Cutter (8 page)

The people in the half-dozen neighboring booths began to applaud, and so now I had to buy drinks for everyone in the vicinity.

Something new came over me. It was an unusual sensation for a man who dealt professionally with death. I felt like I was nineteen again. Not even out of college. I felt the way I did when I proposed to my children’s mother. Here I was pushing fifty. I thought I could never breathe the same kind of free air that I had inhaled when Erin had said yes. That was the day the world made sense. Every part fit the puzzle. Things were finally sane and I knew why it was I’d begun breathing at birth
.
Thi
s
was the reason I came out of Eleanor. This was why we all came from where we began. This moment told it all. The rest was nuts. The rest was crazy and unreadable.

Now it was Natalie. Now and tomorrow and every lucky day I had left. She made me able to throw my legs over the side of the bed every morning for as many mornings as there were left. I would never be an old man again. Not like I was after Erin and Celia left me. She came right into my way exactly when I needed her to, and here she sat before me. A man was never this fortunate. I wanted my family all to pinch me hard, make me know this was no dream, no illusion.

‘Kelly. Michael. Natalie is going to be my wife. Not your mother, but my wife, and, I hope, your friend. She is a fine person and she wants to love you.’

My daughter slid over in the booth and embraced my fiancée. Michael sat impassively.

‘Come here, Michael.’

I stood away from the booth. He got around the women and came to me. Now he was the one in tears. We walked two paces away from the table.

‘Will you try to be happy for me? I know she’s not Momma. There is no other Momma. But I love her, Bud. I do.’

‘I miss Mommy.’

I choked back my words and there was nothing to say. Suddenly he broke away from me and he went to Natalie and kissed her softly and briefly on the cheek. When he sat back at his place, I sat down next to my future bride.

I looked over to my twelve-year-old boy. Everyone was quiet.

‘You’re a good man, Michael. You make your old man very happy.’

I took the carafe and I poured everyone a drink.

‘I want everyone at this table to be as happy as I am for a hundred years.’

I took a swallow of wine and then I kissed the redhead fully on her lips. Everyone in the immediate area had been watching all this as if it were some kind of video, and so they applauded us once again. So I was bound to buy them another drink.

Michael had finally found his appetite, so he began to dig into his lasagna in earnest. The women and my daughter were too busy embracing each other, so finally I had time to cut myself a piece of the food before me. 

I could taste the pasta and the sauce as if for the first time in decades, even though Erin and Celia had only been gone for a few months. A little over a year and a half, I thought it was. The colors were brighter in this room. I could smell the scent of Natalie even though the garlic odor permeated this Italian restaurant. Everything seemed to be pulsing. I was out of the prison I had been in. My incarceration had been self-imposed, but I was out. Past the walls and the restraints. It was something I couldn’t even explain. I could feel the blood moving in my veins. I could hear my own respiration and I could sense everything inside me that was alive. And I thought, ‘Here I am.’ For the first time in a very long time, I was exactly where I wanted to be.

The brand-new police officer, still in dress blues, looked over to me and I was thawing in a luxurious relaxation.

‘Let’s run away tonight,’ she whispered in my ear as she bent toward me.

Chapter Eight

Th
e
her
d
swerve
s
aroun
d
th
e
fountai
n
an
d
the
n
make
s
it
s
bovin
e
wa
y
towar
d
th
e
sout
h
en
d
o
f
th
e
shoppin
g
cente
r.
Ther
e
ar
e
sale
s
toda
y.
Som
e
o
f
thes
e
beeve
s
hav
e
bee
n
her
e
sinc
e
daw
n,
walkin
g
th
e
mal
l.
I
t
i
s
thei
r
onl
y
sourc
e
o
f
entertainmen
t.
Ther
e
i
s
n
o
su
n
an
d
sk
y
an
d
landscap
e
othe
r
tha
n
thi
s.
The
y
driv
e
hundred
s
o
f
mile
s
t
o
Minnesot
a
t
o
arriv
e
a
t
th
e
Mothershi
p
o
f
Mall
s.
Sale
s
toda
y!
Deal
s
!

I
se
e
a
brunett
e
ahea
d
wh
o
interest
s
m
e.
Sh
e
seem
s
t
o
fi
t
th
e
ag
e
rang
e.
Thirt
y,
thirt
y-
fiv
e
top
s.
Mayb
e
a
littl
e
younge
r.
Bu
t
she’l
l
d
o
.

I
won’
t
b
e
abl
e
t
o
approac
h
he
r
her
e,
insid
e,
bu
t
i
t
i
s
gettin
g
towar
d
closin
g
hou
r
an
d
eventuall
y
she’l
l
mak
e
he
r
wa
y
t
o
he
r
ca
r.
Th
e
crowd
s
ar
e
beginnin
g
t
o
thi
n.
I’
m
o
n
th
e
secon
d
leve
l,
s
o
I
ca
n
se
e
th
e
number
s
dwindlin
g
rapidl
y.
I
t
i
s
a
Sunda
y
nigh
t.
The
y
hav
e
t
o
rus
h
hom
e
t
o
watc
h
thei
r
Movie
s
o
f
th
e
Wee
k.
The
y
hav
e
t
o
prepar
e
fo
r
anothe
r
workwee
k.
The
y
pu
t
i
n
fort
y-
eigh
t
set
s
o
f
fiv
e
s
o
the
y
ca
n
retir
e
t
o
th
e
fuckin
g
Wisconsi
n
Dell
s
i
n
Jul
y
o
r
Augus
t.
The
y
mar
k
th
e
day
s
o
n
thei
r
calendar
s
a
t
wor
k—
perhap
s
i
n
re
d
in
k.
Al
l
yea
r
lon
g
the
y
watc
h
th
e
X’
s
accumulat
e
unti
l
th
e
mercifu
l
arriva
l
o
f
thei
r
fou
r
week
s
vacatio
n
a
t
som
e
resor
t
wher
e
thei
r
drunke
n
neighbor
s
wil
l
rol
l
throug
h
th
e
street
s
wakin
g
everyon
e
u
p
befor
e
daw
n.
They’l
l
g
o
lamel
y
fishin
g
fo
r
fuckin
g
walley
e
o
r
som
e
suc
h
fis
h,
sittin
g
ou
t
i
n
a
boa
t
an
d
shiverin
g
a
t
sunris
e,
an
d
they’l
l
ro
w
th
e
rente
d
boa
t
bac
k
t
o
th
e
doc
k,
empt
y-
hande
d.
They’r
e
no
t
outdoorsme
n
anywa
y.
They’r
e
penci
l
pusher
s
fro
m
th
e
cit
y
o
n
thei
r
fou
r
weeks
’
brea
k
fro
m
morbi
d
monoton
y
.

Th
e
brunett
e
turn
s
righ
t
an
d
head
s
dow
n
th
e
stair
s
towar
d
th
e
firs
t
leve
l.
I
f
sh
e
leave
s
no
w,
th
e
parkin
g
lo
t
wil
l
b
e
to
o
congeste
d
fo
r
m
e
t
o
d
o
wha
t
I
cam
e
t
o
d
o
t
o
he
r.
O
r
t
o
someon
e
a
lo
t
lik
e
he
r.
Sh
e
i
s
replaceabl
e.
I
f
no
t
he
r,
the
n
someon
e
els
e.I
a
m
adaptabl
e
t
o
th
e
situatio
n.
I
t
i
s
par
t
o
f
th
e
trad
e.
I
t
i
s
amazin
g
ho
w
simila
r
w
e
al
l
ar
e
whe
n
we’r
e
opene
d
u
p
wit
h
a
knif
e.
Al
l
tha
t
cosmeti
c
beaut
y
vanishe
s.
We’r
e
jus
t
a
n
ugl
y
serie
s
o
f
waterwork
s,
plumbin
g
.