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Mistaken Identities

FROM
Break Out: Finding Freedom
When You Don't Quite Fit The Mold
James R. Hasse

"Two o'clock in the morning courage: I mean unprepared courage."

Napoleon Bonaparte

The telephone rang, and I hopped naked across the bed to the wall phone next to my dresser. I grabbed it on the fourth ring and flipped on the light switch.

"Hello," I said breathlessly with a mumbled, cracking voice. I glanced at the clock beside my bed. It was 1:30 a.m., and I had just gotten to sleep after a four-hour study marathon for an exam on Monday.

No answer.

"Hello," I repeated, this time a little louder and probably with a clearer voice but still out of breath from getting my crippled body across the room to answer the phone. The gray, tiled floor was cold and I propped my left foot against my right leg to warm my toes.

"Is Ken there?" a man's tentative voice finally asked.

"No ... he isn't," I said slowly, trying to make myself understood. "He should be back pretty soon."

It was Friday night, and I could hear the band still playing the last strains of "Louie, Louie" in the dorm's basement below me.

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