Il 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 2 Pizza For Dinner
The doorbell rang at about five minutes to seven. Mom asked if I would let our guests in. When I opened the door, Mr. and Mrs. Lane stood there smiling, but Cutter remained a step behind them with his head looking down.
"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Lane. Please come in."
"Please call me Brad, and this is my wife, Robin, and of course you know Cutter," Mr. Lane said as I led them into the living room.
As we settled in the living room, my mom and dad entered from the kitchen. Introductions were made again. Everyone was friendly and seemed to be fitting in with the exception of Cutter. He looked around the room, located the chair in the most isolated corner, and plunked himself down in it. He kept his head down. For the first time I noticed how red his eyes were. He must have been crying. I thought to myself, what in the hell is up with this kid?
About fifteen minutes after the Lanes had arrived, the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery man. My dad paid the bill while mom and Robin took the pizza and began setting up the table. Shortly we were all called in. Cutter barely said two words. He even lagged behind in coming to the table. Somewhat reluctantly, it seemed, he took the only seat left at the far head of the table next to me. The pizza was good as everyone dug in with the exception of Cutter.
"Don't you want some pizza, Cutter?" I asked.
Cutter just shook his head no and kept looking down at the table.
I think at that point his dad had enough of whatever had been going on. He took a piece of pizza, slammed it down on the boy's plate, and yelled, "I have had enough of your attitude. That's enough! Now eat and be happy!!!"
Cutter instantly jumped up and screamed back at his father. "You have ruined my life! And I don't have to be fucking happy about it." As he finished his rant, Cutter ran through the kitchen and out the back door, slamming it loudly behind him.
Brad stood and apologized as he started to go after Cutter. I spoke up, "Mr. Lane, let me, please."
Brad stopped and turned around. "No offense, Cole, but this doesn't involve you."
I could see my dad was about to say something, but before he could I said, "Brad, it's obvious he is hurting and he needs a friend right now, or at least someone to open up to. No offense to you either, but that person right now is not you."
Brad had a look of shock on his face. My dad nodded in my direction and said, "Brad, Cole is right. Let him go try." I got up and headed for the back door, giving Brad a pat on the back as I passed behind his chair.
When I got to the back porch, I looked around and tried to figure where the hell Cutter had run off to. I looked around some more and finally glimpsed a small orange glow in the darkness of the night. It was coming from the back corner of our huge backyard by the storage shed. I went back into the kitchen to grab a couple of things. I made my way over to the small orange dot.
There, sitting on the ground with his back against the shed wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, was Cutter. He was wearing his black cowboy hat and sunglasses. I had to laugh. Sunglasses after dark? I approached him and stood directly in front of him. I nudged the toe of his boot with my foot but received no response. I went up beside him, leaned up against the shed, and slid down next to him. We sat there in total silence for a minute or two. The only motion was Cutter bringing the cigarette to his mouth from his knee and back. It was so quiet out there; all I could hear were the sounds of our breathing.
After a minute I reached over and took the cigarette he was smoking from between his fingers. To my surprise, he released it. I took a long drag on the cigarette and returned it to him. Still, nothing was said. We went back and forth on the cigarette until it was done. Finally, Cutter broke the silence. "How can Mr. Perfect Jockboy smoke? I thought that would be off limits for sure."
"Shit, Cutter, there is one hell of a lot you don't know about me." I reached beside me and grabbed the small bottle of bourbon I had grabbed from the kitchen cupboard before coming out. I took a big swig before handing the bottle to my partner in drinking.
He took the bottle from me and took a bigger draw than I did before handing it back. "Well, at least it's the good stuff there, Jockboy." We sat for a few more minutes in silence.
"Talk to me, cowboy," I said, "What's up your ass?"
He let out a small laugh. "Just screw you and screw this whole goddamn city."
"Get off it, asshole. You think your life has been ruined by this move? Maybe it has. Maybe it hasn't. Who knows? Only time will fucking tell? But I promise you one thing ... with this fucking attitude you have, it's sure going to be fucked up for a long time."
Since Cutter didn't fly into a rage from my words, I took another chance by continuing. "So, let's say you get over what the hell ever bug you have jammed squarely up your ass and tell me what the hell is wrong and let me be a friend. A friend, I might add, that you need."
He sat there for a couple minutes and took a couple of more swigs off the bottle before handing it back. I could see in the moonlight's reflection that tears were trickling down his cheeks. Finally, he broke the silence again. "I guess you're right. I do need a friend, and I guess I do need to get some things off my chest. But not here."
"Well, let's take a drive. Just let me go tell them that we're leaving."
I stood up and headed into the house. He also stood and followed me to the porch but stopped and waited outside. I went in to find the parents talking over the dinner table. When I went in, they stared at me and waited for me to speak. "We are going for a drive. I'm not sure how long we will be or even if we will be back tonight."
Mr. Lane got angry instantly and started to get up.
"Brad, just wait please," my dad urged in a calming tone. "We trust Cole, and if he says this is what they need to do, then this is what they need to do. I would trust him, too, if I were you. It could really help Cutter out."
Robin nodded to Brad and he returned to his seat. My dad gave me a knowing look as I went back out the door.
"Where are the keys to your truck?" I asked. Cutter responded by pulling them out of his pocket and holding them up in the moonlight.
To be continued...