Lavender Love (boyxboy)✅

Chapter 1

1950

February 2, 1950 was the day that would forever change my life, although I didn't know it at the time.

Some people called me a great liar while others called me a great storyteller. I was a bit of both. Or maybe I was a sociopath who needed to be locked up. Mom called me her 'little demon' for a reason.

Less than three miles from my house, the rapids under Suicide Bridge took at least one life per month, even more during the Depression. It wasn't called Suicide Bridge for nothing.

Alone, I had nothing to live for, except for my warped mind, and a sixteen-year-old girl who'd been obsessing over me for the past six months. She wasn't my type, but I didn't have the heart to tell her. Lying came naturally to me.

It was a typical early February evening, freezing cold with fresh snow on the ground. I left my coat at home, considering I wouldn't need it in the afterlife. At seven o'clock, nobody came this way. Nothing was out here except for trees, train tracks, rocks, and water rapids. The nearest train station was five miles away. No bus station anywhere near here.

I liked the way the rapids felt, water spritzing my face on freezing cold days. On my tip toes, I stood on the edge of the bridge, on the opposite side of the rail, examining the rapids.

"Don't do it," a strange male voice said. He startled me so much I nearly fell to my death. I wasn't ready to die yet.

"Go away," I told the handsome stranger. "Leave me alone. Stand back, kid. I mean it."

The boy dropped his knapsack and took a step forward. He seemed like the gullible type who'd believe anything, someone I could have fun with. I'd been so bored lately.

"What's wrong with you? I said go away. Don't you speak English?"

"Yes, I speak English." He spoke with a non-American accent.

"Where are you from?" I asked, standing on the edge of the bridge, holding the railing behind me. "You talk funny. Are you from somewhere else?"

"I'm from Europe."

"Where in Europe?" I hoped he wasn't one of those dirty Germans. I hated those guys.

"I was born in Poland."

"Good. I thought you were one of those Nazi bastards. They killed my brother." Mom always said I had a foul mouth, but she never washed my mouth out with soap as much as I deserved it.

"I am sorry about your brother."

It suddenly dawned on me. I realized this was Aleksander Wolf, the unwanted guest who would be sharing my room. My parents sprung the news on me this morning before school. All my life, I shared a room with my brother, Frankie. I got the room to myself after he left for Korea. I just wished he wasn't fighting in a war. He was drafted, like my other brothers in the Second World War.

Dad informed me that Aleksander, a long lost second or third cousin, was coming to live with us before going to college in the fall. Although my older brothers moved out and had families of their own, their old rooms were rented or given to migrant workers. We lived in the picturesque countryside, which was beautiful all year round, but particularly more so with freshly fallen snow. Our home and orchard attracted people from all over. Since the end of the war, the Hadley family orchard was booming.

"We've been working on getting Aleksander here for years, but with immigration quotas, it was impossible," Mom said this morning, pouring me a glass of milk.

"We tried. Boy, did we try to get them all over here," Dad said, shaking his head.

"What do you mean, all?" I asked.