Wilson Mooney, Almost Eighteen (5 page)

Anyone that would argue with me would
win. I didn’t have the space in my head or the ability to catal og
stupid things people did or hurtful words they would say. I guess I
was the best kind of friend, because I wouldn’t remember all the
times they shat on me or screwed me over. Call it a blessing or a
curse; it was just the way I was.

He smiled and nodded. “Well Ms.
Mooney, have fun in Aspen and enjoy your flight.”

“
Thanks.” I grabbed my bag
and we headed through the faux security and up to gate twenty-five.
Lucky for us it was one of the first gates we came to, not so lucky
for me I had to sit for an hour and a half listening to Cindy talk
about Chase. How she loved his hair, how his gorgeous ocean blue
eyes called to her, how she wondered if he was a good kisser. How
her name would sound as Cindy Romero, then Cindy Browler Romero. I
snapped.

“
Cindy, I’ve gotta go to
the bathroom,” I hurried to the restroom across from our
gate.

“
I’ll go after you. They
start the pre-boarding pretty quick,” she shouted as she adjusted
her backpack on her lap, unzipping it to pull out a pen. No doubt
to start writing her name as Cindy Browler Romero. I didn’t say
anything; I just nodded and kept walking. I didn’t think it even
registered with her how irritated I was.

I was relieved to have a moment of
time where I didn’t hear about Chase. There had to be something
else I could get her to talk about. Skiing—that was it. I would
mention how excited I was to learn how to snow ski. Man, I frickin
hated the snow. I hated being cold. I hated wearing beanies on my
head, and gloves on my hands. Without fail my head would get
unbearably itchy and I wouldn’t be able to scratch it with gloves
on. I could never really get a good scratch going, so it was
inevitable that I would have to take the gloves off, making my
hands cold and my hair frizzy. Besides I was very tactile, I liked
to feel surfaces around me, and when you wore gloves it screwed up
the sensation.

When I came back from the restroom
they were already pre-boarding our section. Cindy was bouncing up
and down and acting like she had to pee.

“
Sorry, I didn’t think I
took that long.”

“
Come on Wilson, I have to
have an aisle seat. If I get stuck between you and some random
person with B.O., I swear, I will not be a happy camper.” She
pointed to my duffel bag and turned towards the ticket
agent.

What was I doing? I was
leaving behind my best friend, to spend the weekend with Cindy on
the slight chance I would get to see Max Goldstein on a ski
slope.
Oh Max
, OK
so I wasn’t a gambler, but the
odds
of a slight chance was well worth the cost of a
weekend with her. I texted Joanie, told her we were getting on the
plane and how much I wished she were with me. She didn’t
respond.

I couldn’t blame her. In her eyes I
was going to Aspen to ski and hang out with our roommate. But in
reality, I was stuck being Cindy’s muse. Listening to all the
things she wanted to say to Chumpy Chase. Something clicked in my
head and it all made sense. I was the girl that made her look good.
Shit, that was it. If she made me look like a total douche, then
she looked good to Chase. Of course that was it. I had my work cut
out for me.

“
Great, the only seats in
our section are window and middle. Well guess you’re next to B.O.
man.” She sent me a scathing glance.

“
Fine, I don’t
mind.”

I pushed my duffel bag up into the
overhead storage and waited for her to squeeze in next to the
window.

“
Wait until he strikes up a
conversation about his dead wife, or his perfect
children.”

I pointed up to the open door of the
storage above our heads. “Cindy, aren’t you going to put your
backpack up there?”

“
Hell no, I have my iPhone
in here, all my make-up, and my wallet. It’s going down at my
feet.” She shoved it under the seat in front of her.

“
When we land in Denver how
are we getting to the cabin?”

“
My dad has rented us a
Toyota Sequoia. It will be there for us when we land.”

“
How far away is Aspen from
Denver?”

“
About four hours. We’ll
get there in time for a late dinner.”

“
Well which type of burrito
are you going to have?” I laughed. I thought it was funny—she
didn’t.

“
My dad has a fully staffed
kitchen at the cabin, we don’t eat burritos.” She turned towards
the window and plugged her ears with her earphones and started
messing around with her iPhone.

Strike three. Now I
understood why the big man upstairs didn’t make me rich. He gave me
the life I had to make me humble. I didn’t think Cindy knew what
true struggles were. She grew up privileged, summers in Europe,
winters skiing in Aspen. Her struggles were which bracelet she was
going to wear with which outfit. God forbid if she wore an outfit
twice in the same month. In our dorm room, she took the entire
closet and had an armoire imported from Italy to hold the rest of
her outfits. I guess one of the benefits of having Cindy as a
roommate was that when we needed something to wear, she would pick
out something from her closet and give it to us. Of course she
threw it up in your face when she needed a favor.
Remember when I gave you that cute lavender top
from Christian Dior?
Those were the words
of favors; she was never taught that people do things for you just
because they were your friend. Pretty sad huh? Maybe my reason for
this trip was to show her that she didn’t have to buy her friends.
Wait— she bought my ticket to Denver. I better just stick to being
her muse.

The plane took off and pressure raged
heavy against my chest. The only thing I could relate it to was
when you drop steep on a rollercoaster. Lucky for me the older
gentleman next to me smelled like green apples mixed with caramel.
He actually made me hungry. When I turned to him and inhaled
through my nose, he looked at me and smiled.

“
Sorry if I upset your
friend. I am claustrophobic and can’t sit confined with people on
both sides of me.”

“
No problem, I understand.”
The space between us seemed to squeeze tighter.

He cleared his throat, “I’m John
Samuel.” He twisted and held out his hand.

“
Wilson Mooney, nice to
meet you.” He had a nice firm handshake.

His eyebrows scrunched together like
two caterpillars kissing. “Wilson? Is that a family
name?”

“
No. More like a cruel
joke, but definitely not a family name.”

“
You don’t like it? I think
it’s pretty cool. It’s different. How did your parents come up with
that name?”
Oh come on, was he really
interested in this story? Or was he trying to kill time in the
air.

“
My mom played volleyball
and loved the game, the day she found out she was pregnant, it was
the big game against John Muir High School, and the coaches didn’t
let her play. She named me after the ball. It was her homage to
Volleyball. She never played another day in her life.”

“
Really?”

“
No, actually I was named
Wilson after the governor of California.”

“
Hum.” He looked at me,
almost believing until I cracked a smile.

“
No, I wish I had a great
story, but I don’t.” I turned and faced the seat in front of me. I
didn’t feel like telling him the truth about it. What person in
their right mind would want to hear about my childhood? In
particular, how I was named after a boy my mother wished was my
father?

I glanced over to Cindy, her eyes were
closed, she was bobbing her head back and forth; no doubt she was
listening to some American Idol music she downloaded off iTunes.
When it came to music, she and I were at two different ends of the
spectrum. I listened to indie and alternative and she was into the
more popular commercialized white-washed pop. Give me Ok Go,
Vampire Weekend, or Death Cab for Cutie over Kelly Clarkson or Adam
Lambert any day of the week. I needed music that provoked my mind
and jumpstarted my intellect.

I pressed my head back in the seat and
pushed the button to recline. Maybe the fact that Cindy was wrapped
up in her music meant I was going to get a chance to sleep before
we landed. It wasn’t going to be long before I was stuck in a car
with her for over four hours straight listening to her talk about
Chase. I had just closed my eyes when the pilot’s voice came over
the speakers, informing us that we were about thirty minutes from
landing in Denver. Well at least I’ll get to check my eyelids for
holes for thirty minutes; better than nothing.

Heavy tapping on my shoulder, jerked
me from my deep slumber. It was Cindy.

“
Wilson, we’re in Denver.
You need to wake up,” she said as she stood waiting with her knee
in her seat. Her earphones danced and tickled across my arm while
she spoke and checked her text messages.

“
Thanks,” I turned to John,
“well it was nice meeting you. Take care.” I pushed to shake his
hand.

“
It’s been my pleasure,
Wilson.” He grabbed my hand, shook it then stood up to collect his
carryon. As the people thinned, I was able to bumble my way to the
aisle and reach up to my duffel bag. Cindy already had her backpack
strapped across her shoulders and was ready to shuffle her way out
of the plane. Man, it took forever to get off, much longer than it
took to get on. They needed to dismiss by rows and sections like
they did when you boarded the plane. I guess it was much harder to
control the people once the plane stopped.

Organized chaos would be the only
words to explain it: everyone vying for the perfect position, don’t
get stuck behind the shoe-removing stinky guy from seat 27C, but if
you can, try and sandwich yourself between the two college aged hot
guys from row 24, seats A & B; god that woman with the baby in
seat 22C; please let her off first. If we were on Survivor she
would be the first one voted off the island. I wouldn’t hesitate to
snuff out her fire.

Forty-five minutes later we were
heading down the ramp and into the Denver terminal. My heart
pounded heavy in my chest, chills rippled down my arms. I was just
four hours away from being in the same town with Max
Goldstein.

When we reached the open
terminal there stood a guy with a sign,
Cindy and Wilson, I am your driver!

“
I thought your dad rented
us a Sequoia to drive.”

“
Yeah, he did. Did you
honestly think I was going to drive it there? It’s snowing and
cold. I don’t drive in snow and cold weather.” Cindy walked over to
the driver dressed all in black with a white collared shirt and
barked, “Grab my suitcase too.”

She walked past him. I
followed.

“
Hi, I’m Wilson, thanks for
picking us up.” I reached my hand out.

He paused. “I’m Nick, you’re welcome.”
He shook my hand and didn’t let go before walking to the baggage
claim.

“
Wilson, please, he needs
to pick up my suitcase.” She pulled my arm and I lunged
forward.

As long as I have known Cindy, I had
never seen her outside of school functions. This was the first
time, and I gotta say, I didn’t like her. She acted spoiled and
rude. Exactly like the girls Joanie and I would laugh at as they
threw fits of rage and anger because they didn’t get the grade they
thought their daddies bought for them. You know the ones that
didn’t have to live by the rules, because the rules were written
for people like me, by people like them. I guess I saw her through
different eyes at school or maybe now that I didn’t have Joanie as
a buffer, I saw Cindy’s true nature.

Chapter Four:

I turned to walk out to the check
point when I saw John; the man that sat next to me on the plane. He
was smiling and shaking hands with some super hot guy. He noticed
me and gave a little wave. I waved back. He pushed the guy’s arm
and they started walking over to me. He was breath robbing, heart
stopping, gorgeous. I pushed my hand to my mouth did a quick breath
check. I didn’t want to have skanky breath when he came over to me.
My heart dropped into my stomach and my arms tingled with
pins.

“
Wilson, I hope you don’t
mind, I want to introduce you to my son, Wayne.”

“
Hi, nice to meet you.” I
stretched my hand out to him, my clammy, damp hand. It was so
embarrassing.

“
Likewise.” My hand
disappeared in his grasp. His contagious smile filled his face and
overflowed his eyes.

“
Your father likes my
name,” I blurted out, almost leaping towards him.
WHAT? Wait, what did I just say? Perfect, now he
thinks I’m a complete idiot. Why am I such a disaster around
guys?

“
I’ve never met anyone
named Wilson before, great name. Are you vacationing in Denver?” He
seemed interested in hearing what I was going to say.

“
No. My roommate and I are
going to Aspen to ski for a couple of days.” I took my hand out of
his and ran it through my dark blonde hair. I batted my eyelashes
and cocked my head to the side. I balanced my feet on the outside
edges of my tennis shoes bending my ankles out and shoving my hands
into the front pockets of my jeans.