Tailspin (Better Than You) (19 page)

              Instead of replying, I copy the path the coroner just took; step to the right, long step, step to the left, and then I’m finally inside the house. The smell is making my eyes water, triggering gag reflexes in the back of my throat. I hold my breath and try to ignore the fact that the air is now going through my mouth.

              Everything looks the same as it did so many months ago, when I came here looking for Logan. It’s a little dirtier, if that’s at all possible. There’s a dark stain in the carpet by the kitchen. A thick layer of dust covers every empty surface. It’s a total health violation, most likely going to be deemed unlivable once we leave.

              Still holding my breath, I turn left and head towards the bedrooms. There’s commotion coming from the first one, and nothing could have prepared me for what I see when I step in front of the open door.

              Two paramedics are working over a girl lying on the ground, flashing lights in her eyes and checking her pulse. The coroner is hovering over the bed, poking and prodding what I think is a body. He shifts enough to allow me to see more, and sure enough, it’s Lena. As I step inside the room, two things come to light. There’s maggots surrounding Lena’s mouth that is pressed against the pillow, and the girl on the floor is Logan.

              “Logan?” I whisper. I don’t move.

The paramedic I was speaking to earlier looks up at me. “You know her?” he asks urgently. I nod, and he nods back. “Logan? You with us?” he asks her, gently tipping her head up. Her throat moves, as if she’s swallowing, maybe getting ready to say something, but nothing comes out. I think Crowley steps up behind me, but I’m so lost in this moment that I pay him no attention.

The other paramedic has his fingers on the base of her throat. “Her pulse is through the roof. What is she on?” he asks his partner, but then he glances at me.

“I don’t…I have no idea.” I haven’t seen her in six months. She was happy. She was supposed to be okay. Why is she here?

“Let’s bring her in. Get her checked out,” the other one responds. They slide her body onto a gurney I didn’t see before. “A little bit of help, guys?”

Crowley and I step behind them and lift the gurney into the air, maneuver it out of the small house and around the rotting porch steps.

“Start a drip. Nothing else until we know what’s in her system.”

The paramedics work around her, gathering tools and pricking her skin and filling her up with liquid. She looks dead, pale and thin and not like the Logan I saw six months ago. What happened? I stand there, helplessly watching as they set her up and then start to close the doors.

My hand shoots out to stop the door. “I’ll ride with her,” I say. I can feel Crowley watching me.

“Sorry, Officer. Not unless you’re immediate family. You’re welcome to follow behind.”

Then the doors are closed, the ambulance is pulling away, and Crowley is snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Let’s go, Hawkins. You can drop me by the station.”

It’s strange how some moments happen so slowly that it seems like the world itself has stopped moving, and then other moments feel like they’ve been put on fast forward. On the way to the station, while Crowley is driving, I close my eyes and replay walking into Lena’s house, seeing what was left of her body, finding Logan. I try to match that Logan with the Logan I saw six months ago and I just can’t seem to find any common thread. It’s the worst I’ve seen her. Even worse than when she was with Danny. I can’t help but wonder if it’s my fault, if maybe she was better off with him than with Sam or Lena or wherever she’s been.

It’s not that easy
, Logan had said to me. Why didn’t I just believe her? Why couldn’t I understand?

The car comes to a stop, and here we are, in front of the station. Derek Crowley turns in his seat, meets my eyes. “You okay?” he asks sincerely. His eyes, dark as night, stare at me unblinking.

“I’m fine,” I reply automatically.

Crowley nods once, steps out of the car and walks into the station without a backwards glance.

In a rush, I switch seats and peel out of the parking lot, head towards the hospital and hope it’s not too late. Too late for what, I have no idea. The nurse at the front desk offers up Logan’s room number easily. It’s close by, only takes a few seconds of power walking to get there, and then I’m standing in front of an open door, Logan on the inside and me on the outside, the existence of our relationship looking just like this.

Logan’s eyes are closed, a tube shoved up her nose and a thin gown covering her bony body. The blankets are folded around her waist. I step in quietly, pull the blanket up a bit higher and sigh with relief when she doesn’t stir. As long as she’s asleep, I can pretend that it’s okay that I’m here. As if I’m a concerned boyfriend instead of what she told me I am to her;
nothing
.

I walk over to the window and stare out at the pathetic view; the top of the next building and a gray, cloudy sky. Even though the air inside feels cold, I’m sweating through my uniform. Grabbing the baseball cap off of my head, I turn back towards Logan and watch as her breath pumps in and out of her chest. Even in sleep she looks lost.

The clock on the wall ticks as the seconds and minutes and hours pass by. Eventually I find a chair and silently scoot it underneath the window. The room begins to change color as the sun sets. I stay seated. I send a text to Emily and let her know I won’t be home. I watch as the sky darkens and the starless night passes by. Sometime in the early morning, a nurse comes in and checks Logan’s vitals, glances at me between checking her pulse.

“They’re going to insist she stays,” she says, gently pushing a piece of hair behind Logan’s ear.

“I figured as much.”

“Will you convince her to?” She cocks her head to the side, folds her hands in front of her. I’d say she’s in her late thirties, early forties. There’s something motherly and nurturing about her. Maybe it’s because she has a daughter of her own. Or maybe it’s because she’s a nurse.

“I won’t push it.” I don’t know what’s good for Logan anymore. I don’t know that I ever did.

“Sometimes people need a little bit of a push.” She pats Logan’s hand and then walks away, her muted pink scrubs swishing on the way out.

Not even five minutes later, Logan’s breathing accelerates, the machine next to her beeping a faster rhythm. Then her eyes open and they’re wide and confused. Her hands reach up to the tube stuck deep into her nose and start to pull.

“Nurse!” I yell, and a few of the ladies outside at the desk look in but make no move towards us. “Woah, Lo.” I grab her hands, try to pull them away from her face. “Stop pulling at it like that. The nurse is on her way.”

A different nurse from before, this one with grey hair and yellow scrubs, jogs into the room. “Hold on, dear. It’s much easier if you let me do it.” She grabs the tube and I step back, watch as she carefully tugs it out of Logan’s nose. She squirms a bit, her wide, honey eyes trained on the nurse’s face. “Be still, dear. It doesn’t do to fuss like that.”

I want to reach out and grab Logan’s hand, assure her that I’m here and everything will be okay, but I know she wouldn’t take it. Once the tube is out, the nurse places it on a little cart and turns back to Logan. “There you go. Do you need to pee? Are you hungry?”

Logan’s throat moves like a wave and then she speaks. “Just a little thirsty.”

It punches me in the chest, the sound of her voice. After all of this time, I’m pissed to admit that I’ve forgotten what it sounds like. Raspy but sweet. Weak but sure. The nurse leaves the room and then Logan looks up at the ceiling, moisture gathering in her eyes.
She doesn’t know I’m here.
To announce myself, I clear my throat. Her head snaps to the side, surprise and anger covering her features.

“Lo.” I take a step forward, watch as her eyes shift over my face, my hair, my uniform, my hands. Maybe I look different. I know she does.

“What are you doing here, Nathan?” It’s not a question, it’s an accusation.

“I was on duty when your call came in. I just wanted to make sure you were okay…” Her eyes burn into me, too much to take, so I drop my head to the floor.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her voice shakes.

“Where are you staying these days?” As soon as I ask the question, I realize that I don’t really want to know. It’s better if I don’t.

“With a friend.”

“Would this friend’s name happy to be Danny?” I don’t know why I’m pushing this.

“No.” Her answer says more than just the one word. It says it’s none of my business. It says it’s a guy.

Still looking at the ground, my shoes, the hat in my hands, anywhere but her eyes with their fucking glare, I nod. “That’s good.”

“When can I leave?” she asks after a few moments.

This time, I look up at her. “Uh, well, technically whenever you want, but they’re going to insist you stay for further…assistance.”

Her nostrils flare, just the slightest bit. “Where are my clothes?” she asks, her mouth barely moving. I can’t tell if she’s mad or scared or maybe both.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m reaching out to her, trying to get her to sit still as she throws the covers off of her and slides out of the bed. “Lo, they can help you. They can-”

“They cannot help me, Nathan!” she yells, cutting me off. I look out into the hall, see if anyone has noticed her outburst. Nobody has. “Don’t you get that by now?” she adds in a defeated voice, still searching for her clothes. She finally spots them on top of the chair.

“You need help, Lo.
Professional
help.” It sounds all wrong the minute I say it, and I wish I could grab the words out of the air where they’re floating and shove them back into my mouth.

“You have
no
idea what I need.
No idea
.” Her finger is in my face. It’s the closest she’s been to me in six months. I can see every line on her sunken face, every crack in her dry lips. Realizing our proximity, she steps back, smooths her hands over her thin gown.

Knowing that I’ve lost, I put my hands in the air by my head.
Ten points for Logan.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let me at least give you a ride home.”

The sentence is barely out of my mouth before she’s shaking her head. “No.”

“How do you plan on getting home, Lo? Walking? A cab? You have no money. Your phone is dead.
Let me help you.
”

I can see the situation play across her features; first thinking, then avoiding, then agreeing. “Fine,” she says, and I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

“I’ll leave so you can get dressed.”

Five minutes after I’ve left the room, she barrels out and heads straight down the hall to the exit. A nurse runs up to her, then a doctor, and they discuss, heatedly, her options. She tells them over and over that she’s just fine; that it was simply a matter of mal-nourishment and shock that had her unconscious on the floor of her mother’s house. I’ve never seen her like this; determined, eloquent,
convincing
. If I didn’t know any better, I’d believe her. But I do know better. I know almost every tell she has, including the way her foot begins to tap when she’s restless or anxious, and the way she continuously shoves a piece of hair behind her ear to keep her hands from shaking.

Once we walk through the automatic doors and back into the world of Miami, Logan looks up to the sky and lets out a long breath. I walk ahead of her, to my car that’s been parked in the fire lane all night, and open the passenger door. She scoots in silently, I close the door, and then I walk to my side, all the while taking deep breaths to calm my racing thoughts, all centered around where it is she’ll lead me.

When she gives me the address, I hesitate. It’s in a nice part of Miami, by the beach where the houses cost a fortune. Is she kidding? But I know she isn’t. She recited the address as easily as she would have her name. Throughout the entire drive, I’m wondering how she ended up there instead of thinking about the stifling silence between us. I keep opening my mouth to say something,
anything
, but then I close it again, because, where do I start?

The address she gave me leads us to a sprawling beachside mansion. As I’m turning into the driveway, I decide it’s now or never. This could be the last time I see her. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

Without pause, she replies, “You shouldn’t be.”

“Well, I am. She was still your mom, no matter what happened between you two.” Logan doesn’t acknowledge my words, just keeps staring out the windshield. “This is a nice place.”

“It is.”

Okay.
“Is he…” I clear my throat, begin to swallow my next question but decide to ask it anyways. “Is he good to you?” It’s my way of asking if it’s a guy she’s living with. There are only two ways she will answer;
yes, he is
, or
what are you talking about?

“He is,” she responds curtly.

Damn it.
As if speaking about him has beckoned him, the front door opens and what looks like a model straight from a Calvin Klein ad comes walking out of the house, down the winding brick path towards us.

“Thank you for the ride, Officer,” Logan says, reaching for the handle before I’ve had the chance to process what her words mean.

With a hand on her arm, I stop her. I have to. “Don’t go, Lo. You don’t have to go.”

“I’ll always go, Nathan,” she whispers while slowly, maybe unknowingly, moving back inside the car. “I will never stay. I will never be who you want me to be.”

Her skin underneath mine is cool and clammy. I find my thumb moving over the thin layer on her wrist, the veins so blue they look three dimensional. “I just want you the way you are,” I whisper back, and then I take advantage of the fact that she’s so close that I can feel her breath caress my cheek. My lips brush hers softly, as light as a butterfly on a delicate flower. She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t tell me no or to stop or to go, but I pull away anyways. I’m not trying to get into her pants. I’m trying to convince her. “You’re better than this, Lo. Bad things happen all the time, but it’s the way you use them that define you.”