The next thing I heard was Cindy slamming the front door. I ran to the bathroom across from the kitchen, and barely made it before everything in my stomach came back up.
Leaning against the toilet, I felt humiliated, scared, and caught. I just wanted the last hour to disappear. As a matter of fact, if the last couple of days would vanish, I’d be a hell of a lot better. I wanted to crawl into the toilet bowl and push the handle to flush myself down. I wanted to escape my life, become someone else—the someone who was still valid in Max’s eyes. When I looked up and saw Nick standing over me, I puked again.
“You okay?” he asked. He gently caressed my back in circles with his warm hand.
“She knows about Max,” I said before my body lurched forward and I dry-heaved the acid left in my stomach.
I can’t believe that my whole life has culminated into the last 15 minutes. I’m hugging the toilet like it’s my long lost friend and I’m puking my guts out. I’ve lost the only guy I’ve ever loved, and my best friend is nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t stop from wallowing in the jumble of my nasty cry and the burning rising in my esophagus; I wished my stomach would stop churning.
Every muscle in my body ached as I pushed myself up to the sink, rinsed out my mouth and powered past Nick. Suddenly, I felt my feet slamming against the hickory wood floor as I blasted out of the bathroom and ran toward the staircase. Every thought of what just happened hammered across my mind. Every moment of regret swelled in my chest, and all the feelings of what I lost ripped me apart. I couldn’t move fast enough; I couldn’t escape the haunting feeling of everyone I’d hurt by my actions. I’d used Nick, betrayed Max, and disappointed Nancy. My breath caught in the paralyzing fear of hurting everyone I loved. Oh, where’s Joanie?
Before I knew it, I was locking the bedroom door and tossing myself across the bed. There was nothing I could do to get the last fifteen minutes back. I couldn’t explain away what Cindy had seen on my phone, or blame our kiss on Nick this time. It had been what I wanted, what I thought would heal the deep ache that was drowning me. I was tumbling to the lowest point I’d ever been in my life. I lay, wrecked, as cries that came from my diaphragm, cracked like lightning in my ears, and rumbled like thunder across my body. Drowning would have been easier than the storm that wreaked havoc throughout my soul. What have I done?
Everything from the moment I got on the plane to Aspen twisted and knotted in my gut. Thoughts of every experience that carried any significance flooded my mind. The excitement of my birthday, the fear of the helicopter ride, Frank’s death, Max making love to me, and my abandoning him when he needed me most. I’d betrayed Max by making out with Nick, and now Cindy had walked in on me kissing her brother.
How was I ever going to face Max again? How was I going to go back to Wesley and sit in his class after this fiasco? He would never forgive me. I felt every muscle in my body give up as I sobbed into the pillow.
If Nick knocked on my door or tried to talk to me, I wouldn’t have known. I hit the bed that night, crying into my pillow, and everything after that was a blur. I didn’t wake up magically in my pajamas or tucked under the covers; I woke up in my clothes, spread across the bed, on my stomach. My head felt like it had been smashed with a thousand bricks, and my hair was so grungy I could only guess what the dried-up stuff was, causing all those natty clumps.
The room swirled as I dragged myself to the edge of the bed. I sat up, rocking, as I drowned in a cold sweat and struggled with a wicked case of dry mouth. All I wanted to do was to wait for my best friend to come and save me. I needed to forget about kissing Nick, and Cindy walking in on us.
God, how far would Nick and I have gone if Cindy hadn’t interrupted us? Would I have kept going, just so I could feel something other than the damage of losing Max? Maybe if Nick didn’t have the aroma of Aspen in the fibers of his shirt, I could have walked away. I needed Joanie to peel me up off the floor and protect me from the colossal damage that was steamrolling through my head.
There was a slight knock at the door before I heard the lock click and it slowly swung open. The minute my eyes met Joanie’s it was as if, finally, I didn’t have to hold it together anymore. I let go of all the pain I had pressed down deep within my gut. My eyes swelled with tears, my ears filled with the pressure of trying to keep from crying, and my head pounded from inside out.
“Oh babe, I’m so sorry,” Joanie crooned as she dropped her bag and rushed over with her arms open to hold me.
“Jaayyy—” I cried. I couldn’t push any other words out. They clogged my windpipe and intruded the spinning space in my head.
“I’m here now,” Joanie sang as she wrapped her arms around me. Her warmth spurred the inability to breathe. Hyperventilating, I couldn’t get enough oxygen. I felt stifled by her body, tight against my skin; but I needed her so badly, I couldn’t let go of her.
“Shhh...sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. I’ll get you through this, honey. I promise you, it will get better.” Joanie rubbed her warm hand in big circles across my back—a comfort rightly reserved for my mother or my grandma; but their vacancies created a responsibility thrust upon the only person I had left, and that was Joanie.
I let go of her and lay face down on the bed, sobbing. This was the same bed where Max spooned with me the first night we kissed; the place where we explored and mapped new discoveries with each bump and curve of our bodies.
But today, I haven’t felt my butterflies move at all; it was as if they’d busted out of my chest and dissolved into the blistering cold air that shredded their wings.
My body jerked as the howls of my loss filled the room. My pillow was drenched beyond any comfort. I was a mess, and there was nothing anyone could say that would change my future. I felt Joanie’s hand swirl from my back to my hair. Delicately, she worked to tangle her fingers into the damp strands that clung to the sides of my face. I could feel the sting of pins and needles on my scalp as she pulled her hands out of my hair. I wanted her to save me, find a way to make the pain of being ripped in half and abandoned go away.
“Soooo sorry, honey; damn it, I wish I could take it away,” Joanie whispered as she lay next to me and pressed the side of her face against the bed so I could look at her. Her usual life-filled eyes were bloodshot and swollen, a slighter version of mine.
“It—hurts—so—bad—J,” I choked as I struggled to pull out the only words I could formulate. I dragged my knees up under my body. Maybe if I curled into a ball I would be able to stop the memories of his face as I walked away from him.
Joanie pressed her scalding hot hand to my cheek as she looked at me. Her love spoke to me silent words of courage. I felt my eyes become heavy and my mind churn into broken visions of her being with me when I lost my grandma and grandpa. My rock had arrived, and now I felt safe enough to close my eyes and cling to the security she created for me.
“That’s it, Wilson. Let it go, sweetheart,” Joanie said. Her voice was so sweet and soothing. I pushed my legs out from under me and drove my arms around her, clinging to her as she hugged me back. We lay wrapped in each other’s arms, the comfort of sisters reserved for best friends.
My hands ached from clutching the back of her shirt; my arm was numb from her laying on it. I couldn’t believe she’d gotten to me so fast. Her sweet scent of familiarity comforted me and her rhythmic breathing settled my soul. I felt her chin press on the top of my head, and how, every time she exhaled, it tickled and vibrated through the loose strands of my hair. I felt my eyelashes catch the fabric of her shirt, and my tears dissolve into her skin. My ear pressed against the bed, deaf. I felt her lopsided, comforting hum vibrate through my bones. Now that Joanie was with me, I was safe.
“Joanie, I left him—standing in his window while I drove away. What did I do? What did I—” I felt the swell of what I did to Max clog my throat.
“Wilson, you did nothing wrong. Do you hear me? Nothing,” she argued as she grabbed my head and pulled me away to look her in the eyes.
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I pushed my head through her hands and back against her collarbone, closing my eyes. I didn’t want to hear anything; I wanted her to comfort me while I cried. I wanted to feel the safety of my best friend, the only family I had left.
“I love him so much, why hasn’t he called me? Why hasn’t he come to get me?” My cry was muffled against her shirt.
“He’s hurting, Sis; he’s just lost his dad, and his brother betrayed him. Right now, Max thinks he’s lost you because of what you overheard Nancy say,” Joanie said, comforting me.
“I left to give him space to grieve with his family,” I cried.
“You’re both hurting, give it some time,” Joanie said.
Suddenly, Joanie’s words tumbled and stuck in my head.
“Wait—how do you know about Calvin and Nancy? I didn’t tell you,” I murmured.
“When I called your phone—Nick answered, he told me what happened.”
“Oh, that’s right you talked to Nick. What did he tell you? I need details.” My voice cracked and I felt every nerve pushing at my skin as I burst into a cold sweat and my headache migrated into my jaw.
“When I talked to him, he told me that Calvin blew everything wide open with Max’s mom. He said that you and Max broke up over it. I guess Max told his mom that he broke up with you. Wilson, this is all second-hand, why don’t you call—”
“I can’t call him, his dad just died and he has to take care of his family…He’ll call me when he’s ready. And if he thinks we are broken up—well, then, I guess his mom was right,” I suggested.
I sat up on the side of the bed. My legs dangled heavily; the pressure of being on the edge dug into the back of my knees and my feet began to tingle. I felt a surge of defeat and fear ping-pong through my body. Everything was crashing together in my head. The idea of Max and me ever being together again started dissolving with Joanie’s words. Was I just another conquest to him? Did he get what he wanted from me so his father’s death became the perfect excuse to walk away?
Nick must not have said anything to Joanie about us last night. In an instant, what had happened last night echoed deep in my heart and started flashing lucidly in my head—the images of Nick nibbling on my ear, kissing me, pressing his steaming lips down across my collarbone—God, I tried to hate it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how good he made me feel. How the dormant butterflies in my gut began to vibrate.
“Wilson, Max is going to call you. He’s lost and hurting right now. Give him some time,” Joanie said, trying to convince me that everything was going to be put back the way it was.
“Nick won’t forgive me,” I mumbled absentmindedly as I tried to press away the thoughts with the heels of my hands in my eyes.
“Nick?” Joanie questioned.
“Huh?” I hummed looking at her with black spots dancing across her face.
“You said ‘Nick won’t forgive you’—what does Nick have to do with it?” Joanie cocked her head just enough to kick me out of my reverie.
“Umm, nothing. I just didn’t—I wasn’t thinkin’ clearly,” I stuttered and felt the blood rush to my cheeks.
“Wilson—I’ve known you most of my life. I can tell when you’re keepin’ something from me.” Joanie slid over next to me on the bed. “What the hell happened with Nick?”
I felt the tears push from my eyes, roll down my cheeks, and tumble off, landing against my shirt. Suddenly, what I’d done with Nick last night was unforgivable, misaligned, and morally wrong. I was wrong, and having Joanie recognize it in me, made it sting that much more. How am I going to tell her without looking like a total slut? What excuses would work for her? Ahhh, shit, nothing’s going to make it easy.
“J, I screwed up! I really screwed up last night—” I pushed my head into the palms of my hands.
“What happened?” Joanie slid down on the floor in front of me.
Our eyes met and I couldn’t hold back. My story spewed from my mouth, prolific and detailed, with every last feeling that accompanied our actions and reactions.
Joanie just sat on the floor, her legs criss-crossed, her eyes as wide as sand dollars, listening. I told her about Nick sucking my finger, and Lupita making dinner. I told her about kissing him, and how I felt dejected when he pushed me away. I told her how he caught me by the arm, pulled me back against the fridge, and made out with me. I told her everything—how his lips felt when he dragged them across my neck, how hard he pushed against me, how much I wanted to forget.
“Cindy was the one who walked in on us,” I screeched.
“NO! You’re kidding—holy shit, Cindy caught you guys?” Joanie’s face went white.
“Yeah, Nick kinda went off on her too, so now she thinks I’m with her brother.”
“Well, usually when you make out with someone, you’re going out. But Cindy?”
“It gets worse. She knows about Max,” I mumbled.
“Knows what?”
“She knows Max is Matt Gladstone on my phone.”
“How do you know she knows?”
“It’s Cindy, okay—she knows. Besides she whispered in my ear about Matt Gladstone—I was so drunk, I just remember throwing-up after that. I drank way too much and I didn’t even like it; but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I just didn’t want to hurt anymore. I wanted to stop thinking. I guess I wanted to pass out; forget about Max and what had happened with Nancy.”
Joanie leaned toward me. Her bottom lip disappeared behind the edge of her perfectly level, white front teeth and stoic upper lip. She struggled to find words to say.
“Well, Wil, you’re not a drinker—and even if you were, you know getting drunk isn’t the way to forget pain. All it is, is the fastest way to a much deeper ache.” Joanie looked over at me. She saw how broken I was, how all the color had evacuated my face, and shame weighed heavy on my shoulders.
“I guess you probably already know that though, huh?” Joanie said.
I shook my head and felt a wave of regret for what I’d done. The feelings that had soared and made every kiss, touch, and push from Nick so good last night were now the same emotions that twisted it into something slutty and wrong today. My head dropped into my hands, and I wept for what I had done.
Joanie rose to her knees, wrapped her arms around me, and spoke soothing words that began to help me understand why I made the choices I did.
“Wilson, look at the last six months of your life. It’s more than anyone should have to handle. You’ve lost both of your grandparents, you’ve lost your virginity, you’ve had to deal with such grown-up bullshit—nobody our age should have to take that all at once. A whole new world was opened up to you, and ripped away so fast, that it shattered who you are. We’ve gotten through everything else in our lives; we will get through this too.”
“I know, I am just scared that I’ve destroyed everything,” I wallowed.
Joanie caught my hair in her hands and leaned back to look me in the eyes to say, “What happened in the past…is the past. Don’t let that define you. Let right now be the most important moment of your life.”
I knew Joanie was right, she always knew what to say. Finally, I surrendered to my ugly cry and Joanie was there to catch me.
I took a deep, cleansing breath and thought about her words. I could feel the foundation build under my feet. She was right: now was the most important moment of my life.
There was a light knock at the door.
“Wilson? Are you okay?” Nick’s voice carried softly.
I looked at Joanie and felt everything she said; but the foundation she’d just created crumbled when I heard his voice.
“No—I don’t think I am,” I cried. Joanie ran her hand down my shoulder and pressed against my upper arm, hugging me.
“You wanna open the door and let me in? I think you should take something for your head,” Nick spoke softly.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I said as I walked over and pushed my forehead against the door. “I feel like I got
run over by a cement truck; and besides, I’ve already screwed up enough for one day,” I murmured.
“You didn’t screw up anything. It was me—I should have kept my distance. I knew you were vulnerable, I shouldn’t have done what I did,” Nick’s voice pressed through the wooden door and I could feel his words caress my skin.
I shook my head and replied, “No, Nick, I shouldn’t have used you like that.” I spun around and slid down to sit. My shirt clung to the door and drifted up, causing my lower back to be exposed to the cold air that crept in from the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door.
“Well, maybe we both felt something more than lonely. God, I wish you’d open the door,” Nick’s voice carried in a low whisper.
“Joanie’s here with me,” I said, hoping he would give up.
“Oh, yeah, good.” He murmured before I heard him whisper against the door, “If you need anything, just tell me.”
I didn’t move. I kept my back against the door and pulled my knees into my chest. I felt a wave of guilt pummel me, and my body rippled with the pressure of being pulled in so many directions.
Joanie swooshed over and her arms flew around me, her eyes wet with sympathy. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out,” she said.
I heard the front door slam and Cindy’s booming voice bounce off the open-beam ceiling.
“Nick—where were you? My father wanted both of us to represent the Browler family at Mr. Goldstein’s funeral. Now it’s over; everything is done and Frank’s already buried six feet under. What the hell?” she bellowed.
“Whatever…why would you go? You don’t even know the Goldstein family,” Nick spat.
“What do you mean? I don’t know the Goldsteins? Max Goldstein just happens to be one of my favorite teachers at Wesley this year. And I happened to be the one who had to hold him today while he wept,” Cindy huffed.
The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 49
