Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.
-James A. Baldwin-
It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.
-William Blake-
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Saturday, September 25, 1967
I've been in the hospital for two weeks now and the doctors still can't figure out what's wrong. Some people are calling me a "Gene Joke". I'm not sure what they're talking about, but Mom and Dad don't want to visit anymore. Charlie's in a different ward than me. The doctor won't let me go to visit him. He says that Charlie doesn't want to see me. Besides that, they're afraid my legs won't support me. I guess I did something pretty bad. I want to apologize, but no one will let me.
On Monday, I start my tutoring with Mr. Kelly. I think he's a friend of my parents, but I can't remember. They've got me on so many pain relievers I can't see straight. I just want to know what's wrong with me.
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Sunday, September 26, 1967
"Hello Guido!"
The young boy was stirred in the late afternoon by a sweet, familiar voice. A tall, slender woman with chestnut brown hair and wearing a tan sweater came in through the doorway. Following close behind was a man a few years older than she. He supported himself on twin crutches, but walked very well in spite of his disability. Guido knew the warm couple as Aunt Lois and Uncle Lou. They were his God Parents by will. He was surprised to find his aunt's arms around his neck, seemingly unperturbed by his recent malformation.
"Aunt Lo!" Guido was very careful to touch her gently. He'd broken one of the RN's wrists the first night he'd been in the hospital and would have rather not had to deal with a reenactment.
"Oh, Guido, you're looking very well." Lois said warmly, then shot a smile to her husband who nodded.
"I know I wouldn't be looking so good after being hit by a bus." Uncle Lou gave his nephew a short little grin that bent his pencil mustache upward.
"Aunt Lo, Uncle Lou . . . what're you doin' here?"
"You thought you could keep us away?" Lois asked kindly. The three exchanged updates in the family as well as the news on Guido's condition. It was just more and more of the same. No one knew what was going on but they knew something was definitely wrong. Most kids, when they get hit by a vehicle, go splat; Guido swelled up. However, it wasn't scar tissue, fat, or displaced bone. Everything that had grown in was pure muscle; and it worked too. As could be assured by the RN's busted arm.
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Monday, September 28, 1967
The morning sun came pouring in jagged lines from the blinded windows. The warm light washed the colorful walls of Guido's room, playing across the window of the door and the shiny, brass doorknob. He was stirred by a nurse who laid breakfast out for him on a silver cart. There were all sorts of things on the platter, all looking quite appetizing. Guido had noticed that his appetite had grown with him. The doctor explained that his body was trying to keep up with the metabolism that it had developed so quickly. Whatever the case, Guido was hungry and so he ate very well. Half an hour later the nurse returned, but this time she was accompanied by a very sleek individual.
Mr. Kelly was average of height with short legs, a large hooked nose, and slick black hair. He donned casual clothing of a black coat, white shirt, blue jeans, and black shoes, as shiny as a beetle's back. Mr. Kelly though was not what truly caught Guido's eye, but it was the girl who followed him into the room.
Guido had never seen her before but she wore the bright white and red striped outfit of her namesake. She was a Candy Striper at the hospital. Waves of honey blonde hair were pulled back into little pigtails at the base of her neck. Clutched to her chest, held between tense arms, were several books. She shot Guido a short look, her eyes going slightly wide. The nurse showed the two guests in, took the leftovers of breakfast, and left quietly.
"Hey Guido." Mr. Kelly said in a direct manner, removing his hands from his pockets.
"Good morning Mr. Kelly."
"This," Kelly continued mechanically, "is Mary Bradley. She'll be reading to you while you're here." He indicated the shy little Candy Striper. Mary nodded a silent greeting and returned to tucking her chin into her chest.
"Alright kid," Mr. Kelly said, "lets get started, I ain't got all day."
Their session went fairly well for a first time ordeal. Guido missed several questions to do with wind trajectory and some such nonsense during their science studies. However, this could be contributed by his distraction. With the sun streaming in from the window, lighting the room goldenly, Mary looked every bit an angel. The oblique columns of light caught the highlights of her honeyed hair, and when she looked up to catch a glimpse her green eyes came alight. Even her cheeks turned rosy pink when Guido returned her modest smile with one of his own awkward grins.
"Should I just let you two make moon eyes at each other all day?" An very irritated Mr. Kelly growled while snapping the spelling and grammar text book closed. "Y'know, Carosella, your mommy and daddy ain't going to be too happy if they find out their little boy's flirting instead of paying attention. Speaking of paying, these classes ain't cheap, so I think it's ab—" The black haired man looked helplessly from one adolescent to the to the other, then finally he turned his face to the ceiling and uttered an incoherent curse beneath his breath. "Alright, fine . . . you guys can have this time to get to know each other, but I'm going to be outside and if I see anything suspicious . . ."
"Go on, Mr. Kelly. Guido and I can handle things . . ."
"That's what I'm afraid of . . ."
"Oh, go get some coffee," she answered in an almost bashful way, but she was beaming. Then, Mr. Kelly gave her a sideways glance and his dark eyes swept over Guido once more before he left the room, shutting the door with a trite sigh. After he'd gone Mary looked up to Guido but then her eyes shot away again; and he was too timid to say much to her either. Finally, though, she broke the silence with a little cough to clear her throat.
"Uhm, Guido . . . I'm supposed to be reading to you . . ."
"Uh, right, yeah . . ." Guido looked down at her, realizing suddenly how tiny she was, but at the same time understanding that he must be massive. Something told him that it was his new size that intimidated her more than anything.
"Where do you go to school?" He asked gingerly and Mary gazed up at him, as though seeing him for the first time.
"Oh, I'm . . . uhm . . . I'm home schooled."
"Yeah? I heard home schooling can be really . . .'
"Boring?" She finished with a small smile and Guido nodded in reply. Mary seemed to warm to him the moment he began talking, like there was something suddenly special about him. Perhaps showing her that he was indeed human had softened her reserve a bit. Then, she was scooting closer and setting her books aside.
"I heard about what happened to you . . ." Mary's voice was quieter now, like she was speaking to a sleeping child. "My mother told me you're a . . . a mutant. One of those . . ."
"Freaks . . ." Guido scoffed under his breath and Mary shook her head so hard that her pigtails wriggled.
"No! You're just different's all. I didn't mean to offend you, Guido."
"Aw, Mary, you didn't. I was just . . . y'know, this is all really new."
"Yeah, I can't imagine . . ." her hand traveled across the blankets and rested upon one of his thick fingers, and there she clutched to it with a pensive expression.
"It's still hard for me to think about," he answered truthfully, "my parents think it's just a hormone problem . . ." Mary's laugh was more compulsive than mocking and to be perfectly honest Guido couldn't blame her. Anyone would laugh at a theory that far fetched. Hormones? It would take more than a chemical imbalance to do these things to Guido. Perhaps a mega-dose of steroids would have done it, but he seriously doubted it.
Friday, October 9, 1967
Mary and I just finished reading, "Stewart Little", it was a great book. I'm glad it had a happy ending, and Mar sure seemed to like it. She told me it was one of her favorites, but next week we're reading something called, "The Catcher and the Rye". Mr. Kelly tells me it's an advanced book, but I'm pretty smart so it's right on my level. I'm not as worried about my studies as I am about my condition. On Tuesday, the doctors did some weight tests where they hit me with some heavy stuff. My arms are swollen from all the impacts, my chest too. They're trying to figure out why I'm absorbing the impact like that. I hope they find out what's up.
Sunday, October 11, 1967
Guido sat cross legged on the two beds that had been pushed together for him. It was, perhaps, not the most comfortable arrangement but nevertheless the twin beds provided sufficient support for his bulk. The boy was pouring over textbooks, studying over the grammar for what seemed to be the thousandth time. No matter how many times he read the text the lesson didn't seem to sink in. It could have been that he continued to think about Charlie. Why had refused to allow Guido to talk to him? Certainly he knew how sorry Guido was, certainly he could be forgiven. Perhaps, though, whatever he'd done to Charlie was inexcusable. Blinded by pain and fear Guido had lashed out blindly, trying desperately to fling any part of himself back into the world in which he belonged. Did he belong in that world, though? With normal people like Mary . . . like Charlie and Aunt Lo. He felt sure that at one time he had belonged there, however excluded he had felt from those around him. Was it some divine plan? He'd grown up in the elaborate structure of Catholicism where everything had a purpose. So did what was happening to him have a purpose, or was he just trying to rationalize?
A moment passed where everything seemed to freeze and then the door opened and Guido looked up to see Mary framed in the doorway. She looked a little wet and at her side she held a drenched umbrella. In all of his thinking he hadn't notice the deluge that had begun outside. It pounded down on the window panes while thunder roared in the distance, but all of that seemed far away. Mary walked across the room, leaning her umbrella in the corner. Then she took a seat on the bed and smiled up at him, gently. He noticed she was not wearing her Candy Striper uniform, and instead donned a brown turtleneck sweater and blue jeans.
"Hey Mary, I was just—"
"Studying? I see that." She giggled unnecessarily, seeming nervous almost.
"Yeah . . . what's the matter?"
"Oh Guido!" She threw herself at him and for an instant Guido could not say anything. He put one hand on her back, very confused about her sudden outburst.
"What's the matter?" He repeated, half dazed but mostly puzzled.
"I-I've j-just heard . . ." she whimpered pathetically, "t-they're going to m-move you."
"Move me?" His heart sank into his stomach where it summoned a very angry protest of knots. "You mean . . . you don't . . . to a different hospital?"
"Y-yes . . ." Mary stammered quietly as she sobbed wetly into his chest. They'd only known each other for two weeks or so, but they'd become so close it seemed like a lifetime. Finally, though, Marry stabilized her emotions and rose carefully away, wiping tears from her streaked face.
"W-well . . . when're they doing it?"
"Two or less weeks, I think . . ." her voice was flat and although she'd stopped her tears, Mary hiccupped quietly into one hand. Guido fell quiet, meanwhile the air felt very much as though they were attending a very solemn funeral. His eyes searched his books a moment and then, slowly, he spoke.
"Do you think . . . I mean . . . where are they going to move me?"
"I don't know," she answered, sounding gloomy once more, and outside a gentle rumble of thunder punctuated the scene. Guido's face fell and he knew he must be a little pale.
"Maybe they won't move me very far . . . you'll be able to visit."
"N-no . . ." Mary shuddered, "my parents are going to put me through school at the end of this semester . . . it isn't so far away. I'm so scared . . ."
"Don't be. School's actually a lot more fun that you might think. Most people don't get hit by buses."
"That's not why I'm scared, Guido, and you know it!" She turned to him, her face was wild. The frizzy strands of her damp hair and wide, puffy eyes made her look mildly deranged. Mary needn't say any more, Guido knew precisely why she was scared. He too was scared for the exact reason. Neither wanted to lose the other, it would hurt so bad that these last few weeks would seem like nothing at all. Mary was probably the best friend he'd ever had, and Guido was convinced if she went he'd never have friends again.
"Well . . . how're your studies coming?"
"Uhm . . . they're . . . Mary . . ." She looked into his face straight away; the green eyes were no long wide, on the contrary, they were quite heavy. The pout on her little lips made the look absolutely pitiable. In that moment she was more fragile than Guido had ever seen her, and it both scared and endeared him at the same moment.
"You'll do great at school." He said lamely and for a moment she looked as though tears were on the verge of bubbling up again. She did not cry though.
"Guido . . . I love you."
He felt the corners of his mouth twitch but he did not smile and then Mary looked absolutely mortified. Her cheeks went strawberry red, as though she'd just done something extremely awkward, and perhaps she had. Guido had never actually been told he was loved by a girl, and Aunt Lo didn't count. He hadn't known how to react and suddenly he felt as though he'd offended her with his surprise.
"Mar . . . I didn't—"
"No, it's okay. It's my fault, I shouldn't have said that."
"What? No! That's not what I meant. I mean . . . I've never had someone say that . . . not like the way you said it." His expressions softened and her mirrored them. A tight little smile spread across her face then it transformed suddenly into the warm beam he'd come to know so well.
"Well . . . that's a shame . . ." Mary lowered her gaze so that she looked to be transfixed on something very interesting, but completely invisible, on the floor. "I actually . . ." she began breathlessly, but stopped a moment before continuing. "I actually came by to . . . ask if you'd like me to talk to Charlie for you." When Guido looked puzzled she continued. "You know, the Ronalds boy? I thought . . . maybe if he wouldn't talk to you . . . I could . . . maybe I could take him something from you . . . like, a letter . . . or . . . well . . . it's a stupid idea . . . sorry." She got up as though to leave.
"No, Mary, wait!" Guido started and he moved to get up, the beds creaking ominously beneath him. "That's a great idea. Yeah . . . maybe he'd listen to you. You're awfully pretty."
Mary's cheeks went that bright, strawberry shade again. She tucked a strand of loose blonde hair behind one ear and paused a moment, chuckling a bit.
"Guido . . . you're so sweet. Thank you . . . write your letter . . . I'll see you tomorrow."
Sunday, October 11, 1967
Dear Charlie,
I know you don't want to talk to me, but could you at least read this letter? I want you to know I'm sorry about what happened. I don't understand anymore than anyone else what's wrong with me. I've heard little pieces of rumors from nurses and other patients about what I did to you. If only you knew how horrible I feel. You were really the only person who talked to me at school. That means a lot to me. Most other people thought I was a freak, and I guess I am now. I don't remember much about what happened after the bus hit me. Everything was really blurry when my glasses were knocked off, I could barely see. The pain was incredible so really, I want you to know that I didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident and if there's anything I can do to make you better, to make it all right, I want to know.
Your Friend,
Guido Carosella
Tuesday, October 13, 1967
Lessons were particularly dismal on Monday, but afterwards, Guido gave Mary the letter for Charlie. She politely stowed it in her pack and told him she'd deliver it on her way out of the hospital. Not, on Tuesday, he waited with anxiety for she and Mr. Kelly to enter, per usual, as a duo laden with books and lessons. However, half past ten o'clock foretold something afoot and Guido would have been determined to find out what, if he was still small enough to sneak about unnoticed. No luck in that happening anytime soon. So he waited, and waited, and waited then, at around one in the afternoon, while he was reading "Alfred Hitchcock's: A Month of Mystery", the door opened and Mary came in, clad in her Candy Striper uniform but wearing a completely distraught expression.
"Where've you been?" Guido asked, sounding a little indignant. "I've been waiting for hours, but you never showed up." Then, suddenly, the absence of Mr. Kelly dawned on him, but before he could ask about it, Mary closed the door and began talking in a whisper.
"Mr. Kelly had a family emergency . . ."
"What about you?"
"I was . . ." she hesitated for a moment in which she sucked on her bottom lip. "I was . . . visiting Charlie."
Guido's heart skipped a beat and his heart soared into his throat. "Yeah? What'd he say?"
"Well . . . he didn't say much . . ." Mary fell stony silent again, he face darkening somewhat. Guido caught her tentative gaze when she chanced a look up.
"What did he say, Mar?"
"I-he . . . Guido . . . he hates you." Her face contorted with an awful expression that Guido was sure had appeared in his own. He felt his heart plummet suddenly into the pit of its stomach where it summoned up its usual tangle of uncomfortable knots.
"He read the letter, though," she answered feebly, "and I think he understood . . . but . . . he says that he doesn't want anything to do with you . . ." Mary faltered for a moment while she fumbled with her apron. "He said . . . he didn't like your kind."
"My kind?" Guido asked in a perplexed manner, as though the words were a foreign language. "What does he mean, 'my kind'?"
"I'd suppose he means . . . that you're a . . . a mutant."
"They don't know that!" Guido yelled, feeling his heart pound in his knotted stomach. Suddenly he felt sick and wretched, like he wanted to throw up. "No body knows what's wrong with me! He can't just—"
"Guido!" Mary snapped. "What else could possibly be wrong with you? Maybe you were meant to be like this . . ." He could see it in her eyes that she was feeling something similar to Charlie. Did Mary hate him for what he was? Were her words not but two days ago a lie?
"Get out of my room . . ." Guido snapped, roughly.
"Guido . . . I didn't mean to . . ."
His face fell, his heart felt as though it had disappeared completely. Now he felt more cold and alone than he had been in a long time. He drew his mouth tightly, then relaxed. "No . . . it's okay Mary. I'm sorry too . . ."
She came over and sat down, looking slightly rumpled. They stayed that way for a while, he, Guido, poised on the bed, half lying half sitting and Mary looking positively mouse like in her quietness. When she did finally speak, it was to bade Guido farewell. Then she was gone and the room felt so empty that Guido felt omitted from the place.
And those years that occurred between Guido's move from the hospital in Rhineback to others was lost in the pages of his diaries. Perhaps he simply lost track of the time or perhaps he decided the time was not worth the write. We do know, however, that during those lonesome years in hospital after hospital, his parents passed away in a bizarre accident when a satellite fell onto their house. Guido settled, out of court, for a massive sum of money. This all occurred while he was still a minor, though, because eventually he lived with his Aunt Lois and Uncle Lou. This was possibly after the doctors confirmed suspicions that Guido was, in fact, a mutant. Guido did not record his years as the ward his relatives very accurately, so they have not been included here. Sometime during his late twenties he left to make his way in the world. However, he squandered much of his fortune. In order to obtain more money to support his impulsive lifestyle, Guido picked up a job as Lila Cheney's body guard.
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