Beyond Eighteen (29 page)

“Thank you,” Joanie answered for both of
us.

“You are more than welcome,” she sang back
as Joanie prompted me to follow her. I heard Ms. Schoonover from
behind as she answered a call.
Good afternoon, thank you for
calling Wesley…

Her voice trailed off as we made our way to
the dean’s office. Right in front of us was a modern, long black
lacquered counter, partitioned into three different stations for
students who needed to get career advice, discuss financial
payments, or ask general questions about Wesley. To the right of
the counter and down at the end of the hall was the dean’s office.
On the left side of the hall hung Dean McCallous’s doctorate of
education in a colossal, ornate gold leaf frame. Across on the
right were four oversized, high-back, hand-carved mahogany chairs.
Dean McCallous’s office had the most intimidating, gigantic door
I’d ever seen. The thing had to have been eight feet high. Tall,
thin windows on either side with dark venetian blinds lay open just
enough for me to recognize her shadow as she moved and sat behind
an enormous desk. Joanie and I decided to sit in the chairs
farthest from her door. As I sat there I began to tap the outsides
of my ankles nervously against the thick wooden legs of the chair,
something I found soothing in moments when I didn’t know what to
do.

Most people who sat in these chairs were
being called in for discipline issues; people who were here at
Wesley one day and then gone the next. Was I going to join the ones
whose history would be one of humiliation and disgrace?
God, I
hope not.

I heard the huge, dark door open slowly with
a creak. Dean McCallous was speaking in a stern voice. It sounded
like she was reprimanding someone on one level and thanking them on
another.

“I can’t discuss with you what actions the
board has decided to take. It is a private matter. Now if you’ll
excuse me, my scheduled appointment is waiting,” Dean McCallous
said firmly and impatiently. I didn’t expect to recognize the next
voice that echoed through the hall.

“Dean McCallous, I will trust you and the
board will handle this
situation
swiftly. As we all know, my
father holds a very powerful position on the board of directors.”
The high-pitched, syrupy snarkiness was beyond distinguishable. As
if nails on a chalkboard weren’t enough, I knew that voice…it was
Cindy’s. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. It was like someone balled up
their fist and socked me as hard as they could in my gut, knocking
the wind out of me.

Cindy stepped out from behind the dark
mahogany door. Her hair was pulled back in a studious bun, and she
was dressed in conservative neutral browns and blues, with her
shirt buttoned up to her chin and long tailored pants down to her
ankles.

“And Miss Browler, next time you
will
make an appointment to meet with me,” Dean McCallous barked.

I stood up, my mouth agape, my heart
clogging my throat, my head swimming somewhere between shock and
utter fear. Cindy turned to me, her eyes narrowed, her lips pulled
across her face in contempt. She huffed as she brushed past Joanie
and me. I just stood there, breathless and defeated.

“Miss Mooney, come in,” Dean McCallous
stated with the same succinct tone she’d just used with Cindy.

I couldn’t make my vocal chords vibrate any
sound. I just stared at the door. I avoided making eye contact as
she slipped her hands down the front of her business suit and
turned toward her desk, leaving the door ajar as she waited for me
to walk into her office.

I looked over at Joanie. Her face was as
white as I could imagine mine must have been. We both heard the
words Cindy had used as she left; words that would scrape, bruise,
and leave marks on even the most moral of people.

“J,” I sighed as I held out my hand to
her.

“Don’t worry, I’m right behind you. You’re
not alone,” she whispered as she grabbed my hand and pushed me
toward Dean McCallous’s huge door…the same door that separated us
from the dragon’s lair.

I cautiously ambled into Dean McCollous’s
office, Joanie following and squeezing my hand behind me, and
looked toward the dean behind her desk. Her actions were very
methodical and precise as she shuffled papers from one pile to the
other. I stood frozen in front of her thinking that maybe if I
didn’t move she wouldn’t see how deathly terrified I was. Like if I
kept my distance, the flames that shot from her nostrils and mouth
wouldn’t sear my skin.

When she finally looked up from her desk and
noticed Joanie was next to me, her eyes narrowed.

“Miss Emerson, I am sorry but this is a
private meeting between Miss Mooney and me. Shut the door behind
you,” the dean stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dean McCallous continued to rearrange papers
before she sat in her executive rolling chair and pulled herself up
to her desk. As Joanie and I looked at one another, our eyes held a
private conversation only we could understand. I didn’t want J to
leave, and she read my expression perfectly. Joanie didn’t move.
The dean looked up, clearly missing the sound of a door
closing.

“Joanie,” the dean huffed.

“Wilson wants me here. Dean McCallous, I’m
the only family she has,” Joanie said, trying to argue for
representation. A moment of control hung between the three of us;
thick enough to drown any hope I had of J staying. The dean tapped
her hands across the papers on her desk before clearing her
voice.

“Well, then, take a seat, Miss Emerson. The
first thing I want to make very clear with you girls: here at
Wesley we have a reputation we must uphold. Other institutions look
to us for leadership and guidance. We have zero tolerance for
malevolence, slander, or inappropriate behavior from
anyone
associated with our academy.” Dean McCallous’s eyes bounced between
Joanie and me, never losing the intensity in their stare. “Not to
mention the legal repercussions that you and Ma— er, Mr. Goldstein
could potentially cause for Wesley due to this unfortunate state of
affairs. With that being said, it is my responsibility to keep our
integrity and not deviate from what Wesley has established within
the moral codes of conduct it expects of its students and staff.
Miss Mooney, I have looked over your transcripts. It appears you
have earned enough credits to graduate—immediately. With the
circumstances as they are, you will not be coming back to Wesley
once school commences in January. Unfortunately, you will also lose
the distinction of graduating with honors. You should know, Miss
Mooney, it took a lot of convincing on my part, to influence the
board to agree to waive their denial of any reimbursements for your
education. Are you clear on the actions the board has taken?” she
asked as she leaned back in her chair and waited for me to say
something.

I didn’t even know where to begin. Part of
me was heartbroken to be pushed out of the place I’d known as home
for the last three plus years of my life, and the other part of me
was completely relieved to have every secret I’d been harboring out
in the open. My throat dry, my eyes watering, I tried to swallow
and respond to her explanation of the disciplinary action Wesley
had decided to take. Her words were lofty yet understandable. I
asked the only thing that wasn’t addressed.

“Will there be any legal action taken
against Ma—”

“It is my understanding that
Mr.
Goldstein
has resigned from his position due to the passing of
his father.”

“How soon does Wilson have to leave the
dorms?” Joanie asked, filling the silence that crowded the
room.

Dean McCallous took a long, deep breath,
most likely trying to erase the distaste she had at this
unpalatable situation.

“Protocol for someone who has been
asked
to vacate the premises is 24 hours. However, the board
is recognizing you as an emancipated adult who has requested to
graduate early. Miss Mooney, you will have until January 7th to
vacate your dormitory. Do you see a problem with that?”

“No,” I answered quickly.

“Well, then, if we are clear about the
circumstances of your early graduation, and if you have no more
questions, the board is requesting that you sign this
confidentiality agreement…Miss Emerson, I will have you sign as
well.”

“Well, I do have one more question. If I
have to sign a confidentiality agreement and so does Joanie, can I
assume that everyone involved or who knows about the situation will
be signing one as well? Including Cindy Browler?” I asked these
questions in rapid succession.
I’ll be damned if I have to sign
one of these papers gagging me on what I can and can’t say while
Cindy has every right to disparage Max and my relationship to
anyone she damn well pleases.

“Miss Mooney, all parties who wish to remain
associated with Wesley Academy will be required to sign a
confidentiality agreement, whether they were intimately involved or
not,” Dean McCallous said. She pushed out her chair, stood up, and
slid two contracts across her desk before she held out a pen to me.
I looked at the paper, skimming the words binding me to never speak
of why I truly graduated from Wesley early, and scribbled my
signature at the bottom of the page. I handed the pen to Joanie and
listened to it scratch across the page.

That moment marked the death of my childhood
and the birth of my new life as an adult with Max. I couldn’t wait
to get out of the dean’s office, I just wanted to call Max and tell
him it looked like everything was going to be okay.

The dean turned to Joanie then. Her face was
stoic and serious, but it softened a little when she looked into
her eyes. “Classes resume January 10th. Would you like me to
relocate you to a new dormitory for the remainder of your senior
year?”

Joanie looked over at me, her eyes filled
with tears, before she gave me a shaky smile. I nodded, knowing our
lives had changed more than either of us could have expected.

“Yes, please,” she answered.

Dean McCallous nodded to both of us before
walking out from behind the enormous desk that separated our lives
from hers. She made her way to the massive door, pulled it open,
and with the lowest of vocal intention, she whispered…“Done.”

“Wilson, congratulations, you are officially
graduated from Wesley Academy for Girls. I truly hope you will
further your education, and if there is anything I can do for you
please don’t hesitate to ask. I am sorry to see you go, but wish
you much luck in the future.” Dean McCallous held out her hand, we
shook, and that was it. My career at Wesley Academy for Girls was
over.

A huge gasp, loud enough to make every head
turn, filled the hall. I didn’t even have to looked to know it was
Cindy.

“Graduated! What?” her spiteful tone oozed
every ounce of disappointment for what she’d just overheard Dean
McCallous tell me. My life had just begun.

“Miss Browler, I was just going to call you.
In my office. We have some business to discuss,” the dean’s voice
turned callous and then it was my snarky smile that Cindy had to
endure as J and I strutted past her. I heard Cindy’s rant disappear
behind the slam of Dean McCallous’s office door.

Silent urgency passed between J and me. She
turned to me, her eyes wide, as she noticed I had words I needed to
say. Yet something in me didn’t know where to start.

“J, I need to call Max,” I told her as I
pulled out my phone.

“Okay, but we’d better grab what we need
from the room and get the hell out of here before Dean McCallous
releases that bitch back into the world,” Joanie spat as we hustled
out of the building and headed back to our dormitory.

~ Wilson ~

Joanie and I tossed all our bags into the
back of her white Durango and high-tailed it out of Wesley before
we had to deal with the wrath of Cindy and her self-absorbed
bitchiness. We were heading to Mendocino.

Okay, so maybe the fact that my life
suddenly looked wide open and filled with unlimited possibilities
was a good thing. It was definitely exciting, but there was a part
of me that was scared of floating so unprotected in the vast
openness. Where was I supposed to land, and what if I didn’t end up
where I expected to be?

My grandpa used to say, “Sometimes the devil
you know is better than the devil you don’t.” He was a creature of
habit. Consistency and reliability could have been his middle
names. He was always about sticking with what you know before you
make the decision to throw your towel into the ring. He was the
type of person who believed you should keep your friends close and
your enemies closer. I didn’t think I could live that way. As a
matter of fact, I totally knew that wasn’t going to work for me.
There was no way I wanted to keep Cindy any closer than a couple
hundred miles. That was close enough for my taste.

Joanie and I talked the whole way up and she
drove the entire time. I couldn’t help dozing off. Every once in a
while she’d just stop talking to me until I’d blurt out some random
answer that didn’t make any sense and was probably to the question
she’d asked ten minutes before. We got to the twisty part of
Highway 128 at dusk. According to the dashboard clock it was 4:47
p.m.
Damn, I wanted to get to my grandparents’ before it got
dark.
I guess the only bonus about it being dark and slightly
foggy when you drove on Highway 1 was that you couldn’t see the
steep cliffs and vast ocean waiting to swallow you up.

It was inky dark when we finally rolled into
Mendocino. A layer of hovering fog stole the constellations from
night sky. The stars told stories about Greek Gods and golden
fleeces, stories I wished Max was here to tell me.

Even though it was colder than a witch’s tit
(thanks, Grandpa), and Joanie had the heater blasted to stifling,
it was a habit of mine to roll down my window and inhale the damp,
salty coastal air. I drew it through my nose a couple of times to
burn the smell of kelp and seaweed mingling with the faint scent of
the redwood forest. Then I inhaled through my mouth, tasting my
childhood memories of strolls across the field of wildflowers
behind the house and rugged climbs down the cliff to the cool
pebbly beach under my bare feet. There was nothing like it. The
freezing air ripped at my chest, across my ears, and rolled around
the back of my neck. My face was numb in sixty seconds but I didn’t
care. It reminded me of winters with my grandparents and the
evenings we’d all bundle up and sit out on the upstairs deck to
watch the waves lap and splash against the rocky, jagged cliffs of
the inlet.