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"................