Matthew

There was a boy who didn't cry. His name was Matthew, but he was called Matt by everyone, except his mom. She always used his full name, even when he wasn't in trouble. Matt was eleven, but friends thought him older.

Kids cry normally for the usual stuff, feeling sad, getting hurt playing, or trying to get a grown-up's sympathy. Not Matt. He didn't cry for any reason. One time, going too fast, he flew off his bike into a ditch, falling hard on a big iron pipe. He got pretty messed up. But, no tears even then, Matt just grimaced, clenching his fists, all skinned up, but that's all, he was okay. His friends thought different things about Matt. Some boys thought he was tough as nails, just too cool to cry. Other kids actually thought he was strange, no one asked him why he was so stoic. Kids just accept. 

One girl was a special friend, but only she knew it. Myra, who lived around the block from Matt, saw him differently. She wasn't impressed with Matt for being tough, and thought the boys silly with their teasing him over being an alien, or a robot made out of unknown materials, something that never feels hurt or pain. She saw him as a fascinating mystery, a puzzle to understand, a mute question mark that looked like any typical boy. Myra felt Matt was somehow apart from others, in his own world, his own rules.

It was November when the neighborhood kids heard that Matt's very old grandma had passed in her sleep. The ambulance came, the kids saw Matt in the front window, he just stared at them. They didn't wave to him, and eventually went down to the nearby  park, the usual daily routine. Myra stood on the sidewalk, staying behind. She walked around to the driveway, and saw Matt again thru a side window, just sitting on his couch. His father was talking to him, hand on his shoulder. Myra hoped Matt would see her, but she also felt awkward, not sure herself why she was hanging around. 

The ambulance left with Matt's grandma, folks were outside talking together. His mom sobbed quietly on the porch. Matt came outside, seeing Myra, they walked down the driveway to his backyard, both kids completely silent. In the backyard, Matt sat down on an old tree stump. He looked stunned, frozen, a quizzical expression came over him. "Can't believe she's really gone.", Matt's voice was almost a whisper. Myra watched him slowly draw dirt circles with a stick.

Then, Myra just asked him, simply, directly, but quietly, without judging. "Matt, why don't you cry?" Already sorry she spoke, Myra thought he might get upset with her. But, looking away, he answered, again in the lowest voice. "When you cry you show you are weak. Someone can hurt you if they think you're weak." Myra didn't really understand at all, but just nodded, then said, "But, now is okay. I can't hurt you." Matt looked up, and stared deeply into Myra's brown eyes. Then, he suddenly felt his whole body begin to quake, as a rushing wave of the deepest sorrow coursed thru him like a spasm of released demons, as he began to sob in long, hard heaves and choking breaths. 

Myra simply held his hand and waited, as several minutes passed, Matt crying non-stop, his head bowed, the deep sobs coming from a place he couldn't comprehend. Looking behind her friend, Myra saw his mom in the back window, a finger to her lips. She nodded once, left.

Afterwards, Myra waited to speak, but no words seemed right. "So, what do I get for keeping your secret?" Myra had always followed her instincts, but was relieved when Matt started rolling with laughter, then both of them laughing together, that important afternoon they'll always remember.