Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (36 page)

“
What can I do?” I
asked.

“
Come back to him. He
needs you.
Please
, if you’ve
ever
truly loved him…” she said as her eyes begged for an answer.
These were her last pleas before she would have to give up on
believing I might be the last resort to save her
brother.

Every single inch of my body ached to
know about Max. But how could I go back to him? I would never be
able to change the fact that I kissed Nick and I lied to Max’s
family.

Camille watched my reaction hurl
throughout my body. My breath hung on every word she said; each
sound she made rang painfully in my ears. My eyes filled with tears
for the strung together words I had to say.

“
I’m sorry—I can’t,” my
voice cracked, and every little morsel of strength I had melted
with my response.

Camille’s face blanched white. “Why
can’t you?”

“
It’s bigger than just
what’s between me and Max.”

“
I don’t believe that. He
loves you…you love him. What more is there?” Camille asked. A
pressure built against my chest and through my lungs.

“
Nancy,” I blurted.
Camille stood silent for a moment; her feisty desire to convince me
to go to Max softened.

“
My mom’s the one who sent
me,” her voice shook as if it was her last weapon available to
her.

I stood speechless, unable
to answer.
There was no way Nancy would
have sent her. Not after the words she said to Max while I was on
the stairs. How can I ever face Max’s mom again? She’ll be
disappointed in me and I can’t take that. I just can’t.
I stared at the floor trying to muster up the
strength to go to Max when
Camille turned
on her heels and headed for the front door. I felt her desperation
snatch my heart and drag it along the cold, hardwood floor. She
gripped the knob, pausing a moment as she looked back at
me.

“
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.

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.