Inside the Mind of Gideon Rayburn (23 page)

"Uh," he says, wanting to be helpful, "you could see a shrink."

Molly wrinkles up her face with distaste. "Nah. A shrink would be just one more person to be ashamed and
embarrassed in front of. Who needs that?"

"Hey, Gee-de-on." No one mangles his name so beautifully. There she is. Pilar. Pilar in her new special
fire-escape room. Now hanging out the window, waving, her hair hanging down like an Argentine Rapunzel.

Gid knows he should just wave. But instead he gets up and walks over to stand where Pilar hangs out. As if some force he had no control over were driving him there. Well, I guess you could argue there's a force he has no
control over...he is a guy, after all.

But I don't know if I accept that. The whole no control-male libido thing is such bullshit. If Gideon were slightly
more mature, slightly less selfish, he could have just waved to Pilar and continued to chat with Molly. But he's not. So
he didn't.

"Hi, Gid," Pilar says. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says. Whoops. Bad idea. He's torn between keeping an eye on Molly and looking up at Pilar.
"We're just talking...we're doing a class project together."

"I was talking to Nicolito earlier," Pilar says. "He eats really weird food, no?"

"Uh, yes."

"Anyway, he told me he was going to be in New York for Thanksgiving. I'm going to be there too." She
disappears for a minute, then comes back, pointing a tiny video camera at him. "Salute," she says. He salutes,
self-consciously of course, looking over toward Molly. It's dark, but he can see the stiffness in her body, how she
stares straight ahead. Gid, she's annoyed.

"I need to go," he says.

"Wait a minute," Pilar says. "I want to give you something. Wait! Wave one more time and say, 'Hi, Pilar!'"

He waves. And says, "Hi, Pilar."

Then she swings the camera over to the left. "Your new girlfriend got cold, I guess," Pilar says.

Gid's head snaps to the right. His jacket is in a neat pile folded on the fire escape's bottom stair. Molly's gone.

"You should maybe go after her," Pilar says. Not meaning it. Taunting, really.

"It's okay," he says. "She's not my girlfriend, by the way." Even though this is true, as soon as it's out of his mouth he recognizes it as disloyal. Lame. "We're just in a play. We'll probably rehearse tomorrow. It's going on in
like, less than two weeks." Oh God, he thinks. A little more than a week until Halloween.

"Tomorrow? Aren't you going to be a little busy tomorrow."

"It's Saturday," Gid says. "I'm not doing anything." Holy Christ. Could she be asking him to get together? Could
that fire escape indeed have his name on it?

"Oh ho." Pilar laughs. "That's what you think." She waves a piece of paper out her window. "I have to go," she
says. "But you might want to see this."

The piece of paper comes floating down from her window. It lands behind the Dumpster, and Gid scoots behind
there and grabs it. It's some kind of brochure, printed on white paper. In embossed type, it reads: WELCOME
Parents,
over Midvale's seal
—horse, rider, Latin—giving off beams of light. He opens it and reads:
Parents' Day
OCTOBER 22.

Ten hours of Jim Rayburn. If he knows his dad, he's washing the Silverado right now. Rinsing out his coffee

thermos. Getting ready for that predawn departure.

Gid sits down. He looks at the paper again, just to make sure it's right. There's something written on the other
side. He turns it over. Beautifully, unexpectedly written there in a thick, glittery pinkish-brown lipstick is her cell
number, again, and, PILAR!

Gid sits there behind the Dumpster for a while, absorbing the smell of garbage with the good and bad news. He looks up to Pilar's window. Her lights are on, she paces and talks on the phone. Molly's window, in the same position,
on the opposite side of the dorm, is dark.

surprise indeed

Early the next morning, there's a knock on the door. Gideon jumps up from his bed and looks out the window. The quad is empty, vapor coming off the grass, a marine layer hanging low over the brick vista of campus buildings. It is
not a civilized time, Gid thinks, to knock on a door. The clock confirms this: 7:30.

He shuffles to the peephole. Sure enough, Jim Rayburn's standing there, thumbs through the belt loops of his
black jeans. And also...Captain Cockweed? A most unfortunate pairing, Gid thinks, opening the door.

"I saw your father downstairs," Captain Cockweed says, "and I was kind enough to show him the way up."

"You're a real stand-up kind of guy," Cullen calls out, turning against the wall and hugging a pillow. His parents
aren't coming. Colorado's a bit far to fly for a day. Cullen doesn't care.

Nicholas rubs his eyes and pushes himself up onto an elbow. "Yeah," he says, "when I wake up I want to be
just like you." Nicholas's mother isn't coming either, because, as we know, she never leaves Manhattan.

Cockweed walks off, muttering.

Cullen gets out of bed, slips on a T-shirt, and comes over and shakes Jim Rayburn's hand.

"So nice to see you again, Mr. Rayburn," he says.

Golly, his father is practically blushing.

Jim leans in quickly before Gid can stop him and grabs him around the ribs. "You're a little fighter! Look at you!
You didn't tell me you were working out!"

"I got Gid out on the track," Nicholas says. "And, you know, added some basic nutrition."

Jim Rayburn puts a manly hand on Nicholas's shoulder. "Fantastic," he says. "Fan-fucking-tastic. I thank you
for that! Well, son, you had a surprise for me with that new bod of yours, but wait until you see what I have for you."

Gideon is terrified. Rightly so. Surprises can be great from the right person. But Jim Rayburn doesn't know him

or understand him. So whatever it is Jim thinks Gid wants, he is probably way, way off base. Way.

But Gid plays along. "Great," Gid says. "What is it?"

"You're going to have to come out to the vehicle," Jim says.

He did not just say
vehicle.
No wonder Gid's mother left him for a guy who makes volcanoes out of baking
soda and vinegar.

Gid runs into the bathroom and looks at his face in the mirror. He's so incredibly not up for this. What's the
surprise? He goes through varying levels of horror, imagining it. Rubbers? A two-for-one coupon for Sbarro? A
pony? He splashes water on his face.

In the hallway, Gid's father starts right in again. "Well, well, well, I can't say I've ever seen you looking this good
before! Chip off the old block!" He snorts and
—in his second aggressive and unwelcome physical act of the
day—pokes Gid in the ribs.

Captain Cockweed is crouched at the far end of the hallway, feeding papers into an electric shredder. He
grimaces.

Gid sees his father expanding, gearing up for his all-time favorite pastime
—demanding attention from reluctant
strangers.

"Killing two birds with one stone, eh?" Jim Rayburn bellows. "Keeping an eye on these hoodlums and watching
out for that identity theft at the same time. You know, I had a buddy, two Spanish fellas got aholda his information...
well,
fourteen TVs, twelve velour living room sets..."

Captain Cockweed frowns.

"And God knows how many round-trip tickets to our Virgin of Guadalupe later..."

Captain Cockweed snaps off the paper shredder switch and regards both father and son.

"Anyway, seriously. On my way in, I saw a very attractive lady out here, your wife, I presume, with an electric
can opener..."

On "very attractive lady," Captain Cockweed's eyes harden into gray stones.

"Come on, Dad," Gid whispers.

Unfazed, Jim Rayburn continues, "So I'm guessing you got an electrical situation going on in there. Am I
wrong? I didn't think so. Well, why don't you let me take a look?"

"Dad," Gid says pleadingly, "my surprise, don't you want to show it to me?"

Jim smiles at him broadly. And poor Gid, for a second, he thinks he may have won. But then Jim says, "This is
the kind of surprise you'd probably be happiest discovering on your own! So the Silverado is right out there in the,
uh, lot behind that, uh, big building with the pillars out
front..."

"That's our Humanities building." Captain Cockweed, company man, can't help but chime in.

Jim's fishing the keys out of his pants and handing them to Gid. Gid stuffs them in his pocket before Captain Cockweed can see the "Fish tremble at the sound of my voice" key chain. He looks at his watch. Eight o'clock. Ten
hours and his father will be gone.

Captain Cockweed, defeated, opens his apartment door for Mr. Rayburn. "Won't you come in?" he asks, his
mouth barely opening to say the words.

Outside, Gid breathes the cold, leaf-smoked smell of fall. This is my life now, he says to himself. He will leave
prep school and then there will be college. Now, and for the rest of Gid's life, as unfortunate as conflict is with his
father, at least it will have a beginning, middle, and end. This is the beginning, and that's hard, but he's going to be
fine.

Speaking of fine, here comes Pilar Benitez-Jones, flanked on one side by a blonde woman in a short skirt,
boots, and a sweater, and on the other by an older man with white hair and darkish skin. Pilar and the blonde woman
seem to be moving slowly because of him. Gideon imagines they are her sister and father. But as they get closer, he
realizes that, in fact, the blonde woman must be her mother; the dark man, an older grandfather or uncle. Pilar's
mother wears a suit, a deep rose color, and boots with heels that taper down to thumbtack-size points. Aside from
her slightly lined face, she looks like a girl. The man, in a dark suit and hat, is stooped over a cane and has the
bearing of an extremely elegant turtle.

"Hello," Pilar says. "These are my parents."

Why, Gid asks himself, is it so incredibly sexy to him that Pilar's father looks like he's about to drop dead?

Pilar looks more beautiful and even more put together than usual. She's wearing low-heeled blue suede pumps
with tight jeans, super low on her hips, and a white shirt, unbuttoned, Gid thinks, and frankly, so do I, to a level farther
down than one imagines one's parents might normally approve. Her hair is pulled up on her head in a well-planned
cascading mess. Her eye shadow matches her shoes.

Gid tries to give Pilar's parents the kind of smile he thinks might impress them, polite but enthusiastic. They
smile back, but mostly, they seem to look right through him. Pilar's father, in particular, seems to be focused on something about one thousand miles in the distance. His clouded eyes don't move an inch as he takes Gid's hand
and says what Gid imagines is "Nice to meet you," although it just sounds like
"Nun mah."

"So," Gideon says, "have you got anything planned for the day?"

"Maybe we will go into Boston, to a museum or two, maybe have some lunch, and maybe an early cocktail with
some friends of ours now living here, who we knew from Barcelona." Mrs. Benitez-Jones, who has no accent and therefore must be the Jones part in this arrangement, gives a tiny shrug. She does say
Barcelona
the way you're supposed to, Bar-thay-lona. Gid doesn't notice, but I do. "And you? Do you and your family..."

"It's just his father," Pilar corrects her. "Gid's mother is not around."

If most people revealed this information about Gid, he might feel embarrassed. But he's so overjoyed that Pilar
has any recollection of anything he's told her that he just accepts Pilar's quick sympathetic smile with a small, shy
one of his one.

"Well," says Pilar's mother, frowning slightly at this information, "you and your father will do similarly, I
suppose?"

Gid almost laughs out loud at the idea of his father having early cocktails with old friends from Bar-thay-lona. "I suppose," he says, thinking, somewhat randomly, Please let my dad not know there's a dog track near here.

Pilar's mother is checking her watch, a tiny diamond-studded thing with a pink face.

"We really should be going," she says. Gideon looks over at Pilar's father. His face is completely glazed over,
he's smiling, but one of his eyes flutters a bit. He's paying absolutely no attention. His wife grabs his arm and
shuffles him off a few feet. Pilar stays behind, looking at Gid.

"Wow," Gid says when they're out of earshot. "Your dad is really old." Immediately, he thinks, I'm so stupid. I'm
the stupidest person who ever lived. But Pilar bursts out laughing.

"Thank God, someone says the truth. Usually, people say, Tour mother is so pretty,'" she says.

"To be honest," Gid says, continuing with this train since it seems to be a crowd-pleaser, "I didn't really notice,
because I was so blown away by how old your father is. Wait a sec. He can't possibly be very cool about stuff like
dudes. Like letting you date a rock star who is a lot older than you."

Pilar frowns. "Oh, they don't know about Dennis. They would kill me. After I finish college, I am supposed to get
engaged to this Argentine guy. A
Porteno"

"Is that a sports team?"

Pilar shakes her head. "No, it means a person from Buenos Aires. We are from Bahia Blanca. Anyway. He is
thirty-six already. His father and my father own a company together."

"What kind of company?" Gid asks.

Pilar puts her hands on her hips. "Are you ready for this? They make industrial solvents out of beef fat."

"Holy shit." What else do you say to that?

"Anyway. That's not important. He will be around forty or forty-two then..." Gid blanches. That's how old his dad
is. He imagines Pilar marrying his dad. Yuck.

"Pilar..."

"I have to go..." She reaches out and takes his hand. "Please don't tell anyone about what I told you," she
says. She runs off, once again, inserting herself between her parents.

She confided in him! Wait a minute. Does she not want anyone to know about the industrial solvent made out
of beef fat or the arranged marriage?

He decides he won't mention either.

It's only a three-minute or so walk to the parking lot, and Gid occupies himself daydreaming of interrupting
Pilar's wedding six or so years from now. He's picturing the wedding taking place in a church in the middle of a big
field. It must be the cow thing. Anyway, just as Pilar's father hands her off to the guy at the altar, Gid storms in. Pilar,
resplendent but red-eyed in her white dress, faints into his arms. He revives her and they rush from the church. At
the bottom of the church steps, a giant pile of cow shit obstructs them, and Gid lifts Pilar up and carries her over it.
Pilar's mother watches from the church steps, glowering, resenting that her daughter will get to spend her life with
someone so young, strong, and courageous.

Gid wishes he could just live inside that fantasy for the rest of his life, but he's arriving at the Silverado. And the
surprise. He's approaching the pickup from the back. As Gid gets nearer, he swears he can see a bulge around the
passenger seat neck rest. Is it a plant? It is a giant inflatable bottle? Oh Lord. It turns slightly to the right. It's a
person.

Not just any person. A wronged person. Danielle. He sees her face in the passenger-side-view mirror. She
sees him. She gets out of the car.

She's gained weight in the right places. Her hair is shorter, and those awful highlights that she did at home, with
the help of a plastic pull-through cap and her friend Gillian Loh, have grown out. She looks pretty good for her. But
she's not Midvale pretty. Her face has the hard look of a girl who has to share a room, beg for the car, and make
and eat a fair share of frozen dinners when her parents are working late. Danielle just stands there, looking at Gid,
for a good two minutes. A group of students in ripped jeans and ratty sweaters appear on the path behind her, smiling, pointing things out to their parents, who are identical versions of their kids but in neat pants and nice
sweaters. They regard her quietly and quickly and move on. This girl standing there in the parking lot with a black corduroy purse from Old Navy is definitely no one they've ever seen before. They just keep walking, registering that
this person probably isn't quite supposed to be here. But they're not all that concerned. Then Danielle starts
screaming.