Date: Mon, 3 Feb 2003 09:51:49 -0800 (PST)
From: Ehman Penn <ehman_penn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Matthew Figures It Out - Part 15

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 15


It was late in the afternoon and soon dad arrived. This
time, he looked around the hospital lobby instead of heading
straight to the elevators. He didn't seem surprised to find
me there again and he sat down beside me for a minute. My
face gave all away.

"Matt, you're doing all you can do. You're just going to
have to be patient and wait. I know it's hard for you, but
time can change things." I agreed with some of his words: It
was time to change things.

Over dinner that night, I gave mom and dad the story of my
conversation with Melanie. I left out the part about Jay,
but told them most everything else. I didn't tell them what
happened with Chris. They knew I loved him; I had made that
abundantly clear. Still, I didn't feel comfortable speaking
with them on details that were that intimate between Chris
and me. I did tell them I thought I was crowding him and had
decided not to go back to the hospital unless I was asked.
It was a thin cover at best but they played along and gave
me my own space to deal with it.

I spent most of the weekend trying to figure out a way to
approach Jay Henson. There were limitations to my abilities
as I had no car or drivers license. The conversation I
wanted wasn't one you started casually at school. A phone
call was totally out of the question; this had to be face-to-
face. It was in doubt if he was either willing or able to
help me with what I needed to know, but I had to find out.
Trying to create a plan provided some distraction from the
emotional stress that was accumulating inside of me. A
couple of calls to Tommy also helped, but by Sunday night,
that stress fad filled me up completely and I did not look
forward to the impending return to school.

Monday morning quickly revealed that little had been
forgotten. The long stares and muffled comments continued
throughout the day. Chris wasn't there but his dad was. I
made sure to stay clear of him. Lunch with Tommy was a
nervous experience for both of us and the pressure seemed to
mount on all sides. I saw Jay twice during the day, both
times from a distance, but never got close enough to even
approach him. Before, when I didn't want to see him, it
seemed like he was always bumping into me. Now, it seemed
like he was avoiding me. Maybe he was.

I had decided to keep my commitment to basketball, mostly to
protect my position on the team in case Chris came back. My
body was present for practice that afternoon but my mind was
nowhere near. There were plenty of weird vibes on the team
but it was hard to separate them out from the distracting
absence of Chris. Nobody knew when or if he would be back.

Monday night was long. I hadn't seen Chris in three days and
hadn't had good conversation with him in almost six days.
The dull thud had returned to the back of my head and time
seemed to be standing still.

Tuesday was much the same and the pressure continued to
mount. Finally, as school ended, I went straight to Jay's
truck and waited for him there. I couldn't go another night
without at least making first contact with him. I saw him
approaching and his eyes narrowed as he realized I was
waiting for him. He looked suspicious.

"Jay, I need to talk to you." Since our encounter at the
vet's office, we had been on improved terms, nodding to each
other on several occasions. I had never attempted an actual
conversation with him and his eyes were highly suspect of
why I chose to do so now.

"About what?" Not very politely.

Here is where it got tough. "Could we just go talk
somewhere, please?"

"About what?" Even less politely and bordering on defensive.
He got in his truck and sat down.

I looked around the parking lot. There were too many ears. I
approached the driver's side of the truck and spoke lowly
but clearly.

"I need to speak with you about Chris." I pleaded with my
eyes but it was no use.

"I've already said everything I'm gonna say about that. I
can't help you." He started his truck and put it in gear.

"Please?" He was my only hope.

"Don't ask me again. I can't help you." With that, he was
gone and most of the hope still left in me vanished along
with him.

What did he mean "I've already said everything I'm gonna say
about that"? He had only spoken to me twice. The first time
was our unpleasant introduction when I didn't know for sure
who he was. The second time was as he was leaving the vet's
office that night. Standing in the dark in a pouring rain,
he had looked me in the eye and said "Be careful." What the
fuck was that supposed to mean? A loud involuntary growl
left my throat and I got a few extra stares that I didn't
need from those close enough to hear it.

Tuesday night felt like the longest night of my life. I
worried about Chris constantly. Full-scale depression was
starting to take a firm grip on me. Every word spoken to me
seemed to beat on the side of my head and each word spoken
by me seemed to consume more energy than I had left to give.
I had turned into a very sad case and not even my mother's
touch seemed to improve me. There was serious concern in her
face and it only deepened my feelings of despair to see it.
Dad got home well after eight and came straight up to my
room.

"Hey." He eased in and sat down on the bed beside me.

"I stopped at the hospital on my way out tonight. One of the
nurses told me that Peggy was doing much better and should
be going home Friday." He saw the question in my face and
answered it. "I didn't see Chris."

"Thanks." It was all I could muster out. Dad took his hand
and brushed my hair back.

"Son, maybe Chris will come around once his mom gets back
home. Being stuck up there at the hospital isn't helping him
any."

Chris had already played the scenario out in his mind. His
mom was going to come back home and everything would get
back to normal. Unfortunately, `normal' for him was the
problem. Normal was his mom being drunk. Normal was his dad
alternating between being a wife-beater and a child-beater.
Normal was the daily struggles he had fought alone in that
house for the past nine years since Melanie had escaped.
Chris wasn't stuck at the hospital, he was taking refuge
there. My stomach was in knots and I couldn't bear the
thought of it anymore.

Wednesday brought new embarrassment. I snapped to attention
as Ms. Nelson barked my name, evidently after having barked
less loudly several times before. As I looked up, I could
feel every eye in the classroom fixed on me. Giggles broke
out and provided the unintended relief of sending Ms. Nelson
into a different tirade as she regained control of her
class. Somewhere in the back of the room, I heard an
unidentifiable "maybe he misses his boyfriend" followed by
more giggles from the rear and more anger from Ms. Nelson.

We had a home game that night and I occupied my normal seat
on the bench. I think we lost big. This was our last game
before Christmas break. Coach reminded us that our first
game in the holiday tournament was December 27th. School
wouldn't be back in session until January 3rd.

On Thursday, I gathered enough strength to make another
attempt at Jay Henson. I saw him between buildings just
before lunch and called for him to wait up. He recognized my
voice and never slowed down. I broke into a full sprint and
ran around in front of him and stood in his path. He stopped
and made very rude eye contact with me.

"I need your help, please. I just want to talk to you and I
swear to God no one will know about it. Please. I'm begging
you, please?" I saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes. He
looked around taking note of who was watching us. For a
moment, I thought he was going to help me, then he side-
stepped me and kept on walking, never saying a word.

The short moment of hope turned into a long moment of fresh
devastation. Tommy was nearby and walked out to stand by me.
Tommy seemed to be nearby very often this week and I think
he was keeping a close watch on me. We lingered there for a
while until I could gather myself enough to walk with him to
the cafeteria. The rest of the day crawled by. On the bright
side, most people had grown tired of staring and giggling.

My depression was migrating into a fevered angst. The never-
ending pressure of the past week was leading me to a growing
sense of desperation. At least with the depression, I could
get some sleep. This new feeling kept me awake most of the
night. Sometime in the pitch of darkness, I realized that if
Chris wasn't at school tomorrow, then I wasn't likely to see
him until after Christmas break was over. I was wide awake
the rest of the night.

Friday morning led me to a hurried walk along the school
grounds prior to homeroom as I looked for any sign of Chris.
There was no reason why he would have magically shown up
today, but I had to make sure. I did run across Katie and we
startled each other into a confused stare with neither of us
able to look away. This time, I blinked first and I dropped
my head and kept walking.

The morning classes were almost unbearable. I guessed my way
through every question on a history pop-quiz and I knew I
was falling miserably behind. Teachers were giving me
impatient glares and it was only a short matter of time
before someone would get my parents more involved. It was
another two months before quarterly grades were out again,
but I couldn't tumble like this without someone taking
notice.

Lunch brought no relief and Tommy had something on his mind.
I could see it in his eyes.

"Matt, what can I do to help you?" He was frustrated,
concerned and sad all together at once. The sincerity of his
question helped pull me back just a little closer to
reality.

"Tommy, I'm really sorry. Everybody is getting concerned
about me. I'm concerned about me too because I've never felt
so lost before. I've always been emotional and I've spent
plenty of time being sad, but this is different. When I used
to feel alone or sad, it was just a vague feeling, sort of
the way I feel about never having had a grandpa. This
feeling is much more powerful. It's much more specific. It's
like my soul is trying to get back to the place where it
belongs, but it can't find its way. And if it doesn't find
it soon, it might be lost forever. I know that doesn't make
any sense, but it's how I feel inside."

"I wish there was something I could do. It's like you're not
even here." There wasn't anything he could do. For all the
goodness I took from my friendship with Tommy, this was
something beyond the reach of friendship.

"I've just got to work through this Tommy. I don't know how,
but I've got to find a way. I can't keep this up forever, it
hurts too bad."

"The weather is supposed to be nice Sunday. Why don't you
come over and we'll saddle up Sky and Stryker and go for a
long ride. It might help you take your mind off things for a
little while." Sometimes, all you can do for a friend is
offer a pleasant distraction from the larger ills of life.
Tommy had been by my side all week and I couldn't refuse his
help.

"I'll be there. It'll be nice to have that to look forward
to. You think maybe you could tolerate me for the whole
night?"

"I think we can put up with you for that long." He shared
his smile with me and it lifted me just enough to return the
favor.

Mom brought home pizza for Friday night. I ate half a piece
and stretched out on the couch to watch TV. I assumed that
Chris's mom had come home as planned. I wished I could have
felt better about it but I couldn't. Through all of my grief
and depression, Chris was in my mind constantly. He had to
be missing me too and that just made me sadder still.

Saturday morning finally rolled around and I came downstairs
with a feeling that reminded me of the lone hangover of my
life after my camping trip with Tommy. I heard mom and dad
talking about something and they seemed undecided on
whatever it was.

"What are y'all talking about?" `Y'all' had worked its way
into my vocabulary. I figured if Webster could recognize it,
then I would take the shortcut and use it too.

"The company Christmas party is tonight and we were trying
to figure out whether or not we wanted to go." I hoped my
dad did a better job lying to his boss.

"I already know the plan was for the two of you to go
Christmas shopping in Charlotte and then go to the party
afterwards. You're not staying here to baby-sit me. I'm
not.." I started to say `suicidal', but that word wouldn't
have advanced my case. "..I'm not going to hold you back. I
want you to go. I'll be fine, and I'm going to go over to
Tommy's tomorrow afternoon and spend the night with him
too." I deserved an Oscar for this performance. I still felt
like shit and tomorrow seemed like a week away to me at the
moment. Still, I didn't want to hold them back and the
Christmas party was a big deal for my dad. He was very into
this type of social event. It was a chance for him to hob-
knob with the other executives and show off his lovely wife.

Dad seemed convinced but mom eyed me suspiciously. I
motioned her aside and whispered to her "please go, mom.
I'll feel even worse if dad misses the party."

By one o'clock, they were headed out the door. I would have
liked to have seen them leave happier, but at least they
were willing to go. I told them not to worry and that I was
glad no one would be here to fight with me over the leftover
pizza. I summonsed all of my energy and beamed the biggest
smile they had seen in two weeks. That final touch seemed to
do the trick and they smiled back at me as they pulled out
the drive in my dad's car.

I closed the front door and leaned hard against it with my
back before sliding down to the floor into a low crouch. The
house was dead-quiet. The images of three faces rotated
through my head: Jay, Coach Briggs and Chris. How could I
get Jay to talk to me? What would I learn, even if he did?
How would Chris respond if I was right?

It didn't matter because Jay wasn't going to talk to me and
Chris might never remember all of the pieces from that day.
Maybe I could bypass Jay altogether and go straight to Coach
Briggs with a bluff. No. I had to be sure I was right
because if I was wrong, then there was no chance I'd see
Chris again until he was out from under Coach Brigg's roof.
I stood up and walked to the kitchen. Mom's car keys were
lying on the counter in their normal spot. A plot formed in
my head, but it seemed too ridiculous even for me. I headed
for the shower; the morning crust I was wearing had worn out
its welcome.

Once done, I came back downstairs and got a juice out of the
fridge. My walk slowed as I passed the counter before I came
to a complete stop to study the set of keys. Why was it so
ridiculous? I had seen boys younger than me driving tractors
and farm-trucks out on the road. It wasn't like I was going
that far away. Jay's house was less than a mile from Chris's
house and that was only ten minutes from here. I had driven
the car around the driveway a few times, but never on the
open road. No one would know..I shook off the idea again,
deciding that it was just outside of my comfort zone.

I tried to distract myself with TV but it was no use. I
thought again of Chris and wondered what he was doing right
now. It would be the first morning back to `normal' in the
Briggs house. I closed my eyes and tried to picture him
there. All I could see were flashes from my own memories. I
saw us on the old stump together and I remembered how much
it had meant to me. It was the first time I felt hope that
someone other than my parents might love me. That moment had
bonded us together as friends. I remembered the first
embrace in the old shack and the first accidental kiss. I
now understood why Chris hesitated to follow me in there on
that rainy day and I now knew the source of the silent tears
he left on the old wood floor. Our relationship had elevated
beyond friendship that day; to some level that failed
definition, but definitely a higher plain of emotion. I
remembered the first and only night he had spent at my
house. It was the first time I had touched him in any
physically intimate way and I remembered his hesitation to
accept my advances. I also remembered how lost I felt then,
and the feeling was very similar to what I felt now. But
Chris had pulled me back from that emotional inferno; he had
rescued me that night and I fell to sleep holding his
battered body in my arms. Finally, I remembered the day that
had changed things between us; the day that started with
fear and isolation for both of us at school; continued with
our first sexual experience together; and concluded with an
endless night in the hospital as we watched his family
unravel around him in plain view.

I kept my eyes closed and tried to reach him. I didn't
really believe any such powers existed but I was willing to
try anything at this point. Instead of reaching him, one
more stray memory flashed into my head. I saw the image of
Chris curled in some corner with his dad standing over
him....

I never finished the thought and a swipe across the counter
brought my mom's car keys firmly into my grasp. Jay Henson
was about to get an unwelcome visit, assuming he was even
home.

I wasn't exactly the daredevil type and every hair on my
body stood at attention as I pulled out of the drive and
onto the street. My heart was pounding and I nervously
alternated between the rear-view mirror and the road ahead.
Two younger boys on bicycles gave me curious looks as I
pulled out of the neighborhood and onto the main road. I
waved to them as casually as my shaking hand would allow.
Living in a rural area had its advantages in a time like
this and it was rare to meet a police car on the open roads.
My mom and dad had cut me lots of slack during the past few
weeks but this was definitely way over the line. There would
be hell to pay for this one, if I got caught.

Fortunately, it was a short drive and I slowed as I
approached Jay's house. At first, I didn't see his black
truck and I feared this adventure was all for not. As I got
closer to his driveway, I could see his truck parked around
the back corner of the small house just on the other side of
another car that I assumed was his mom's. Now my heart was
really pounding. Jay was a steady source of disturbing
thoughts for me and I hadn't failed to notice the gun-rack
so prominently displayed in the back window of his truck. I
had never seen a gun on it before, but then no one was
allowed to carry firearms onto school property. I didn't
imagine he would shoot me for trespassing, but he struck me
as someone who wouldn't hesitate to throw a punch. The
feeling from a good ass-kicking would be an improvement over
the feeling of failure to at least try again to find out
what he knew.

The car had barely come to a stop when Jay came out of the
house. He wouldn't have recognized our car but he did soon
recognize the face of the boy who stepped out of it. He was
very unpleasantly surprised to see me and probably somewhat
confused that I was driving.

"You're out of your fucking mind!" He summed it up pretty
well.

"Maybe so. I couldn't argue that with you right now." I must
have looked truly desperate to him.

"I already told you that I'm not talking to you. You need to
get that through your thick head. LEAVE ME ALONE!" He turned
and walked back toward the house.

"Listen, I don't want to make a scene, but I will if I have
to." He knew what I meant and he didn't like it. If Jay
really knew anything that could help me, it meant he had
kept it quiet for a reason. I didn't know how it all fit
together, but I thought the `reason' probably was inside,
home on her day off from work.

He shot me a look that was more than vaguely familiar and he
walked out away from the house and toward a small clump of
trees on the back corner of the lot. I followed him and we
continued to walk until we were a safe distance from the
house.

He wheeled around and angrily threatened "Maybe if I beat
the shit out of you, you'd finally be quiet and leave me
alone."

I was too emotionally fatigued to be diplomatic. "Yeah, that
plan seems to work pretty well around here."

"You've got no fucking idea what you're talking about." I
thought for a moment he might actually hit me. He was the
one that had no fucking idea what I was talking about.
"You're trying to figure out your boyfriend and why he would
do something so bad to poor old Jay Henson. How many times
do I have to tell you that I can't help you?"

Jay shared a family trait with Chris and Coach Briggs; he
wore every reaction right on his face for all to see. He
would have been a terrible poker player. I didn't need him
to be a witness; I just needed to know if I was right. It
was time to find out what cards he was holding.

"I know that Chris didn't hurt you and I know who did."

His voice was speechless, but his face wasn't. He wasn't
prepared for my bluff and he folded right in front of me. I
gave him a minute to regroup.

"I'm sorry, Jay. I don't want to hurt you or cause you any
embarrassment, or your mom."

He couldn't look at me anymore. Hearing someone acknowledge
the truth out loud had crushed him. It was something he
never expected and probably never wanted at this late date.

"Why did you come here?" His question was pointed down at
the ground in front of him.

"Because I had to know if I was right."

His head turned quickly and his eyes flashed resentment. "I
didn't tell you a damn thing!"

"I know, you didn't say a word and don't worry, I'll never
mention your name. I wasn't trying to drag you back into
this..." I searched for the words to try and bring him some
peace. He was as big a victim in this tragedy as anyone. It
wasn't lost on me that I could have just as easily have been
him. I wondered if we were even more alike than either of us
knew for sure.

"Jay, I don't know why you stayed silent all this time. I'm
sure you had your reasons. Coach Briggs is a hateful son of
a bitch; I know that much for sure. I don't know if it helps
you but Chris thinks he is the one who hurt you. He can't
remember all of the pieces of what happened. What he does
remember just confuses the hell out of him. He had doctors
telling him he had snapped and gone crazy and that he was
just in denial about the truth. He has no idea what the
truth is anymore. I don't know everything that happened and
I guess I never will, but I know that both of you got fucked
over and I know who was responsible for it."

There was no more resentment in his eyes. At least he and I
had come to a peace together. It was the only peace in my
heart at the moment and the full conviction of my knowledge
was rising up within me. I had another stop to make before
going home and I turned to walk away.

"What are you going to do?"

"Don't worry. I told you I won't mention your name." This
time, it was me that kept walking.

"Wait!" He grabbed me by the arm. "You really are out of
your mind. Don't do this!"

"If I don't, then who will? When is it going to stop? Maybe
after he finally slips up and beats Chris to death instead
of just dishing out his normal back-bruiser?"

His face went blank and he released my arm. When I reached
the car and got in, he still hadn't moved and I backed out
into the road to complete the last mile of what had been a
much longer journey.

My palms were so sweaty they were slipping on the steering-
wheel. My heart was pumping blood so fast I could feel the
veins throb in my neck. Fear was far too small a word to
describe what I was feeling. When the Briggs house came into
view from a distance, what I saw next shifted the fear into
horror: Chris was fleeing out of the back of the house and I
saw him stumble onto the ground before regaining his balance
and running into the woods. It evidently hadn't taken very
long for things to get back to `normal'.

My body went cold and I turned into the driveway, stopping
halfway down the drive and leaving the car door open so as
not to make any extra noise. Maybe I could just reach Chris
and get him to escape with me. It wasn't going to be that
easy.

"Where do you think you're going?" Coach Briggs was walking
out of the garage area and had placed himself directly in my
path, only a dozen feet or so separating us.

I stopped in my tracks. Old words of "don't show him any
fear" came back to me but it was too late. Fear was draped
all over me and he could see it plainly. A smug controlling
look came over his face as I pressed my shaking hands
against my hips trying to steady them. I tried to speak but
my voice shattered under the stress.

"I'm..I came..to see...Chris.." I came to save Chris but
thoughts of self-preservation were taking me over instead. I
felt like a coward. I also felt fresh sympathy for Chris.

Coach Briggs took a menacing step toward me. He really was
enjoying this. His pleasure was far more perverted than
anything achieved by his hated "pansies" and "degenerates."

"You're going to stay away from Chris. Do you understand me?
I don't want your faggoty little ass anywhere near my sight.
You go on back to your fancy neighborhood and your big house
and you stay there before I call the police and tell them
there's an under-aged driver out on the roads."

I must have looked terribly weak to him. I was certainly no
match for him in physical strength. Even for his age, he was
a physical specimen and was well capable of causing me great
harm. He was an adult and he was a teacher and he was
exercising all of his advantages to quash the little bug of
a boy in front of him; and he was most definitely enjoying
it.

It was hopeless. This boy was no match for that man. I
stumbled backwards a step or two before turning and limping
back towards the car. I heard him laugh, I thought of Chris,
and I stopped walking. Maybe I shouldn't have stopped. I
don't know for sure why or how I did. Every instinct within
me told me to run; every instinct but one. The warrior had
met his opponent and refused to walk away from the battle.
Was it courage, anger or desperation? It was all of those
combined, but anger took the lead.

"NO!" I screamed it as I turned to face him. He stopped
laughing and reinforcements of anger came to his own face. I
was outmanned and outnumbered and surprise was my only
weapon.

"Chris is going home with me and he's not coming back!" My
pent-up frustrations were fueling the anger. The sudden
change in momentum knocked old Coach Briggs off balance. I
had to fire off as many punches as I could before he
responded with something that might crush my courage. I knew
I couldn't win a drawn-out battle with him.

"Just let him go! You don't want him here anyway." Then I
spoke the words that allowed me no retreat. Once they were
out there, there was no going back.

"And I don't want to have to tell everybody that I know it
was you that hurt Chris and Jay. I don't want to drag them
through all of that. I just want Chris to be out of this
house, for good."

His face was blood-red and I thought he might literally
explode. The silence was allowing me to contemplate exactly
what I had just done and the full realization scared the
absolute hell out of me. Jay was right: I must be out of my
mind. `Desperate times call for desperate measures', or so
they say. I was completely desperate and completely afraid.

When he moved, I jumped a bit, but he didn't move toward me.
He glared at me until his turning body pulled his head in
the other direction and he walked away from me back toward
the house. I wasn't sure if he was surrendering Chris to me
or regrouping for round two. I sprinted off into the woods
hoping I could find Chris and get him out before his dad had
other ideas.

I had a hunch where he might be and I made my way in the
general direction of the old shack. Basketball had improved
my conditioning and I continued in full sprint until the old
frame was in sight. I stopped for a moment and reached over
with my hands on my knees as I gasped for breath. The ground
under the heavy timber was still covered with a thin soggy
layer of last week's snow. I could see footprints in spots
and there was a trail leading right up to the shack.

Chris's mouth dropped open with surprise as I stood at the
door and looked in to see him sitting against the wall. I
was the last person he expected to see and I could quickly
tell he had been crying.

"Matt, what are you doing here?" He was very confused. He
looked at me as if he suspected I was only a hallucination.
We didn't have all day to discuss the full story.

"Chris, I need for you to come with me right now. We've got
to leave and go someplace where we can talk for a while.
Let's go!" He shook his head at me.

"Matt..I told you." I cut him off. That bullshit was getting
old and we didn't have time for it.

"You've got to listen and you've got to trust me! You didn't
hurt Jay...It was your dad Chris, I know this is hard for
you to hear, but IT WAS YOUR DAD!"

I saw a glimmer of belief in his eyes. He knew better than
anybody that his dad was capable of it. Still, it was too
shocking to believe so quickly. He had to believe me and we
had to go now.

"Please, Chris. Let's go. Your dad knows that I know! We
just had it out and I told him you were coming home with me
and that you wouldn't be coming back. I'm not leaving here
without you!" Tears were now streaming down my face. "I know
you still love me. Please, Chris. We've got to go now!"

I stood in the doorway and the same hand he had knocked away
before was reaching out for him again. This time, he would
have to come to me; he had to take that step. He gave me the
look I was waiting to see and I knew he was mine again. He
rose up and reached for my hand but our hands never met.

Something cold and blunt struck me on the side of the head
and my vision went black and my body fell sideways landing
hard on the ground below. I was dazed somewhere between a
conscious and unconscious state. I could hear muffled
yelling but couldn't sense a direction it was coming from.
My body rolled to one side and I caught a flash of light as
my eyes tried to refocus. I could make out the forms of two
bodies swaying wildly against the side of the shack. One
form fell to the ground and I could vaguely make out the
outline of the other form getting closer to me. Just as
Coach Briggs's face emerged through the foggy blur, I felt a
hard kick to the side of my ribs, lifting me from the shear
force of the blow, and I could hear my own muffled gasp of
pain. I struggled for breath and each gasp produced a new
sharp pain on my right side. My vision was clearing and I
could see Coach Briggs standing over me. The terror hit new
heights when I realized what had hit me on the side of the
head was the heavy black pistol in his hand. I saw Chris
rise up from behind him and make a running lunge that
carried them both over the top of me and tumbling
intertwined on the other side. I tried to get up, but I
folded back into the soggy snow that had now mixed into mud.
My breaths were getting shorter in order to lessen the
stabbing pain in my ribs. I saw a drop of dark red blood
trickle off my brow and onto a tiny patch of undisturbed
snow below.

History seemed to be repeating itself. I was filled with
terror and I could hear the rustling between father and son
as one struggled to overcome the other. Please God, don't
let that pistol go off. I heard a steady pounding of punches
and managed to raise my head enough for my fear to be
confirmed. His dad had gotten the upper hand in their battle
and now Chris was the one crumpled over trying to struggle
to his feet but falling off to one side.

Coach Briggs stood again and staggered toward me. I could
see battered marks on his face. He gave me another glancing
kick as he went by. The fight had taken a lot out of him.
Maybe he had worked it out of his system and was willing to
move on. I twisted my head underneath my body to see that he
had stopped and was reaching for something lodged in the mud
below. I pushed hard against the ground and tried one last
time to rise but couldn't. The pistol he had dropped when
Chris plowed into him now rested in his palm and I could see
his boots turn back in my direction. I knew my time was
short.

They say your life flashes before your eyes; it doesn't. I
twisted my head toward Chris. I could feel the cold mud and
snow squishing underneath my chin. I could hear Coach Briggs
getting closer behind me. Chris had crawled to his knees and
a look of panicked horror spread across his face as he saw
what was happening. He made one last lunge to his feet but
he was too far away. He screamed a frantic "NO" but it fell
on deaf ears. I heard the clicking sound of the cold metal
as it snapped into place. Chris's eyes found mine but the
look on his face was too horrific for me to bear. I closed
my eyes and found a better image of him smiling there.

It was a single shot.

My body was already rife with pain and I shook
uncontrollably when the piercing sound rang out. My eyes
opened again and they found the image of Chris falling to
his knees, his face was colorless and had lost all
expression. The reality that I hadn't been shot terrified me
even more than the possibility I was dead. I looked Chris
over trying to find some sign of injury from the gunfire.
What was happening? I could still move and as I made another
twist to look behind me, I heard a heavy thud hit the ground
and a set of lifeless eyes crashed harshly against the snow
just feet from my head. The image shocked me into a
contortion that put me flat on my back and wreathing in new
pain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.

An unexpected warrior had joined the fight. Jay Henson stood
there with his own gun in hand, still smoking from the shot
he had fired. His arm was still outstretched as if he didn't
believe it was over, but it was over. It shouldn't have come
to this, but it did. It had ended where it began and it was
finally over.

Chris dragged himself over next to me, keeping a cautious
eye on the lifeless figure of his father. He was shaking and
there were tears making twisted paths down his face as they
worked around the cuts and bruises. His hand reached out and
finally found mine. He looked down at me but he couldn't
speak, then his eyes cut across the way and locked in with
Jay. Chris began sobbing much harder and he didn't look away
from Jay for several minutes. The last revelation that
awaited him would be awkward, but I had to agree with
Melanie, it would help him to know. The conflicts of their
parents didn't have to be their own. An ending brought with
it a chance for a new beginning for all who were left.

My parents never made it to the Christmas party. Instead,
they got a very disturbing phone call and a weekend at the
hospital while I spent two nights there under observation
for a concussion and treatment of three broken ribs. After
sitting with me during an interview with a sheriff's deputy,
they had full appreciation for how close they had come to
losing me. I didn't get in trouble for taking the car out
after all.

Tommy and the rest of the hearty Johnson clan came to see
me. I promised Tommy a full accounting of the whole story
when we could spend some time alone.

On the morning of the third day, I came home from the
hospital and Robert Briggs was buried that afternoon. I
insisted on going and the church was full. Few were there
for him; most were there as a show of support for Chris. Jay
wasn't there. The sheriff's department had filed charges
against him but everyone involved said the D.A. would never
take the case once he had all of the statements. Bail was
waived and he was free until all of the legal wrangling was
settled.

A church funeral for a man like Robert Briggs didn't seem
fitting but it was the custom and there we were. My mom and
dad sat with me and we were positioned just off the main
aisle where the family would come in. I was still very sore
and was told I would be for some time.

The rituals of funerals were new to me and this probably
wasn't the best circumstance to appreciate them. I had to
constantly remind myself that this was about closure for the
family and not a tribute to Coach Briggs. When the family
arrived, everyone in the church stood in respect. Coach
Briggs had two older brothers and a sister that I didn't
know about. They didn't look any happier to be there than I
was. When I saw Melanie come in with Peggy holding her arm
for guidance, I wondered if this was more than Chris could
stomach. Maybe neither of Robert Briggs's sons would be in
attendance.

Then I saw him. My first thought was that Chris looked
amazingly good in a suit. He trailed right behind his mother
and sister, walking slowly and sadly alone. Between the
needs of his mother and the visits from the police, we
hadn't seen each other since the ambulance took me off to
the hospital. He had talked to my mom several times and had
kept close tabs on me. Still, we hadn't spoken; there was
just more to say than circumstances had allowed. He must
have felt my eyes on him and he spotted me right away
standing at the end of a row. His face showed the signs of
the battle and I still didn't know what condition his spirit
was in.

I feared that he might resent me for the truth I had brought
to bare. Even in death, his father might find a way to be an
obstacle between us. So many old injuries left the need for
much healing. At least Chris was finally free from the
physical abuse that had plagued him his whole life, though
there were many challenges left ahead. Watching him approach
as he walked down the aisle, I held out hope that we might
be together again one day, but it seemed far from certain to
me. I had kept my vow to him and I would continue to wait
for as long as it took.

As they walked past, he slowed and then stopped right beside
me. His watery eyes met mine and he reached in and gently
tugged at the sleeve of my suit until I moved out of the pew
and stood beside him. He then put his hand on my shoulder
and we walked side-by-side to the front pew where we stood
with his mother and sister. Once we were seated, he slipped
his hand around mine. He leaned closer to me, squeezed my
hand, and softly whispered "Never again, Matt. Never again."
The words were soft but the meaning was firm with resolve.
Our faces filled with tears.

We didn't cry for Robert Briggs. We didn't even cry for the
past or the bruises that our bodies and souls had suffered.
We cried for the future; tears of hope for a future where we
would never be separated again.

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Author's Note / February 2nd, 2003:

That's the story as I originally planned it. I hope it has
been worth the wait for those of you who have followed it so
long and so closely. Please let me know what you think.

I'm not sure I have to say this, but I will anyway: If you
are in an abusive relationship of any type, more violence
isn't the solution. This is a dramatic fictional story and
the Coach Briggs character died violently as he was about to
take someone else's life. I'll plead self-defense from a
creative point of view, but I don't want this story to
encourage anyone to think that pulling a trigger will
improve a situation. It won't.

On to brighter topics, I have some very loose ideas but
nothing outlined yet for the continuation. I can tell you
that I will be picking up the story right where I left off.
Themes of love, family, friendship, redemption, and hope
will continue to guide the characters' struggles. You should
also know that there will be more intimacy in the coming
parts. I don't plan to dwell on it but I do plan to more
fully explore it, just without being so cliche or completely
pornographic about it.

Tommy will definitely get a lot of development in the
continuation along with the other peripheral characters.
There will likely be a few new characters as well, but the
story will still be focused on the lives of Matt and Chris.

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. I WELCOME ALL
SPELLING AND GRAMMATICAL CORRECTIONS.

I'm going to try and complete Part 16 before the end of
February and my updates will likely be once per month there
after. 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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