Then There's Wilbur

Chapter 10

Wilbur

When I was a kid, during arguments about me not helping with the chores, my mom would tell me, 'Once you're old enough, you can do whatever you want.'

When I turned sixteen, and assuming that I was old enough – judging by how the other guys in my class smelled of cigar smoke and vodka, I tried to buy a bottle of alcohol at the local liquor store. I was about to leave when the owner stopped me and recognized me as my father's son.

See, if your father's one of those vegetable and poultry farmers, it's impossible to go incognito. Long story short, I was taken to the police station, asked how my parents were and how the tomatoes were doing before my mom came charging in.

When I turned sixteen, I thought there was this silent agreement between us that if she was mad at me, she wouldn't lecture me while dragging me by the ear. As much as I was grateful for the genes that made girls ask why I always looked droopy in a good kind of way (that helped immensely during high school), there were times when having a Mexican mother was well – a bit too much.

The house I grew up in was never quiet when she was around. Not that I was complaining. If the way I was disciplined back then was used now, then children would be hiding broomsticks, flip-flops, or hangers if they knew they messed up. I found myself laughing about it whenever I recalled them.

The point my mom made me realize was that if I was old enough, I could do whatever I wanted.

Once I started to straighten my ways and hung the leather jacket when I turned nineteen, I realized that my mom left off the rest of the saying. She probably wanted me to realize it myself.

Now that I was old enough, I could do whatever I wanted – but with a few factors to consider.

If I could actually do it – I could, but putting into consideration my ability, determination, and a lot rational thinking in the process. Let's say I wanted to try shrimp-flavored ice cream. I could – since I'm an adult and nobody could stop me from having my dessert first.

I'm allergic to shrimps (so I lack the ability), but I want to eat it (I have the determination), and lastly, (rational thinking) am I really going to risk my own health for ice cream?

Just because I was an adult and I could, doesn't always mean I should.

Like right now, with the familiar curves I encountered that night at a party standing near the building's entrance. I could see her through the tinted glass of the car, creepy old geezer that I was, and I just wanted to see her face. Just a second of eye contact. I felt this need, like the urge to drive at two a.m. for a burger. And the feeling won't go away unless she even turned my way.

I wasn't going to directly comfort a woman like Diana. She looked like the kind of woman who worked so hard to be where she was, and acting like an eager prince charming would seem like an insult.

I sighed as I noticed that I've been playing Elvis Presley's songs while I sat here, contemplating.

To be or not to be.

And men were generalized as simple minded. We're complex creatures. The only difference is, we word our dilemmas more accurately. And right now, I want to walk inside that lobby, smile and say hi just for the hell of it.

Like a prey suddenly alert after seeing the predator, I straightened in my seat when she turned towards my direction. When she began walking, I immediately checked myself in the front mirror. No hair out of place, heck I even looked down to see if my socks matched. After one last look at my reflection, I opened the door just in time.

Just in time to hit her in the stomach with the car's door.

She groaned, taking a couple of steps back before raising her head to meet my eyes.