Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (6 page)

“
Thanks, Mr. Albright. I
appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Max finished as he
clutched Bernie’s hand, making sure not to let go until Bernie was
going to take whatever money Max had trapped in their
clutch.

“
Oh, no, I can’t take
this.” Bernie’s eyes grew, swelling with magnifying
tears.

“
I insist, you’ve made me
very happy. Take your wife to a nice dinner,” Max
pushed.

Bernie kept shaking his
head
no.
Max
grabbed him at the shoulders and said, “If not for me, for
Wilson—it would make her
very
happy.”

The old, worn man looked past Max,
meeting my eyes. He agreed.

Max ran his fingers through his hair,
straightening his appearance before opening the door to whatever
waited for us outside.

“
Close your eyes,” he
whispered before he grabbed my hand.

“
What if I fall?” My heart
thrashed in agreement.

“
I won’t let you. Trust
me.” He led me out into the sub-freezing temperatures of Denver,
Colorado. Streaks of black and sparks of white danced in my blinded
sight. My hair swirled around my face, causing stray strands to get
stuck on my lips; my walk, unsure and very unstable. Max stopped,
grabbed both my shoulders, and spun me to face where I was going to
find the surprise for my birthday. Then his touch
disappeared.

“
Max? Where are you?” I
felt my heart speed up and perspiration seep from my
skin.

“
Don’t worry, I’m right
here,” he whispered in my ear.

“
Okay, open your
eyes.”

My eyes were wary, struggling to
adjust and see what he had planned on my birthday. I was standing
on the tarmac staring at a small, four-person helicopter. My life
flashed before my eyes. Max turned back to me, and his eyes grew as
he held his arms out. “Ta-dah! Surprise, we are going to Aspen by
helicopter.”

My mouth sped dry, my
trachea shut, and I couldn’t speak.
What
did he just say? Helicopter?
I’d never
been in a flying glass death trap before. I wanted to be happy, but
quite frankly, I was scared shitless. The teardrop body of the
helicopter looked like it was made out of thin Plexiglas and the
blades above looked droopy, burdened with the thought of our
flight.

“
Max—umm, wow, I don’t
know what to say, I umm…” I worked hard to find the words to tell
him I was scared.

Max’s face dropped straight. His lips
curled down and his eyes lost their gloss of excitement. “I can
rent a car—if this is too much? It’s not a big deal; I just thought
it would be an exciting way to celebrate your eighteenth
birthday.”

As he wrapped his arms around me I
could feel his need to make me feel loved on my birthday. It was
his attempt to surprise me, and here I was letting my fear ruin a
memorable moment.

“
No, you don’t need to
rent a car—I love it.” The words lodged in my windpipe as I spoke.
I tugged at his shirt, waiting for him to lead me over to the
frightening bird. He didn’t move.

“
Are you sure you’re okay
with this?” His hands swayed in the air toward the pilot and
helicopter.

I swallowed. “Yeah, Max, I am. Now
come on, let’s get out of here.” I caught his hand and tried to
pull him toward me. He smiled and yanked me back to his
chest.

“
Happy Birthday, Wilson.”
He leaned down and kissed me. His lips, sweetened by his words,
were as reassuring as the sun’s warm beams on a brisk winter
morning.

Max brushed his lips across my
forehead before leading me to the helicopter. I couldn’t believe
he’d been able to pull this off. Little did he know that getting me
into the death trap was going to be a whole separate challenge—he
didn’t know how grippingly terrified I was of heights.

It only took the
helicopter pilot pulling his headphones up from around his neck and
flicking switches to get my heart racing and my blood pumping
violently through my body. I chanted—okay I screamed in my head—to
myself to
suck it up and quit being a
baby
. Max noticed and snatched my hand.
Funny, he didn’t even react to the apparent dampness that
accompanied my grip.

The propellers struggled as they began
to build the momentum they needed to lift us from the ground. The
deafening whine of the motor and the thumping rhythm of the blades
as they sliced through the thick Denver air were menacing. Max
pulled on his headphones before pointing to the set that hung just
above my head. I slipped them against my ears, working to make sure
my hair was tucked behind the big cushy part that protected my
hearing.

The rails of the helicopter scraped
and dragged across the tarmac before we began to ascend toward the
heavens. Fear swelled in my heart and clutched the bubble of panic
that clogged my chest and robbed my breath. My hand tightened
around Max’s and I felt him squeeze back.

Suddenly, there was nothing but blue
sky enveloping us and the burden of the hammering blades that kept
us afloat. Lines of sweat trickled and itched down the back of my
neck. I couldn’t force myself to look down out the peek-a-boo
window by my feet. I felt the same fear that had encompassed me
when I was on the ski-lift with Wayne. The helicopter’s back and
forth movements, the wind that rambled and shook the bolts holding
plastic to metal—all caused me to drink shallowly from the stagnant
air in our delicate bubble we occupied, hovering in the
sky.

Max must have noticed how freaked I
was when I grabbed the charm of my necklace and slid it ritually
back and forth along it’s chain; or maybe it was the shade of white
that flushed across my skin and made me look like a corpse. Either
way, he unsnapped his five-harness seatbelt and slid close to
me.

“
You okay?” he shouted. I
couldn’t answer him. I tried, but I couldn’t voice the words that
filled my head with the terror of falling out of the sky. He rested
his hand on my knee before sliding it up across my thigh. The
warmth of his touch began to wrestle my fears back to the unsettled
place they’d come from. I was able to force a smile. I guess it was
enough—he nodded and started to point out landmarks below us the
size of nickels and dimes. I tried to focus, but the idea of
looking down at what we could possibly crash-land into just didn’t
sit right with me. At least in a plane you have the chance of
surviving—hell, maybe even walking away—but in a helicopter…I just
couldn’t find the ability to feel safe.

When the helicopter jolted and dropped
in elevation, a whoop-tee-whoo collected down in my pelvis, and I
shrieked. My heart ended up in my throat and my eyes were floating
somewhere above my head. My hands and feet tingled with rippling
pressure that pulsated up my limbs, and every muscle in my body
snapped rigid. I could honestly say—if I knew what it felt like to
have my life flash before my eyes, I bet it just happened. I heard
people say that images of your life blaze across your sight, like
pictures in a slideshow, only faster. I saw my grandma in her
casket, my mom driving away, my grandpa collapsed in his driveway,
Emily jumping into Max’s arms, Max ignoring me in class, me crying
into the leather couch in Cindy’s bathroom at her cabin; every
feeling of inadequacy, abandonment, and inferiority inundated my
body. Pretty sad that, when I thought I was going to die, it was
all the crappy moments of my life that came flooding
back.

Max bounced up and across to the other
side of the bench seat we were on. But once he regained control of
his weightless body, he scrambled back next to me and wrapped his
arms around me. He pulled back my headset and pressed his mouth
against my ear.

“
Wilson, it’s okay. You’re
safe. It was turbulence, that’s all,” his voice was sharp enough to
pierce my eardrum. All I could do was nod.

“
I’m sorry,” he
whispered.

I pressed my head against his mouth,
and I closed my eyes, waiting for my birthday surprise to be
over.

Forty minutes later, the helicopter
started its descent to the Aspen Airport. Max held me the entire
time. When he could, he would reassure me with stories about being
a kid and riding in helicopters. And when he felt he needed to, he
refreshed his grasp on me. The pilot insisted that Max buckle up,
but Max wouldn’t let go of me until he knew I was okay. Finally, as
we were about to land, Max snapped into his harness and grabbed my
hand. His thumb, so soft, caressed the back of my hand. Relief
flooded my entire body. I was so glad we were done with this part
of our trip.

The helicopter teased and toiled with
my emotions—elation that we were landing; apprehension that we had
to plunk down onto the tarmac. Why couldn’t there be a more
delicate way to end the hell that danced across my psyche? With a
vibrating thud, the rails of the helicopter met the huge, white
outlines. The high-pitched whistle of the blades slowed to a
muffled ringing, and to lengthen my hell, I had to wait for the
pilot.

The minute the pilot okayed my exit,
the headphones came off and the harness was released. The flimsy
door that separated us from life and death swung open, and I hopped
down to greet the tarmac with numb feet and wobbly legs.

The freezing air stung my
lips and burned the passageway down into my lungs. Goose bumps,
chased with chills, swelled up and down my arms. Within seconds,
the tip of my nose and the edges of my ears found out just how cold
Aspen was in December. The burst of Rocky Mountain air sparked
memories of the first time I’d come to Aspen—last month—and Nick
had jumped out of the SUV because he was so pissed at Cindy. She’d
spent a good fifteen minutes trying to convince him to get back in
before he froze to death.
God I’m so glad
I’m not stuck in a car with those two.

Max grabbed our bags and then gave a
‘thumbs up,’ signaling to the pilot that we were okay. I just kept
walking away from the helicopter; I didn’t want to be anywhere near
it as its blades wound back up to a hectic speed. The swirling wind
thrashed dust and small rocks violently around us, and the whirl
filled my ears with the rhythm of the helicopter getting ready to
leave. Max got my attention, and with an exaggerated motion,
pointed to a man sitting in a golf cart only big enough to fit a
couple of people. Max pushed against my back, prompting me to jog
far enough away before we turned and watched the helicopter ascend
for departure. My hair snapped against my cheeks like the tips of
sharp needles jabbing unrelentingly into sunburned skin.

The airport employee waiting on the
tiny cart hurried to grab my suitcase from Max. In one smooth
motion, he hurled it onto the back, then turned and grabbed Max’s
duffle bag before shoving it next to my suitcase. Max helped me
into the cart. I have to admit—it wasn’t the most luxurious ride,
but at least I wasn’t hovering in the air in a flimsy death
trap.

I watched as Max and our
cart driver shook hands and said their hellos. Their breaths, white
with words, introduced warmth to the wintry air. They smiled and
popped each other in the chest.
I’ve never
gotten why guys always hit each other after talking. It’s never
made sense to me. “You’re my friend, so let me whack you in the
chest—just so you know I’m done talking.” I don’t think Joanie
would ever let me haul off and punch her across her
shoulder.

They pulled the doors open, and the
heater raging at my feet lost the battle to the relentless, bitter
air.

“
Our transportation is on
the other side of the airport in the passenger loading zone. Do you
think you’ll have a problem getting over there?” Max asked our cart
driver.

“
Naw, I’ll curve around
closest to the buildings—shouldn’t be a problem.” The guy messed
with the starter and handbrake.

The cart lurched forward. My body
tightened and Max wrapped his arm around me.

“
Don’t worry, no more
helicopters—promise.” His eyes were just as bright as his smile;
right then I knew he had something else up his sleeve.

The cart stopped in front of the
airport entrance, and right away, a guy dressed in black from head
to toe pulled open Max’s door.

“
Good morning, Mr.
Goldstein,” the man said as we got out of the cart.

“
Good morning, Allen,” Max
answered, shaking his hand. “This is Wilson,” he continued as I
stepped out.

“
Good morning, Miss
Wilson. And Happy Birthday.” His hand shot out toward me; I
clutched it, expecting to give him a firm handshake, when he lifted
it to his lips. I felt awkward, almost stupid, to think that here
we were, right in front of the Aspen airport, and I had some guy
kissing my knuckles.

“
Nice to meet you,” I
answered automatically.

“
My pleasure.” His eyes
locked on mine as he lowered my hand before letting it
go.

He turned to Max. “Everything has been
arranged. Go right ahead and I’ll collect your bags.”

“
Thank you so much. And,
Allen, Mr. Goldstein’s my father. Call me Max,” he said as he
lowered my backpack off his shoulders and set it on top of his
duffle bag. Allen nodded.