Stitching Our Memories Together - 1. Chapter 1

I met Stone the summer before entering fourth grade. My family had just purchased a house in another neighborhood, which was on the other side of town from where we used to live. I didn't want to move and was devastated that I would have to leave all of my friends and classmates behind. It was one of the worst nightmares that someone my age would ever have to go through.

Almost as soon as the movers finished taking the last items out of the moving van and had placed everything in the house, I sneaked out to the backyard so I could sulk. At the moment I didn't want to be in the house around my parents, because they were happy and I wasn't. They were scurrying around the place getting everything organized and commenting about how wonderful the new house was, but I didn't think it was so great. I liked our old house much better and missed my friends, so none of this seemed wonderful to me.

As I moved farther away from the house, I tried to remember if I'd closed the sliding patio door that led from the family room. I was in such a hurry to get out of there that I couldn't recall if I'd shut it on the way outside. I certainly didn't want to leave it open and give my parents something to complain about, since they were already annoyed and griping about the way I'd been acting.

After going back and discovering it was shut, I began to look around and inspect the area. Immediately, I spotted a huge, old tree at the far end of the lawn, near the back property line, and started walking toward it. I'm not sure why I was attracted to the tree, other than it seemed like a good place to hide, but that's where I headed. As I walked, I kept my head down, because I was feeling miserable about leaving my friends. As I continued moving along, I began looking down at the blades of grass and thinking about how unfair this was. I'd only covered about half of the distance to my goal when I heard someone speak.

"Did you just move in here?" the voice asked.

I thought it sounded as if the question might have come from someone my age, but I wasn't sure. When I glanced around to see who'd said this, I didn't spot anyone. Confused, I hurriedly scanned the area again and finally discovered the speaker. He was a short distance behind me, but in the yard next to ours.

Excited that he might be my age, I turned around and walked in his direction. As I moved closer, I was able to get my first look at him, well kind of. What I saw was an unruly mop of brown hair, about the same shade as a Hershey milk chocolate bar, sticking up from behind the hedgerow that marked the side boundary of our lot. The neatly manicured bushes were apparently part of our lawn and separated it from the neighbor's yard, but there was also a chain link fence behind it. The boy was standing on the other side of the fence, looking in my direction.

"Yeah, we just moved in a little while ago," I answered, as I drew closer to his location.

When I was standing across from him, I saw two brown eyes staring back at me, although they were just barely able to see over the top of the hedge. We were about the same height, or so it seemed, but I couldn't see him very well. Since I had been farther away when he first spotted me, he had been able to see exactly what I looked like. Now, I wanted to see more of him.

"Neat. The people that used to live there were older and their kids were grown," the boy stated. "The only other kids around here live a couple of blocks away and I can't go there on my own, so I'm glad you've moved in here. Now, I'll have someone to play with."

Wow! I thought that sounded really nice, so maybe this won't be so bad after all. We might even become friends, if we get along and like the same things.

"Do you want to come over?" I asked, making the next move.

"Sure," he answered, as he began to climb the fence.

I watched as he put the toes of his athletic shoes into the gaps between the links and began to climb. The fence was about six-feet high (2m), so it extended well over his head, but he seemed undaunted. Once I got a better look at him, I thought he was really cute. We were about the same build too, but I had blond hair and blue eyes, so we didn't actually look alike. I don't know why, but I could just tell we were going to be great friends.

When he got to the top of the fence, the boy placed his hands and feet between the jagged barbs that extended above the top pole and got ready to jump to the ground. This meant he was also going to have to leap over the hedge, so I wondered if this was a good idea. I certainly didn't want him to get hurt. Before he got a chance to hop down though, he lost his balance and toppled sideways. As he was falling, his left arm caught on one of the wire barbs and ripped open a nasty gash, about halfway between his shoulder and elbow. I noticed it was bleeding as he landed in the hedge, so I panicked and began to scream for assistance.

"Someone help! He cut his arm!" I yelled, while at the same time realizing I didn't even know the boy's name yet. If I did, I would have mentioned who had cut his arm.

"It's not that bad," the boy stated, as he winced and placed his hand over it. "Just help me out of this shrub."

I did what I could, but it wasn't very much. I just wasn't strong enough to pull him out of it. While I was trying to do that, my parents came storming out of the house and began racing in our direction. As soon as he reached us, my dad quickly lifted the boy up, pulled him out of the hedge and set him down on the lawn.

My mom only made it about halfway before she stopped, turned around and headed back to the house. She did this as soon as she saw the blood running down the boy's arm, but I wasn't sure why. When she came out again, she was carrying a roll of paper towels as she ran toward us. After my mom and dad examined the gash on the boy's arm, my mom ripped off a few sheets of the paper towel and placed it over the wound, to help stop the bleeding.

"Do you live in the house next door?" my dad asked, as he looked the kid in the eye. The boy merely nodded in response. "Let me take you home then, so I can explain the situation to your parents. I think they might want to have this looked at."

My dad then helped the boy to his feet, so he could take him home. My mom and I followed, as we headed in the direction of the boy's house. When we got there, the boy casually opened the front door and went inside, but he left it open so we could follow. As soon as we were all in the foyer, the boy began to shout.

"Mom! Come here, please. I need you."

Before long, a woman dressed in a pair of shorts, a summer top and a pair of sandals came scurrying into view. She looked at her son and then at us, as a puzzled expression came over her face.

"Your son cut his arm while climbing the fence between our properties," my dad offered, in explanation. "I'm not sure if it will require stitches or not, but you'll probably want to have a doctor look at it."

"I'm a nurse, so let me take a quick peek at it first," she countered, as she lifted the bloody paper towel to get a look at her son's injury. After a careful inspection, she finally spoke. "Stone, it looks like you'll need a few stitches, along with a tetanus shot. Why were you climbing the fence anyway?"

"I just wanted to meet the boy that moved in next door," he answered, simply. His mother smiled, as she turned toward us.

"Thank you so much for helping him and welcome to the neighborhood," she stated, while studying us more closely. "I'm sure this wasn't the way you wanted to be greeted."

"Not exactly, but we're glad we could help," my dad responded. "I'm Wayne Watkins, and this is my wife, Alison, and my son, Jeremy. I think our sons were about to get acquainted when this happened."

"Probably," she agreed. "Stone isn't shy about climbing things, but unfortunately he doesn't always do so gracefully. I'm Jessica Harrigan and you've already met Stone, but let me get my husband, Declan. He's working downstairs in his workshop."

She then went over to the door leading to the basement, opened it and shouted to her husband. Before long, the man came upstairs to see what his wife wanted. She quickly explained the situation and then informed him that she needed to take Stone to the emergency room. My parents and I were still standing together off to one side, since we didn't know what else to do.

"Declan, these are our new neighbors," she offered, as she grabbed an icepack out of the freezer. "This is Wayne Watkins, his wife, Allison, and their son, Jeremy," she added, as she retrieved an old dish towel out of the cupboard and wrapped it around the ice pack. "Stone was climbing the fence to meet Jeremy when he slipped and fell. It was nice meeting you, but I've got to get going. I'll see you all later."

She then placed the ice pack over the paper towel, as she led Stone out to the garage and they got into the car. After they drove off, my mom excused herself and went home, but my dad and I stayed behind to chat with Mr. Harrigan for a while. A few minutes later, he suggested that maybe he and my dad should make a few changes along the property line, so something like this didn't happen again.

"I take it the boys are probably going to want to spend time together," he began, "so I'll arrange for a contractor to put a gate in the fence. No sense inviting future problems like this one." Mr. Harrigan grinned at me after he said this.

"That's probably a good idea, so I'll take out part of the hedge too, once I know where you're going to put the gate," my dad quickly agreed. "It will allow the boys to play in either yard that way."

I thought this sounded great! Not only had I met someone my age, but our parents were willing to help make it easier for us to get together.

"Stone has been praying that someone with kids his age would move in next door, so this should work out fine," Mr. Harrigan added. "The people in this neighborhood were mostly older when we moved in, so he had no one to play with unless my wife or I took him to someone's house or they brought their child here. It will be nice to know we won't have to do that any longer and Stone won't be far from home."

My dad and Mr. Harrigan started talking about a bunch of other stuff after that and seemed to be getting along really well. I was getting bored listening to them, so I let my dad know I was ready to leave.

"Dad, I'm going home now. Ok?" I asked and he nodded in response, so I turned to Mr. Harrigan next. "Would you please tell Stone to come over to my house after he gets back, because we didn't get a chance to do anything. Is that ok?"

"Sure it is," Mr. Harrigan agreed. "I'm positive Stone will like that too, but I'll have him use your front door this time."

Both of our dads smiled after Mr. Harrigan said this and I went home. Once there, I watched out a window until I saw Stone and his mom return, but then they went inside their house. They weren't in there for very long though, before I saw Stone bolt out of his front door and race toward our place. He was smiling broadly when I opened the door to greet him.

Once he came inside, Stone immediately loosened the bandage and showed me his arm. He said it took six stitches to close the wound and it would probably leave a scar. Stone didn't seem to care about that though. He just wanted us to get to know each other better, so we went up to my room to play.

From that day on, Stone and I became best friends and spent nearly all of our free time together. His dad had the gate put in between our backyards and my dad dug out a large section of the hedge, just a little wider than the gate. Now, we could get to it easily and there was nothing to stop us from being together, which we did almost every day.

We were also in the same class at school that fall, which worked out perfectly. We even sat next to each other, so we ended up passing a lot of notes back and forth. We also whispered to each other, which drove our teacher crazy. She threatened to split us up if we didn't stop, so we got better at hiding what we were doing. Our teacher seemed satisfied with our attempt to cooperate and we were too, as long as Stone and I were still together.

By the middle of September, I talked my dad into building a fort in the big tree in our backyard, so Stone and I could play in it. I told my dad that we would use it to play all kinds of different things when the weather was nice, so he gave in and agreed to do that for us. He not only built the fort, but he also fastened a crude ladder to the tree, so we could use it to climb up to the fort. He even hung a tire swing from one of the other branches, so we could play on that as well.

Once the fort was finished, Stone and I used it as Tarzan's tree house, a pirate ship, a spaceship, a castle, a planet in another galaxy and almost anything else our overactive minds could imagine. In fact, we were pretending that we were superheroes saving people in a skyscraper when something unexpected happened. I had decided to climb higher in the tree, using a few of the other branches, so I could pretend I was climbing up the elevator shaft to save people on the floors above us. While I was doing that, one of the tree limbs suddenly cracked and gave way under my feet. As I began to fall, the uneven edges of the freshly broken branch tore through my pant leg and dug into my skin. I ended up falling about 16 feet (5 m) to the ground below, but fortunately I landed in the pile of leaves my dad had raked there. I only ended up having the wind knocked out of my lungs.

Stone saw what happened and climbed down the ladder as quickly as he could. He was anxious to see if I was all right and if he could help me. Once I caught my breath, I felt something warm running down my pant leg. I thought I might have wet myself, but what I was feeling was on the outside of my leg, not on the inner thigh. That's when I realized what had happened.

As soon as Stone saw my predicament, he raced to his house and yelled for his mother. "Mom! Mom! Come quick," he shouted, as he bolted through the back door. "Jeremy fell and cut his leg."

After his mother hurriedly grabbed a couple of items, she raced out to see if she could help. After checking me over, she sent Stone to get my mother. After my mom saw what had happened, she helped me get to the car and drove me to the emergency room. Stone and his mother came with us, since Stone refused to leave my side. His mother even had to hold him back and wouldn't let him come with me while I was being treated. He wasn't happy, but he stayed behind, as the doctor stitched up my wound. It took fifteen stitches to close the gash.

"Jeez, that's a lot more stitches than I had when I cut my arm on the fence," Stone pointed out, after I explained things to him.

"It's probably because my leg is longer than your arm," I countered, with a grin. For some reason I was proud that I needed more stitches than he had. I would also have a nastier looking scar.

Things went well after that, as Stone and I spent a lot more time in the tree fort. Neither of us got hurt again during the rest of that school year or over the following summer. In fact, everything was going so well that we dreaded having to spend part of the day at school again, since it was almost time for it to start. Stone and I were hoping to be in the same class this year, but we were placed in different rooms. The teachers told our mothers that they had done this because we were just too much of a handful together. They also said we would probably learn more if we weren't distracting each other, so Stone and I only got to see one another during lunch, on the playground and after school.

Since we weren't in the same class, Stone talked me into playing youth soccer that fall. His father had talked him into signing up, because he knew Stone enjoyed playing soccer in P.E. class and generally enjoyed the sport. If I also signed up, then we could spend a little more time together, if we were on the same team. That's when Stone came up with a plan to make that happen. He convinced our parents to request that we be kept together and encouraged them to tell the people in charge that they needed to carpool to get us to practices and games. We were thrilled when the league agreed and placed us on the same squad.

Stone was a much better athlete than me, because he was faster, quicker and could dribble the ball fairly well. His father had got him interested in the sport a couple of years earlier and they followed it together on TV. This meant Stone understood the game a lot better than I did, but it didn't bother me. All I cared about was that we were on the same team.

Our squad had already won one match and lost another, as we got ready for our third game. We were playing a team with the same record and it turned out to be a really tough match. It was early in the second half and there was still no score when one of our teammates made an errant kick that was heading toward the touch line. Stone raced to where the ball was going and tried to keep it in inbound.

Once he was close enough, he jumped into the air and managed to head the ball before it went out of play. It landed almost directly in front of me, so I quickly kicked it downfield, in the direction of the other team's goal. The ball landed close to one of our teammates and he dribbled it a few more steps, before taking a shot on goal. His foot struck the ball squarely and it sailed toward the goal posts. Miraculously, it squeaked past the goalkeeper's outstretched fingers and landed in the net.

Jubilantly, I began jumping up and down in celebration, before turning to locate Stone. I wanted to share this moment with him, since it was his save that had led to the score, but I couldn't find him anywhere. When I looked again, I finally spotted him lying on the ground near the bench, apparently writhing in pain. Worried, I raced in his direction to see what was wrong. Before I reached him, I spotted a red stain on his jersey, just as the coach was bending over Stone to see if he was ok.

What I had failed to notice earlier was that after Stone had headed the ball in my direction, he lost his balance, stumbled awkwardly and crashed into the metal bench. Although it was barely noticeable beforehand, the corner of the bench had come apart, although it wasn't clear if someone had pulled it apart or if it had just worn out. Either way, the sharp edge ripped through Stone's jersey and sliced his abdomen.

As the coach was calling for the first aid kit, Stone's mother rushed over to see what she could do. Together, she and the coach patched Stone up well enough that his mother could take him to the emergency room. I wanted to go with them, but the team needed me to stay and keep playing, or else we'd have to forfeit for not having enough players.

When the game ended, it turned out the goal we scored after Stone kept the ball in play was what won the game for us. I made sure to point this out to Stone when I saw him later, because I knew it would make him feel better knowing that he had helped us win the match. After quietly celebrating the victory, he informed me that it took nine stitches to close his injury, so it became another link in our never-ending competition with each other. Well it wasn't exactly a competition, because neither of us tried to get hurt or wanted more stitches, but it just seemed to keep happening.

Over the years, Stone and I unintentionally took turns going to the emergency room so the doctors could practice their sewing skills on us. I fell off my bike when I was eleven and had to have stitches on the same leg that had been ripped open by the tree limb. Then, Stone was skateboarding in the street one afternoon when he was twelve and got hurt while trying to avoid a parked car. He swerved when he got close to it and attempted to go up the driveway instead. Unfortunately, he misjudged where he was and the skateboard hit the curb. The sudden impact from the collision launched him into the air and in the direction of a metal mailbox. Stone threw his arms out in front of his body, as he tried to lessen the impact, but the latch on the mailbox door caught his arm just above the wrist and ripped it open. Once again, Stone had to be taken to the emergency room to be patched up.

I don't want you to misunderstand, because we weren't always getting injured. There were plenty of other times that we were together and neither of us got hurt, as we enjoyed each other's company. We did everything together, including some sexual experimentation when we entered puberty. After talking it over, we decided to help each other discover how satisfying the stimulation of each other's privates could be. I had no problem doing this with him and enjoyed our time together, because I knew from a very early age that I liked boys, not girls. Even more than that, I was convinced Stone was the one I was always going to be with.

I'm not sure when he came to the same realization, but by the time we were fourteen, Stone asked me to be his boyfriend. I nearly leapt out of my skin with excitement when he said the magic words and eagerly screamed 'YES!' He merely smiled and hugged me in return, because I think he knew my answer before he'd even asked the question. Regardless, I made certain there wasn't any doubt that I accepted his offer.

One day when we were fifteen, we were in his bedroom horsing around when we began to wrestle. Stone went to push me on his bed, but I wasn't going to let him do it and attempted to resist his efforts. Unfortunately, I lost my balance anyway and started to fall, so I grabbed a hold of Stone and pulled him with me. The problem was, we didn't land on the bed. Instead, we fell on the floor between his bed and desk, but on the way down, my left arm slammed against a partially opened drawer. The forced of the contact tore open the skin and it began to bleed.

Although I didn't know it yet, Stone's head had slammed against the corner of his desk at about the same time and opened a gash on his forehead. Just as soon as we were able, Stone and I each grabbed something to stop the bleeding and then we headed downstairs to find his mother. As soon as she looked in our direction and noticed our plight, she merely shook her head, rolled her eyes and grabbed the keys to the car. Believe it or not, this was the first time that we both had stitches during the same visit to the hospital.

Near the end of our junior year in high school, Stone and I went to the lake to attend a beach party with some of our classmates. As we were walking barefoot in the sand, I stepped on a shard of glass that someone had left there and cut a fairly deep gash in the bottom of my foot. Fortunately, Stone had driven, so he helped me get to his parents' car and took me to the hospital. Since I was still considered a minor at the time, my parents were called to obtain permission to treat me. After giving their consent, they asked the nurse to pass along a message for them. When she returned to the treatment area, she informed me that my mom and dad had requested that she tell me they couldn't wait for the day when I would no longer be on their health insurance policy. The nurse was barely able to keep a straight face as she told me this.

Stone and I went to the same college as well and even managed to complete our time there without injury. Regrettably, that didn't include the summers. Shortly after we completed our sophomore year, we were involved in a traffic accident. The two of us were just coming home after spending a day with some old friends when another car drifted across the center line and hit us, head-on. Although Stone did his best to avoid the collision, he was unsuccessful. The other driver was texting on his phone at the time and didn't realize he was in our lane. The three of us ended up being transported to the hospital, where Stone and I received more stitches.

After we graduated, we were lucky enough to get decent jobs in the same city we had grown up in. We had applied for positions in the same general areas, because we were totally committed to remaining a couple for the rest of our lives. We had also agreed not to accept a job unless the other one received an offer within commuting distance to it. That way we could still live together, even if we had to drive in opposite directions.

Shortly after we started working, Stone and I turned twenty-three, so our parents threw us each a party to celebrate. It wasn't unusual for them to do this, but this time the parties more closely resembled a mortgage burning party, rather than the typical birthday bash. If you're not familiar with this term, a mortgage burning party is sometimes held after the last payment on the mortgage has been made, which means the homeowners now own the house free and clear. At that time, if they choose, the homeowners symbolically burn the old mortgage papers.

In our case, our parents torched an old health insurance policy instead, to show they were no longer responsible for us. They also announced that we needed to have our own health insurance, which we had through work. They also suggested that we get plenty of life insurance as well. We both understood this was all being said in fun, but we still took their advice seriously. It wasn't long before we both purchased a life insurance policy and named the other as beneficiary.

Stone and I got married the summer after we turned twenty-four and have lived happily together for the past ten years. Once in a while, when we're alone in bed at night and not wearing much, if anything at all, we often spend time examining each other's scars. While we're dong this, we reminisce about how we got each one and remember how it had hurt at the time, along with how many stitches it had required.

We love to revel in the wonderful memories these mementoes evoke, starting with the day we first met. Doing this also provides us with more than a few laughs, as we think about how it happened and how we had reacted at the time. Since neither Stone nor I were ever hurt badly, the scars on our bodies are just subtle reminders of the wonderful times we've shared. If enduring a few more of these accidents will allow us to share even more fantastic times together, we will willingly continue to make as many trips to the E.R. as are necessary.

The End.