I swore I would never return to this damned mountain, the place of misery that I was raised in and not from some bad childhood. Only those that haven't lived on a mountain ever dream of it. It's fine to visit during the summer, saw plenty of that growing up, but none of them can drive these roads worth anything. No one wants to be here when the snow hits.
There's not much worse than being stuck in a house for days when the bad ones hit. A lot of branches come down and block the roads, which slows the plows a lot. I wonder if any of those city folk could handle one of our winters.
When I graduated high school, I did a short stint in the Army. It got me away from the mountain and into a semi, which I love and would go back to driving in a heartbeat. If I hadn't blown out my damned knee, then I'd still be on the road where I belong. I scrimped and saved every penny, while ignoring others that told me to stay in and get my twenty. After four years of honorable service, I left and found the nearest school. It was cheaper than buying a truck and I didn't know anyone that had their own. Either school or back into the Army.
Despite having that class A in my hand and four years of experience, I was too young for most companies. It pissed me off and still does to this day, but I managed to find something until I reached twenty-five and that's when I started making good money. Experience and being a damned good driver had me making a lot of money until a year ago.
At the age of thirty, some four wheeler cut me off and that was it. I should have just run into the stupid fuck, but I didn't. The driver took off and I was left in a damned ditch with a busted knee. It took six months of rehab for them to tell me I'll never drive a semi again. Disability doesn't pay shit and I won't work for someone that has no idea that a whole world awaits them, if they put down the damned tablet for more than a few minutes.
Dad passed about the same time and mom had never worked a day in her life. He left her a little something, but it wasn't enough to get by. It was either work for someone that I hate, or move back home to the mountain that I hate. I'm still wondering if I made the right choice. At least, between the two of us, we won't starve and the house was paid off a couple of years back.
I look a lot like dad did when he was younger. The same brown hair, which I keep short like he did, and the same brown eyes. We have a similar build and, from what I've been told, I sound a lot like him. The only thing I got from mom was her nose and lips. At least no one could joke about me being someone else's son.
It's been a year and we've managed to save up a little, at least enough to stay ahead of the bills and keep beer in the fridge. Most of the guys I went to school with got the hell off of the mountain and never came back. I guess that makes me the stupid one. Those that are left, act like they never grew up. Don't even get me started on the women, since they are worse than the men. They still think they're in highschool and it drives me crazy. Not to mention, the remind me a little too much of lot lizards and I was never that desperate.
There's no club scene in the mountain and I'm miserable. I haven't been laid since moving here, not even a fucking handjob. Have I said how much I hate this mountain? My knee would never hold up driving to civilization and mom's never been a particularly good driver. I'm fine around here, but that's about it.
Not that it matters right now, since the damned snow just won't stop. It's already a bad one and the powers going to go out very soon. See. At least it isn't the middle of the night, since we can start moving everything out to the deck. We have special boxes out there that lock up tight and it keeps the critters away. At least most, but those that get a little curious won't be able to get in.
I grab another beer and mom has her wine. Moving the food and the cold has left my knee killing me. She's normally very reserved and dresses like it, but once the wine starts to flow, she'll loosen up. A little more wine after that and she'll loosen up a little too much. Can I hide the wine from her? Not anyplace she won't find it. I should really let my hair grow out, since I'm tired of her thinking I'm dad when she has a few too many.
We're at the table and the fire's crackling away, which means I won't freeze to death. She's on her second glass and her face is getting a little red. At least it has some color. I used to have a nice tan, now I'm as pale as everyone else. That's another problem with this place. Almost no color on their faces and I like a woman with a lot of color. What can I say? Black women are beautiful to me and the darker the better.
Mom's finger starts to undo the top button as her slurred words pass her lips. "I'm hot, Chris."
Those hot flashes just started and my understanding is they're a bitch. It's just my luck that it happened right when the cold started. It isn't my fault she's going through it and shouldn't even ask me about opening a window in here. Mom has her own bedroom with a door and window. If she wants to freeze, that's the place to do it.
At least she didn't call me by dad's name. "I know, mom, but I'm not opening the window."
She pouts as she undoes another button and my eyes keep steady on her pale face. "Fine, then I'll just have to take my shirt off."
My eyes glance down as she undoes the remaining buttons and there's almost no cleavage to be seen. "If you want to strip in front of me, see if I care. I'm not opening a window. I'm not freezing my ass off for you, mom."
