Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last

by Gretchen de La O

  “I thought you were stronger than this, Wilson. I thought you’d fight for my brother.” Finally, she lowered her gaze, swayed her head, and I was forced to watch my chances to fix what was destroying Max walk away.

  It wasn’t fair of me to stand there and create false hopes of being something Camille wished I could be. I’m not stupid; when Max finds out I kissed Nick, all my screwed up moments of being hurt and abandoned will be nothing more than a perfect excuse to mess up one of the best things that had ever happened to me. Camille walked out the front door—and with her went my chances of ever being a part of that family.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Who was I kidding? Max was perfect and I screwed it up.

  “Joanie,” I bellowed. Her name bulged in my throat as it croaked and crashed between my teeth.

  “I’m here,” she answered.

  “Max—” I lost the rest of my words.

  She swirled her hand hypnotically through my hair, trying to soothe the raging fires that consumed my heart. I planted my face in my hands and I could feel puddles of tears collect in the creases of my palms.

  “I know, sweetheart, I know,” Joanie repeated in a warm sigh.

  “I really screwed up this time. Camille’s right, I’m not strong enough to be with him,” I murmured against the heels of my hands.

  “That’s not true. You are the strongest person I’ve ever met,” Joanie strung her words together to convince me.

  “I’ve gotta get to Max,” I spat as I looked up.

  Suddenly, Joanie was kneeling in front of me, just as I’d done with Camille earlier.

  “Yes, he needs you,” Joanie breathed.

  “I know, he needs to know what I did. I need to tell him that I kissed Nick.” I felt a tiny spark of strength build in my gut.

  Joanie was still kneeling with me eye to eye. Her face dropped and all hope that my words once built faded in her expression.

  “NO! You can’t tell Max what you did. Not right now…” Joanie exclaimed between clenched teeth.

  “Why shouldn’t he know? J, it’s eating me up inside. How am I going to look at him without feeling guilty?” I pounded back.

  “Because it isn’t fair to him. Think about it, Wilson—he just lost his dad, he thinks he’s lost you, and now you are going to kick him below the belt by telling him about you making out with Nick? Sorry, but it’s not a good idea,” Joanie said.

  “If I don’t say anything and he finds out, it will kill him. How will he ever begin to heal from that?”

  “Carefully. You think about Max and what Camille just told you about his state of mind. If Max is shutting down like she said, you won’t have a Max to heal. Besides, you, yourself said kissing Nick was a drunken mistake. Those were your words. You need to stop being selfish. This isn’t about healing your guilt, it’s about you being there for Max. Now leave it at that, and think about Max and where he is. The guy is devastated. Don’t let a mistake you made be the nail in the coffin of your relationship with him.”

  “Are you saying I should never tell him?”

  “No, Wilson, I’m saying that there is a time and place for it, and right now isn’t the time or the place,” Joanie said in a solemn manner.

  Her eyes tangled with mine, unable to turn away; we clung to an absolute moment of complete silence. That was the way we were—when it came down to brass tacks between Joanie and me, this was how we came to agree; a silent moment of reflection.

  “Let’s face it, Joanie, I’ve already compromised every aspect of my character,” I said, crushing the silence between us.

  “That’s just not true. Give Max time to heal, he needs that.”

  “You’re right. I just love him so much and I don’t want to screw up any chance of being with him again.”

  “You won’t. It’s not in your character,” Joanie smiled. I leaned over and hugged my best friend; she was the one person I could rely on to make things somehow make sense in my world.

  I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I froze, clinging to Joanie. My heart climbed up and robbed my breath. What if it’s Max? I pulled it from my pants and saw it was the lawyers for my grandparents’ estate. I pressed the button, ignoring the call, then noticed another missed call from the 702 area code.

  “Well, you gonna answer that?”

  “Nah, it’s just the lawyers from back home; probably something about signing more freakin’ paperwork….That’s weird, I’ve got three missed calls from a 702 area code that went to voicemail,” I grumbled. Joanie shot me a questionable look.

  “You don’t know anyone from that area code, do you? Where is 702 anyway?” she questioned.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Just check your voicemail, then, for Christ’s sake,” she snarled.

  I looked at her, gave her the best serious face I could, then dialed and began to listen to the messages left.

  Two hang-ups, one right after the other.

  Next unheard message…a long pause with no voice lingered on the other end. I was just pulling the phone away from my ear when I heard the person clear their throat. Ahem…Wilson…It’s Candice...your mom…Please call me.

  What the hell? I immediately pressed replay on my phone and put it on speaker so Joanie could hear it.

  “Joanie, listen,” I said as I held the phone out to her. We listened as the message played again.

  “Holy shit!” Joanie responded. We looked at each other, struck down by the voice of a mother I pretty much thought of as dead to me. I didn’t even notice when my voicemail automatically continued with the next message.

  Ms. Mooney? Hi, Dax Fuller of Fuller, Kartz, and Associates. I wanted to inform you that the restraining order your grandparents filed against Candice Smith, aka Candi Mooney, expired on December 25th, at 9 a.m….suddenly whatever he said after that became a jumbled mess of muffled wampfs and humpfs.

  “Oh my God, what are you gonna do?” Joanie pressed.

  “I don’t know…holy shit,” I droned from a space in my head that was still trying to grasp the idea that I had something more than my memory of a screwed-up druggie of a mom. I was positive she’d be dead or something by now. “She sounds…different…older,” I muttered.

  To be truthful, I really don’t remember how she sounded. I didn’t have home videos of her with me on Christmas morning, or memories of her hugging me after I skinned my knee learning how to ride my bike. I never got the opportunity to have an answering machine filled with calls she made to me on my birthdays, or other milestones only a mom would be proud of. All I had was a memory of what her voice sounded like in my head when I was eight. The voice I heard on the phone just wasn’t hers. My body caved in to what it knew when she left me, over ten years ago. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end; the pressure of unfulfilled memories crashed and bounced unyieldingly against the walls of my head. And I’ll be damned if I didn’t recoil into that little girl she left on the porch at my grandparents’ house. Joanie noticed I was sailing off in the wrong direction.

  “Wilson? Don’t go there…it isn’t Candi’s time right now, you have so much here to deal with…right now—this moment—is the only thing that matters,” Joanie’s words floated somewhere between my desire to listen and my need to ignore them. “Wilson—did you hear me? Max and I need you.”

  I heard her loud and clear. But no matter how much I heard, it wasn’t going to change the fact that Candi had shaped my childhood by building gaping holes of rejection and anger in my heart before abandoning me when I turned eight years old.

  “I know, I need you too, J,” I answered back in a subdued tone.

  “There is nothing you can do right now. Not until you get on a plane and head home with us.” Joanie stood up in front of me. She seemed taller, older, and somehow more mature than before. She grabbed my hands and pulled me into the type of Joanie hug that forced me to tuck my face into the curve below her chin.

  “I…can’t…breathe,” I said, muffled.

  �
�Sorry,” she sang.

  Nick came around the corner then, his eyes wide and his face colorless. His lips were pulled tight across his teeth as he held his phone to his ear.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Nick said as he turned and raked his eyes across Joanie and me. “Bye.” He dropped his phone into his pocket and lowered his eyes. He was very methodical as he searched for the right words to use.

  “Ummm, Wilson…that was…Calvin. He told me that Camille just got home and decided to get in Max’s face. She wanted to try and snap him out of it.” Nick ran his hands through the front of his hair, pulling his bangs off his forehead. “And…well, I guess when Camille was confronting Max she let it slip that she came here and talked to you. Calvin said he is really pissed off about something and…well…Max is on his way here right now.” Nick lowered his voice to a rumble.

  How was I supposed to react to that? What did I say to Camille when she was here? I tried to recall whether she might have interpreted the way I reacted to something she said or did. What if I said something to indicate I betrayed Max? Did she tell Max that I seemed different? Oh my God, what if Cindy and Camille talked at the funeral?

  I knew the cabins weren’t very far apart, and that he’d be arriving in no time. What the hell am I going to do? Every bone in my body turned to rubber and I felt like my spirit was suddenly floating above me.

  “I can close the gate if you want me to. It’s up to you…” Nick offered.

  I thought about it and knew I wasn’t ready to face him. I didn’t know how I was going to hold onto the choices I made—he was hurting and I just left. Oh suck it up, Wilson…no matter how it goes, he deserves better than what you’ve given him. You can do this…

  “No, Nick, I want to see him. I owe him that.”

  “You don’t really owe him anything,” Nick sighed.

  I looked at him sideways. How could he say that? I was the one who left; I was the one who drove off with another guy; and I was the one who didn’t stick around to help Max through the loss of his father. If anything, I owed him more than I ever had. I couldn’t cash out any emotion that would ever justify abandoning him the way I did. Nothing should have mattered more to me than being there for him…nothing.

  Joanie noticed how I was losing my grip on the progress she’d just made with me. She busted in between us and captured my face between her scorching hands, holding me nose to nose with her, as she said slow deliberate words to help me. Her eyes constricted as she spoke.

  “He isn’t your mom, honey. You have to stop waiting for Max to leave you.” Her words saturated me to my core.

  Suddenly I felt like I’d been stripped down completely naked, tossed into a crowded intersection, and told to find my way out. I had nothing to cling to, nothing to shield myself from everyone seeing what I’ve been covering up my whole life—I was vulnerable and it wasn’t comfortable.

  Joanie’s face became skewed by the tears that overcame my eyes. I drowned in the deluge streaming down my cheeks. Joanie pulled me into her embrace and held me tight. My heart pounded double-time as I became tangled in her words.

  “It doesn’t matter who you think you’ve become or what mistakes you’ve made. When you’re with Max, you’re happy. Your spark for life becomes contagious. I’ve never seen two people who are more perfect for one another. What can I say? You belong together. Besides, you guys are my happily ever after, damn it…so don’t screw it up for me!”

  She was saving me from tumbling into the boiling pit of abandonment. That was my past with Candi, but that didn’t have to be my future with Max.

  I heard the doorbell chime and every ounce of strength and decisiveness vanished. Every thought of my future with Max teetered on the opening of a door.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Max stood in the entry looking broken—his skin lifeless and pale, his hair twisted and disheveled—he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His sunken, listless, shadowy eyes scanned the room, vacant of any spark that awakened my butterflies; he wasn’t the Max I knew. Joanie, Nick, and I stared at him, not knowing what to say. Did he come to notify me we were over for good? Rub salt in the wounds his family tore through my chest so carelessly? Could he be returning my lost butterflies? Or maybe he came to repossess the few I was able to salvage.

  Joanie stood next to me, her arm wrapped tight around my chest, reminding me of my decision to stay strong. She, more than anyone, knew just how much I loved him. Nick slipped next to me, his chest barreled and shoulders back—protective, as if he was telling Max that he was the one who’d cared for me when Max couldn’t.

  Max glared at the floor for a postponed moment, then his eyes slowly raked up my body. My skin burned and my vision blurred as my heartbeat bruised my lungs. It was agonizing to watch him take me in, inch by inch. His expression was tortured, his lips pulled in a severe line, and his shoulders were rounded like the whole world was dumped onto them. He opened his mouth and his nostrils flared as he began to speak words that must have caught somewhere between his heart and the back of his throat.

  “I need to talk to you…alone,” he whispered as his eyes transferred from me to Nick and back.

  Nick spun to face me; jealousy swirled in his eyes and his cheeks flushed crimson. “You want me to stay?” he prodded. I noticed the muscles across his jaw tighten.

  “I’m fine,” I reassured Nick.

  I glanced at Max and noticed he adjusted his stance as his expression morphed to concern. I knew if I was going to have any chance of saving what Max and I ever had, I was going to have to get Nick to leave. I looked at Joanie, and somehow, was able to silently plead with her to take Nick. Without uttering a single word, Joanie was able to settle him down and convince him to go with her.

  Max kept his distance as he raked his hair back off his face. An awkward moment lingered between us as every expectation I had of him being angry dissolved. My mouth sped dry, and I suddenly became aware of how badly I needed to swallow.

  “I’m so sorry—I never asked Camille to come here. She had no right to do that,” Max said. His magnetic green eyes constricted, his feet cemented to the space he stood, and his knees bent like he wanted to run to me. I stood, waiting to hear if his words were going to bridge the empty space between us or desecrate the moments we’d created. His fingertips glowed white as he pressed them against his flannelled chest.

  “I should never have let you leave that morning—I shouldn’t have let Nick drive away with you. I let you down, I’m sorry.” He took a step toward me as he reached out.

  I whispered softly as I looked down at the floor between us. I didn’t want to see the pain in his face. “Camille came here to convince me to come back to you. It took everything I had—to leave. You were so—defeated. You’d just lost your dad, your mom rejected us…and I got scared because of our lie, Max.”

  He took another step toward me. I kept looking at the floor. He didn’t stop looking at me, like he was studying every curve and bump of my existence. My heart thundered in my chest.

  “Maybe your mom’s right,” I continued, “You don’t need this right now; you have so much at stake—your family, their reputation, and your career. I never really considered the consequences of lying, especially to your mom.” I threw out every word I could to stop him from coming closer to me. I crossed my arms against my chest. I didn’t want any more of my heart to pour out of the gaping hole created by our mistakes.

  “None of that matters to me,” Max said, taking another step closer; he was breathing distance away. I could smell the faint residue of Aspen across his clothes. Immediately, the scent made me think about what had happened with Nick. He reached out to hold me; I took a step back. I had to make this moment about him.

  “It should, Max. Your family should be the most important thing in your life.” I looked into his dark green eyes. I wanted him to know how serious I was.

  He shook his head and took another step toward me. Every step I tried to take away from him, he filled in
with another step toward me, until he had me backed against the wall. I pressed harder, trying to stay as solid as I could.

  He reached out to touch me, and automatically, I pushed his hand away. I had to stay strong. I couldn’t let him change what I thought was the right thing to do.

  “No, Max, I won’t be the one to come between you and your family. I can’t—please understand,” I forced out the words that cut across the lining of my throat.

  I watched Max’s eyes flare with every ounce of his essence as he drew in a long, aching, growl-filled breath.

  “Don’t—do—this—not this way. This isn’t about what anyone else wants. Wilson, you brought me back from a very dark place. Can’t you see that? I love you,” his voice broke to a whisper.

  “Max—”

  “Shhh, don’t—” he breathed as his glossy green eyes read every unspoken word I struggled to say.

  His hands filled the air between us as he brushed his palms against the damp sides of my face. His long fingers cleared the loose curls from around my eyes before he pressed his fingertips against the back of my neck. My skin, so hot from his touch, responded as his eyes danced and tangled with mine in the hope that he could convince me that we were worth fighting for. I felt my butterflies cluster down in my stomach as time swirled between us. Forever existed in that moment, and tortured me into longing to taste him. The muscles in his jaw constricted as his silken lips parted. His mouth tickled softly against my lips before he pushed harder. Our tongues entwined and our desires opened to what we’d missed for several days. He tasted every moment I missed him, every second I longed to be with him again. My hands clung to the sleeves of his flannel shirt. He drew away just enough to smile before he rushed back. His kiss was refreshing; as good as my favorite ice cream flavor. He caught my bottom lip between his teeth as I licked at the curve of his mouth. I pressed back into him and his flavor ignited sparks across my tongue. Every last one of my butterflies migrated to every crevice of my body. Every bend, turn and roundabout marked their flight pattern.