Beyond Eighteen (31 page)

I’m fully aware most
people will look at us and never ever understand our relationship.
They will judge me at the surface of what they see and call me
fucked-up names and hate me for
stealing
her innocence. Some people
will always look at me, no matter what, as the teacher who took
advantage of his student when she was so vulnerable. No matter if
we are together 5, 10, 50 or 100 years, there will always be those
people who say what I did was wrong. There will never be a day that
goes by where I don’t question my actions and the repercussions of
what I have done, simply because of the judgment of strangers. It’s
just something that I will have to endure for now.

But at the end of each day, when she walks
through the door…she has found her home. At the end of the day, she
has found someone who loves her enough to stop the world for her;
and no matter what anyone says, thinks, sees, or feels…that’s the
only thing that will ever matter to me. I’ve found the person I am
going to spend the rest of my life with.

“
Well, Max, surprisingly
everything went smooth at Wesley. Now here in Mendocino, well,
that’s a whole different story,” she muttered and I heard her tone
shift again.

“
Why? What’s going on?
Joanie’s there with you, right?” I prodded.

“
Yeah, J is here. As a
matter of fact, she drove the whole way up and we literally just
got here about 10 minutes ago. It’s really foggy, damp, and cold.
Joanie’s trying to make a fire in the stove, and well, the fence
looks like it’s falling down,” she rambled on.

“
Wilson? Did you find the
paperwork the lawyers are asking for?” I said, redirecting her
focus.

“
Well, no, but we haven’t
looked yet,” she answered.

“
What’s really going on?”
I could tell by the way she was rambling off random things that
something was on her mind.

“
It’s just…I think I got a
letter in the mail from Candi,” she sighed.

“
You think?” I
repeated.

“
I haven’t opened it yet.
I don’t know if I want to. I don’t think I want to know why she’s
trying to contact me now,” she spat. I could hear it in her voice
that she was getting all worked up.

“
Alright, babe, listen,
you don’t have to open it. What did Joanie tell you to do with the
letter?”

“
She said to burn
it.”

“
Okay…well, we don’t even
know if it’s technically from Candi. I’ll tell you what; just put
the letter in a drawer. I’m trying to button up a few more things,
and after tomorrow I should have a pretty good idea of when I can
leave and come out there to be with you. Sound good?”

“
I’m meeting with the
lawyers tomorrow at 2:30. I really wish you were here with me, and
I didn’t even
think
about it being New Year’s Eve. Maybe I should look for the
deed tonight,” she yawned. I could hear her open and close a couple
of drawers. “I just wish I wasn’t so tired,” she
complained.

“
Well, Wilson, you’ve had
a pretty stressful day. Did you guys eat dinner
already?”

“
No,” she answered
quickly.

“
Well, maybe the deed can
wait until tomorrow morning. Go get something to eat and then just
go to bed early. What is Joanie doing?” I asked.

“
She’s talking on the
phone with—” she stopped speaking abruptly.

I knew who she was about to mention, and I
respected her for not saying his name. Truthfully, I didn’t
understand what Joanie was doing with him anyway. That whole
relationship was…well, it wasn’t any of my business. I just wanted
to get to Wilson as soon as possible.

“
Listen, sweetheart, I
think you should get something to eat, relax, and then look for the
deed in the morning.” I knew she was getting tired because she
didn’t argue with me.

“
God, I just left this
morning and I miss you already,” she moaned.

“
Hah, I miss you too babe;
but it won’t be long. Promise,” I answered.

“
I love you,” she said
clearly.

“
I love you too,” I
whispered back before I clicked the button on my earpiece and we
were disconnected.

I could feel the frustration gurgle in my
stomach as a sharp pressure thundered against my ribcage. I lowered
the window and let the bitter Aspen wind scratch and claw through
my nostrils, skim across the back of my tongue, and eventually
drown my lungs with a burning cold sting.

One more day and I will be
with Wilson.
My mind swirled off into
memories of how she’d bite her bottom lip when she’d tease me, how
she dragged her fingers across my arms when she wanted my
attention, and how she’d sink back against me when I’d sneak up
behind her. God, I craved pushing my nose against her hair and
inhaling the aroma of her coconut shampoo. Pressing my lips between
her shoulder blades, skating the tip of my tongue along her spine,
floating to the bend of her neck, letting the taste of her sweet
skin drift deliciously against my mouth to the curve of her bottom
lip.

I rolled into my driveway,
my body reacting to every vision I had of Wilson—my pants were that
much tighter.
Great, Max, you’re gonna
walk into your house with a raging hard-on.

My phone vibrated in my
pocket. I recognized the ringtone, and it was one I’d been wanting
to ignore for the last couple of days.
Well, there goes my hard-on.

“
Hi, Gary.”

“
Hi, Max, I wanted to
catch you before you made any plans,” he said.

“
Oh, really, what’s up?” I
asked, knowing by the tone of his voice it wasn’t going to be
anything I wanted to hear.

“
Well, I just got a call
from a couple of companies that are talking about leaving. Saying
that your father is what kept them coming back. I’m going to need
you to meet with them.”

Wouldn’t you know
it?
“What are we talking about, Gary?” I
huffed.

“
Well, Holtz’s Oil will
meet you tomorrow, but the big account that’s ready to pull out
wants to meet you Saturday mid-morning.”

“
Well, don’t they know
that Saturday is New Year’s Day? Who is it?”

“
Yeah, it’s Glück
Petroleum. I’m really sorry, Max, but if we lose—”

“
I know, alright, I’ll
deal with it. Thanks, Gary,” I said as I hung up the phone. I knew
there was no way I was going to be able to go to California. Not
until I took care of business.

~ Wilson ~

I did what Max told me to do. I went over to
my grandma’s china cabinet, pulled open the middle drawer, and
tossed the letter inside. It was the same drawer where she kept all
of her spit-shined silver serving spoons and spatulas. The same one
I always used to hide anything I didn’t want anyone to read or
find. See, the thing about my grams, she wasn’t one who would
entertain people at the house. Most of the time the fine china and
polished silver were valued more as a form of art than anything
else. I’m not saying my grams couldn’t cook, she could; all I’m
saying is that as she got older, she chose to keep those dishes
right where they were. To her, the work wasn’t worth the
hassle.

“So you aren’t going to open it?” Joanie
said as she shut the door of the stove. She’d been able to get the
fire raging, and the room was starting to warm.

“Well, not right now,” I answered.

“I think you should. It’s time to find out
what the hell that woman wants; if not for you…open it for me. I’ve
spent my whole life hearing about her, and finally something shows
up that just might tell us why she did the things she did, and you
are willing to shove it in a drawer with useless silver and God
knows what else.”

“J, this isn’t about that! It’s about the
fact that I’ve spent my entire life, running from the pain she
inflicted on me since the day she left me and every day after,” I
said, feeling the anger for Candi burn through my body.

Joanie walked over pulled open the drawer.
Every movement she made seemed to go in slow motion—her fingers
pulling the envelope from the drawer, the sound of the paper
dragging against the wooden edge—I watched Joanie’s eyes narrow and
her lips curl as words began to pour from her mouth.

“Wilson, it’s time you stop running. Don’t
you think it’s time to close that book? At least turn the page of
the story you’ve been stuck rereading every day of your life since
she abandoned you on that porch. Face those fears, doubts, and
pain, sweetheart. You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t
ever turn the page,” Joanie whispered as she held the letter out in
front of me.

I’m not going to lie, a big part of me,
feared being rejected all over again by her. The other part of me
looked at it from an aspect of respect for my grandparents and what
they sacrificed for me. They didn’t run; they didn’t choose drugs
over me. They stuck by me, giving up the freedoms older people
probably took for granted. I knew what they did for me, and if I
read her letter I was afraid it would nullify everything they
forfeited to make my life something better than their shitty
daughter’s existence.

“I’m sorry, J, I can’t,” I answered as I
turned and walked away, dropping it on the table.

I glanced back long enough to see her
shoulders round as she walked over to the table, picked up the
goldenrod envelope and slid it back into the silverware drawer of
the china cabinet.

Neither of us said anything more about it
the rest of the evening. Dinner was quiet, to say the least. I
didn’t eat much, just a bowl of minestrone soup. I think the fact
that my stomach was still riddled with knots and indigestion had a
lot to do with it. All I wanted to do was sleep. I wanted to feel
Max hold me, hear him tell me everything was going to be alright. I
ached to feel his voice tickle at my ear as he made me feel safe. I
pulled my phone from my pocket and was about to call him when I saw
that he’d texted me.

Hey Babe. Wanted 2 tell U 2 sleep tight
2nite. I’m beat. I’ll call U 2morrow LUV U XOXO.

I wanted to text him back but saw that it
was 9:00 p.m., which means 10:00 p.m. in Aspen.
Suck it up,
Wilson. Call him in the morning.
I pushed my phone back in my
pocket and noticed Joanie watching me.

“I’m sorry if I upset you or hurt your
feelings,” Joanie sighed as she came over and grabbed me around the
neck to hug me…tight. “You know I love your guts.”

“I know you do. I love your guts too,” I
answered. We stood there a moment in an awkward span of a couple of
seconds.

“I’m gonna crash in my grandparents’ bed,” I
said.

“Do they have a TV?” Joanie asked
quickly.

“Yeah, and satellite too,” I teased her.

“Well, then I’m with you! Besides, I’m not
sleeping by myself,” Joanie whined.

Joanie and I pulled our suitcases upstairs
and into my grandparents’ room. Yeah, I know they are gone, not
coming back, but it just didn’t feel right to call it anything
else. It wasn’t long before we had our teeth brushed, PJ’s on, and
hopped into the soft, queen-sized bed, heavy with a stack of wool
blankets topped with a hand-stitched quilted comforter. The same
comforter I would fall asleep under staring at the different
patterns of swirling floral prints and landscapes of places I
wanted to visit in my dreams.

I pushed my feet between the cold sheets,
noticing as always they weren’t the softest I’d ever felt, but they
comforted me with their familiar aroma of Borax and Woolite, my
grandma’s detergents of choice.

The weight of the wool blankets created a
safe space for me to slip into; exhausted, I felt my skin surrender
and mingle with the temperature of the cool sheets. J hopped onto
the bed and wiggled her way in next to me.

“Slumber party,” she sang as she tossed and
turned, adjusting her body to face me. Smiling, she pushed her
brown hair back and tucked her hands between the side of her face
and pillow. Her eyes danced back and forth, gleaming as she bit her
bottom lip. I knew she wanted to talk about everything that had
happened throughout the day, especially the conversations she had
with Nick. That’s one thing Joanie always loved to do…talk about
the guys she’d fallen for.

I mirrored her position. Dragging my hands
over the side of my head, I pulled my tangled hair back from my
face and tucked it behind my ear. Once I adjusted myself to be
comfortable enough, I slipped my hands between my cheek and
pillow.

Behind Joanie was the only covered wall.
Plastered from floor to ceiling, mauve wallpaper hung with
cream-colored flowers and paisley lace interspersed with chunky,
ornate white flowers with pale pink centers, dark green leaves, and
wispy brown stems. I remember when I was a kid, I used to take
summer naps and I would lay here trying to untangle the stems from
the dark green leaves.

“I love this room,” I said as my eyes danced
behind Joanie.

“Me too. Remember the time when your
grandparents went out and we heard scratching outside the dining
room window?”

“We were so scared. We ran up here and hid
under the covers,” I added.

“I was scared shitless. That was the night
your grandpa came home and told us that story of the long-lost
sailor who’d come looking for children home alone, scratching and
knocking on the houses near the ocean,” Joanie sighed as she
adjusted her pillow under her head.