chapter 7
Cody Blue Smith changed the locks on the house. It didn’t matter, his father never returned after the night with the gun. For all his drunken bravado, his father was a coward.
Cody’s mom was resentful of Cody’s actions, glad for the beatings and abuse to have stopped, but sad to see Kevin’s income disappear. She was forced to get a job as a waitress at the local truck stop. She earned some money, but not nearly enough.
“I’ll help support us, Momma,” Cody promised. He got a job at the local convenience store after school. It didn’t earn him much money, but it was enough to help pay for the basics. They had no car, his dad took that when he left. They did the best they could to make things work without a vehicle. They had to, there was no other option.
The house was his grandparent’s old place that his mom had inherited so there was no mortgage. The main expense was electricity and food which Cody and Jane’s meager paychecks barley covered. So they ate a lot of pasta, used the lights and air conditioner sparingly and tried to get by.
Cody’s job combined with track practice didn’t leave him much free time, but he wasn’t willing to give up track. He really enjoyed it and he was really good at it. His coach mentioned he might be good enough to get a scholarship for college. That was all Cody needed to hear. College was his ticket out of his small town. An education from a good school meant a good job and an even better paycheck. So he devoted himself to the track team, pushing himself harder and harder with each race, winning again and again. His persistence paid off. Senior year he was offered a full scholarship to the University of Florida in Gainesville, just a stone’s throw from Pinetree. It was perfect. He could go to school and still be near his mom. He knew she needed him.
He needed her too.
Jane was elated at her son’s acceptance into the university. She only wanted the best for him. A wish fueled by the guilt of his childhood. If he could make something of his life, then maybe her life wasn’t such a waste after all.
Cody started UF in the fall. It was the first time in his life that he was on his own. The first time he was free.
Now Cody could date. Really date.
He told the girls he met that he was from Waldo, a town just outside Jacksonville. Waldo was too far away for a quick visit with a new girlfriend, but close enough in similarities to his home in Pinetree that he could sound like he grew up there. No one at school knew him or his family. No one knew that he was lying. And no one had to.
College was freedom. Cody shed his skin and all its scars, all the horrors of the past and the shame of his poverty lay dead on the floor. He started school with a clean slate. All people knew was that he was an athlete. A title he was happy to have.
Cody made friends easily. He lived on campus for three years, unusual, as most students moved off campus after the first year, but living in the dorm was affordable. His senior year he moved into a house in the student ghetto, an area just north of campus. He was still walking distance to school, so the fact that he didn’t have a car didn’t matter. Cody’s roommates were three guys who had known each other since they were kids. They were from Fort Myers, on the West coast of Florida. They’d never heard of Waldo and didn’t care. They met Cody in one of their auditorium classes and became fast friends. Two hundred students in one room and they ended up next to each other in the front row.
Actually, their meeting was a bit of divine intervention.
Cody always sat in the front of the class. Since his track scholarship had been based on academics as well as athletic ability, he was determined not to lose it. So as geeky as it seemed, he sat in the front row of every class and took diligent notes. He was not willing to lose his chance at a college education. Three years of this philosophy had paid off. Cody did well, very well, in school.
Alex, Harper and Bobby were a different story. They arrived ten minutes late to class.
“So glad you showed up,” Professor Carlton said walking towards the tardy trio with a wireless microphone. Because of the sheer size of the classroom, the professor chose to parade around class like Phil Donahue to get his students’ attention. He was easygoing, but did not tolerate disrespect.
“Uh, sorry,” Harper said.
“I’m sure you are gentlemen, that’s why I think you’d love to sit in the front row right next to this studious young man.” He stopped in front of Cody.
“Uh, right,” they replied and reluctantly walked all the way down to the front row. The class got a good chance to study the three boys. They snickered as the brown haired trio waved like three Miss Americas as they walked to the front of the class.
Of the three, Alex was the most attractive. A tad overweight, his pudginess gave him a boyish charm that the ladies seemed to like. Bobby was very tall and very skinny. Brown freckles dotted his nose. Lanky, like a basketball player, Bobby strutted next to Alex. He wasn’t embarrassed. Bringing up the rear was Harper. Medium height, medium build, Harper was the most forgettable in appearance. They fell in sync in the front row and sat down. The three kicked back, not bothering to open their notebooks. They did, however, observe Cody during class and his proficient note taking skills. They cornered him at the end of the hour.
“Dude, we have a proposition for you.”
Cody looked over the three guys before him. They were clean cut, preppy dressers. Like no one he knew from home.
“What kind of proposition?”
“Listen, we’re not into the whole school thing. We’re starting a band.” Alex paused as if they were already rock stars.
“Yeah and..?” Cody was not impressed.
“Anyway, class is kind of an inconvenience for us. Any chance we can not go to class so we can practice and borrow your notes?”
“And what’s in it for me?” Cody eyed them skeptically.
“How about some cash?”
Cody didn’t take long to make his decision. “You’ve got a deal.”
Through their odd arrangement a strange friendship formed. Cody would go to their house after school and give them copies of his notes. They in turn would pay him. Cody was grateful for the extra money and kinda liked their company. The guys were quirky. Since they’d been friends since childhood, they each knew everything about each other. They had developed a shared sense of humor, the kind that you usually see in close families. One word could set them off into fits of laughter. Cody liked their camaraderie. It made him see a side of life he never knew. He was never close to anyone, and as far as his own family, it was nonexistent. So Cody started hanging out with them more and more. Stopping by even when he didn’t have notes to drop off.
Alex, Harper and Bobby were trying to start a band. They called themselves Red Lawn. The name meant nothing, they just thought it sounded cool. They had an alternative sound. The melodies were there, but neither Alex, Harper nor Bobby could write lyrics.
“Cody, listen to this new song,” Alex said strumming his guitar. “Five six, seven, eight.” Harper began beating the drums with a harder rhythm. Alex and Bobby joined in on acoustic guitar and bass, respectively. The melody was catchy, especially the chorus.
“Hey!” Cody stood up and began applauding. “It’s awesome. What’s it called?”
“That’s the problem, we have no words,” Alex said, his point accentuated by Harper who hit the drums and cymbal. Buh-dum-dum. Ching.
“It’s a shame, it’s a hit.”
“You really think so?” Alex said earnestly. “We want to know, dude, for real, tell us...are we any good?”
Cody kicked back on the couch. “You are.” He wasn’t kissing up, he meant it. The song was impressive. “But, Alex, I hear the kids these days like lyrics in a song.”
“Ha...ha.”
“This sucks,” Bobby said putting down his bass guitar. “Great song, no words. Maybe we could be an instrumental rock band.”
Harper threw some papers at him. “Yeah, that’s a brilliant idea.”
“The words’ll come.” Cody was trying to make them feel better.
“Listen Cody, you don’t understand. Alex, Harper and I...we got tons of songs. Some with words, most not, but the truth is the ones with the words are crap,” Bobby explained.
“Hey I resent that.” Alex stood up.
“Listen, dude, you don’t need to get all sensitive writer on me.”
“Bobby’s right, Alex,” Harper chimed in.
Bobby began strumming his guitar. “Oh Jade...we had it made...you should have stayed...” he croaked out in mocking tones.
“I’ll get there.”
“When you’re sixty?”
“Give me some credit.”
“I am. Hey...there’s hope...isn’t Mick Jagger gonna be sixty in a few years?”
“Yes, yes he is,” Harper said, “and Keith Richards.”
“So, what are you worried about? You’ve got plenty of time!” Cody chimed in.
They all collapsed in laughter.
On his way home, Cody couldn’t get the song out of his mind. He hummed it to himself as he walked back to the dorm. His hands tapped absentmindedly on his jeans. The melody haunted him. He went to bed with the song running through his head and by morning the words were there. He scrawled them on the first piece of paper he could find, a semester guide for spring, ran to the house and banged on the door.
A sleepy Alex opened it. “Cody? What the hell are you doing here? It’s not even nine o’clock.”
Cody waved the booklet in front of Alex’s face. “I’ve got the words to your song.”
Within five minutes all the guys were up and with their instruments, clad only in boxers and bathrobes.
“Alex,” Cody motioned to him.
“Five, six, seven, eight.”
The song started echoing the melody that ran through Cody’s head all night. He began to sing. His voice was strong, but dripped with sincerity. The words were captivating.
“All you were is all I was,” he sang, letting the words flow freely, they matched the rhythm perfectly. This time when they finished the song, it was Alex, Harper and Bobby that applauded Cody. They looked knowingly at each other.
“So Cody,” Harper started, twirling his drumstick, “ever think about being a singer in a band?”