My Best Friend, Jason

My Best Friend, Jason1

  In my experience, the strong survive and the weak perish; whether they are born weak with a sort of illness or are weak by choice. This is all so true. In school, who gets picked on? The little kid. Although this fact is shameful and sometimes extremely sad, it remains to be the way of life. Look around. Either people take pity on the weak or they torture them. Whichever the case may be, they receive unfair treatment. But when the weak have no choice to change their fate, and are still pushed around, it pisses me off. A very close friend of mine, Jason Milden, was born with such an illness: Polio. He proved to me that not all weak people are truly weak. And sometimes, they are the strongest of us all….2

  …“Jason, you ready for our first day of second grade?” I asked, as Jason and I walked to the bus stop. Wheeled, rather, in Jason’s case. 3

  “’S, Ahm,” he replied, nodding his head side to side. Pronouncing simple words as “yes” and “Adam” is much harder for those with polio. It’s a miracle he could speak at all.4

  The bus pulled up to the stop and slowed to a hault.  The bus driver lowered the mini elevator so Jason could get on the bus. I reached over to help him, but he began to scream, “m’self, m’self.” 5

  I successfully backed away in attempt to stop the screaming. Jason wheeled his wheelchair partially on the elevator and pushed the button to raise the elevator. His wheelchair, with him in it, fell backwards. I barely caught him and pushed him onto the elevator. The laughter of the children on the bus roared. My face became red with anger, and a tear fell in sympathy of Jason. 6

  I talked about how fun school would be on the way to school, but Jason was not interested. His face was still covered with cold, wet tears (he wouldn’t let me wipe them from his face), and he stared blankly out of the window, ignoring every word I said. 7

  We arrived to school, and after the rest of the children were off of the bus, he let me help him down to the sidewalk; Jason was ill, but he was neither stupid nor stubborn. I left him alone at his assigned building and proceeded to my classroom: room 213 with Mrs. Applebee.8

  The first half of the day was fun, as always, since it was the first day. I met some new friends and saw friends from previous years as well. I didn’t see my friends other than Jason outside of school. My family was too poor to afford a car and I couldn’t expect Jason to wheel himself 19 miles to town, and I wouldn’t go anywhere without him. So, as I sat conversing with my classmates and listening to my teacher, I secretly thought of Jason. Thought of what he was doing and hoping he was happy.  “Only one more hour until lunch,” I told myself. “I’ll see him then.” 9

  When lunch time came, I hurried to the cafeteria in order to find Jason. The moment I entered the room, I saw him sitting next to a table in the back corner. I got my lunch and sat next to him. “Where’s your lunch, Jason?” I asked him.10

  “Nah eat.”11

  “Why aren’t you eating Jason? You need to eat.”12

  “Nah ‘ungwy.”13

  We both sat there in silence for a few minutes while I ate a portion of my lunch before handing him the rest. I knew he couldn’t carry his tray by himself, so pretending I was full and giving him the rest of my food was the only way he would eat. He wouldn’t except help from me in front of all these people. I guess he could be stubborn at times. I saw him off after lunch and returned to class. Thoughts of him invaded my mind the rest of the day.14

  After class, I hurried to find him waiting at the flag pole in front of his classroom that I left him at before school. We proceeded to the stop where the bus was to pick us up. This time, though, Jason allowed me to help him on the bus.  But as he wheeled himself down the isle, one of his wheels got stuck on a leg to one of the seats.15

  More tears.16

  He tried to back up and turn for a full minute, only to fail and have laughter thrown at him. Against his will, I pulled him free and pushed him to the back.17

  “NO,” he screamed. “Me. I do it m’self. Weave me ‘lone.” I heard similar requests all the way back home. 18

He got off of the bus without the help of anyone except his own and took off without me. I could tell he was mad. “Why? Why you may’ me wook dumb?” he asked as I caught up to him. “I big boy. I ‘oo it on my own.” 19

  “Jason, I’m sorry. I just thought…”20

  “No, you fink wong!”21

  “Sorry, Jason.” I realize how hard it is but why does he take it out on me when I want to help? I said nothing.22

  Just as I was thinking that, tears balled up in his eyes and fell down his face all at once. “Ahm’, I wuv you.” He covered his face with his hands, tears dripping between his fingers. I fell to my knees, realizing that my face was now covered with tears, too. I wrapped my arms around him and held him.23

  “I love you too, Jason. You’ll always be my brother. 24

  More tears.25

  We remained on that very spot until the sun fell, drenched in each other’s tears…26

  School occurred in the same fashion for quite some time. Jason’s stubbornness didn’t sway whatsoever and our love for each other only grew. We spent every waking hour together, other than those  I spent in class. Often times, my mother would be angry at me for spending as much time as I did with Jason, but every time she saw his face and his unique smile, her mind changed. Jason’s ability to draw laughter wherever he went altered as little as his stubbornness, which was not a good thing. This only led to more bad evenings and cry fests, which I was tired of having. But all in all, the year was going well. Jason did meet a few friends of mine who he was fond of, and them of him. Our group of four was often made fun of, but since Jason didn’t know about it and the three of us didn’t care, it mattered little, except when Jason heard a snide remark or a round of laughter pointed in his direction. Sooner than later, the school year ended. This brought about the other love of my life: baseball season…27

  … “Yo, Johnny,” I yelled as I threw the ball in his direction, “heads up.” Johnny, my teams catcher, caught the ball and quickly threw it back. 28

  “You boys ready for the game?” my coach asked. 29

  “Yes, sir,” we responded, much like an army to their commander. I looked over to the fence behind home plate, where Jason was sitting and watching our practice. He came to all of our practices and games and loved watching them as much as I loved playing them. 30

  “Hey, buddy,” I yelled to Jason as I ran over to him and sat down. “What you doing?”31

  “Nuffin. Just wah’ing  you play ball,” he replied.32

  “Awesome. You ready to watch the  big game tomorrow? You know, it’s the championship game for district play.”33

  “’S.” 34

  “Good.” 35

  “Hey, Adam,” my coach said as he walked up to me, “you ready for the big game tomorrow? You’re pitching.”36

  “Yes, Sir,” I answered, butterflies dancing in my stomach. The coach walked off and I turned to Jason.37

  “Tell you what buddy,” I said to Jason, “I will hit a homerun and strike out 15 batters tomorrow just for you.”38

  “Willy?” Jason exclaimed as well as he could, as a smile gleamed up at me.39

  “Promise.”40

  I got nine hours of sleep that night and ate a healthy breakfast. I was ready. Bur first I had to pass ten hours before game time. And so time passed until it was time. I suited up and headed for Jason’s house. We went to the game together, same as always. 41

  As I was warming up, I gave Jason a smile and a slight wave. I don’t remember much about the early innings of the game, but I do remember it was a close one. The score remained tied until the sixth inning, where the other team went up by a run. My team knew we could win, and showed no signs of panic. 42

  But then is when it happened. I stared over to give Jason another smile, only to see his head down. Knowing Jason, I knew he would never miss any of a game, and decided something was wrong. I ran to fence and screamed his name.43

  No sound.44

  No movement.45

  Then, other people in the neighborhood began to get worried. Someone called an ambulance while I cried at his side. I kept yelling his name and shaking him as tears poured down my face.46

  He was gone. The ambulance and his mother appeared at the same time. His mother embraced me and I did the same to her, drenching her blouse in tears.  The paramedics pronounced him dead on sight and tried to bag him. His mother stopped them.47

  “No,” she said. “He would want to finish the game.” And she was right. In my heart I knew he would want to see then end of the game. And if you know anything about baseball in this time, the game stopped for nothing. The paramedics agreed and let him stay. I marched back to the dugout, tears in my eyes, and took a seat.48

  One last inning up to bat to win the game for him. That was it. There was one out when I entered the on deck circle, staring at his motionless body. 49

  More tears.50

  “Son, approach the plate,” the umpire ordered as I saw the previous batter run back to the dugout. Two outs. I walked the plate and wiped away my tears. I could only think of one thing. A promise…51

  …I know this is when I’m supposed to tell you about my miraculous homerun that won the game, but I‘m not. As I walked to the plate, the promise, pounding in my head, my body filled with an ultimate sort of ambition. A desire above all others. I stared at the pitcher, daring him to give me a good pitch.52

  As the pitcher began his release home, I gritted my teeth. I swung my hardest only to foul the first pitch off. 53

  Strike one.54

  The pitcher prepared his second pitch, and the determination was building up inside of me. But again, I fouled the pitch off. A hint of doubt reach my mind, but I pushed it away.55

  Strike two.56

  And finally, the pitcher began his third pitch, but only this time a new emotion entered my mind: grief. Along with that: despair. I saw the pitcher in his windup in slow motion, and the world seemed to freeze. Past memories of me and Jason flooded my mind: Playing in the rain, playing with his pets, and both of our favorites: watching The Braves play on TV. 57

  My eyes filled with tears. As I fell to my knees, I watched the third pitch fly across my face.58

  Strike three.59

  The game was over; for me and for him, and I had lost them both.60