by Cece Peters
While Matty was released from the hospital the afternoon after our surgeries, I had to stay for another three nights while I fully emerged from anesthesia and the doctors adjusted my pain medication. In addition to my broken arm, I had also sprained my lower back and the doctors were monitoring me to see if I had sustained a head injury, as well, as I kept telling them I had a headache. They gave me an MRI, which came back normal; but since I was so groggy, they kept an extra eye on me. The rest of my body was fine, just sore. My doctors thought the headache was likely the result of the general stress of the fall and subsequent surgery. For years afterwards, I suffered from headaches, but no one could ever figure out why.
Matty visited me at the hospital both days, getting a ride with my dad, bringing me chocolate malts from the local ice cream parlor and teen magazines from the hospital gift shop, all of which he purchased using his own money. My mom stayed in the hospital with me, including overnight; and Matty came with my dad after lunch, staying until my dad headed back home to take care of my sisters, who the neighbors had been watching. So, he was with me for nearly three hours on both of those days; he sat by my bed and talked to me while my parents conferred with the nurses and doctors.
“That Matthew is such a nice young man,” my mom remarked after my dad and Matty had left after my second night in the hospital. “Rather cute, too, don’t you think?” She said with a smile and a suggestive look on her face.
“Mom!” I was mortified that my mother would comment on the looks of any boy I knew. “That’s gross!” Although deep down I, of course, agreed with her: Matty Boyd was, suddenly, a very nice young man. And I couldn’t deny that he was cute. I just didn’t want to hear it from my mom.
“Well, he’s quite fond of you, that’s for sure,” she said as she arranged my dinner tray in front of me. “I’ve never seen a boy that age show so much care for anyone. Actually, I’ve rarely seen many men behave with such kindness.” I remember suppressing a laugh, wondering what my mom would think of Matty had she witnessed him teasing me at school.
On the morning of my release from the hospital, Matty showed up riding in the passenger seat of my dad’s car as they pulled up to the entrance where I was waiting with my mom. I had been rolled outside in a wheelchair and was freezing cold. Matty hopped out and opened the door to the backseat for me, helping my mom with my bags while my dad assisted me into the car. Matty then got into the other side of the car to sit next to me and draped a blanket over me for the drive home. I can still remember how he tucked the blanket up around my neck to ensure it stayed on, his fingers brushing the sides of my cheeks as he did so.
Once we got back to my house, my dad helped me out of the car and upstairs to my bedroom with Matty right behind him on the staircase, carrying my bags. I remember feeling a moment of panic as I realized that Matthew Boyd was going to come into my room and see all of my stuff, but the feeling quickly passed thanks to the heavy medication I was still on. It was hard to care about much of anything with so many drugs in my system. My parents helped settle me into my bed, and then they left Matty and me alone. Alone …in my bedroom! I still remember how that shocked me, as though it were some scandalous occurrence. Leaving a pre-teen girl in bed in her bedroom with a boy? What kind of parents did that?!
But Matty had quickly earned my parents’ trust over those past few days. He had apologized profusely to them about the accident, insisting that it was all his fault. My folks did not blame either of us, realizing that kids get into trouble sometimes. They were just happy we hadn’t fallen into the pond. “You were really thinking about skating on that ice? In your shoes?” my mom had yelled at me, one of the few times she had ever done so. And I knew she was not so much angry with me as scared about what could have happened. “Seriously, Leah, you should thank God you weren’t on that ice or this whole situation could have been much worse.”
By the time I had gotten home from the hospital and into bed, I was exhausted. But I wanted to stay awake to talk to Matty. After all, we hadn’t been alone together since he’d visited me bedside the night of our surgeries. I felt rather grown up with him in my room and didn’t want him to leave.
Matty pulled my desk chair over next to my bed and sat down. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Sore,” I replied. “I don’t know which hurts worse: my arm or my back. And I’m so tired. Good thing we still have a two weeks of winter break before school starts again as there’s no way I could go back right now.” I could feel myself being lulled back into sleep, but I fought to stay awake so that I could keep talking to Matty.
“You’ll be much better when it’s time to go back to school,” Matty assured me. “And I’ll be here to help you recover!” He gave me a sweet smile and leaned over to bring my blanket up so that I was fully tucked in, just as he had in the car.
“Thanks,” I said, with a weak grin. “But you don’t have to hang around with me. I’m sure you’d rather be doing something fun.”
“This is fun,” Matty insisted. “It’s certainly better than being back at my house by myself. Your parents are really nice. They even told me to call them Ed and Jean, not Mr. and Mrs. Andrews. I like it here,” he said, smiling. “Besides, you need me, Leah!”
“Oh, I need you?” I asked teasingly. “Who was the one who got us both up and walking back to my house? If I had left it to you, we’d still be laying out there by the lake.”
“I was going to get up,” Matty insisted. “I was just catching my breath!” He gave me another smile and for a moment we just looked at one another.
“I have to sleep now, Matty; I’m sorry,” I said as I could no longer keep my eyes open. I realized I hadn’t even asked him how he was feeling, but I was too tired to say anything more.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be here when you wake up, Leah. I’ll always be here for you, promise.” As I drifted off, I felt Matty take my hand and squeeze it. I was able to gently squeeze his fingers back gently before drifting off to sleep.
And Matty kept his promise: he was there when I woke up later that day, and he was there every single day after as I recuperated. He had his own broken arm to deal with, but he never let on that he was in pain; and he quickly mastered doing things with just one hand. I mostly stayed in bed the first few days home, especially to rest my sprained back; so, we watched TV in my room and flipped through magazines and pictures, not only from school but also from my family’s photo albums. Matty seemed to like looking at all my baby pictures, teasing me that he would take the ones of me naked in the bathtub and show them to everyone at school.
When I finally started to feel strong enough to get out of bed, he helped me downstairs and into our living room, where we would do the same things we had in my bedroom: watch TV and look through magazines and pictures. I started to worry he was becoming bored, and I told him not to feel obligated to stick around.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” he asked with a fake look of hurt on his face. “Well, nice try, but I’m not going. My Leah needs me.” By the time vacation had ended, I had regained a lot of my strength and my medications were working to control the pain in my arm and back. Both of us headed back to start the second half of sixth grade as, just like Matty said, cast buddies. We of course got a lot of attention for having broken our arms, and Matty loved telling everyone about our harrowing accident. He may have added some embellishments to the story; and he left out the part where he’d cried like a baby. But his secret was safe with me.
Matty and I were both given extra time to transfer between classes as it took us a bit longer to exchange our books out at our lockers. Our lockers were only a few feet apart from one another, so we were able to chat while we switched out our supplies for the next period. We thought we were pretty cool being out in the hall alone while our friends were still in class.
From then on, Matty was a staple at my house, seeming to spend more time with my family than with his. And my family loved having him around. My sisters both had crushes on hi
m, my mom thought he was sweet, and my dad liked having someone to talk sports with. Between school and my house, I spent more time with Matty than I did with anyone else, including my parents and sisters.
Our bond grew stronger in the weeks after our surgeries. When we went back to school, we had to sit out during gym class. We sat along the sides of the gymnasium watching our friends play volleyball and basketball, making fun of how Krista could not dribble to save her life and how Jimmy only wanted to play volleyball to be with the girls.
One day, the meanest boy in our class, Chad, deliberately threw a doge ball in my direction. He was clearly trying to hit me as he aimed the ball towards where I was sitting, which was off to the side of the court, not at the kids who were actually playing the game. Matty jumped up to intercept the ball, jerking his own broken arm in the process, and yelled, “Knock it off, Chad! If you throw another ball at Leah, I’m gonna make you pay!” Matty then hurled the ball back at Chad, hard. Our gym teacher, Mr. Haines, blew his whistle; he told Matty to sit back down and sent Chad to the other side of the gym to sit out the rest of class. Everyone in the gym was silent, shocked at Matty’s outburst, not only in defending me but in standing up to Chad. I couldn’t keep the smug grin from my face as I was so happy that Matty had stood up for me in front of everyone. And Chad never bothered me again.
Lunch time was the big social event of our middle school days. Our school cafeteria consisted of these bulky metal picnic tables, the kind with attached benches for the seats. They had wheels on them and were able to fold up in case the cafeteria needed to be cleared for another event. These tables were pushed together to create long rows with aisles in between them. Each grade had a designated lunch hour; we’d all line up outside the cafeteria and file in. Everyone had to go through the line for the school prepared food, even if they brought their own lunch. My group of friends and I almost always brought our lunches from home.
All of our friends sat in the same row of tables every lunch hour, with the girls sitting along one side and the boys along the other. Changing your seating position at the table was always a source of drama as everyone thought that whoever sat the closest to the food line, i.e. at the “top” of the table, was the most popular; and that your popularity decreased the further down you sat along the table.
Matty and I switched our unofficial seats so that we could sit directly across from each other. And we decided to just sit at the end of our section of friends so as not to disrupt anyone else’s spot; which according to the social rules of the lunchroom, made it look as though we were the least popular kids in our group. Fortunately, neither of us cared. My mom always packed extra cookies or other treats for me to give to Matty, since his parent’s discouraged sweets; and he always finished my leftovers, even if it was only the last bite of my sandwich or the crumbs at the bottom of my bag of chips. My mom always packed a frozen juice box in my lunch to keep my sandwich cold; I would drink the juice and Matty would finish the icy bits that remained.
Matty always walked to and from school, regardless of the weather, as his dad said it was good exercise. Even when we had our casts on, Matty was still expected to walk; however, my mom insisted she drive us both. His parents were too busy to even notice. Once the weather warmed up, and if Matty didn’t have an after-school sports practice, we would sometimes ask if we could walk home. We thought it made us more grown up to walk rather than to get a ride from a parent. But of course, we only wanted to walk if it was a nice day. It was a two-mile trek from our middle school to our block, and we would walk slowly, taking twice as long to reach our houses than if we walked at a normal pace. A few times my mom sent my dad out looking for us, worried we had been kidnapped or had gotten hurt as it was taking us so long to get home.
A big part of junior high were the monthly dances, which were held at a large church one Saturday every month. Anyone age eleven to fourteen was welcome, with admission costing two dollars. The dances were organized by the church’s youth group as a way to raise money for their activities. They also sold snacks such as cans of pop and bags of chips. I once asked my mom why a church allowed dances and she said it was because they were Presbyterians. Whatever that meant.
The ritual for these dances was always the same: Several of us girls would arrange to sleep over at one of our houses on the night of the dance. So, if it was my turn to host the sleepover, everyone would be dropped off at my house around six in the evening. Either my mom or dad would drive us to the dance, which started at seven; and one of them would pick us back up at nine to take us back to my home for the slumber party. There were nine dances every school year, and we alternated between houses for the sleepovers.
The dances were held in the church’s basement, a large room that was typically used for wedding receptions. There was always a D.J. on the stage playing the most popular songs of that time, and we had these ridiculous line dances we would do. They weren’t the country music line dances that many people know of, but they were similar and set to pop music. They were the only “fast dances” we knew of.
The girls typically huddled together in one half of the basement while the boys stayed in the other. Even though the dance was for all of the junior high students in our city, we rarely mingled with the kids from other schools. Our school was considered the “nice” school, and we didn’t want to associate with anyone from the “bad” schools; although no one was really sure what made one school “bad” and one school “good.” Many of us eventually became friends when we ended up in high school together, and we would laugh when reminded how we had avoided each other at the junior high dances.
It usually took a few songs into the evening before a boy would be brave enough to ask a girl to dance; and once one couple started, several others would pair up. Matty always danced with lots of girls, especially the less popular ones. He told me he didn’t want to see anyone left out. I wasn’t jealous as he always danced with me the most; I thought it was sweet that he went out of his way to include everyone. I would usually dance once with Jimmy; but otherwise, none of the other boys ever asked me to dance. Which was fine by me as I really didn’t enjoy dancing with anyone other than Matty.
The slow dance style of that time was for the girl to hook her hands around the boy’s neck while the boy put his hands around the girl’s waist. This left about twelve inches between the couple. We’d then rock back and forth while turning in a circle. Some of the older kids would try to dance with their full bodies touching, but the chaperones would break them up.
Matty and I were still wearing our casts during the first two dances after Christmas vacation, and we hammed it up dancing with each other using just our good arms perched on each other’s shoulders. I normally hated being the center of attention, but with Matty I felt safe. I also felt protected by Matty’s popularity; none of the other boys ever picked on me once it became known how close we were.
Once summer came, Matty’s arm was fully healed and he started both baseball and tennis, along with most of the boys from our class. Us girls would trek to every game and every match, asking our parents to drive us but also insisting they drop us off a couple of blocks away so that we could walk up to the baseball field or tennis courts ourselves. We would try to watch the boys play but we usually got bored and spent most of the time gossiping.
There were always a few girls who had crushes on Matty; but at that age, most of us liked at least a couple of boys at any one time, narrowing our focus to whichever one seemed to offer us the most attention. That particular summer, I “went out” with Jimmy for one week. During that time, we spoke to each other for all of five minutes before we agreed we were better off as friends.
Matty had two girlfriends that summer, both friends of mine; but, just like with Jimmy, those relationships lasted about a week with little actual contact. By the time we finished middle school, most of us in our group had coupled up for at least a day at one point. Fortunately, no one had gotten their heart broken too badly and we all remained
friends.
While I no longer wore a cast by summer, I was still dealing with pain and stiffness from my broken arm as well as lingering soreness in my back. I ended up going to physical therapy three times a week for nearly two months in order to regain my full range of motion. Matty tagged along when he could; and my physical therapist even let Matty come into the treatment room with me. If Matty came, my mom would just drop us both off at the medical complex and pick us up once my appointment was over. She felt that, since I was only twelve years old, that I shouldn’t be there alone. But as long as Matty was with me, she felt okay to leave. I think she liked the chance to be able to run an errand or two by herself rather than sitting with me during therapy.
That summer was also when Matty began climbing up to my second story bedroom window. The first time was on a Friday night after I’d missed one of his baseball games due to having a fever. While I wasn’t running a high temperature, my mom had decided it was best to keep me home. I remember calling Krista on my pink princess telephone to tell her I wouldn’t be able to go with her to the game.
That evening, I was in my room watching television from my bed when I heard a noise outside. I sat straight up, terrified, and ready to scream for my dad when I heard Matty call my name. “LEE-AH!” he said in a loud whisper. “LEE-AH? Are you awake?”
I got out of bed and ran to my window, struggling to figure out how to get it unlocked as I had never opened it before. I finally managed to push the bottom pane up and popped my head out to see Matty half-way up the trellis against our house.
“Matty! What are you doing?” I asked in my own loud whisper. “Why don’t you just come to the front door?”
Matty pulled himself up a few more feet until he was able to climb onto my window ledge. “What fun would that be?” he asked with a big smile. “This is way cooler!”
