The Windshield

Mike's left sneaker squeaked as he dragged it down the tiled hallway of the education building. A sound he despised as it served to only attract the attention of pitying eyes. Something he may have to live with for the rest of his life. But he could walk, albeit not very well. He had proven the doctors wrong. His unscheduled trip through the windshield of Brad's car had caused a great deal of damage, but he was slowly improving.

Upon reaching the speech lab, he awkwardly shifted his backpack, pulled open the door and swung one of his crutches against it.

"Hey, Mike. Let me help you with that." Dr. Lechter was one of the few who didn't see a cripple when he looked at him, and he was grateful for that.

He nodded his thanks and shuffled through the doorway. Dr. Lechter led him to one of the small booths and helped him get settled in.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Mike. Kristen is one of my best students and I'm certain, with her help, your speech will improve a great deal. She should be here any minute. If you should need me, you know where my office is."

He nodded as Dr. Lechter left the booth then took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and prepare for the uncomfortable hour that lay ahead. He turned at the sound of the door opening, but saw only a foot stuck inside holding it ajar and an arm with a large box tucked beneath it. As the figure came through the door his eyes widened at the sight of his speech therapist.

She was several inches shorter than his six-foot frame, with a mass of white-blonde hair curling around her delicate features. She blew at the wayward tendrils falling in front of her steel blue eyes.

After dumping her armload on the counter she turned, smiled and offered her hand. "Hi. I'm Kristen Shore. Nice to meet you."

He shook her hand and noticed her eyes were clear, free of the pity he so commonly saw.

"Okay. Let's get started," she said as she pulled her pen and notebook from her backpack. "Dr. Lecther has filled me in on some of the sounds we need to concentrate on, but I would like to know if there are any special words or phrases you would like to work on. Maybe your address, your name or the name of a friend. Your girlfriend's name, perhaps?"

He scowled and shook his head no. There wasn't any special word or name and definitely no girlfriend. What girl would ever want to go out with him? He had spent hours studying his body in the mirror and knew every imperfection. The scar on his forehead was fading, but still obvious. His brain constantly struggled to control the left side of his body, and he had lost a lot of weight. He looked pathetic. No, there was no girlfriend, and he wasn't sure there ever would be again.