I Hear You

7- Strawberry Boy

<Matthew Erwin>

My face glowed as I leaned into my straw, "well...cheers," I said, realizing that there were no cups to raise up and clink. As I sucked on the straw, I tried identifying the flavor. The more I thought about it, it sort of tasted like strawberry. Strawberry.

I've always been cautious around milkshakes, but when it came to strawberry milkshakes, it reminded me of my childhood. My dad on every birthday of mine would take me to this café back home in Occoquan, that sold the world's best milkshakes. That was my birthday gift from my dad. My mom would always hand me a chocolate bar, which started an unhealthy addiction to chocolate. I still tend to binge eat over chocolate, I can't help it.

Anyway, when it was my thirteenth birthday, I didn't get to go straight home after school, I had baseball practice. Thoughtfully, my dad already knew my favorite flavor milkshake, strawberry, he decided to pick it up for me before I got home. Well, when he was driving back to our house from the café, something terrible happened to him. Something that changed my life and his life permanently.

An idiot wasn't paying any attention to the road and crashed into my dad. The car accident was extremely brutal. It paralyzed the man's arm that crashed into my dad, but it did something much worse to my dad. It was heartbreaking for him, what he lost.

My dad, Chase Erwin, used to be a marathon runner. He'd come into the top ten of who finished first. He was very healthy, athletic, and young. His wife, or my mom, now Nina Erwin, was hopelessly in love with my dad. She helped train with him for his 26K marathons. It also broke my mom when my dad was in the car accident.

My dad lost his legs in the accident, at first there was this small infection in his legs. His legs were going to be fine with the right treatment, however, the doctors were too late. They had to amputate them. Like I said before, it practically killed my dad. Ever since my thirteenth birthday, I've never had a strawberry milkshake again, since it reminded me the accident could have been avoided if he didn't follow my birthday request.

I was close to my dad, especially then, but once he lost his legs, he was a different man. He was meaner, short-tempered, traumatized. He got fatter too, also more careless. He was an alcoholic without legs to stumble from. He was an alcoholic trapped in a wheelchair, in a cage that supported him. When he would get drunk, the reoccurring words would slip out, 'I wish I had died instead,'. It really did hurt me when he said that. He was terrible to choose his legs over his life. But when I think about it, his legs were his life. After what dad would say, Mom would always respond with 'the doctors must have also removed your heart as well.'

Each time before I would stand up, I would always pat my thighs. I fear losing my legs. It sounds silly, I know, but after all, I am the son of my dad. My legs are his legs. At first, it was a habit when I would pat my legs, making sure they were still there. However, after all the years of patting, it became a reflex I didn't need to think about. It's like breathing, it came naturally.

I cleared my thoughts from my mind and opened my eyes. Lewis, the physical voice of my head, was nose to nose, making eye contact with me. He wasn't smirking like I expected him to be, he was concerned. He had a worried look on his face. Why was he worried?

"I'm sorry," he clasped onto my hands, "that must have been terrible for you." He sounded sorrowful, sympathetic. Why was he was feeling sorry for me?

"I don't understand," my voice cracked as I jerked my head back.

"Your story, your youth. It sounded like a terrible experience. I'm sorry," he gazed his eyes down at the table, looking at his hands touching mine.

I pulled my hands back, confused. "How do you know about my childhood?"

He softly smiled and then pointed to my forehead, then turned his finger to his.

Oh yeah, telepathy. He can hear my thoughts. We can conversate mentally. That's crazy.

"Matthew, thank you for telling me this, even if it was unintentional. I always wanted to know more about you. Y'know, you kind of get curious when you hear a sweet voice talking in your head." Lewis spoke calmly. He brought back his mischevious smile and stood up from the booth. "Thank you for this wonderful date, shall I walk you out?" He held out his hand, I took it.

I reached into my back pocket to grab my wallet, but then he raised his hand at me, halting me. "Don't worry, I'll pay for this one, but next time, it's your turn." He layed down a twenty dollar bill on the table, paying for our meal.

Wait-next time? He thinks there will be another date? Wait-DATE? I mean...friendly dinner! Ugh, how do I explain this?

He snickered quietly to himself, "You're so adorable, Matthew." His voice giggled in my head. He was talking to me in my mind. We were...we were conversating mentally! Crazy!

He walked me outside and shook my hand, "again, thank you, Matthew."

"Of course, anything for a FRIEND," I spoke the last word the most clearly to hint.

He laughed again, and the pulled me in, we were body to body. There wasn't an empty space between us. Then he whispered in my ear seductively, "see you again, soulmate~"

I turned to correct him but he was gone. Surprisingly, he was quick. That man. He's so...weird. I don't know how to feel about him. He makes me so uncomfortable, yet relieved. Why...why do I feel so neutral about him? My feelings for him are balanced. 

What the hell?

***A/N***

*sigh* Oh Matthew.