When it came time to think about life after school, I needed to discuss it with the O'Leary's. I knew what I wanted to do, but valued their counsel, their wisdom. After all they had done for me it was the least courtesy I owed them, and anyway maybe they would have suggestions I hadn't thought of.

Bill ended up raising the subject as we drove home, "Alex, what do you want to do? Your grades are excellent. You know Paul wants to do Law here. You are a math wiz, do you want to keep doing that or go into IT as you've mentioned? I think I can guess."

"No, Bill, I want to try for a GS scholarship at State U and do computer studies. It pays a great allowance, I will be able to support myself and it almost guarantees me a job with GS after I graduate. That would really set me up well, their reputation is so good. Mr. Stephens says I have a good chance. Otherwise I could do it here if you will still have me. He will make the application if you are OK."

Pat replied, "Alex, we want the best for you. You know this is your home and always will be. If you go away, we will naturally be sad. But there are still vacations."

Bill interjected, "Pat is right, you are family every bit as much as Paul and Lucy, you're very special to us. For being you, your humor, your intelligence, the way you tackle things head on, and in your own way for returning our love. But we know it is the opportunity of a lifetime. If that is what you want, I will phone Stephens tomorrow."

I hopped across to Bill and Pat to hug them. "That will be fantastic. You have been so good to me, giving me a home, may I say loving me, putting up with my moods because of my leg and missing my parents. But they could not have done more for me than you have. You are my parents now, my family." They probably noticed I had a moist eye or two, and I noticed Pat sniffling a little as I rested my crutches on a chair and hopped to hug her. Bill was a straight talking man of action, no emotion, no tears or apparent softness, so what he had said caught me in the throat, by surprise. I was such a lucky guy to have these fine people as my adopted family.

"Alex, we know we can never replace them, and I was Betty's best friend, that's why we took you, so we knew and liked you as a child. I still miss her, you made her so happy, but we do our best. I remember you in her arms when you were born. She would be so proud of you." She wiped away a full blown tear. What would they think of me having one leg? I sometimes wondered, guessed they would be pleased I managed so well with just one.

So when Lucy brought the mail in a few weeks later, she gave the one from State U to me, Alex, "Come on, what does it say? Did you get it?"

I was sure I missed out, ripped open the letter with a feeling of dread, then dropped my crutches in a crash - normally I was very careful with them - and encased Lucy in my arms. Even lifted her off the floor. She was lighter than some of the weights I pressed in the school gym.

"I did it, I got it." I was always very literate and well spoken, as you can see!

"What did you get?" said Paul with a large grin as he shook my hand and said, "I knew you'd do it."

The family gathered round, they were clearly pleased and sad at the same time. I was growing up, moving away to university, my life was moving on. As a one legged boy I think they were always concerned about me - nothing ever said - that I didn't injure myself in some way, jeopardise my mobility; my leg was the only one I had of course. If I injured it, that was definitely trouble. Now I was moving to bigger risks, not just from having one leg, but the world at large and how I anaged my future. I was excited, and I knew the one leg part was under control - that was taken for granted.

Over the next few weeks, I bought the clothes I would need, a laptop and printer and prepared myself mentally for the move. Moving into the O'Leary's had been traumatic, and now moving out was a time of sadness too. But I was letting them get on with their lives without this cuckoo they had taken in. They treated me so well, no one could have asked for better, but in the back of my mind I knew they were not my real parents. When I lost my leg I lost them too. Losing my leg was OK, I can handle it, don't even mind crutches. They're fast and light. In a strange sort of way I sort of like having one leg, it makes me different. And unless you have a stump you won't know how good it can feel. I miss my parents more.

Feeling nostalgic, I went for a walk past my old home, crutched slowly past, reflecting on the happy times. Opposite, I stood, rested my stump on my crutch handle as I dreamed of what was and was not to be. My parents laughing over nothing, just happy to be alive, the presents, the holidays, taking two legs for granted. Then the accident, the scream of brakes, the crunch of metal, the Police siren, the trauma of waking in hospital to find I had one leg. Other patients, like the guy in the other car who lost both legs. He was my age, in the next bed; I had a much easier time. He had been a star footballer, and his friends came to visit, some good looking hunks who didn't know what to say, embarrassed at his bandaged AK stumps, his legless body, the empty lap in a wheelchair. Even then I thought the smooth bandaged stumps had a symmetry which had a kind of beauty of their own. I thought of getting used to the looks, the stares at this one legged student, so different now. I could never merge with the crowd, I was always noticeable, people remember a one legged guy - remember me for what is missing, and always with crutches. Friends trying to cheer me up, get me involved in things. All I wanted to do was be left alone. No longer could I run with the wind - I could not walk properly any more. People sometimes thought I lost my brain when I lost my leg. My exam results sure showed my brain more than made up for a missing leg.

For enrolment day I decided to use my axillary crutches, beige chinos and a navy striped polo with my favourite oiled leather boot. The empty leg I tucked up inside my leg, next to my stump. The train trip over to the capital was an hour and a half. As I waited for the train, crutches by the seat, I thought of the transition I had gone through. Damn it. I liked having one leg. I enjoyed walking on crutches, my arms flexing, the special attention. And I'll say it, my stump was sexy. I hoped I would find someone special, maybe who would appreciate this special part of me. Now you understand one of my reasons for leaving home. If I wanted to bring a guy home for the night, Pat would have died of shock. So if I stayed at a friend's for the night sometimes, his bed seemed so much more inviting. I think she suspected I was gay, and I'm sure Paul knew. You don't share a room without getting to know a few of their secrets. I'm sure one of the magazines under my bed was moved. By now you've guessed I'm a pretty independent guy and didn't want the O'Learys suffocating me. They wanted to drive, but this was my day. The looks, stares and comments about my leg I took as normal these days. I looked different, so they were curious. The train was no different. The boy opposite, must have been no more than five, kept looking intently, trying to solve the puzzle of where my leg was. Finally he said in a loud voice, "Mommy, that man has one leg." Correct and to the point, an observant young man!

"Quiet, John, its rude."

"Its OK, he's inquisitive. It was bitten off by a wild elephant, so this is all I have left."

With that I raised my stump, which caused an immediate "Wow. That's exciting, sure beats my dad, he has two legs. Mommy, can I have one leg like that man?"

She replied, "John, don't be silly, now don't annoy the man."

I felt like replying, "He is not annoying me, he's just curious," but held my tongue.

"Are you going to the university?"

"Yes, its my enrolment day."

"What will you study?"

"Computer Science major."

"Well, I hope you do well, my husband runs an IT consultancy in town, there's plenty of business around."

For the rest of the journey, John looked wide eyed at the scenery all around him, including the man in the seat opposite, yours truly, clearly the first one legged man he had seen. When I moved my stump or placed my hand on it, I could see John's eyes widen in wonder. When I rubbed the end, I heard his gasp. And he kept quiet otherwise.

When we approached Wide Bay, I hopped to put my back pack on, picked up my crutches, rested my stump on the handle as I adjusted myself, said goodbye to John and his mother, crutched to the door, and clambered from the carriage backwards, then retrieved my crutches. I could never understand why the platform wasn't higher so I could walk straight from the train without having to negotiate narrow little stairs.

I could see a sign for the campus shuttle and waited among the queue of, I hoped, eager new students. I found a seat for the brief trip, and noticed a few strange looks at my crutches and stump as we made our way to the drop off point. The campus was an inner city campus, more high rise than high culture with lawns and quadrangles, suited me as a city type of guy I thought. I liked the assertive brick walls, the buzz of students everywhere, the rough concrete surfaces, functional yet beautiful too. It also looked reasonable for me to get about on crutches, elevators in the taller buildings, and no long flights of stairs. With my enrolment out of the way, I was happy with my choice of subjects, and still had the afternoon to find somewhere to live, and hoped I could do it. I had agreed with the O'Learys to stay the night if I had to, making sure I came home with my accommodation worked out.

Looking on the designated Notice board to find a place, I read through the lists and notices, didn't want to live in a dorm, but wanted somewhere on campus. Not sure what, except quiet, maybe sharing, but I would sure know when I found it. With some surprise, I saw the name Paul Jackson wanting to share a room. It couldn't be the janitor from school when I lost my leg. He had been so kind to me, and helped me feel good about myself again. After he left, I lost contact, thought he had gone to sea again.

So I consulted the map, walked over to Stump Hall. With a name like that, this had to be the place for me. The vibes were good. From a brass plaque in the foyer, it was apparently named after brothers Josiah and Jeremiah Stump, benefactors who left the money to set it up in their wills. I soon found Room 234 and knocked. I heard footsteps and the handle turn, with the stained wood door opening. Paul Jackson looked stunned, then grinned, held out his hand to shake, and said, "Alex, come in. This is a nice surprise. Are you here for enrolment?"

"Yes, and I saw you had a room to share and wondered if it was the guy I know."

"And now you know it is. Do you think you could put up with a messy bastard like me?"

"Oh, this guy could manage. I think we get on well. So what are you studying?"

I was shocked to see Paul. He was still the same ferociously good looking, muscular guy with the beautiful glowing skin of his part African forbears. He was wearing black running shorts, which showcased his large, incredibly muscled thighs. And his figure hugging white tee shirt did nothing to disguise the v shaped torso and well muscled chest. And I remembered the bulging biceps. But he had only one: he had one arm. His right arm ended above his elbow, with a neat, smooth rounded stump showing through his muscle hugging white tee. It was not a recent development, there was no glaring scar. He looked relaxed and natural about it, not even seeming conscious of his stump, which was thickly muscled like the rest of him, not small and shrunken. And I remembered his right arm well, just like his left one, thick bicep, that triceps extending down the back of his arm, rounded delts and one of the most muscular forearms I had ever seen. I couldn't believe Paul had lost an arm. In that instant I thought intuitively he was even better looking now, more assured and confident, his strong muscled physique made me go hard on the spot. By this stage my gaze was obviously on his right arm, which, as far as stumps go, looked smooth, healthy - a good looking stump. And I think I knew something about stumps.

"You didn't know I had a beard! Seriously, I guess my arm is a surprise. You didn't know?" He swung his stump back and forth, as if to say this is me now.

"No, what happened? I thought you stayed at sea, didn't ever hear any more after that day you left." That day was still clear in my mind, Paul delighted to be leaving, but sorry to leave me in the wilderness. We were each other's little slice of peace and sanity.

"After I left Branville, I went to sea, missed the salty air, tired of people being condescending to the janitor. One day, when tying up, there was a blockage in the lines. I went to fix it. As it came free, the rope looped and caught my arm, ripped it right off at the elbow. It was all over in a second. So that ended my sea going career."

"How long ago was this?"

"Oh, easily two years. I'm quite used to being one handed now, unidextrous as they say."

"Paul, that's so awful. Tell me more about what happened?"

By this stage he had shown me in, closed the door, and we were sitting on a small sofa which looked across a tree filled square in the student residential quarter. I was surprised, this was more than a study with a bed, it was a large study with two beds, two desks, mini kitchen. And wash basin. I liked the raw brick walls. It had a strength, a masculinity that was not cold but dynamic in the texture of the bricks. He had it looking immaculate, with a middle eastern rug on the floor and a print of a sailing ship in full rig on the wall. He managed to give a soulless study some personality, spartan but masculine.

"I can replay it in my mind exactly. It was so quick I didn't know at first that I lost my arm. So I went to grab a railing with my right hand and nothing happened. Then I saw my arm was gone. It didn't fully register in that instant as I tried to grab the railing again; I had done this all my life, it is what you do. Your arm is always there. Then it hit me properly as I regained my balance and raised my arm: my arm ended at my elbow. There was nothing there below. I'd lost my arm. So fast. The rest of my arm with my hand was lying on the deck. I couldn't believe it, that was my arm on the deck like a piece of meat. I knew I wouldn't get my arm back, so picked it up, still warm, and so recently part of me, and tossed it into the sea. It was no use to me now. One of my colleagues by this stage had arrived to help and tried to stop me, he nearly caught it. Thought I didn't know what I was doing. The look on his face when it slipped through his fingers was pure horror. He held up his bloody hands. It was my blood. The rest is history. I went to hospital, they fixed up my stump and I recovered."

"So that's why you're here, I guess."

"The company gave me a good payout, I'm OK for money if I'm careful, they're also paying for me now. I had to learn to write with my left hand, and things like how to deal with showering when you don't have an arm to wash the other arm. The bank wouldn't accept my first cheque after I lost my arm. I went in, standing there, plainly with my right arm just this stump, heavily bandaged still, and the girl still said this is not your signature. "How could it be, I don't have an arm any more. I had to use my left hand," as I held out my white stump. I fixed it, changed banks. I finished my school studies and now I'm here. So losing my arm was the best thing that happened to me. Got me out of a rut into doing something worthwhile and set me up - and I found a better bank. I don't even want my arm back, wouldn't take it if you offered. My life is good, my stump feels good, I like it, the doctor did a good job; I'm happy with one arm, its all I need. Just about everything I could do before I can do now, maybe in a different way or slower, but I'm not handicapped."

With that Paul lifted his stump and rubbed his nose with it slowly, then smiled broadly and folded his left arm across his body, holding the end of his stump in his hand. I guess it was a movement he liked, comfortable, the one armed equivalent of folding your arms. He was still a good looking guy, had kept his physique, even with one arm. His tee shirt showed that, as I couldn't help noticing when he opened the door.

"You know, you helped me with this. I saw how you managed, and thought to myself, "If Alex did it with one leg, I can do it with one arm. I always thought your stump looked good, so when I had my own, I decided to be positive. I decided to like my stump. Like you, I guess I've always felt a bit different, so me with one arm and you with one leg, we are physically different too, not just on the inside. Enough of me, what's been happening to you?"

"After you left, it was a bit rough. You were the only one I could pour my heart out to. The physical part of having one leg I dealt with easily. You helped me accept myself, the mental part. Talking to you I forgot about my leg and was just another person. I hadn't finished when you left. But I studied hard, and sure grew up fast, so here I am. I think I worked to forget my leg, and I enjoyed it anyway. The O'Learys couldn't have been nicer and the guys at school were Ok once they got used to having a one legged freak in the class. I had a bit of ribbing about having one leg, and jokes, and if ever a pirate was mentioned they always said that was me; some of them called me Long John. When I arrived at school in the mornings, a group of the guys used to stand against the wall with a leg bent at the knee as if they had one leg too, and on our last day it was a real laugh. The whole class came to school with crutches, walking sticks or arms in a sling and they had made a cardboard leg for me to wear for the day. I never laughed so much. So it was good natured, not ignoring I lost my leg and not letting me get too morbid or sorry for myself. I guess it helped me face the amputation a bit more. I only had a hard time from one guy, telling me I was a useless cripple and sneering, but one of the others knocked him into shape. And as I topped the school, I sure showed that guy; he was the loser."

"So what are you doing here?"

"I'm doing computer science, made the break from home. Really looking forward to it. What do you think about me as your room mate?"

"Alex, I don't want a disabled guy."

I must have looked crestfallen, shocked, because Paul laughed, came and put his muscular arm around me and said, "Silly, of course you are welcome, it'll be perfect. You're my friend, the only one who treated me with respect at that school. What we each don't have, the other can make up, with three legs and three arms between us we're unbeatable."

With that he pulled me towards him and kissed me on the neck.

"I always thought you were a good guy, and you've really grown now. We'll have a good time."

We continued chatting, almost like old times. I felt warm and happy, somehow I knew this guy cared about me and that rooming with him was the right thing. It was not just from his easy affection, there was something in his manner, how he spoke.

By this stage I needed to catch my train. Paul walked with me to the station. We caught up some more about our lives, people at the school, the O'Learys. He was still a good looking man, thick, curly black hair cut short, gleaming teeth which set off his smile, dark brown eyes with amazing long lashes, the same solid, well muscled physique, just with one arm now. He knew how to show off that body, his tee certainly did it - bulging out of his shirt, and with long navy Gant shorts; I always thought he had a certain style. Even with one arm he still packed a remarkable upper body, with one arm being short rather than disabled - and still looking good. There was a certain animal confidence which suggested having one arm did not affect him, but instead almost enhanced him.

As the train pulled out, Paul waved his right arm, his stump. What a cool character! I waved back as any normal friend would do when waved in farewell, even a short farewell, to a short arm.

In a few weeks I would be back for the new semester.