One Love

By Anthony Culotta

Do you ever feel like your life is missing something? Feel like youre stuck and cant get out? Waiting for something good to happen but never seeing anything manifest? Cody has harbored these feelings for years. To him, life has become like a dream. That is until he got away from the world and found that, sometimes, what youve been searching for is placed right in front of your face . . . because its not every day you find your soul mate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483642284

Anthony Culotta

From a young age, Anthony was instilled with a love of storytelling. Be it campfire tales, bedtime stories, a school project, or actual events, he always is willing to spin a tale. He has always enjoyed pursuing new endeavors and began writing stories of greater depth in high school. Though he has explored many genres, he continues to be fascinated with sci-fi. He plans to continue writing until arthritis takes him or the world runs out of things to write on, whichever comes later.

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Copyright © 2013 by Anthony Culotta.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 06/12/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Afterword

Acknowledgments

INTRODUCTION

S OMETIMES THERE COMES a time in life where you meet someone, however unlikely it may be, and you find that you can’t get that one person out of your head. The question is if you will do something about your feelings or if you will let that person sail away like a passing ship that vanishes into the horizon. True love only comes once in a lifetime. I hope that someday you can say you grasped it. Nobody will have the same experience when it comes to love. What’s important is that it is special to you. I may be young and naive, but I do know one thing; you always will have one idea you can’t fully express, and for me… this is it.

FOREWORD

Love is friendship that has caught fire. It appears as a quiet understanding, trust, sharing, and forgiving. Love remains loyal through good and bad. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses. Love feels content with the present; it hopes for the future; it doesn’t broad over the past. Love includes the day in, day out, chronicle of irritations, problems, and compromises; the small disappointments, big victories, and common goals. If you have love in your life, it can make up for a great many things you lack. And if you don’t have it, no matter what else you have, it never feels enough.

 — Anonymous

H AVE YOU EVER felt what it’s like to be confined in a prison? To wake up each day and know that you are still just as helplessly stuck in the same situation that you have been in for the past weeks, months, even years? The day’s meshed together, and, amongst the prayers and tears, you can barely hold on to that last shred of hope that perhaps today things would change, and you would realize that all the pain had just been a dream.

Inevitably, that was not the case for Cody. His ears rang from the pain, and small trails of tears streaked down his face like small streams looking for escape the same way he sought it. From the other room issued forth the same shrill noises as always, a woman’s screaming and a man’s guttural bellowing and then that third terrible noise — the thud of skin on skin.

Cody panted as he tried to distance himself from the noise, if only he could shut it out like a cold breeze. But, no matter how far he moved, it was never far enough. He was confined, hopelessly trapped in his own house.

When he looked down at his hands, his tears flowed in thicker streams when he realized that he couldn’t stop them from shaking. He was scared, afraid for the life of his mother and his own. But he was also something else; Cody was angry, not with the kind of anger you experience when you are called a name, or humiliated, but the kind of raw anger that only comes when you are powerless to stop something and know it.

The experts claim that you are likely to end up like your parents. So the question was, would he grow up weak and helpless like he was now, or would he take on the other part of himself, the uncontrollable part that would make him just like the monster he was trying to shut out? Maybe they were wrong. Perhaps there is a third choice, one where he made himself into what he knew he could be. Someday, his time would come, when he would be older and stronger; he could save those he loved, but for now, he was just Cody, the small child with the weight of the world on his shoulders — the hunted. Cody glanced once more at his trembling hands before he was shaken back into reality; he heard that terrible voice.

Where’d ’e go? the words were slurred and awkward. From experience, Cody knew that if he was closer, he would also be able to smell the rancid beer on his father’s breath and was at once grateful that he couldn’t. But he didn’t have time to dwell on such imperceptible mercies.

Already, the ground was trembling with the weight of a two-hundred-pound drunk. Cody raced up the stairs to his bedroom and closed the door. Then he scrambled into his tiny closet and covered his raw ears and waited.

He heard the pounding of feet on the steps leading to his room. His quivering was worsening as he thought about what was sure to ensue. Then came the pounding on the door and the incomprehensible words; each word and blow to the door made him flinch a little. Then the door opened with a creak of the old rusty hinges. Cody closed his eyes tightly and wished he was somewhere else… but he wasn’t.

CHAPTER 1

You transfer more germs shaking hands than kissing.

 — Snapple (Real Fact #734)

I N LIFE, PEOPLE are constantly categorized. People thrive off order, and anything that surprises them also scares them. We also have rules, rules about behaviors, rules about what is right, what is wrong, and what is just dumbfounding. People organize and reorganize until things are the way they want them, only to find that their lives are once again thrown out of balance by something that they cannot organize into a spot that already exists. Therefore, they find themselves reorganizing in a vain attempt to reestablish order.

But we don’t stop there. People, too, must also be organized. We separate the rich and the poor and further separate those groups by clicks of people. As a result, even when you are surrounded by people, you can still feel alone.

It’s at that point you begin to look for a way out of the situation by becoming something other than yourself. What it comes down to is looking up to someone who has more than you, physically or emotionally. By grasping onto what they do and how they think, we believe that we can henceforth fit in where we once didn’t belong.

But, really, all we have done is make ourselves fit in where we already would have if everyone had not been too busy changing for everyone else to realize there were people just like you not too far away. The same concept applies to love. We often find it where we least expect it. What society has led us to believe is contrary to this however. They cause men to be emotionless brutes, always looking to win the ladies by a show of force or talent.

We are like lions and are told that, in order to go anywhere in life, we have to comply with the way lions live, mainly, that we hoard what’s in our territory and eliminate anyone who comes too close. It’s living in fear constantly that someone will take what you have.

Acting in this way causes men, especially, to crave control over their environment, their lives, and, sadly, even their own families. But the more you fight to control yourself, the harder you make your life. It’s like fighting a strong current or straying from the rules of how we should act.

At the core of us all, there is a longing for trust. Someday, things will get better, we tell ourselves, but when you wait so long, it’s you who ends up changing.

Most men are lions, but, every now and then, there comes along a man who has the heart of a sheep. These men are different only in how they interact with their world; they realize that everyone struggles, and they know that a gentile perspective can make all the difference. They are who they want to be and let judgments pass them; they conserve their efforts for what is truly important.

What the hell are you two doing! yelled Ceaser, who produced a mist of spit at the end of his exclamation. Cody and Nelson looked up, still smiling from their conversation. Big old Ceaser stood hovering over them with his meaty hands on his hips. He looked like a big, old gorilla from the Planet of the Apes movie. He stood over six feet tall and weighed close to 270, the majority of it, solid muscle from his body-building days, before he got arthritis in his back.

Despite this fact, Ceaser was one of those behemoths of a man that you could safely classify as a gentle giant. Like anyone, he got angry sometimes, but people never took his outbursts seriously. Any threat he made was more of him expressing his feelings in order to soothe himself than actually being angry.

Come here, Ceaser. We got something to show you. Ceaser moved in closer for a look at Nelson’s phone.

What am I looking at here? Ceaser asked inquisitively.

So you know how my girlfriend’s grandma is 100 percent Italian right? Ceaser nodded. Well, me and Cody here went and got us some good German food on our lunch break and took a picture of us eating it with a big German flag in the background. Then we sent it to Tiff’s grandma’s email, and she’s been freaking out ever since. Apparently, she doesn’t like boyfriends who aren’t of 100 percent Italian bloodline. She told Tiff that I can’t come over to her house this weekend for the poker tournament.

Let me see! Dang, man, you know how to make people happy. Ceaser spent the next five minutes alternating between laughing into his elbow and saying how stupid Nelson was. When he finally stopped, he was wheezing but still managed to tell us that we had twenty more crates to load before we could go home. It was already nearing twelve thirty.

Well, we better get going then, but, first, I think you need some water. Cody tossed an unopened bottle to Ceaser.

Uh, um, no don’t do it man, said Nelson shaking his head, not again. Even as he said it, he was starting to grin. Ceaser opened the bottled and then paused as he positioned his big black lips so they looked like a fish’s around either side of the bottle then he slowly moved his lower lip out and sipped the water like a chimpanzee.

"Now that’s some quality H2O!" he exclaimed before cackling like a hyena and spitting most of the water right into Nelson’s face. As Nelson complained about the spit on his face, Cody and Ceaser loaded the boxes into their proper places.

After the first few weeks of lifting the heavy boxes and cement bags, you get used to the weight and no longer get sore muscles; however, it is always a good day when you can use the fork lift to help with the bigger stuff. This was not one of those days.

The remaining boxes didn’t take long to put away, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell how long it took because it was already dark. It was always dark on the night shift. A bonus to working on the night shift was that occasionally, you got a clear night and could see the stars and maybe even the Big Dipper; if you could find it. Leave no doubt in your mind, however, that the workers weren’t just as glad to be getting home as daytime workers.

Another thrilling night at Home Depot, Cody said as he snatched up his car keys from the rack.

Screw that. I work here for one reason.

For food to feed yourself? remarked Nelson as he left.

Nah, I got to support my team, and the only way to watch the Heat shooting hoops is for me to be able to pay that dang cable bill. That’s why.

Cody came by and patted him on the shoulder. All right, man, I’ll see you Monday.

Yeah, but make sure you see who called first.

What do you mean?

Your phone’s been vibrating every twenty minutes. I kept thinking I was having seizures in my arms. I think you missed a call or something. You dang young kids have way too much technology for your own good. It’s going to kill me someday from all the stress I compile thinking I’m getting diseases and such. With that, Ceaser walked out and was swallowed up by the night.

The door closed, and Cody found himself alone again. He went over to his work station and picked up his phone. By no means was it a high-tech phone, but it was in nearly mint condition. Cody used it every day, sure, but rarely carried it on himself unless he was expecting a call. It was almost better that he didn’t because, often, when he did, he would open it and find that it had shut itself down.

He attributed it to the same reason he couldn’t wear a watch; some people just have higher electromagnetic fields in them, breaks just about anything that lacks a good power supply. The way he saw it, he was a lot less likely to be mugged for his watch.

As he dialed his voicemail, he switched off the lights to the shop and closed the door. The parking lot was ill lit, and the Home Depot sign itself was flickering in and out. Cody unlocked his Chevy and clambered in. He sat there with his door ajar and listened to the message that he had received earlier. Maybe it had some good news.

What if? is a question that can eat at you for your whole life. Our jobs depend on our actions; who we meet depends on our actions; even how we are thought of is based on our actions, and whether we act or not, our lives are still changed one way or the other. At this point in life, Cody knew what he was lacking in life. What he did not know is that the phone call he just answered was going to change his life forever.

CHAPTER 2

In Sicily, the women are more dangerous than shotguns.

 — The Godfather

S OMETIMES, IT IS in places like hospitals and airports that you seem to find the most interesting people of all. That is likely because those are the people who are out doing the most and, inevitably, getting hurt doing it. You meet people who have snapped their ankle trying to do a dance move, people who have gone through glass doors, who have collapsed laughing or choked on a food, and people with crazy happenings.

You can pretty much meet anyone in a hospital. Airports are also interesting, somewhat. The man in front of Cody had pondered; if a person lives long enough, will they grow another set of teeth like sharks do? And what do you know? The moment he said it, Cody noticed some kind of popcorn shell protruding from in between the man’s gums.

From that point on, it was all he could think of and was glad when it came the time for the man to be checked in by security. Lonnie, a big man, had a better conversation topic.

I’m on my way to Botswana to teach kids to play football, he explained.

How’d you get into that? asked Cody.

My college has this program that gets me to go for free. It’s pretty sweet. I’ve wanted to go for the past few years but never had the time with my schoolwork and job you know.

What year you in?

"Well, this is actually my second senior year. I know what you’re going to ask next, so I’ll save you the trouble. Thing is, I spent four years learning about how to be a businessman, right? But my real passion is with football. Now, I’m not stupid see; I ain’t got no future in football. I am not that great.

So I figured, if I have to work the rest of my life, then at least I can play football while I can. So I basically signed up for one last semester, soaked me $20,000. Heck, I’m going to be poor when it’s all over, but at least I got one more season. Think I’m crazy now, don’t you?" he said, grinning as he unfolded his massive arms and grabbed his torn backpack.

Cody craned his neck up a bit and replied, Not at all. I totally get that. You lose some money, so what? You gained so much more. That money would have kept you alive a few more months in a hospital when you are ready to have them pull the plug anyway. Lonnie chuckled. Twenty grand for what you love is an easy choice.

That’s a very interesting way to look at it, my friend. What was your name again? I didn’t catch it.

Cody, and let’s hope that’s all you’re not catching.

Thanks, man, I appreciate it. It was time for Cody to be checked in, so he grabbed his ID out of his pocket and handed it to the officer. The man was small, and his face was full of worry lines. His baggy eyelids led Cody to believe that the man either didn’t sleep well, ever, or was bored out of his mind every day. He scrutinized the picture on the ID and finally stamped the flight ticket.

Off to Maryland. The flight was short, so there wouldn’t be that great a selection of snacks. October was his favorite time to fly because they served pink lemonade in lieu of breast cancer awareness month. This was not October however, so he would settle for pretzels and water. A short flight also means that people won’t get as irritable on the flight.

On flights, there are the complaining passengers, the screaming babies, the people who fall asleep on you, the ones who won’t or can’t stop talking, and the ones that smell either as a result of too much perfume or too much sweat. On short flights, the possible annoyance is minimized to the extent that it’s almost comical rather than being a nuisance.

Last night had turned out to be a great night. Usually, Cody could look forward to relaxing when he got home, singing in his car and, with any luck, a little bit more cash than the previous day. Yesterday was like getting a Christmas bonus.

The call had surprised him, but he was glad he had listened to the message. His aunt had the weekend off from work and had bought him a flight down since it was a four-day weekend for him as well. He hadn’t seen his aunt Kelly in forever. She came up to New York for holidays like Christmas and Easter but rarely over the summer, so it was a great surprise that he would get to see her.

And it had come right on time. A four-day escape from his current life was always welcome. In fact, there were few gifts God could have granted him that would be better than that. In a way, Cody was trapped. The two jobs he worked got him no further ahead, his car was constantly breaking, he had endless schoolwork, and when he got home, he had endless tasks he had to do for the family.

Cody had considered living at school, but there was no point. Another few thousand a year to eat school food, have a public shower, and live in a cramped room, no thanks. Besides, the school was hardly fifteen minutes away.

Beep, beep, beep, the sound of the metal detectors was something ordinary in an airport. Apparently, the man with kettle corn stuck in his teeth didn’t realize that belt buckles had metal on them, that spare change will set it off, and so will your cell phone. Beep, beep, beep, oh, looks like he forgot he was wearing a watch. Finally, he made it through. Cody didn’t have much on him, a simple bag, some money, and a phone for when he got there. Other than that, he had the clothes on his back.

He always traveled light. Bring everything you need, and leave everything you don’t. Easy when you’re at the airport; plus you don’t have to go looking for your baggage, only to find that it has been misplaced.

Since he had time to spare until his flight departed, Cody perused along the latest books and scanned the rows of chocolates and treats on the shelves. Cody was well versed and enjoyed a relaxing book, but nothing grabbed his interest. Similarly, the chocolate was a little disappointing. Lately, he had grown sick of the regular chocolate items you would find milling about.

When he was younger, he actually had to be tested for diabetes because of his massive sugar intake bursts. During the test, he was diagnosed until they realized he had eaten several dozen candy bars in case he would never be able to do so again. Luckily, he was blessed enough to never get a cavity and had visited his doctor only once a year for his annual physical since he was in the fourth grade, never even missed a day of school.

Recently, he found that he no longer cared for the taste of his old favorites. In fact, he wondered how he ever enjoyed them. What he found to be one of his top favorites these days was a German-made chocolate known as Ritter Sport. Its creamy chocolate taste melts in your mouth, and the flavors are fireworks to your taste buds. It’s hard to save some for later, but at least the manufacturers give you a chance with the sealable rappers. Suffice it to say, he found no such