Disclaimer: Same as before. I don't own them, I don't want to earn any money on them.
English is still not my native language: please excuse inconsistencies and tell me about major mistakes.
Let's go on with the story.......
The old man was called Stick, and he worked as a janitor at Sta. Cecilia's. Matt went to school and made great progress. The teachers were impressed by how quickly Matt was able to find his way and to avoid obstacles. His father, Jack Murdock, was happy that his son wasn't so depressed any more. And after only a few more weeks Matt even braced himself to walk to school by himself. A small victory, but a very important one. And every afternoon, after classes and before his father came to pick him up, Matt spent time with Stick, learning to listen.
As the weeks passed, Matt's school fees increased, and Jack had to work more to raise the money. He boxed, and lost some games, and won some more. He took another job at the docks, hoping against all hope that his back wouldn't give in on him. Sometimes he helped out in one of the local bars, carrying beer crates in through the back door, and bouncing people out the front door. And then one day, Jack Murdock was approached by a man he had hoped never to see again. The Fixer.
"I see you work hard these days," The Fixer said as an introduction. His giant companion stood silently behind him, not moving a muscle. "You have an important match this Saturday." It wasn't a question. Jack didn't answer. If he won this match, he'd have a chance at the championship. That would solve a whole lot of financial problems. "You need to loose this fight." As so many other big, strong men, Jack needed some time before he got angry, but he was getting there. "I've stopped working for you, Mr Fixer." He flexed his fingers slowly. "I don't need your help to win a fight, and you can't tell me when to loose one either." The Fixer smiled. "You'll see that you are wrong. You never stopped working for me. Do you really think you won all these fights by yourself?" Had he really? Yes, Jack believed in his own luck and his own skills. He'd definitely done this by himself. Somehow Matt had inspired him to do far more than what he had thought was possible. He had started believing it was possible, and then it was just a matter of doing it. He wasn't going to take the Fixer's instructions anymore, and he told him so in no uncertain way. The Fixer's giant shrugged. Even a heavyweight boxer like Jack Murdock had reason to feel dwarfed by this wall of a person. A small "We'll see....", and they were off. Jack really could not tell why, but these few words scared the shit out of him.
Matt waited by the school gates when Jack came to pick him up. Matt listened. There was something in his father's steps, a whiff of worry, an angry heartbeat. Somehow this all calmed down when he approached, and when Jack reached out and touched his son, Matt could only trace a small hint of concern. They walked home side by side, Matt telling about his day, emphasizing his progress. Jack nodded at the right times and gave a few encouraging sounds, but didn't pay much attention. Matt's conclusion came as a shock to him: "So then, Dad, I'd like to go back to my old school." "What?" Jack had to rerun the conversation in his mind. "Quit Sta. Cecilia's, you mean? You think you'll manage that?" Matt nodded. "I'll need some help, of course. Maybe some equipment. I've learned Braille, but I'm not very good at typing yet. And I need translated books, and audio books, and someone to check my Braille homework, but the school can get someone at Sta. Cecilia's to help them....." He seemed to have it all sorted out. "And as I didn't quit my old school legally, it's just a matter of giving the teachers a few days to get ready. It isn't as if they've got to 'Blind proof' the whole school, you know." Jack felt a surge of fatherly pride, but he also felt he had to point out some obvious facts. "How about your mobility classes? Learning to get around? Going from classroom to classroom, or to the cafeteria, it's not going to be easy." "Life isn't easy. I haven't had mobility training for a month now. Just look." And Jack did, and realized that he hadn't seen his son this afternoon. Just a few days after his first meeting with Stick, Matt had asked his father not to hold his hand as they walked home, just to walk beside him. Now they walked along the pavement, and Matt held his cane as if it was a pool cue, not even touching the ground. They turned a corner, he dropped the tip of the cane for a split second, and continued. "You know, Dad. I've walked this route for three months now. I guess I could do it without my cane, but I prefer to have it at street crossings. It's really just a matter of listening." Jack stared. "Did you learn this at your mobility classes?" Matt smiled, but never got to answer that question. "We're home. Do you have any plans for dinner? I can cook, you know, if it isn't too complicated." And so the evening went with Matt showing off his skills, and his father never getting to ask who had taught him.