If I called her, I'd have to explain the whole
story. I'd probably have to explain it sooner or later
anyway but, right now, later suited me better than sooner.
The full shock of my exchange with Chris was starting to
settle in and I realized just how clueless I was about what
to do next. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wasn't
going to give up on him.

As I sat there, I thought back to the first time I had seen
the pain in his face, the first day he ever opened up to me.
That same look of pain had been there many times since and
it always seemed to trace back to that one mysterious day
that changed his life. Tommy had helped fill in some details
but he didn't know the full story. Chris had filled in more
details but he couldn't remember the full story, only the
bits and pieces that had come back to him. I used Chris's
own pieces of memory to build the puzzle in my head. I could
see the shack where Chris and Jay had met up for whatever it
was they were doing. These thoughts made me very
uncomfortable, but I had to figure this out. Why would Chris
attack Jay? Chris had already admitted that they were doing
stuff together but it sounded mutual. I couldn't see Chris
having a reaction and attacking Jay for being gay. I didn't
even know if Jay was gay. A couple of thirteen year-old boys
who were maybe jerking each other off wasn't necessarily a
`gay' thing in my book. What would have made Chris snap? If
he did this thing, there had to be a reason but no matter
which way I looked at it, I could find no reason. Chris had
described opening his eyes and seeing Jay lying unconscious
on the ground. How did Chris get unconscious? Tommy said
someone tipped Chris's dad off about the fight, but Chris
said there was never any plan to fight; that much, he could
remember. If there was no fight planned, then there couldn't
have been anyone to tip it off. Then how did Coach Briggs..

The guilty image of Coach Briggs in my head had taken real-
life form and was now crossing the floor of the lobby. He
caught me in the corner of his eye and cut me a nasty
menacing stare which he held until finally disappearing into
the elevator.

Who had the ability? Who had the motive? Who could have
covered it up? Chris also had a recollection of his dad
talking with a sheriff's deputy. But why would Jay have been
silent? What could he remember? His physical injuries had
been much worse than Chris's and it was very possible he had
no recollection of the events at all. I had to find out what
he knew. What if my suspicions turned out to be true? Chris
couldn't possibly be allowed to live in the same house with
a man who would commit such a violent crime. Would his mom
have known? His dad would have been the only person who
would have told her and I couldn't think of any reason why
he'd want her to know. This would have been a secret that
couldn't be trusted in too many hands. Somehow, I had to get
Jay Henson to talk about this. The path to saving the boy I
loved ran straight through the boy who disturbed me most and
ended at the feet of the man I most feared.

I replayed the events over and over in my mind, trying to
recall any lost details that might provide further clues. I
closed my eyes to block out the distractions around me and I
envisioned the way I thought the day in question might have
really gone down. An unfamiliar voice broke my
concentration.

"Matthew?" Melanie was standing in front of me and I found
myself so startled by her presence that I failed to answer
her. "You are Matthew, aren't you?"

"Yes." Her beautiful eyes were such a contrast to the darker
visions that had filled my head just moments before.

"I'm Chris's sister..."

"You're Melanie. I know." I didn't mean to interrupt; the
words just blurted themselves out. I smiled as best as I
could in an effort to be polite but my face was tired and
uncooperative, having been worn out by the emotions of the
week.

"Chris has mentioned you in his letters to me." Her warm
smile reflected appreciation for whatever he had chosen to
say about me. I thought to myself "letters?" I guess it was
cheaper than calling or maybe there were other reasons.

"I'm glad he has found such a good friend he can depend on."
Her eyes trailed down to the floor. She looked guilty, but I
had no idea of what. Why was she reaching out to me?

"I'm glad you're here. Maybe you can help him. I've just
never seen him like this..How long are you here for?" My
question deepened the guilt on her face.

"I'm leaving now. I was on my way out when I spotted you,
again." She didn't lift her eyes from the floor. How could
she leave now? She had only been here two days. Her mom
still had a long ways to go and what about Chris?

"You're leaving?" This wasn't welcome news at all and I was
willing to plead with her if it would make any difference.
"But..."

"I can't stay. There's just no way I can make it work. I
gave up on my parents a long time ago. I haven't been back
in so long. I hoped they had mellowed enough to change, but
they're still the same." She didn't admit it but she had
abandoned Chris in the process of giving up on her parents.

"How did they get so screwed up?" She might be leaving
again, but I could tell there was more she wanted to say.
There was definitely more that I wanted to hear. Melanie
paused, but not from any hesitation to answer the question;
she was reflecting and trying to articulate a summary from a
lifetime of history with her parents.

"They were just always the wrong people for each other. My
mother, on her best days, was just magical. Then, just as
quickly, she would fade. With the right combination of
alcohol and mood swings, she could give my father a good
match. I swear they just fed off of each other's turmoil.
They're both so stubborn. My mom grew up with abuse, so it
was normal to her. In some screwed-up way, I think it was
even comforting to her; it was what she was most familiar
with." Melanie fidgeted nervously with her hands, wringing
them together. "Dad is harder to explain. I've never
understood him and I don't think I ever will. Before he got
so bitter about life, he was actually quite the charmer. Mom
is seven years younger than him and she was beautiful when
they married." She didn't smile at this recollection and I
think I understood why.

"What made him so bitter?"

"Someone always had it better than my dad. He was always
ranting about this and that, just consumed with envy. If he
had invested that wasted energy into something productive,
maybe he could have had more. I don't think my dad is any
different than many men. He led a very ordinary life and
never accomplished anything of distinction. Some men pour
themselves into their families and try to create a better
future, but he was always so consumed with resentment."

Coach Briggs own words came back to mind "What a waste".

She had much more to say. "He's a smart man, much smarter
than he looks; graduated college believe it or not, went
there on a baseball scholarship. My dad's family was dirt
poor and he could never have afforded school if it hadn't
been for baseball. He got drafted into the Army and he
always resented it for stealing his chance at a baseball
career. He had a very tough job in the Army. Just like my
mother, I think it brought out the worst in him. When he got
kicked out of the Army, he knew he had to make a living,
meager as it might be. He used his education and baseball
experience to get a job here. I guess he was tolerable
enough then, to the people that didn't know him very well."
She knew him much better and I figured she never found him
very tolerable at all.

The floodgates had been opened and it was obvious that
Melanie had been waiting to talk about this for a long time.
"Most children fear that their parents will split up." She
shook her head. "Not me. I used to pray that one of them
would leave, either one, it really didn't matter. It would
take a team of psychologists to explain why they stayed
together. The only love in that house was a love for spite
and revenge."

This was explaining a lot but not brining me any comfort or
hope.

"Melanie, are you married?" I was building my way up to a
bigger question.

"Well, I was once." More head-shaking. "Let's just say I've
got a genetic defect when it comes to picking a spouse."

Now for my real question; one that I feared either answer
to. "Would it be possible for Chris to come and live with
you?" I didn't know how I would exist without him, but I'd
face it if it would save him. If I had to give him up to set
him free, then I would. I didn't even sense the tears as
they left my eyes, but I could feel the stray drops hitting
my arms.

"Chris wouldn't leave. He's not as jaded as I am; at least,
not yet. He hasn't given up on mom and I imagine there might
be other reasons he wouldn't go." She raised her eyes and
looked deeply into mine as she said the last part. "You
really do care about him, don't you?"

"Yeah.." It was my turn to look at the floor and I tried to
keep the contortions on my face to a minimum. I couldn't
protect him here nor could I find him safe passage away. It
all was just leading to a deeper understanding of how
hopeless this truly was.

"Matthew, there's something about Chris you probably don't
know. I want you to know because it's something I'm going to
tell him after mom gets back home and things settle down for
a while. I'm not sure how he's going to take it and I'm
going to trust you in hopes that you might be able to help
him when the time comes. He has a right to know."

She had my full attention. I saw her take a deep breath and
her mind was searching for the right place to begin.

"My mother could be a very spiteful woman. Like I said, my
dad was quite the charmer in his day." Still more head-
shaking; Melanie had all of the pieces to her past put
together and she didn't like what the puzzle revealed. "Mom
wasn't stupid either, she knew something was up and she must
have even known with whom. I was only eleven and we had gone
to town to do our weekly shopping. I'll never forget the
look on her face though; it's one of those scenes that burn
an image right into your brain. We turned a corner in the
store and there was this younger woman..Their eyes met and
the younger woman moved her hands down to her belly, like
there was some way to actually hide the truth that was on
display there. I could tell she was pregnant, but it took me
a few years more to figure out the whole story. My mom never
said a word about it. She just stormed out of the store,
practically dragging me along the ground by the arm."

"It was Jay's mom." As I said it, her eyes lit up with fear
and shock.

"Chris knows?" She assumed it was the only way I could have
known.

"No. Well, I don't think so. We've never talked about it."
My mind drifted away. He couldn't possibly know, or at least
he wouldn't have known at the time when Jay and him..I
returned my full focus to her. "I didn't know either, not
for sure. I had my suspicions based on a thing or two I've
heard. No one has ever told me about it outright. I don't
think anybody at school knows."

Tommy didn't know. If anyone else did, they knew better than
to spread it considering that Coach Briggs would likely
catch wind of it. No one seemed to like him, but no one
wanted to cross him either.

"Nobody ever said anything around me. I wish I had never put
it together because I've never forgiven her." She was
starting to lose me.

"Forgiven who?" Why would it matter if she forgave Jay's mom
or not.

"Not long afterward, my mom was pregnant too. I didn't
realize it at the time, but I just know she did it to spite
dad; or maybe she did it to try and guilt him into staying
around. I doubt that he would have left her anyway; they
took too much pleasure in each other's misery. The reason I
can't forgive my mom is because she brought another child
into that house. It was the cruelest thing anyone could
possibly do to a child. I'll never forgive her for doing
that to Chris...He was only six when I left home. As soon as
I was out of high school, I moved in with a friend and
worked my way through college. I always wanted to be a
doctor but community colleges don't have medical schools, so
I became a nurse instead." She took a moment to catch her
breath and gather her thoughts. She was starting to ramble a
bit, but I'm sure it was good for her to let it out. It
wasn't her intention, but she had managed to convince me
that there was absolutely no hope for Chris in that house.

She was ready to wrap things up. "I wanted you to know this
so that someone here can understand what really happened. I
hope it will help Chris understand better what happened
between him and Jay." Unknowingly, I gave her a confused
look when she said this and she reacted to clarify it for
me.

"I assume you know about what happened between Chris and
Jay, right?" I nodded in answer to her. I wondered how much
she really knew.

I replied "I know how the story goes". She had shared so
much with me but I wasn't about to reveal any of my theories
with her or anyone else until I talked with Jay.

"Maybe it will help Chris to understand things better. It
doesn't surprise me that there would be conflict between
them; they've been in conflict since the day each was
conceived.. .They didn't even call me to let me know he was
in trouble. I had to read about it in a letter from Chris
after he got home."

"Matthew, I want to give you my phone number. If anything
ever happens..If you think I can help, please call me." She
patted me gently on the arm and walked away to resume the
life she had made for herself. The Briggs family had plenty
of guilt to spread around and Melanie carried her fair
share.

I couldn't blame her for accepting the story she was told.
Not everyone had the same motivation as I did to look at it
differently, or maybe I was just delusional. Not knowing for
certain was the hardest part. Melanie was right; Chris and
Jay had been in conflict since the beginning. I could even
accept it if all of the bad history had led to some confused
violence. I could accept it but I just didn't believe it. A
part of me did blame her for leaving him. In saving herself,
she had left him behind. Chris wanted me to do the same; to
save myself and leave him behind. Instead, I renewed the vow
I had made to myself after we had left the old shack that
day: I would win back the life of the boy I loved or I would
die trying. The warrior prepared for the final conflict.
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Author's Note / February 1st, 2003:

In case you missed it at the beginning, this was NOT the
promised concluding part to the current storyline. Part 15
will conclude the current storyline and will be submitted to
Nifty tomorrow night, February 2nd. Honestly, I didn't
anticipate the requirement of an additional part; things
just developed that way as is usually the case.

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 15, 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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