Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (11 page)

“
Hey, hon, what about me?”
Frank whined as he threw his hands into the air.

“
Well, yours is still in
the kitchen. I only have two hands, and guests get theirs first,”
Nancy snapped playfully.

“
Aahh, come on, the minute
she dropped that ball in the pocket, she wasn’t a guest anymore.
Anyone beating me at my own game…” he laughed as he went to Nancy
and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“
Oh careful, Frank, I
don’t want to spill Camille’s drink.” She lifted the glass toward
her daughter, holding it from the side and underneath, making sure
it didn’t drip on the floor or spill from the brim. Her hands were
so delicate, youthful, and feminine. Nancy smacked Frank on the
rear as she left the room. But not before she called back to him,
telling him that his and Max’s drinks were coming.

It was these little mannerisms that
comforted me into believing a family like this could exist. But
there was this huge part of me that felt like a fly on the wall—an
intruder in a kingdom that only existed in fairy tales.

“
How is it, Wilson?” Frank
asked, his big dirt-brown eyes rounded and his clean-shaven chin
pushed forward. Of course he asked right as I had just taken a huge
gulp.

“
Mmm, it’s really good.
Different than I’m used to,” I answered, wiping my lips dry and
covering my mouth just in case I spit any frothy ice out with my
words.

“
Well, that’s because my
wife makes
the
best Lemon Fizzies.”

“
Wow, never heard of a
Lemon Fizzie.”

“
Its Mom’s creation,”
Camille answered.

“
Now, Camille, it isn’t
like that.” Nancy came back into the room with Lemon Fizzies for
Max and Frank.

“
Thanks, Ma,” Max cooed as
she handed him his drink.

“
So what do you think?”
she asked me.

“
Reminds you of something
you’ve tasted before, right?” Max asked me. His eyes twinkled; I
knew he was talking about the Skip and Go Naked I’d shared with him
at Cindy’s cabin.

“
Yeah, it’s good. What’s
in it?” I asked.

“
Well, my dear, that is
top secret,” Nancy teased. I could feel my attention shift from
being a pool player to wanting to know what was in the drink. Max
noticed that I was becoming lost in his mom’s charm.

“
Hey, now—are we going to
be talking Fizzies all night or are we going to finish this game?”
Max took a swig of his drink, then set it down on a tall
captain-type table against the wall.

Nancy gave Frank his drink, but not
before he said his thanks and mumbled something about loving her
more than pool.

“
Well, Wilson, when you’re
done playing Crazy Eight with the boys…”

“
Hey,
Mom, what am I?” Camille griped. “Besides, the game we’re
playing is Eight Ball. It’s a good thing you’re not on
our
team,” Camille
mumbled before she gave Frank a high five.

“
Well, just the same, I
think the energy you all keep putting into this game of eight
something-or-others is crazy.”

Man, I loved her. If I could’ve just
found a way to snatch a little piece of her and put it in my
pocket, I would have. I wanted to grow in her love and shine with
her acceptance. She oozed such sophistication and yet was
down-to-earth enough to make me want to stand in her
shadow.

“
Max, did your brother say
anything about coming home?” Nancy asked as she brushed her hands
against her waist, flattening the edge of her sweater. She didn’t
look at Max; she didn’t even wait for him to mumble something back
before she occupied her thoughts with other people in the house.
“Camille—ring, sweetheart.” Nancy pointed to the drink her daughter
had set down on the dark mahogany end table without a
coaster.

I felt the atmosphere thicken with the
mention of Calvin. Frank stiffened and focused on reapplying some
blue chalk to the tip of his pool stick. Camille picked up her
drink, her eyes wide, as she looked to Max to calm the
waters.

“
Ahhh no, Ma. Cal didn’t
mention coming out. I figured I would give him a day or two before
I called,” Max answered as if these were the hardest words he’d
ever had to utter.

“
Oh. Well, then—I guess
we’ll wait to see what he wants to do.” Nancy snatched up Camille’s
drink and took it to the kitchen.

We stood silently as we all processed
her disappointment, oozing and filling the room. Frank huffed
something about Calvin’s selfish, immature manner before he broke
for the kitchen. I just watched; there was nothing else I could do.
No matter how much I wanted to run to her, I couldn’t. It wasn’t my
place. So I did the only thing I knew I could—I turned to Max and
let all my feelings swirl in the tears that welled in my
eyes.

Max pulled me into a hug before he
lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, “I’m sorry, Calvin does
this to her. I’ll be right back.” His arms tightened around me
before he let me go and traced the same path his parents had just
treaded.

“
This is nothing new,
Wilson,” offered Camille. “Calvin has
always
created chaos in the family.
If he would take some responsibility and stop being so
lackadaisical, he’d be working with my father instead of bouncing
around from place to place and job to job.” She set her cue stick
on the pool table before she took a deep, extended
breath.

I didn’t know what to say. When I sat
with Calvin a couple of nights before, he’d told me about Frank’s
contemptuous comments. Words like lazy, pathetic, loser, and bum,
rolled off his tongue. These were words I couldn’t imagine Frank
using to belittle his youngest son.

“
That’s one thing you’ll
have to learn about my family,” Camille continued, “you’ll see only
what they want you to see.” She made sure to make eye contact with
me.

What does that mean? Am I
dating Houdini’s son? What wool did they pull over my eyes? What
grand escapes do I have to look out for? Because right now, I truly
feel them. But then again, who’s to say I’m the best judge of
character?

“
Huh?” I said, coming back
to the conversation with Camille.

“
I said it won’t take you
long to find out how important it is to make everything appear
peachy.” Camille turned to go to the kitchen.

“
So am I failing Goldstein
Family Life 101?” The words shot from my lips.

“
I wouldn’t say that. But
now that you and my brother are a recognizable item, be prepared
for the dinner inquisition.” And with those words, Camille
left.

I stood in the great room, alone, and
now completely scared of whose lion’s den I’d stepped foot in.
Visions of Nancy and Frank fluttered across my thoughts—their noses
turned up in the air, their hair wild, eyes devilishly red and
acidly wicked as their long fingers pointed at me. Their words,
soft at first, ricocheted hard against the bones in my head, with
phrases painted in murky gray, accusing me of lying to win their
hearts and steal their son from their family. My heart shuddered
rapidly in my chest; my stomach ached as their judgments flooded my
body. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get my lungs to cooperate so I
could catch my breath.

I hurried to the bathroom, hoping that
if I splashed some water on my face it would stop the self-induced
panic attack that accosted me and held me captive. As I pushed into
the bathroom, the aroma of fresh, green apple hung in the air, and
a crisp chill stroked across my exposed skin. I wasn’t comfortable
anymore.

No matter how much water I splashed
across my cheeks I couldn’t stop my stomach from twisting. My mouth
was watering and I was straining to keep from throwing up. I dabbed
my face dry with the gazillion thread count, white, Egyptian cotton
hand towel, and I cleared the stagnant air from my lungs with a
couple of deep breaths. Then of course, I caught my expression in
the colossal mirror above the sink.

My hair was drab and
drenched from the puddles of water I’d just splashed across my
face, and my waterproof mascara
bled down
below my eyelashes, accentuating the bags that puffed under my
eyes. I looked like I’d gotten in a pretty bad tussle and lost.
Granted, I was pretty tired, and that could’ve been why Camille’s
words had felt worse than running the edges of my cuticles across a
cheese grater.

Any way I looked at it, I needed to
pull myself together and let go of the fear of that night’s dinner.
Besides, it was my birthday, and I knew Max wouldn’t let anything
or anyone ruin it. I combed my fingers through my hair, breaking
the tangles that didn’t cooperate, and dabbed away the “waterproof”
mascara from beneath my eyes as best I could with toilet
paper.

Waterproof my ass, what a
frickin’ mess. Waterproof is waterproof, right? Okay, so thrusting
puddles of water at my face might have been a little excessive. But
if they claim their product is waterproof, then I should be able to
plunge my entire head underwater and still come out looking
perfect. Instead, you might as well toss me into a group of
raccoons.

Once I felt together enough to join
the Goldsteins again, I went to hang up the fancy, white hand towel
I’d used to dry my face. Of course, with the type of day I was
having, I should have known my mascara would’ve ended up all over
it.

Shit—what the hell am I
going to do now? I can’t hang it back up. Nancy is already upset
about Calvin. Now here I go screwing up her trillion thread count,
Egyptian cotton hand towel. And what the hell am I going to do
about the dinner inquisition? Oh my God, I think I’m going to be
sick.

I grabbed the hand towel
and held it to my lips.
Well if I already
messed it up with black mascara, I might as well finish it off with
a Lemon Fizzie.

“
Wilson? Where are you,
sweetheart?” Max called out.

Chills rippled throughout
my body, and in an instant, I felt saved. Max wouldn’t dangle the
shame of ruining Nancy’s towel in front of me, and he’d rescue me
from the dinner inquisition. He’d find a way to make it okay
because, after all, he loves me.
But
still
, the doubting voice in my head was
screaming to be heard.

What if he leaves me alone
with his family during dinner? What if his parents find out I’m his
student? What if he sees what I did to Nancy’s towel and decides
I’m completely too immature for him? Because who in their right
mind would dry their mascara-ridden face with a white towel?
Face it. Wilson, you’ve screwed this one up big
time.

As Max tapped on the bathroom door, my
heart thrashed unrelentingly against my sternum. “Wilson, you in
there?”

I froze. Maybe if I didn’t move he
wouldn’t know I was trying to figure out what to do with the towel
I’d ruined. I turned to look at the door and knocked the copper
trashcan against the toilet with my foot. The clang echoed
throughout the massive bathroom. He tapped again on the door.
“Wilson, you okay?”

I pulled the towel away from my mouth.
“Yeah, be out in a minute,” my voice wavered; he
noticed.

“
You sure?” he asked. I
heard his hand slide across the door.

Uh-oh, here we go
again—another bathroom moment.

“
I’m fine.”

Clearly he wasn’t aware of the towel
I’d ruined or the words Camille had flung at me about the upcoming
inquisition. I heard his body press against the door. I stepped
closer.

“
Wilson, I can’t wait to
be alone with you,” his words filled the space between us. I leaned
against the door. I swear, I could feel his weight.

I heard him exhale slowly, and with
that, what I’d done to the towel and my feelings about Camille’s
warning melted away. He had such a way with me. Every silly moment
of insecurity seemed to vanish with his words.

“
Me too,” I whispered as I
unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“
Hi. I’m sorry about
leaving you alone with my sister.” He wore a frown as his eyes
tangled me in his apology.

“
Nothing to be sorry
about.” I swallowed as I decided to keep Camille’s warning to
myself.

“
Yeah, well when Calvin
decides to stay away, it affects everyone and I am the one the
family leans on to fix it. It tends to be a thankless
job.”

“
Yeah, but an important
one,” I answered.

“
One family job I don’t
remember signing up for,” he responded.

“
I bet your
mom
is thankful,” I said
before I watched his radiant, green eyes widen and the muscles in
his face become stoic. I had an answer for every excuse he gave for
his family responsibility, and he noticed.

“
Yeah, she is.” He wrapped
his arms around me. His hug was a sorry he didn’t have to speak. I
knew he was grateful for his family; he just needed to vent, and I
needed to remind him how lucky he was.

“
By the way, I kinda got
makeup on your mom’s towel.” The words felt juvenile and stupid as
I said them. I made sure I clung tightly to his embrace.