Date: Sat, 20 Jun 2015 10:49:02 -0400 From: Jesse Jesse Subject: A Healing Love Chapter 3 Shock, I was shocked at my own self. I'd never trusted anyone enough to offer my friendship. Growing up in a world separated by the barriers of my condition, I'd become accustomed to being leery, always being on my guard for anyone who wouldn't understand or might mock me for being deaf. My best friend Tyler and I had taken years to come to and understanding with each other before eventual friendship. I couldn't believe what I'd just asked Elijah, and judging by the look on his face, neither could he. And as he sat studying my face I felt myself began to flush and I began to stammer. "I'm sorry......I......I didn't mean to......look, just forget it. I'm sure you've got your own stuff you wanna do. Just...just never....." I hung my head and stared at the carpet of pine needles that covered the forest floor. I couldn't believe I'd just been stupid enough to ask someone I'd barely met, someone I'd practically cursed a while ago for simply saving my life to stay with me while I spent the next two days here. Of course Elijah had his own reasons for being in the forest. It's not like he'd been sent here by some providence for me or anything; how stupid could I be!? But as I railed against my own self in my mind a calloused hand took hold of my shoulder and began to shake me, and for a second time my eyes met those blue orbs that seem to glisten out from within the handsome face, and all the world seemed to stand still. He was smiling that bemused smile again, a smile that seemed to somehow be full of both a mischievous, boyish devilment, but yet a caring, genuine smile. "Look, dude, if we're gonna be friends, you're gonna have to start paying attention to what I'm trying to say to you. I don't know how to sign, so how am I supposed to tell you that I'd like to stay........write it in the dirt?" I suppose, in some ways, I held as much prejudice towards Elijah at our first meeting as I expected him to hold towards me. In truth, it'd taken only a first glance at Elijah for me to form an opinion of who I believed him to be. The ball cap, the worn tee shirt with the sleeves and most of the sides cut away, the jeans with holes in the knees, the boots covered in mud, they'd all been to me signs of the typical redneck. Indeed, though I'd noticed his handsome features, I'd based my entire opinion of him on his clothes and the circumstances of our first meeting. This boy, I had decided, was nothing but the typical southern ruffian that wondered the pines, just a tactless redneck that cared much more for hunting and "mud slings" than his fellow man. I'd been ready to mentally crucify Elijah upon our first meeting, but the longer he stayed near me the more I realized just how wrong I'd been, and the happier I became to being wrong. Elijah was anything but "typical." He was warm, caring, to the point that several times I found myself pushing him away as he offered his blanket as we prepared our sleeping bags in the tent, joking that "I was deaf, not an invalid." Each time I'd jeer at him he'd smile a bit sheepishly and sit back down. But in truth, Elijah seemed just as interested in me as I began to be in him. He asked question after question about my being deaf, how I'd come to be deaf, how long it'd taken to learn to talk, was sign language hard. And so finally in a mock frustration I did something that took us both by surprise. We both felt it, the shock, the tingle of contact as our hands met. Though I'd pulled a face of mock disgust as I'd reached for his hands, offering "to teach him a bit of signing before he got on my nerves," the look that crossed both our faces as my smaller hand took his large calloused one told me that we both felt the excitement of what had just happened. Indeed, the look that crossed his face so surprised me that I quickly jerked away and began mumbling apologies. "I......I'm sorry. I didn't mean to act...." There was the smile, the smile that somehow seemed to make me feel warm inside, the smile that somehow brought a comfort between us. "It's okay dude, you just surprised me for a second." And the rough hands took both mine and pulled them back to within his lap. "Now, come on, how do you do this signing stuff? If we're gonna make this work, I'm gonna have to know how to tell you to kiss my ass when you get on my nerves!" There it was; with one simple , smart, comment Elijah had cleared every bit of tension between us. Gone was the resentment and misunderstanding between us, and gone was the uncomfortable barrier. Though Elijah struggled to gain understanding of sign language, there was something else between us, as though we understood each other on a different level. And so for several hours afterwards, until we both were yawning uncontrollably, we spent the evening forming hand signs, my hands slapping his in mock anger when he purposely formed something wrong, and we resigned ourselves that sign language would have to wait till the morning. "Well, I'm beat," he stretched, "I don't know about you, but I think it'd time to hit the sack." Though I'd thoroughly enjoyed our time of talking and joking, I was forced to agree. As I thought back over what all had happened in just a mere matter of hours I realized just how exhausted I truly was. But as I began to prepare my own part of the tent for sleep what happened next aroused my mind from any haze or fog it may have been wanting to lull into. Indeed, the sight that began to unfold before me so jogged my exhaustion clouded mind that sleep would not come for many more hours into the morning. It happened in a matter of seconds, with just a few graceful movements, it happened, so quickly that I found myself staring in surprise. In a matter of seconds Elijah had gone from being fully clothed to having shucked the muddy boots, peeled from the worn tee shirt, and slithered from the jeans, until he stood before me, bathed in moonlight, in nothing but his underwear. I couldn't help but stare at the sight before me. There, directly before me, stood the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. He was beautiful; there was no other way to describe Elijah. His tall, lean body looked like some misplaced statue that should have resided in one of the world's fine museums. Though I'd caught glances at his sides and arms throughout the day, now I was able to take in fully the sight before me. He was slender, but his torso was formed to such a degree, and his skin so pale, that he looked as though he'd been chiseled from marble. His arms were not the thick, beefy arms of someone who spent countless hours in a gym, but they were muscular and taught. His chest was perfectly formed, with the tiniest dusting of blonde hair that ran from between his pectoral muscles to somewhere beneath the waistband of his underwear. His legs were shapely and toned, not thin like my own. Indeed, as I stared at the sight before me, watching him stride toward the tent, I found myself thinking of how graceful his movements were, lithe and catlike. But even as my mind struggled to gain some self-control over the sight I'd just taken in, the sight that I beheld as I watched Elijah's back disappear into the tent brought a hitch to my breathing. Though his back was toned as his chest, it was covered in scars; not scars of scratches and scrapes of simple childhood mishaps, but scars that raised from the creamy skin of one shoulder blade to the other, scars that ran from rib to rib. They were everywhere, and at every angle. Indeed, though I'd found myself in awe at the sight that had been before me a mere second before, I now found myself wondering in disgust at what had brought such damage to such a beautiful body. What, or who, could have caused such pain? But my reverie was broken as the handsome, smiling face reappeared from the tent opening. "You coming to bed, or are you gonna go look for another snake?"