Over the next several weeks my life seemed to blur together. Life was a routine: my parents visiting, hourly check-in's from the nurses, and daily visits from the doctors, to see if there was any improvement in my voice box. The only thing that really brightened my day was the evening visits from Matthew. Of the weeks that I spent in the hospital, he missed only one day. I couldn't believe what a caring person he was. Since finding me that day and bringing me to the ER, Matthew had seemed to take me on as a sort of patient of his own. It was as if he was determined to make sure I was okay. He took on the duty of bringing all my school assignments, all the time chatting and filling me in on the latest gossip about school, " and it's looking like we're gonna make the state playoffs!" My parents were, to say the least, surprised to find Matthew visiting every day. They began badgering me with so many questions in fact, that Matthew began answering for me. "Oh yeah, we've been friends for a while now. Yeah, we have taken several classes together." Finally one day my conscience overcame me, and I scribbled the question on my pad that had been burning in my mind for some time. "Why have you been so nice to me?" Why was the star athlete of the school spending so much time with me, when he didn't even know my name until a few weeks ago? It wasn't as though I was in the in-crowd or anything. Matthew sat staring at me for a second, almost looking hurt. "Don't you want me here? I can leave." I could feel my face turning three shades red, and began scribbling again. "It's just that I didn't think you even knew who I was until a few weeks ago. Why now?" Matthew chuckled. "I didn't really know you that well. Oh, I knew your name, but that was about it. I don't know that I can really answer your question. I just wanna make sure you're okay. So, when are you gonna get out of here? I heard your mom say something about next Monday. Is that right?" I nodded, starting to feel depressed. Just the day before my doctor had told me that surgery wasn't an option right now. I was ready to get out of the hospital, but leaving meant going back to school, and that meant losing Matthew. We had just now began to really talk to each other. Would he still want to see me? "Hey, listen. I was wondering if you'd like to hang out when we get you settled back in school? I know you have your own friends, but I've enjoyed our talks, and maybe you could help me with homework. I'm not exactly a strait-a student." My chest felt like it was swelling like a balloon, and so I scribbled quickly, "be happy to."
My first day back to school was both terrifying and humiliating. Most of the school had heard that I'd been in the hospital, and that I couldn't talk anymore. Most people tried to make little comments to cheer me up like, "well, you talked too much before anyway," and "well, I didn't think you were ever gonna shut up." I tried to smile at their good intentions, but it was still embarrassing to have to stand up in the classroom and hold a pad in front of the teacher with my scribbled answer to his questions. The one good thing that I could see from all this was that Matthew was now waiting on me at the door when every class changed. He could be counted on, just as soon as the bell rang, to be standing there with his sexy smile, waiting to slap me on the back and bombard me with yes-or-no questions about "how'd it go?" In fact, I couldn't help but notice that he had almost completely abandoned his old friends, and seemed to spend every moment of school with me. After the last bell rang for school to be dismissed, he could be counted on to be waiting, gym bag thrown over his shoulder, just outside the door of my afternoon chemistry class, throwing his muscular arm around me and ushering me through the parking lot and into his rusty old truck. How I loved those hours after school when we'd get in his truck and just drive. It didn't have to be anywhere in particular, as long as I was with him. He'd go into long lectures about the recent football plays they'd been working on, rambling for almost an hour until he'd realize that I wasn't really listening to football, but just smiling bemusedly at him. During these times I found some very interesting things about Matthew. His family wasn't exactly rich, but they weren't in the same financial bracket as my own. His parents both had very good jobs with our county, "from their politics, no doubt," my dad used to say. Matthew had lost a brother a few years back to cancer, and really had no other family around. "And the ones that are alive, I don't really want to see them," he'd laugh.
On one of our late-October evening expeditions we wound up parking next to river, Matthew pulling fishing poles and tackle boxes out of his truck, grinning from ear to ear. "I found this little hole last summer. Don't think anybody else knows about it. I've never seen anybody else here, anyway." We spent the evening fishing ( Matthew doing most of the catching, and me finally giving up and just watching.) Finally after he'd "caught his limit," Matthew set his creel down and began digging in the back of his truck. "I keep this stuff with me all the time, just for evenings like this," all the while pulling a tent out of the back of his truck, and starting to drive stakes into the ground around the four corners. I began shaking my head and pointing toward the road home. "Oh, don't worry. It's Friday. We don't have to go anywhere in the morning, and I've already called your parents," he smiled sheepishly as he said this. I began making mock-angry faces at him. "I knew you'd never come with me if I told you what we were gonna do." He scurried around the tent, fitting pieces together here and there until a small tent stood erect and ready for night. "Come on, let's go find some wood for a fire. We gotta get these fish cooked, if we're gonna have supper." We walked up and down the sandy banks or the river gathering fire wood, Matthew all the time talking and pointing. "Watch out for the poison oak, no, don't get that wood, these pieces of locust will burn better." After a supper of fried fish fresh from the river, we spent the evening sitting around the fire, listening to the sounds of the mountains. A hoot owl "hooted" in the hollow across the river from us. A coyote could be heard "yipping" distantly. I was so happy. I was in such a peaceful place, listening to the river, fully fed and comfortable with the guy that was my world. Could it be any better?
"Can I tell you something?" I jumped at the sound of Matthew's voice, but nodded yes. "I could've answered your question, but I didn't." I sat for a moment trying to figure out what he was talking about, and then I remembered the day in the hospital. " Why have you been so nice to me?" He shifted his gaze until his piercing blue eyes were locked on me. "You remind me so much of my little brother. It's almost eerie, but so true. Your looks, your bashful personality, being so smart and such an egghead, it's like you are his reincarnation. I guess thats why Ive been drawn to you. I was young when Michael died, and I felt so helpless. I guess I thought if I could just help save you, if I could just claim any bit of credit for helping you recover." He smiled at me, but the smile faded and he began to redden. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You're not Michael, and I don't want you to think that's the only reason I want to be your friend. I do see so many likenesses, but I see you as your own unique person." I smiled, feeling a bit relieved. It had been my worst fear all along that he saw me as some charity case, or someone to feel pity for. I began scribbling on my pad, ever nearby, "I'm glad you don't just see me as your brother's twin. How long has your brother been gone?" He darkened a bit, "five years. I was thirteen at the time, and he was seven." I was beginning to wish I hadn't asked him about his brother. I couldn't stand to see him so sad. Desperate for something to make him happy or laugh, I scribble furiously, and then threw the pad at him as I jumped up and began dashing for the river's edge, jerking clothing off all the while. "You're crazy!," he half-shouted, half-laughed behind me. "The water's cold all year long, but it's freezing this time of year! You'll freeze your ass off!," but I didn't pay any attention. I had already reached the water's edge, and was removing my pants to jump in. Matthew laughed hysterically when I jumped in, pretending to not mind the cold, but shivering and my teeth chattering all the while. I waived and motioned for him to follow. He sat hesitantly for a moment, then jumped to his feet and began sprinting for the water, removing clothing as he came. Try as I might not to stare, I sat mesmerized at his body as he came crashing into the water. His muscular chest was well-defined, and the slightest trail of blonde hairs traced down from his bellybutton into his boxers. His arms were muscular, and his "farmer's tan" lines only made them more of a turn-on. Finally came his pants, revealing a football player's muscular legs, defined and toned from running, covered by fine dirty-blonde hairs. "Shit, that's freezing! You idiot, what are you doing getting us in here?!?," he laughed all the while, wading to where I was and pushing my head under the surface. We splashed and dunked in and out of the frigid water, lit by the almost-full moon, until neither of us could stand the cold any longer, so gathering clothes as we trudged back up the bank, we retired to the tent.
"You're and idiot, you do know that, don't you?" Matthew sat laughing and shivering at the same time, trying to sit halfway in the tent door and halfway out next to the fire. From the view I had of his muscular back and arms, I was inclined to disagree. We talked and for another hour or so, watching our fire die down to embers. "Shit, we didn't have enough wood for the night," Matthew laughed as he poked the last bit of ember glowing red. "We're gonna have to sleep under the same blanket. Nights get cold this time of year, and here around the river will be even colder. Here, get over here." He motioned for me to climb under the blanket in his hands. I hesitated for a moment. Was this really happening? Could I really be about to sleep with and touch the guys I had drooled over for so long? With a little hesitation, I climbed through his arms and under the blanket. "I'm afraid I forgot the pillows this time. Just have to make do some other way. Here, lay your head on my arm. I sleep on my back anyways." I couldn't believe what was happening. I was not only about to sleep in a tent with him, but would spend the night in physical contact! We laid in the dark for the next few hours, not really sleeping, but in my case, relishing in the feel of Matthew's muscular are under my head. How I loved the feel of those strong arms under my head, and hearing the steady rhythm of his breathing. And so feeling happier and safer than I'd ever felt in my life, my body gave way to sleep at last.