The plane took off and pressure raged heavy against my chest. The only thing I could relate it to was when you drop steeply on a rollercoaster. Luckily for me, the older gentleman next to me smelled like green apples mixed with caramel. He actually made me hungry. When I turned to him and inhaled through my nose, he looked at me and smiled.
“Sorry if I upset your friend. I am claustrophobic and can’t sit confined with people on both sides of me.”
“No problem, I understand.” The space between us seemed to squeeze tighter.
He cleared his throat, “I’m John Samuel.” He twisted and held out his hand.
“Wilson Mooney, nice to meet you.” He had a nice, firm handshake.
His eyebrows scrunched together like two caterpillars kissing. “Wilson? Is that a family name?”
“No. More like a cruel joke; but definitely not a family name.”
“You don’t like it? I think it’s pretty cool. It’s different. How did your parents come up with that name?” Oh come on, was he really interested in this story? Or was he trying to kill time in the air?
“My mom played volleyball and loved the game; the day she found out she was pregnant, it was the big game against John Muir High School, and the coaches didn’t let her play. She named me after the ball. It was her homage to volleyball. She never played another day in her life.”
“Really?”
“No, actually, I was named Wilson after the governor of California.”
“Hum.” He looked at me, almost believing until I cracked a smile.
“No, I wish I had a great story, but I don’t.” I turned and faced the seat in front of me. I didn’t feel like telling him the truth about it. What person in their right mind would want to hear about my childhood? In particular, how I was named after a boy my mother wished was my father.
I glanced over to Cindy. Her eyes were closed, and she was bobbing her head back and forth; no doubt listening to some American Idol music she’d downloaded off iTunes. When it came to music, she and I were at two different ends of the spectrum. I listened to indie and alternative and she was into the more popular, commercialized, white-washed pop. Give me Ok Go, Vampire Weekend, or Death Cab for Cutie over Kelly Clarkson or Adam Lambert any day of the week. I needed music that provoked my mind and jump-started my intellect.
I pressed my head back in the seat and pushed the button to recline. Maybe the fact that Cindy was wrapped up in her music meant I was going to get a chance to sleep before we landed. It wasn’t going to be long before I was stuck in a car with her for over four hours straight listening to her talk about Chase. I had just closed my eyes when the pilot’s voice came over the speakers, informing us that we were about thirty minutes from landing in Denver. Well, at least I’ll get to check my eyelids for holes for thirty minutes; better than nothing.
Heavy tapping on my shoulder jerked me from my deep slumber. It was Cindy.
“Wilson, we’re in Denver. You need to wake up,” she said as she stood waiting with her knee in her seat. Her earphones danced and tickled across my arm while she spoke and checked her text messages.
“Thanks,” I turned to John, “Well, it was nice meeting you. Take care.” I pushed to shake his hand.
“It’s been my pleasure, Wilson.” He grabbed my hand, shook it, then stood up to collect his carry-on. As the people thinned, I was able to bumble my way to the aisle and reach up to get my duffel bag. Cindy already had her backpack strapped across her shoulders and was ready to shuffle her way out of the plane. Man, it took forever to get off. Much longer than it took to get on. They needed to dismiss by rows and sections like they did when you boarded the plane. I guess it was much harder to control people once the plane stopped.
Organized chaos would be the only words to explain it—everyone vying for the perfect position; don’t get stuck behind the shoe-removing stinky guy from seat 27C; but if you can, try and sandwich yourself between the two college-aged hot guys from row 24, seats A & B. God, that woman with the baby in seat 22C, please let her off first. If we were on Survivor she would be the first one voted off the island. I wouldn’t hesitate to snuff out her fire.
Forty-five minutes later we were heading down the ramp and into the Denver terminal. My heart pounded heavy in my chest, chills rippled down my arms. I was just four hours away from being in the same town with Max Goldstein.
When we reached the open terminal there stood a guy with a sign, Cindy and Wilson, I am your driver!
“I thought your dad rented us a Sequoia to drive.”
“Yeah, he did. Did you honestly think I was going to drive it there? It’s snowing and cold. I don’t drive in snow and cold weather.” Cindy walked over to the driver dressed all in black with a white collared shirt and barked, “Grab my suitcase too.”
She walked past him. I followed.
“Hi, I’m Wilson, thanks for picking us up.” I reached my hand out.
He paused. “I’m Nick, you’re welcome.” He shook my hand and didn’t let go before walking to the baggage claim.
“Wilson, please, he needs to pick up my suitcase.” She pulled my arm and I lunged forward.
As long as I have known Cindy, I had never seen her outside of school functions. This was the first time, and I gotta say, I didn’t like her. She was acting spoiled and rude, exactly like the girls Joanie and I would laugh at as they threw fits of rage and anger because they didn’t get the grade they thought their daddies had bought for them. You know, the ones that didn’t have to live by the rules because the rules were written for people like me, by people like them. I guess I saw her through different eyes at school; or maybe now that I didn’t have Joanie as a buffer, I was seeing Cindy’s true nature.
I turned to walk out to the checkpoint when I saw John, the man who sat next to me on the plane. He was smiling and shaking hands with some super hot guy. He noticed me and gave a little wave. I waved back. He pushed the guy’s arm and they started walking over to me. He was breath-robbing, heart-stopping gorgeous. I pushed my hand to my mouth for a quick breath check. I didn’t want to have skanky breath when he came over to me. My heart dropped into my stomach and my arms tingled with pins.
“Wilson, I hope you don’t mind, I want to introduce you to my son, Wayne.”
“Hi, nice to meet you.” I stretched my hand out to him; my clammy, damp hand. It was so embarrassing.
“Likewise.” My hand disappeared in his grasp. His contagious smile filled his face and overflowed his eyes.
“Your father likes my name,” I blurted out, almost leaping toward him. WHAT? Wait, what did I just say? Perfect, now he thinks I’m a complete idiot. Why am I such a disaster around guys?
“I’ve never met anyone named Wilson before, great name. Are you vacationing in Denver?” He seemed interested in hearing what I was going to say.
“No. My roommate and I are going to Aspen to ski for a couple of days.” I took my hand out of his and ran it through my dark blonde hair. I batted my eyelashes and cocked my head to the side. I balanced my feet on the outside edges of my tennis shoes, bending my ankles out and shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jeans.
“Wilson, come on we need to go!” Cindy yelled as she walked over to investigate who I was talking to.
“Okay, well I guess I gotta go, nice to meet you.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “Yeah, it was… nice.” I turned away waving as I started back to Cindy.
“Wait. Who. Was. That?” Cindy grabbed my arm and swung me around.
“John’s son, Wayne.”
“Who’s John?”
“The guy who sat next to me in the plane. John Samuel.” My chest tightened and I felt the blood rush to my face.
“Okay, well introduce me,” she demanded as she pushed me toward him.
“Wayne?” I called before he turned, and that was when it happened. It was a total accident. It could have happened to anyone. It just so happened to be me. As Wayne turned to look at me his arm swung around and his hand b
rushed across my breasts. It didn’t hurt; it was just so much more than embarrassing. My face blushed beet red, I didn’t want to look him in the eyes.
“Oh I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were still standing there.” His cheeks ran red.
“I wasn’t. Anyway, this is Cindy, my roommate.” I presented her using my hand to indicate a connection between them. “Cindy this is Wayne. Wayne…Cindy.”
“It’s my pleasure meeting you,” Cindy whispered and pushed her hand to him.
“Nice to meet you, too.” He looked at me widening his eyes. I couldn’t help but signal back to him with a shrug. Embarrassed or not, I felt a connection with him. Wow, I just met him and we already have something in common, the distaste of Cindy’s I’m all that attitude. I looked past him, and noticed his father calling him.
“Well, I’d better go; you know how parents with no patience can be.” He turned to my roommate, “nice to meet you, Cindy.” He turned back to me. “Hope to see you again, Wilson. I’m really sorry about knocking into your—you.” His eyes narrowed, his face blushed and, for the first time, I felt a flutter for someone other than Max. He turned away and I watched his backside as he strutted over to his dad.
“Frickin’ take a picture, it will last longer. The dude has to be gay. He didn’t even make eye contact with me. He is definitely batting for the other team. All the straight guys I know make eye contact.” She grabbed my arm and twisted me to walk the other way. I didn’t answer her. I just smiled. That encounter would help me last four hours in the car with her.
Nick, our driver, led us to a midnight black Sequoia four-wheel-drive SUV. He seemed a little stressed out that he was driving us to Aspen. He loaded Cindy’s suitcase into the back and ran around to her. She stood there waiting for him to open the door. Unbelievable. It was like she enjoyed making him her slave. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. Somewhere between the Oakland airport and Denver, she had turned into one of those self-absorbed bitches you see on reality TV shows. You know the kind: they crash through the front door, making a grand entrance to a party and then start making out with your best friend’s boyfriend. Or they throw a massive rag session because their friend bought the same shirt they bought and refused to take it back. Insignificant events in the realm of what normal people call the real world. She obviously didn’t exist in the same reality that normal people did.
I knew how to deal with people like her. I have been dealing with them since I was eight years old and entered the boarding school milieu. You have to let what they say roll off your back; but stand up to them when you’re backed into a corner. You walk a fine line when you’re surrounded by self-absorbed, center-of-the-universe type people. Hang around them too much and you’d find yourself acting like they did; avoid them and you’d start wishing they would include you in their world; a very fine line.
Nick drove without saying a word. I thought it was weird. I wasn’t the type of person to make small talk, but the trip to Aspen was over four hours and I didn’t think I could take sitting in a car without hearing him say something. Not even a rumble from clearing his throat; nothing. So, being who I was, I took advantage of the actual gaps of time Cindy didn’t fill with commentary about Chase, Aspen, or herself.
“Do you live in Aspen?” It was an innocent enough question. It wasn’t like I was asking him out on a date or anything. His eyes went wide and his lips pulled across his teeth. His shoulders tightened. You’d think I just hit on him in front of his girlfriend. Gosh, I was just making conversation that didn’t have anything to do with Cindy.
“No.”
“Where do you live?” His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, squinting to tell me to stop.
“Denver. I live in Denver,” he mumbled.
“Excuse me, NICK—at what point did my father start paying you to talk? Wilson, he is here to get us to Aspen and that is it. He isn’t being paid to tell you where he is from.” She pushed her headphones in her ears and blared some music with a high-pitched, pre-pubescent girl’s voice. She was going to damage her hearing turning those things up that high. Geez, I sounded just like Joanie telling me to turn the volume down on my iPod. My response was always the same, okay, MOM.
I think something went down between Cindy and Nick. Yeah, I said it! Someone had to. She was way too mean and vindictive to him. He was way too submissive. Maybe he didn’t fall all over her when she tried to hit on him. Or maybe they dated and he did something to piss her off. My mind ran off with so many stories, in minutes I had her pregnant with twins and him running off with the butler’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Mindy. When the relationship with Mindy went south, he came crawling back to Mr. Browler and asked to be Cindy’s chauffeur. Self-inflicted torture for leaving her barefoot and pregnant.
“How did you start working for the Browler’s?” I wanted to know. I needed to debunk the whole story line about Mindy. He looked back at me in the mirror, shifted to check Cindy, and then back to me.
“My mother and Cindy’s father got married nine years ago. Her father is paying me to pick you up.” A smile spread across his face. It looked like the blocks of humility shattered from his shoulders, and his whole demeanor shifted from burdened to liberated.
“Why do you let her treat you like dog shit?”
He shrugged his shoulders and leaned his head to the side. His eyes shifted between Cindy and me. I turned and noticed she had her eyes closed.
“She hates that her father married my mother.” He kept shifting his eyes from the road to her.
“That’s not your fault. Least she could do was see that you both are in the same boat,” I preached.
“I know. But that’s not going to happen anytime soon. I’ve been in her family for over ten years, and she still doesn’t see me as more than a gold-digger’s son.”
“I’m sorry, that must really suck.”
“No, I lived with her father and my mother while she was shipped off to boarding school. Now I’m a freshman at the University of Colorado.”
“She never talked about her mom; is she still alive?”
“Yeah, I guess she lives in New York. Nobody ever sees her. She met a guy on the Internet and split. Left Cindy and nobody’s heard from her since.” His eyes grew, as he realized he might have shared too much information about Cindy’s private life with me.
“Don’t worry, I won’t rat you out. Secret’s safe with me.” I winked at him and let him go back to driving.
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
I closed my eyes as the miles rolled by. I wanted to think about Wayne and Max, visualize them fighting each other over my affections. Instead, all I could think about was Cindy. Damn it! She was asleep and she still monopolized my mind. How she must’ve felt, knowing her mother left her for a guy off the Internet. Maybe that’s why she acted the way she did. It was one thing to have someone take you away from your mother, but to have her just up and abandon you—wow, that was messed up.
There was a small part of me that believed my mother wanted me. Up until I turned twelve, I believed she was doing everything in her power to get me back. After that I gave up on believing. Cindy and I had more in common than I wanted to admit. We both had really screwed up life donors.
The Sequoia swerved to the right, enough to wake me up from my cat-nap.
“What the hell is going on?” Cindy screamed with her earphones still plugged into the sides of her head.
“Nothin’,” Nick mumbled.
“It’s so obvious I’m not talking about the space between your ears. I’m talking about your crazy driving.” She pulled the earphones out and waited for his explanation.
“I need to take a break, go to the bathroom.” His face blushed, I saw him glance at me in the mirror.
“Fine, I could use the break to stretch my legs. Next time, warn me.” She leaned back and wrapped the earphone wires around her iPhone. She cursed him under her breath.
He swerved onto the exit and fou
nd the first gas station across the street. I was never one that liked to pee in a gas station bathroom, but when you gotta go, you have to deal with the filthy, oil-stained fixtures and urine-caked toilets.
I followed Cindy to the restroom. I looked at the door; just my luck, it was a unisex restroom. They were the worst. You didn’t get a choice on which toilet to use. If someone didn’t flush, you were S.O.L. The door behind me swung open and there stood Nick. He’d used the other restroom across the hall. I didn’t feel like following him, but I had to go, so I slipped in behind him and into the restroom without touching the door.
Fifteen minutes later, we were back on the highway and heading to beautiful Aspen. I wanted to forget about Cindy’s screwed up relationship with her mother. I didn’t have room in my head to sort the memories of Max, Wayne, and the artificial memories I’d created of her mother slamming the door in her face at eight years old. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and see Wayne in the airport, to put him into social situations I projected in my mind—ski slopes and lodges with cozy fires filling huge stone fireplaces—to see myself laughing at his jokes as he rubbed my sore feet.
Then, just as Wayne was about to pull off my other sock, Max showed up in my fantasy. I don’t even know how he got there. He just appeared in front of us.
The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 4
