Date: Fri, 23 Sep 2011 01:14:34 -0400
From: Jesse Jesse <gmmac1987@hotmail.com>
Subject: Matthew, My Love Part 6

	Those two weeks in Scotland with Matthew and his family were the
happiest I'd ever been in my life, and yet at the same time, I felt angered
and resentful. Had my parents even known that I'd left the country? Did
they have any idea that I'd flown with Matthew and his parents those
some-3500-odd miles away? Did they care? It wasn't that Id ever been
physically abused or deprived of necessities. No, there was nothing like
that, but my life had been a constant "no." I realize that sound's strange,
but it was true. Being from such an extremely "family-moral" area, I'd
spent my life hearing "no." "No, don't do that, it's not becoming. No, we
can't say that, it's not nice. What would Mrs. 'So-n-so' think?" Those
weeks spent with Matthew and his family in Scotland were wonderful, because
for once in my life, I didn't have to spend my every waking moment worrying
about "what Mr & Mrs 'So-n-so' said or thought." And, indeed, it was those
two precious weeks that allowed me to see that there was a big, wonderful,
free world out there that didn't revolve around my little rural community
or moral-hypocrites, constantly condemning those around them for one thing,
only to turn round and do something that, always seemed in my mind, just as
wrong. So as I allowed these thoughts to roll round in my head on the
flight back to the states, I made my mind up that I was not going home the
same way I left. I would not arrive back in school, with a fresh new year
full of hope and promise for new beginnings, only to be bullied and
subjected to the cruelty of Buddy and his group of "follow-the-leader"
idiots.

	Matthew noted my change in demeanor before we'd spent a full hour
back at home. "You're looking very pleased with yourself, or is it that
you're plaining something?" I tried to smile as innocent as was
possible. "Maybe it's a little of both..........." As he read over my
shoulder, he snorted, "Uh-huh, I know what you're thinking of," and pulled
the scarlet plaid kilt out of his bag as he spoke, smiling devilishly. I
couldn't help but smile at his cockiness, and gave the plaid a little tug
and wrote, "again, soon enough......" He seemed satisfied that he's
sufficiently gotten me flustered at suggesting such things and swaggered
off, but the truth was that, at that particular moment, his kilt, or rather
what was under it, was one of the last things on my mind. Indeed, after
spending the flight home sitting next to Robert, listening to him drone on
about his "right to bear arms collection" as he put it, I had formed a
wicked, dangerous, completely insane idea, and idea so crazy that it would
either solve my problems or guarantee me spending the rest of my life in
prison!

	The following Monday Robert returned home looking as though he'd
just won the power-ball lottery. "I have some very good news..........I've
been able to arrange a certain young man a visit with one, Dr Mitchell
North. He's a new surgeon who specializes in, would you believe it, throat
trauma! You've been added for tomorrow evening at four, so you guys will
have to go to his office right after school. I sat gripping my bar stool,
not daring to hope for encouraging news. I couldn't allow myself to become
unrealistic, only to have my hopes crushed tomorrow. Whether I was ready or
not, expecting good news or not, "tomorrow evening" came, and I found
myself being ushered by Matthew through the door of rehab wing of the local
hospital. A short wait later and Matthew and myself were sitting in the
examination room of Dr. North, a tall slender man who appeared to no more
the 25. "All right Alex, let's see what we've got." Several minutes later,
and several sessions of gagging at the mirrors and instruments shoved into
the back of my throat, Dr. North made a very short, but very encouraging
diagnosis. "You have laryngeal paresis, your voice box is paralyzed. Now, I
know that sound's bad at first, but it's actually, at least in your case, a
good thing. I'm perfectly sure that you can regain use of your voice!
You're just gonna have to practice. Now, I'm gonna link you up with a
speech therapist who'll be able to help you regain use of your larynx
muscles. It'll probably be a lot of "ee's and ii's," and making all sorts
of weird noises at first, but she'll have you talking in no time!"

	I could not have left feeling any happier. I had walked into
Dr. North's office expecting to hear the worst, but had come out with news
that, more than likely, I would be able to regain my ability to talk! So
with this wonderful news to drive me on, I began taking speech therapy
twice a week. Many people use this phrase liberally and without a lot of
truth, but I can honestly say that I tried with all my heart to do exactly
as my therapist told me. I was determined to regain my voice. There were so
many things to say, so many people I needed to speak my mind to! Matthew
was, as always, wonderful. He was ever-there, sitting somewhere just behind
me in the corner, whispering "you can do it, I know you can. Don't try SO
hard. Relax!" I knew he was right, but I just couldn't relax. I was
determined to prove to myself and everyone else that I WAS a different
person. Gone were the days when I would sit cowering in silence, listening
but unable to reply. I WAS going to do this, not matter how long it took!
But it didn't take quite as long as I thought.........

	Baseball season had begun, at least the practice had. Matthew's
fanatical coach had begun practicing the team the day after returning in
January. Coach Miller reminded me more of a drill sergeant than a coach. He
was worse, and in my honest opinion, more idiotic than the football coach,
Mr. Flynn, had ever given thought to being. Promising Matthew I'd watch
after school one cold late-January day, I watched horrified and slightly
amused as the coach screamed at a gang of shirtless teen boys standing on
the baseball diamond. "All right, listen here, you bunch 'a pussies! This
is the year! This year we're gonna go all the way, not like 'at bunch'a
jackasses we had last year! You're gonna work hard, long, and you're gonna
be tough! Stevens! Get that shirt off, boy! You're gonna learn what it's
like to put physical discomfort behind you! Get it off, wuss!" There they
stood, chests bare and red from the cold, their breathe vaporing out into
the January air........... "OMG! Danna, did you see him? Oh! He's like the
hottest thing I've ever laid my eyes on!" I couldn't help but to be amused
at the girls passing on their way home. "Oh! Matthew is the hottest thing
I've ever laid eyes on! What do you suppose he wears? Boxers of briefs?"
"Brianna! Shut up, or he'll hear you! Oh, hey Alex! How's it going?"
"Shhhh! Danna, don't talk to him. He's weird. Something about him not
talking gives me the creeps." I watched them walk toward the mustard-yellow
bug, wanting to scream obscenities after them, but then a sly smile creased
my lips..........I KNEW what Matthew wore, size 32, rather accentuating
boxer briefs, and what's more, I KNEW WHAT WAS INSIDE THEM!

	"Dang! Coach Miller just about killed us today! I swear, that man's
crazy!" "Matthew...." "I swear, if he keeps this up much longer, I'm not
gonna stay on the team this year!" "Matthew...." "I've had him jump down my
throat and scream at me 'till I'm sick of it, and I've run around that
stupid field in 30 degree weather without any clothes on for the last
time!" "Matthew...." "What, Alex?!? What is it so important that you can't
listen to me rant?!?".......... "Matthew, I just wanted to TELL YOU that I
love you"................