Cutter's Wounds By: Jeff N (Copyright 2009 by the author) Editor: Madison Cole
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Chapter 1 Moving In Next Door
It was a typical summer Saturday in August. My Dad, Mike Johnson, and I were out doing our weekly lawn yard work. Dad was working in the front yard trimming some of the bushes that were in need of care. I was using the old push mower in the back yard. I had just finished cleaning the lawnmower to place it in the shed. Heading around the side of the house, I saw my dad talking to a well dressed man that I did not know. As I approached the two men and listened a moment to their conversation. Dad turned around, saw me, and smiled. He introduced me to the realtor from Star Reality, the real estate firm that had the home next door listed for sale.
"Cole," Dad said, this Mr. Lawson, the realtor who had the listing next door. He's just told me he's sold the house to a family named Lane." As I shook Mr. Lawson's hand, he kept chatting with my dad about the house. He said that the closing would be later this coming week and the family was going to be moving in the second weekend in August. He also said that he knew they had only one son and that he was about the same age as me. He suggested that I could help him get acquainted with the school and life in our city.
At this point I began thinking to myself, What did he mean by get him used to life in the city? It seemed like a fair enough question, so I asked directly, "Mr. Lawson, could I ask what you mean by me helping this guy get used to city life?'"
"Well, Cole, you see the Lane family is from Wyoming. They are not used to the big city, or for that matter, any city. Now, the father has worked in the city for a long time, traveling and being away from home. He was offered the position with Alliance Industries here in town and decided it was time to move. The son apparently is not at all happy about the move. According to Mr. Lane, he is rather countrified and not very flexible. He thought maybe having a friend in the city would help him adjust. If it's a problem, I am sorry I mentioned you, but I thought it would just be handy with you living right next door and all."
I felt a bit sheepish as I replied, "Oh, no, sir. Don't take what I said the wrong way. I am totally willing to help however I can. I remember when we moved here five years ago, Randy, the guy who used to live here, made me feel so welcome. I was just curious as to what the new guy is like."
Mr. Lawson answered, "I am afraid I can't be of much help other than what I have told you, as I have never met the boy."
With that bit of information, I excused myself from the conversation and went into the house to grab a bottle of soda. With my soda in hand, I went to my bedroom to get ready to shower the layers of grime off my body from the hard morning of work. Sitting in my desk chair, I found my mind wandering. What the hell kind of country hick is going to be moving in next door? What have I gotten myself into? I am going to have some stupid country bumpkin tailing me around school and around town. Why the hell do people just assume that I will do these damned things? Maybe I am just too fucking nice.
I kicked off my old shoes, leaned down, and my mind again began to wander. Soon I felt a small tear make its way from my eye to my cheek. I felt the emotion building within me again. Goddamn, I thought I was past this—past my best friend and more being ripped away to move a thousand miles away. Randy became my almost instant best friend when I moved in five years ago. God, I miss him so damned much! Why did his parents have to move him away? I just sat there with tears streaming down my face again. After a time I moved into the shower, cleaning myself.
A couple of days later I got a call from the coach informing me that football practice would start on August 10. That would at least take up some of my free time. My daily routine went on pretty much as normal for the next week or so. That is, until the second Friday of August arrived. We did not have football practice, so I had the whole day to myself as the parents were working all day. About ten in the morning a huge Mayflower moving semi pulled up next door, followed immediately by three vehicles.
I stood watching from my bedroom window. Of course, out of the semi came three rather large men dressed in coveralls who were ready to start moving the new neighbors in. The first vehicle was a Black Ford Explorer. When it parked, a good looking tall man with brown hair got out. He was wearing a pair of jeans, t-shirt and a pair of Nike's. I assumed this had to be the dad. The second car was a red Taurus. Out of it stepped an average sized women with blonde hair. As she came into clearer view, I could that she was absolutely gorgeous. The last vehicle to pull up and park was a shiny black Ford F-250 with big tires and a nice graphics package. I was actually kind of impressed, and I wished I had a truck to match his.
Staring down at the truck, I was waiting for the person driving to emerge. No one got out for the longest time. Finally the father went over and rapped on the driver's side window. I could tell he wasn't happy with who ever was in the truck, because he began talking in a raised voice and making some hand gestures. After finishing the point he was trying to make he walked away and went up to the house. I stayed in place and continued to watch. Soon I could see the driver's door crack open a bit.
I assumed the guy who finally stepped out of the truck was the Lane's son. He looked about my age. I froze in place staring at him. He was tall. My guess would be that he was six feet two inches, just like me, and he also had about the same build as me. He had kind of medium dark brown hair. He was wearing a pair of sunglasses so I could not see his eyes. Still, he was totally the most beautiful male I had ever seen in all my life. I had this strange tingling all over my body. My mouth immediately became dry and my eyes locked on him.
Then things began to change a little. I began to observe more. The guy reached back into his truck, grabbed his black cowboy hat, and put it in place on his head. As I looked further down his body, I saw he was wearing a tight white t-shirt. From there around his waist was a black belt being held closed in the front by a silver and gold oval buckle that was about the size of my dinner plate! His jeans were well faded and also nice and tight. Without even knowing it I guessed they had to be Wranglers. On his feet was a pair of dusty, black cowboy boots.
I stood there thinking to myself, what the fuck is this guy wearing? I almost laughed to myself at what the way he was dressed. What kind of rub is moving in next door to me? And I'm supposed help show him around? Hmmmmm ... maybe he can be changed.
I immediately sensed that he was not at all happy. He had a look that could kill on his face as he stormed in the house. That was the last I saw of him for a while. I went about my business as normal. My mom called about three p.m., and I told her about the people moving in next door. I was instructed to go and introduce myself and ask them over for supper that night.
After I finished up with mom on the phone, I went out and crossed the lawn between our two houses. I found Mr. Lane sorting some things out in the front yard.
"Hi, Mr. Lane, I am Cole Johnson from next door. Welcome to the neighborhood," I said, extending my hand.
Mr. Lane returned the handshake, "Thank you, Cole, and please call me Brad."
"Well, Brad, my mom wanted to invite you and your family over for supper this evening about seven. It's not anything fancy—just pizza from the local pizzeria."
"Sounds good after a long day of moving, Cole. We will be there."
"Speaking of `we,' sir, I know you have a son. I was wondering if I could introduce myself and say hello to him."
"Sure, that would be fine, but I have to tell you that you're taking your chances going anywhere near that boy," Mr. Lane said, shaking his head and looking dejected.
"How do you mean, sir?"
"He has been in the worst mood I have ever seen him in. He is having a really difficult time adjusting to the move. He really had to leave all he knew, his friends and everything, so it's been hard on him. But we had to take this job; there was just no other choice. I feel bad and it hurts me that he is just so full of anger."
"I will take my chances, sir. I think maybe he just needs a friend, someone his own age."
With that said, I headed into the house to find the room that I knew he would be in. It was the same room I had been in with Randy hundreds of times. I quickly relived some of my fondest memories as I stood outside the door. I gently knocked but received no answer. I then knocked a little more firmly.
Again there was no answer, so I grabbed the knob and opened the door. Stepping in, I could see someone sitting in the desk chair facing away from me.
"I can tell I am going to have to lock that fucking door. What the hell do you want? You're here to ruin more of my life?" he said in an almost deadly voice.
"I am sorry I am ruining your life, but I don't even really know you yet. I just wanted to introduce myself," I said with a smirk on my face.
He slowly turned around in the chair to face me. "Well, if it isn't mister preppy city jock star neighbor boy! Just what the fuck do you want?"
"Well, to start out, mister cowboy, country, hick Podunk, new neighbor, how about your fucking name? I am Cole."
I could see his muscles tense as I was calling him those names, but I gave a shit. "Name is Cutter, now get the fuck out. I don't need any damned friends in this shit hole."
"Fine, asshole, but I will be around if you change your mind," I offered.
"I won't! Now get the fuck out!"
I moved to the door and left the room, dejected. Even though he was such an asshole, his voice was so, so right and his smell and just seeing him close up. He was just perfect. I got that strange tingling feeling all over again.
To be continued...