went into an insecure abyss that afternoon and made it my mission to fill in the missing pieces before getting deeper into a situation that could be potentially painful.
Chapter 6
RESEARCH
T here were a couple of things I already knew, and I ran through them in my mind. He said his dad died many years ago; his mom died a few years ago; and his uncle died last year. He also told my mother that his uncle was a renowned scientist. I knew their names, although I had neglected to ask his mother’s name, I did have two names to go on, so I figured I would start there.
I felt like I was sneaking around behind his back, and it really wasn’t a good feeling. He had never been anything but kind to me, and here I was checking up on him—but I had to find out more about him if I was ever going to understand him, guilt or no guilt.
I typed Weston Wilson II in the search box on my computer screen. Four links popped up right away. I clicked on the first one. It was an article from the California Chronicle :
Millionaire Heir Presumed Dead From a Plane Crash Over Australia
July 19th 2008
Authorities discovered the crash site of millionaire Weston C. Wilson II, Monday afternoon. His son is reported to have been the last person to see him take off in his KR-2, personally-crafted, single-engine airplane from a secluded airstrip at his Australian home. Officials say that no one would have been able to survive the crash. Although no body has been discovered, personal objects were found in the charred wreckage confirming the aircraft was the one manned by Wilson. Authorities also searched the area and found no sign of survivors.
Wilson was well known for his work in aircraft design and for helping fund the California Blood Research Center throughout the 1980s. He is survived by one son.
I looked back over the article, because something didn’t make sense. The first detail I noticed was the one indicating that he was survived by one son. I knew that had to be Weston, but Weston told me his father died many years ago, and this article was dated just last year. Wes also made it seem like his father had died before his mother, but there was no mention of her in this article. I tried to do other searches to see what else came up, but there was nothing contradictory. All of the articles were similar.
I spun around in my desk chair and stared at the wall. It just didn’t make sense. There was no reason for him to lie to me about his father’s death, but for some reason I was sure he had. I went over the article several times looking for some other explanation. I got nothing. This man was a mystery to me, just like his son. Frustrated, I decided to go downstairs and grab a snack and a drink while I pondered the information.
I knew I didn’t want to keep asking him about his family, and I knew I didn’t like the idea of him not telling me the truth. I started to feel very foolish, both for liking him so much without knowing him and also for looking up something I probably shouldn’t have. I mean, I was prying and going behind his back investigating his family without him knowing. It wasn’t like he deserved my mistrust, but at the same time, I had to protect myself. I wasn’t stupid.
When I got downstairs, my mom was in the kitchen, too. She turned away from the pantry.
“Great minds think alike,” she said, dangling a package of cookies.
I smiled. “You have the munchies, too?”
“Yeah, I do,” she said, pulling one out for herself.
I grabbed one from the package as she held it out to me and headed over to the fridge. I liked milk with my cookies, so I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and began pouring my milk and chewing.
“How are things with Wes?” she asked.
I almost spilled my milk. Her question was simple and not really out of the ordinary, but it still took me by surprise. That meant I was definitely feeling guilty for my insecurity. “Fine,” I replied, still chewing. I wasn’t in the
Chapter 6
RESEARCH
T here were a couple of things I already knew, and I ran through them in my mind. He said his dad died many years ago; his mom died a few years ago; and his uncle died last year. He also told my mother that his uncle was a renowned scientist. I knew their names, although I had neglected to ask his mother’s name, I did have two names to go on, so I figured I would start there.
I felt like I was sneaking around behind his back, and it really wasn’t a good feeling. He had never been anything but kind to me, and here I was checking up on him—but I had to find out more about him if I was ever going to understand him, guilt or no guilt.
I typed Weston Wilson II in the search box on my computer screen. Four links popped up right away. I clicked on the first one. It was an article from the California Chronicle :
Millionaire Heir Presumed Dead From a Plane Crash Over Australia
July 19th 2008
Authorities discovered the crash site of millionaire Weston C. Wilson II, Monday afternoon. His son is reported to have been the last person to see him take off in his KR-2, personally-crafted, single-engine airplane from a secluded airstrip at his Australian home. Officials say that no one would have been able to survive the crash. Although no body has been discovered, personal objects were found in the charred wreckage confirming the aircraft was the one manned by Wilson. Authorities also searched the area and found no sign of survivors.
Wilson was well known for his work in aircraft design and for helping fund the California Blood Research Center throughout the 1980s. He is survived by one son.
I looked back over the article, because something didn’t make sense. The first detail I noticed was the one indicating that he was survived by one son. I knew that had to be Weston, but Weston told me his father died many years ago, and this article was dated just last year. Wes also made it seem like his father had died before his mother, but there was no mention of her in this article. I tried to do other searches to see what else came up, but there was nothing contradictory. All of the articles were similar.
I spun around in my desk chair and stared at the wall. It just didn’t make sense. There was no reason for him to lie to me about his father’s death, but for some reason I was sure he had. I went over the article several times looking for some other explanation. I got nothing. This man was a mystery to me, just like his son. Frustrated, I decided to go downstairs and grab a snack and a drink while I pondered the information.
I knew I didn’t want to keep asking him about his family, and I knew I didn’t like the idea of him not telling me the truth. I started to feel very foolish, both for liking him so much without knowing him and also for looking up something I probably shouldn’t have. I mean, I was prying and going behind his back investigating his family without him knowing. It wasn’t like he deserved my mistrust, but at the same time, I had to protect myself. I wasn’t stupid.
When I got downstairs, my mom was in the kitchen, too. She turned away from the pantry.
“Great minds think alike,” she said, dangling a package of cookies.
I smiled. “You have the munchies, too?”
“Yeah, I do,” she said, pulling one out for herself.
I grabbed one from the package as she held it out to me and headed over to the fridge. I liked milk with my cookies, so I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and began pouring my milk and chewing.
“How are things with Wes?” she asked.
I almost spilled my milk. Her question was simple and not really out of the ordinary, but it still took me by surprise. That meant I was definitely feeling guilty for my insecurity. “Fine,” I replied, still chewing. I wasn’t in the
Similar Books
