Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (19 page)

Quarantined by the inconvenient fact
that I wasn’t a Goldstein, I watched as the little power I thought
I had dissipated in the eyes of the people to whom I ached to
belong. The insecurities of being alone swelled around me and
bowled me back to the day I’d been forgotten on my grandparents’
porch. The holes of abandonment were carved into my heart by the
woman who was supposed to love me more than any chemical high. The
damaging acid of neglect dissolved any memories of my mother’s
love. My body felt like it had forsaken me—my arms felt heavy, my
head was swimming. I couldn’t stop the ripping sting that dried my
throat and the aching pain that clenched my jaw. My nose, saturated
with the scent of disenchantment, became clogged with everything I
tried to hold back. Salty tears anxiously raced down my face,
creating tracks I didn’t want to own. I pressed my hands against
the window and dropped my body against the clear, yet breakable
boundary that kept me from Max. My lids, heavy with loneliness,
slammed shut, releasing the leftover tears that clung to the hope
of staying alive within my eyes.

I didn’t see the ambulance drive away,
and for what seemed like an eternity, I didn’t know where Max went.
When I heard him breathing heavily behind me, short and fast pants,
I knew the pain he was experiencing; knew it all too well. I turned
to him. He was frozen in his doorway. His rosy color having
deserted him, his face was ghostly white—pale with fear of losing
his dad. I looked into his swollen, bloodshot eyes.

“
I am so sorry, Max,” I
said. I held fast to my spot against the window as I continued to
fill the vacant gap between us with words I knew I had to say. “You
need to go and be with your family.”

They were so hard to dislodge from my
larynx. I wanted to be with him through this. It was my chance to
heal him, make him okay, but at that moment I was only in the way.
Selfishly, there was a part of me that wanted him to choose to stay
with me, but I knew he would resent me if his father died in the
hospital and he wasn’t there.

He shuffled toward me, unsure of where
he should be. I could tell he was struggling with the commitment
he’d made to being with me. When I reached for him and we embraced,
he clung to me.

“
Wilson,” he choked. I
felt his body ripple vulnerably as he cried.

“
Shhh, Max, it’s going to
be okay.”

“
I don’t want this right
now,” he mumbled into my tear-damp hair.

“
I know, but your family
needs you.” Suddenly for the first time,
I
was reassuring him
. “Do you want me to
call Calvin?”

“
No. I don’t think he
could handle this right now. He’s still really upset at my dad.”
Max pulled back from me. I watched him wipe his tears on the back
of his hands. He noticed I had been crying. “Are you okay?” he
asked as his hands tangled in my hair.

I nodded, hoping to avoid crying more.
But my eyes swelled with damn tears. I wanted so badly to be there
for him; I didn’t want to come across weak or needy. He needed me
to be the strong one. “You should go and be with your mom and
sister right now.” I pushed him back from me as I took a deep
breath.

“
Come with me.” He
snatched at my arms. “I want you there with me.”

“
Oh Max, I don’t think so.
This is
your
family moment.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes; it was too
hard to see his hurt.

“
Wilson, I won’t go
without you. I know I told you to stay in my room, but I only did
that so you wouldn’t have to…” he stopped. I looked up at him.
“It’s just so soon after your grandfather,” he finished.

“
I understand. Thanks for
wanting to protect me. But Max, that’s life, you can’t shelter
me.”

“
I will always want to
protect you, Wilson. I love you.” He dragged his lips down from my
forehead to my nose and past down to my waiting lips. He always
knew how to get his way.

“
I love you too,” I
breathed after our kiss.

****

It didn’t take long to get to the
hospital and Max did his best to hold it together as he drove. But
by the time he pulled into the parking garage and shut off the car,
he was a total mess.

I knew his spirit was beyond broken
and there was nothing I could do to fix it. I couldn’t smash his
pain or soak up his anger; all I could do was sit by him and wait.
He had his head pressed against his hands, still grasping the
steering wheel. He lingered a moment before lifting his head to
speak.

“
I don’t want to go in
there and see him…dying,” he choked.

“
Max, your family needs
you.” I reached out and intertwined my fingers in the wisps of hair
dangling in front of his bowed head.

He looked at me, his eyes damp with
disappointment. “I’m sorry, this isn’t what I had planned for us on
your birthday.”

“
Max, don’t worry about
it. I want to be here with your family. We belong here now.” I
leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He swung his arms around
me and buried his face in the curve of my neck. Time owed us, and I
wished we had enough of it to stay in that embrace.

“
Thank you for coming with
me,” he mumbled.

“
You’re welcome. Now come
on, you can do this.” I pulled away and swung my door open. Max sat
motionless.

After a slight moment, though, he
pushed open his door and stepped out. His once lofty, gorgeous
physique moved reluctantly, like a broken man resistant to change.
I held his hand as we walked up the stairs into the hospital that
was hopefully keeping his father alive.

The sliding doors buzzed open. The
quiet thuds of rubber soles pacing the immaculate, speckled tile
floor vibrated between us. Floating scents of Simple Green
attempted to mask the reality that this was a hospital stacked with
sick people. I felt Max’s hand tighten on mine.

The old man sitting purposefully at
the volunteer desk smiled at us. I smiled back, Max
didn’t.

“
Good evening. Welcome to
Aspen Valley Hospital. Can I help you?” the volunteer
asked.

Max stared at the old guy for an
awkward moment before speaking.

“
Uhh…yeah. My father,
Frank Goldstein, was brought in by ambulance…”

“
Oh, I see. You will want
to go to the ER department. Follow the red arrows down this
corridor, turn left, then take your second right and then the first
left. You’ll come to a set of double doors, go straight through and
you’ll be in the ER’s waiting area.” The old man’s wrinkled and
splotchy hands swung through the air, miming the convoluted path we
were supposed to take.

“
Thank you,” I
said.

“
You’re welcome,
sweetheart. Good luck.”

Why do people say that? I
never will understand someone wishing me luck as I go to experience
something that is out of my control. Give me a break. It isn’t like
we are running a race or entering a raffle. I’m going to the
emergency room to see my boyfriend’s father who could be dying. I
don’t need luck; I need Frank to be okay.

When we made it to lobby of the ER,
Max went up to the registration nurse and asked where he could find
his father. I heard Camille call Max’s name. Her eyes were worn
with the fears of her father’s failing health. She jumped up and
scurried over to Max, grabbing him and bursting into tears. He held
her while she collected herself enough to tell him what was going
on with their father.

“
Max, he had a major heart
attack. Mom is in there with him now. He’s got machines beeping and
tubes hanging from everywhere. I told Mom I would wait out here for
you. It doesn’t look good.” Camille burst into tears
again.

I glanced at Max, waiting to see what
he was going to say. Nobody knew how to handle this situation. His
eyes were wide, filled with the responsibility of being the glue to
hold his sister together.

“
Everything is going to be
okay, Camille. I’m right here,” he whispered to her, stroking his
hand down her long, brown hair. She leaned back from him and shook
her head.

“
Oh, Max, I’m so scared
and I tried to call Danny, but I can’t get ahold of
him.”

Max turned his face, red with emotion,
toward me. His eyes looked worn. He motioned for me to come over
and be with them, but I was unsure. I felt like that was a moment
for him and his sister to bond—no Dan, no me—just them, living
through the pain only siblings could embody.

Camille glanced over at me too, and
held her arm out, reassuring Max’s desire to include me. I hurried
to them. She wrapped her arms around me, touching both of our
backs, connecting the three of us in a very sad reality.

“
Max and Calvin Goldstein?
Camille Finch?” A voice filled the waiting room. Camille’s body
stiffened, Max’s hands dropped to his sides. The walls of our
bonding moment crumbled. We turned to the voice coming from the
huge oak door propped open by the woman saying their names. She
scanned the room, locking on the three of us, the only people who
reacted to the names she called out.

“
Frank Goldstein’s
family?” she confirmed before she pushed the door, her arm and leg
extended, opening it wide enough for us to pass. Three badges were
stuck to her fingers with big black numbers indicating who we
belonged to. Max grabbed one, Camille the other; Calvin’s badge
hung in the air. Assuming it was for me, the nurse pushed her hand
my way. It was supposed to be Calvin’s badge, the second son of
Frank and Nancy Goldstein; the son nobody had called. Who was I to
use his badge? I stood there for a moment, frozen by the thought of
being an outsider once again. Max pulled the sticker ID off the
nurse’s finger and pressed it to my chest.

“
You belong with me.” He
slid his hand down and grabbed mine.

“
Calvin belongs here,” I
whispered.

Camille and Max just stared at each
other.

“
Please follow me. My name
is Sharon, I am one of your father’s nurses tonight,” she informed
us. Camille went in first, then Max and I followed. Sharon was
dressed in light blue from head to toe. Her feet, muffled by her
shoe covers, didn’t pound like other peoples’ walking through the
halls of the hospital. The soft patter told me we’d just been given
access to an area of the hospital where nobody really wanted to
be.

Instead of taking us to Frank, she
stopped in front of a small room; the door was slightly ajar, and I
could hear a woman weeping and a deep, robust voice telling her he
was very sorry. Pushing her fingertips to the door until they
glowed white, Nurse Sharon held her other arm out, indicating for
us to go in.

Max’s mom sat at a round, wooden
table. Her spirit looked broken, her complexion white as a sheet
hanging from a clothesline on a cloudy day. Her eyes were hollow
with loss and her warm, familiar smile drooped, unrecognizable. The
doctor who’d been comforting her stood, extending his hand to
indicate for us to sit down. We obeyed. Camille sat first,
clutching her mother’s hand. Max pulled my chair out, then went
over and grabbed his mother’s shoulders. Nancy caught her breath
and started to cry again. Max’s eyes glazed with tears. She plucked
his hand from her shoulder and pressed her drenched lips to the
back of it. He bent down and kissed her head; he understood what
his mother needed. I was captivated by the unexpected tragedy that
thrust this loving family into a chaos I thought I knew all too
well. Max remained behind her, his hand pressed against her collar
bone. Nancy’s hands were filled with her children’s lives; the only
thing she had left to cling to.

“
Your father suffered a
pretty sizable heart attack. We have him stable right now; we are
just waiting for our surgical team to arrive. They will try and
repair the damage to the heart—” the doctor took a
breath.

“
What are the chances of
him surviving the surgery?” Camille asked. I could hear the hope
carried in her voice.

“
Conservatively—ten to
fifteen percent. They won’t know until they can see the heart and
the damage it sustained. The EKG indicates he suffered a major
heart attack. I am really very sorry.”

“
Can we see him?” Max
asked.

“
Not right now; we have
already prepped him for surgery,” the doctor answered; his eyes
locked with Nancy’s for an immeasurable moment and then he
softened. “Five minutes,” he whispered as he stood up. “I wish I
had better news, I’m sorry.”

Maybe it was the unspoken words
between them that made him change his mind, I don’t know. He
delicately tapped Nancy on the shoulder before leaving us in the
room to understand what had just happened.

“
Maxi?” Nancy
wavered.

“
Yeah, Mom,” Max
answered.

“
Calvin—get him here.” She
turned to Camille and ordered, “Call Dan, he should be here too. I
want us
all
here
when your father wakes.” Nancy’s voice cracked, her moment of
determination crumbled, and she began to sob; like dominoes, one by
one, Frank’s family toppled, sobbing for the unknown outcome and
the fear of losing a husband and a father.