Tailspin (Better Than You) (13 page)

“That’s my sister Emily, Cora is the babysitter, and no, we do not live with our parents.”

With eyes narrowed in confusion, she sets the glass of orange juice back on the counter and starts to stand. “Um, okay, well, thanks for the orange juice, but I think it’s time for me to go.”

“Where are you gunna go, Logan?” I ask quickly. It’s a dick move, pointing out the fact that she has no one and I know it, but I’ll do anything to keep her here, to keep her safe. She sits back down and opens her mouth, but nothing comes out except a small sigh. She knows I’m right, but it doesn’t feel as if I’ve won. “You don’t have to go. In fact, I want you to stay,” I add. Can she see how desperate I am? It doesn’t even matter. I would say or do anything to get her to open up.

I take a step forward and let the front of my thighs rest against her knees. The warmth of her is intoxicating, even this little bit of contact. Just the thought of her pushed against me,
more
contact, more skin, has my heart racing, my blood pumping and my-

“I walked in on Danny with another girl,” she says suddenly, bursting the pleasant thought bubble I was beginning to form.

It’s another dick move, but I can’t help but smile. “
That’s
what made you leave?”

“Believe it or not, I do have some self-respect. He can’t do that shit in my bed. It’s disgusting.” She visibly shudders and then takes a sip of orange juice, as if trying to wash away the image of
them
.

“Who can’t do what shit?” Emily asks from the entrance to the kitchen, Cora standing next to her. There was a time when I thought she was a pretty girl, someone I might like to get to know as more than my sister’s best friend. But that was before Logan, before I was introduced to what it felt like to be alive.

“Nothing, Emily. Stop being so nosy.” I turn a smile on Cora. “Thanks again, Cora.”

“Whatever, Nate,” Emily replies at the same time Cora says, “No problem, Nathan.”

Sitting between us, Logan looks confused and miserable at the same time. I’m convinced that if she could disappear right now, she would. But I won’t let it happen. The front door opens and closes and then Emily’s bouncing right back into the kitchen, as if we’re not trying to have a conversation here. She starts digging in the pantry, probably looking for the Oreos Joshua hid, and when she finally finds them, she turns around to find Logan and I both staring at her. But what does she expect?

“What?” she asks.

“Do you think maybe we could have some privacy?”

“Yeah,” Emily says, tilting her head at a strange angle, “You could, if you went somewhere else. This is the kitchen,” She points at the ground, and then up at the ceiling. “you have a room. A very big room with a very comfy bed.”

I’m trying not to lose my temper in front of Logan. I know Emily’s being purposefully difficult, trying to push my buttons. “Don’t be immature, Emily.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,
Nathan
,” she says in a mocking voice.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Fine. You win.”

Before she can rub it in, I turn and grab Logan’s hand and practically drag her through the house and up the stairs. I should take her to my old room and leave her there, but I don’t do that. Instead, I take her to my parents’ room, to my
new
room, and shut the door behind us. Then I realize that I’m still holding her hand, and that it’s so small, like the rest of her, and it feels like I could break it by just holding it too tight. I look up at her and see that she’s looking down at our hands.

“Lo? You okay?” I ask as I let go. Maybe she didn’t like it. Maybe I’m freaking her out. I’m freaking myself out. “Does Danny know you’re here?”

She shakes her head. “No. He has no idea.”

“Good. That’s good. You can stay here for as long as you want to.” Her eyes widen as she looks around the room, specifically at the bed, and I realize that she probably thinks I meant
here
. “I mean, not
here
, here. You can stay in my old room down the hall.”

The mention of my old room doesn’t go unnoticed, as I hoped. She narrows her eyes and asks, “Your
old
room? Whose room is this?”

Out of habit, an involuntary reaction, I take a step away from her. It’s easier to say things when I’m not so close. “It was my parents. They’re,” I hesitate, not knowing how to put it in words and finally decide on, “Gone.”

“Was the bar theirs too?” she asks. It surprises me, because most people start off with,
I’m sorry
, or,
how awful
. I nod my head and tell her it was Dad’s, and that’s when she says it. “I’m sorry.” But I believe her, because everything about Logan screams honest and sincere, even if she is everything but. If there’s one thing I know she can relate to, it’s pain. No matter what kind it is. I have a feeling she’s experienced every kind. What I wouldn’t do to make it better. I run my hands through my hair, another habit, and watch as she drops her eyes to the floor. “Um, I need to shower,” she says, almost embarrassed.

Of course
she’d want to shower. I’m an idiot. “You can use this bathroom. Emily shares the other one with Joshua and it’s probably a disaster.” There’s a bathroom downstairs, too, but I don’t tell her that. The thought of her in mine is enough to make me keep my mouth shut.

“Your brother, I’m assuming?” she asks. I nod. “How old is he?”

“Twelve.” I see the question in her eyes, wondering why he still needs a sitter. “We don’t like to leave him alone at night so Cora stays with him when we both work.”

“How old is Emily? And what does she do?”

“She’s twenty, even though she acts like she’s fifteen most of the time,” I say, thinking about the kitchen fiasco earlier. “And she bartends at a wine bar down the road from us.”

Instead of asking another question, she just stares at me and I hold her gaze. Any excuse to look into her eyes without her turning away. But eventually she does, looking down at her shoes and fidgeting with her shirt. “Anyways, about that shower…”

“Right. Go ahead. Do you need clothes?” She looks at me strangely, and I add, “I’m sure Emily has something that would fit you,” even though that’s unlikely because Logan is tall where Emily is not.

“Oh, um, no. I have a bag in my car-”

“I’ll go run and grab it,” I say, before she finishes her sentence. “Go ahead and get in and I’ll leave it by the door.”

Just as I turn to leave, I feel her small hand grab onto my arm. A thrill shoots through me because I don’t know what to expect. This is the first time she’s initiated contact. “Thank you, Nathan,” she says, eyes holding onto mine as if I’m a life raft in a tossing sea.
I can save you,
I want to say, but I know I can’t. I know that I’ll push her away if I push at all.

I run my fingers along her cheek, push back a stray piece of hair. “I’m glad you came, Lo.” And then I walk away without waiting for a response.

Emily is waiting at the bottom of the staircase, chewing on her fingernail and pacing. “What’s going on, Nathan? Why is she here? She looks…hurt. Or something. Like, frail and scared. Like a baby rabbit.”

“Emily, stop” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Just stop. Don’t worry about it, okay? She’s fine. She just needs a place to stay.”

She looks so much like Mom, with her blonde hair and freckled skin, that it’s scary. It’s the way her blue eyes meet mine, how it seems as if she can look into me and know the truth without my saying it. “I trust you. I always do, but please be careful. Joshua’s young, and impressionable-”

“And you’re not?” I ask with a smile.

“Funny.” She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. I just, I worry. I worry that you think you can fix everyone, and you can’t.” she glances up the stairs. “You really can’t.”

“I know, Em. This is fine.” I gesture to us, to the house, to everything. “It’ll be fine.”

She nods her head and leans into me for a hug. I wrap my arms around her for a second before I push away. “I have to grab Logan’s bag out of her car. I’ll be right back.”

“Love you too!” Emily calls after me as I jog out of the house. By the time I come back, Logan’s bag in hand, Emily is gone. I walk up the stairs quickly, pad silently down the hall, and slip into my room quietly. The shower’s started already. I knock lightly once, and when no response comes from the other side, I hold my ear to the door and listen. The water sounds like a continual spray, not like there’s a body underneath it to disrupt the flow. She’s probably still standing in front of the mirror, right on the other side of this door. Images of her and steam and skin flit through my mind, but I push them back when I hear movement. It’s a slight rustle, what sounds like a zipper, more rustling and then the shower curtain sliding back and forth. I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing, but part of me knows. That part wants to knock the door down, demand answers and explanations. The other part, the more dominant part, walks away, down the hall and to the other bathroom to shower off the beer I can still smell on my clothes.

I’m finished before Logan. When I step back into my room, the bag is gone but the bathroom door is still closed. The temperature in the room has risen at least ten degrees and steam floats out from the gap between the floor and the door. I sit on the bed and wait, but it’s not long before the knob is moving and the door is opening and Logan is emerging from a cloud of steam. Her hair is in a pile on the top of her head, looking darker than usual. Her skin is flushed and she looks relaxed, somehow more alive than I’ve ever seen. I know that I’m staring; I know that my mouth is open and I probably look like a fucking fool, but Logan in jean shorts and a guy’s shirt, coming out of
my
bathroom, it’s doing something to me. Stirring something. I shift in my shorts, hoping she can’t see exactly what it’s stirring.

The feel of her eyes watching me as I take her in is too much. Before I can do something stupid, I look at the ground, clear my throat and my mind and take a minute to gather words. “Sorry I took so long,” she says before I can manage to speak. “Do you need to shower?”

Looking down at my shorts, I shake my head. “I used the other bathroom,” I explain. Standing, I shove my hands in my pockets for good measure and finally look into Logan’s eyes. “Are you hungry?” I ask, realizing as I say it that I’m hoping she says
yes, for you
, and gives me the permission I so desperately need to make her mine.

Instead she says nothing, just stares at me with this look I can’t decipher. “I know this really cool place,” I add, as if that will change her mind. I turn and walk out of the room, praying that she’ll follow, and let out a sigh of relief when I hear her soft footsteps behind me.

It’s that time of morning when it’s still dark, but there’s an almost white light that fills the sky, alerting the world to the coming sun. It’s a clean light, a refreshing glow that’s soft and subtle. It screams
new
and
second chances.
To me, at least, probably because Logan is sliding into the seat next to me and her presence is taking over. It’s her smell and her timid movements and the way she brings her legs up to her chest the minute she sits. It’s the way she blows a stray hair out of her face and turns to catch me watching her, smiles and averts her eyes. It’s how she watches everything around her, her eyes in constant motion, soaking it all in. But most of all, it’s how she leans her head back and closes her eyes, gives up and gives in, submits to the feeling of being safe.

Twenty minutes later, when we’re parked in front of the beach, I’m tempted to keep her in here, where the outside world is just that. Where her soft breathing fills the space and it’s just her and me and nothing that could ever make us impossible. As time passes, it becomes more obvious that’s what we are.

18

March 25, 22009

             
I want to know everything.

              I want to ask questions; poke and prod and push until her secrets burst and there’s nothing left but the truth. But it’s obvious that will do nothing but create a distance between us, so I resolve to start slow and hope she’ll give up the rest.

              “How did you meet him?” I ask, the sun now completely up and the beach empty except for us.

              The question’s barely left my lips before she replies with, “I don’t wanna talk about him.”

              I nod, even though she’s not looking at me, instead staring out into the calm water. “Fair enough. What do you wanna talk about?”

              She’s quiet, and I start to think that’s her answer, that she doesn’t want to talk about anything. “What were your parents like?” she asks suddenly.

              I glance at her, see the longing on her face. “They were great. Crazy in love,” I start, because I know that’s the best part. “I used to think it was so embarrassing. None of my friend’s parents used to make out or grope each other in public, ya know? But they weren’t afraid to just be themselves, to be
in love
.” It’s the first time I’ve talked about them to anyone besides Emily and Joshua. It’s not like I was avoiding it, but no one has asked. No one’s cared enough and the thought that Logan might is more than I could have expected.

              “Sounds nice,” she says.

              “What about you?”

              Her head snaps towards me, finally making eye contact. “What about me?”

              “What were your parents like?” It’s a stupid question. I know that her dad isn’t in the picture and her mom isn’t really either, but I wonder if it’s always been like that. If she’s always lived this half-empty life.

              “I don’t want to talk about that.”

              I sigh and lean back. Smile a teasing smile, like she’s exasperating and cute when I’m really feeling desperate and disconnected. “So what
do
you want to talk about?”

              “You,” she answers simply.

              “Okay. What do you wanna know?”