Matty was Sandy's pet name for Matt ever since they were old enough to talk. Growing up in a small rural town in northeastern Minnesota is just like 'Mayberry', small, friendly, and everyone knows each other.
"Matty...Matty...Matt!" Sandy was trying to get Matt's attention.
"Huh, what? What did you say? I'm sorry, my mind is somewhere else right now. I don't mean to ignore you."
"I was saying how great it is to. . . Oh, forget it, your not even paying attention. What is up with you? Ever since we got back from the graduation ceremony you have been awfully quiet. Is anything wrong? Did I do something?"
"No, nothing is wrong, just thinkin' is all."
"Alright, well I gotta go. My mom said I have to be home for a celebration dinner with the family.
Sandy quietly arose from the ugly, vomit green chair that sits in the unorganized, crowded corner of Matt's bedroom. Starting to make her way through the dirty clothes sprawled out covering his brown, shag carpet, Matt mumbled for her to wait.
"Hey, Sand. . ." Matt said, lying on his back on his unmade twin-size bed. He was tossing his baseball up and catching it again with his favorite, worn out, glove he got on his seventh birthday from his mom. The glove is his most treasured possession. Sand is his pet name for Sandy, as if he were to lazy to say her whole name.
She pauses in midst of a soft ray of early summer sunlight as it reveals itself through the dingy, off-white, sheer curtain covering the open window. The curtain gently swaying as if it were dancing in the warm, peaceful breeze. Her flowing, golden locks glisten in muted sunlight as she turns toward Matt.
Gazing up at Sandy, Matt notices how beautiful she has grown up to be. He quickly rubs his eyes not wanting her to notice he was admiring her. Slowly sitting up on the edge of his bed, Matt lowers his head.
"Sand, have you ever wanted something so bad in life but knew you could never have it?"
"What's this about, Matty?" Sandy whispers.
"Nothing, never mind. It's nothing, don't worry about it. I'm sorry I even brought it up."
"It is something, but if you're not ready to talk about it, just remember that I'm always here."
"I know you are, Sand. I know you are, you always have been. Goodnight, hope you have fun tonight at your dinner."
"Goodnight Matty. Are you sure you're alright?"
"I'm fine, you go have fun. Talk to ya tomorrow."
On her short, two-block walk home, Sandy strolls along slowly as she keeps wondering what is up with Matt. The image of him lying on the bed, his dark chestnut brown hair tousled, his crystal blue eyes starring off into a world of his own, keeps replaying in her mind as she questions herself; "What was he talking about? Has something happened he's not telling me about? Is he planning to do something? What if he wants to move far away? What if I never see him again?"
She makes her way up the windy, stone pathway to the old Victorian-style home. Her mother is holding a bouquet of a dozen blood-red roses waiting for her at the oversized, hand-carved, oak door. Sandy smiles and greets her mom with a hug.
"Thanks' mom. They're beautiful." On her way into the house her stomach begins to churn as she couldn't stop thinking about Matt. "Mom, do you think after dinner I could bring a piece of cake to Matty? He seemed kinda down after we got back from the ceremony. I want to surprise him, maybe that will cheer him up."
"Sure honey. Maybe he would like to join us for dinner?" her mom replied.
"No, I think he wanted to be alone for awhile."