“Let me see.” I flip on the bedroom light and huff when I see his face. “Oh. My. God.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Have you not seen yourself?” I point toward the bathroom. “Go look in the mirror.”
Slowly, he stands, and I follow. Turning on the vanity lights over the sink, Logan just stares at himself for the longest time. I don’t know the thoughts going through his head, but I can only guess they’re occupied with awful memories. Memories of his beating. Ideas of what might’ve been had Bernie not saved him.
“What are you going to do?” I ask. My voice sounds so small, as if it, too, is afraid of speaking up.
“First, I need to heal and get myself cleaned up. Then, I need to come clean to the police about Jake’s murder. And, lastly, there’s only one place left I can go to for help.”
“Where’s that?”
Still staring at himself in the mirror, he tells his reflection, “Home.”
Fifteen • Chloe
For the past week, I’ve done nothing but take care of Logan. His bruises have all but faded, and the swelling in his face is completely minimized. Gradually, he’s overcome shivers and nausea, until they are nothing more than a recollection. Today, he’s decided to pay a visit to his parents’ house, even though he’s not sure if they’ll still be there, or if they’ve moved on. I hope, for his sake, they still reside in the only house Logan’s ever known.
The problem, however, with visiting Logan’s parents is that they live in the next town over, which will take way too long to reach by foot, especially in the heat, so I have to convince my mom to either let me borrow the RAV4 or steal it. I don’t want to be labeled a criminal, but this is mine and Logan’s last resort for help. If his parents don’t have the five thousand dollars Logan owes to Big P, then we’re royally screwed.
We mutually agreed that I’ll drive the RAV4 a couple of blocks up the street, where Logan will be waiting for me. He’ll give me directions to his parents’ house from there.
“Mom, can I borrow the car for a bit?” I ask as I bound down the stairs. “Just for a bit; I won’t be long.”
She turns halfway around on the couch and looks at me. “What for?”
I shrug. “I wanted to go for a drive. I’m starting to get a little bored, I think.”
“Chloe, come here.” She picks up the remote from the coffee table and mutes the TV. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Oh, God. This can’t be good. I drop onto the recliner and wait.
“I talked to your father last night. The divorce papers will be filed as soon as we return home. But, in the meantime, I’ve thought about where we should live. Now, I know it would be hard on you, since you’ll be starting college soon, but I think a move will be best. That is, unless you want to live with your father.” She pauses long enough to catch her breath.
“So just buy a new house and I can continue with my life like none of this ever happened,” I say.
She closes her eyes and massages the bridge of her nose. “Chloe . . . I don’t want to live in Cherryview Falls anymore. I grew up there, and I have so many wonderful memories of that town, but . . .”
She’s delaying. God, why is she delaying? “But what?” I push.
“I think now’s the time to move on with my life. And if you want to join me, I would love that. If not, then I understand. Your life, your friends, everything you know is back in Cherryview. But this new life? It could be our little adventure.” Her eyes are so big and round and hopeful. She wants me to say yes because she doesn’t want to be alone anymore. I get that. What I don’t get is why she won’t tell me where we’re moving.
“Mom, I can’t agree to anything if you don’t tell me where it is we’re going.”
She tugs at her bottom lip with her teeth for a second or two, then releases. “See, that’s the thing. I haven’t really decided yet, but there is one place I’ve always wanted to live.”
“And that is . . .?”
“California,” she says.
Cali? She has got to be kidding me! That’s across the country! How the hell am I supposed to visit friends if I live thousands of miles away? And . . . and . . . oh, my God! How will I see Logan?
I almost explode into a fountain of tears on the spot. Logan’s been right all along: we probably won’t see each other again. This will be our last summer together.
“Just . . . think about it, all right? I don’t want you to feel like you have to make the decision now, and I definitely don’t want you to feel pressured into choosing between your father and me.”
I roll my eyes. “Mom, please. You know I’d choose you over him any day. But don’t you think California’s a bit of a stretch? I mean, that’s a giant leap for both of us.”
Please, please, please be joking.
A lighthearted smile curves from ear to ear across her face, and, for a split second, I expect her to tell me it’s one big farce. “It is a major change, I know. It’ll take us a while to get use to the idea of living a world apart from everything and everyone we knew, but I think it’s for the best.”
How can she say that? Has she lost her marbles? I mean, it might be great for her if she didn’t have me in tow, but why can’t this wait until I decide where to go to college? Then, I can move away and live in dorms. She can go eat avocado sandwiches and slurp fruit smoothies on a beach in California, while I stay behind with what few friends I have.
And the Logan thing? Everyone says long-distance relationships never work out. The thought of losing him, of never seeing him again, shatters my heart into itty bitty pieces.
“I just . . . I need some time to think,” I tell her, which is true.
She stands up when I do. “Here, take my keys. If you need to ride around and think about your decision, that’s fine. Just don’t be out too late. And wear your seatbelt.” Surprisingly, she follows through with her word, lifting the keys out of her purse and handing them over. I must be stunned because she laughs and grabs my chin with her other hand. “My dear, sweet Chloe, don’t view me like I’ve lost my mind; I already feel like that most days.” When I don’t respond, her face turns serious. “I trust you, sweetie. Here, take them,” she says, grabbing my hand and dropping the keys onto my open palm.
“It’s that simple?” I eye her suspiciously, like she might birth a second head from the base of her neck. “Why didn’t you let me borrow the car before?”
She glides back to her usual end of the couch and picks at the fabric on the armrest. “Your father never thought it was a good idea. He was too controlling, I guess. But,” she says, pausing to take a deep breath, “I want to start fresh, do things my way. I want to learn how to trust others, even when they don’t deserve to be trusted. I want to fall in love all over again, with someone who is worthy of my love and who will give me all of theirs in return.” She looks at me, then, and I see the sadness and hurt in her eyes. But I’m proud of her for taking risks; most people refuse to because they’re afraid they won’t succeed. “I just want good in my life again, Chloe. I want to be happy.”
I can’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. “Oh, Mom.” I take a few steps forward, falling to my knees in front of her, and lay my head in her lap. She immediately strokes my hair like she did when I was a child. “We all want happiness,” I say, sniffling. “Finding it is half the battle.”
“I’ve found it with you,” she says, “so I guess I’m already halfway there.”
This only makes me cry harder. I wish I would’ve spent the past few weeks with her. I wish I told her everything about Logan. But I still have no idea how she’ll react, knowing I’ve been harboring a fugitive drug user. So I don’t say anything at all. Not yet, but soon, I’ll tell her everything.
I dry my eyes as I lift my head from her lap. “I’ll be back later, okay?” One sniffle escapes me.
Mom smiles and whispers, “Okay. Not too late, though.”
With my purse and keys in hand, I don’t
postpone this chance. Plus, Logan’s depending on me to get him from Point “A” to Point “B.” If I can’t drive us to his parents’ house, he’ll walk. I won’t, but he will. He needs the money badly enough, and he needs to see his family again—especially Lucas. I just don’t want him on the streets alone, not after what happened a week ago. Next time—if there is a next time—will be worse.
Backing out of the gravel driveway, there are no signs of life on our deserted road. Most of the small-town happenings occur in the “downtown” area, which includes Bernie’s, the tourist shops, the Grab-N-Go, and a gas station. This time of day, everyone’s on the lake. I mean, that’s kind of the point of Sandy Shores, right? To get away from it all; city life, work life, life itself.
As we planned, Logan patiently waits a couple of blocks away. He opens the passenger door and slides in. “Let’s get the hell outta here,” he says, grinning.
I smile back, ignoring the tightening in my stomach as I think about what life will be like without Logan. What’s he going to say when I tell him that he was right all along? He made me promise I’d never leave him. And now, knowing what I know, I have to sever my promise and any feelings I have toward him. It won’t be easy, but in the end, it’ll be worth it. For both our hearts.
“Where to?” I ask.
“Anywhere but here,” he teases. Then: “Take Main Street past Bernie’s and out of Sandy Shores. Once we hit the main road, it’ll be a little while, but I’ll show you where to turn.” He glances over at me and rests his hand on my thigh.
Oh, jeez. Talk about not being able to keep my focus. I’m almost delirious from his touch. We haven’t kissed since that night, and neither of us has spoken about what went down. It’s as if it never happened. But I’m okay with that. Why? Because I’ll have to drop the bomb on him soon about moving to California.
Lightly squeezing my thigh, Logan says, “Ease up, babe. You can’t choke the life out of the steering wheel; it’s already dead, you know.” He chuckles at his own joke.
I don’t bother looking at him. This is too much. I hate keeping secrets. I hate that I didn’t tell him as soon as he got in the vehicle that I’m moving. I hate that his hand is on my thigh, even though he doesn’t want to have sex with me. I want to scream, “Stop leading me on!” but that won’t get me anywhere. If anything, it’ll make me look like one of those clingy girlf—
I stop myself. I’m not his girlfriend. I’m a girl who gave him the time of day when he was down on his luck. I’m just a girl who wanted to escape the constant bickering of her parents and used Logan as a pet project to keep my mind off the problems at home. We’re nothing, really. This thought, coupled with the fact that there is no future between us, nearly rips a gaping hole in my stomach. Literally, I bend forward at the wheel.
“You okay?” Logan leans toward the dashboard so he can look me in the eyes.
“I’m fine,” I say, waving him off. “Just feel a little nauseous.”
“We can pull over for a second, if you want,” he says.
“No. I’m fine. I swear.”
Get a hold of yourself, Chloe! God, I just want to scream and cry and drop him off at his parents’ house without looking back. Maybe that’s what I should do. Make it nice and easy for the both of us. He’ll have his old life back, and I can start my new one. In a way, we’ll both get what we wanted. Him: to be with his family and friends again. Me: to get away from my parents fighting.
I feel like I’m at standing at the shores of the sea as a storm rages overhead. The water performs the commands of the storm, and I’m at the mercy of the water. Yet this doesn’t hinder the storm from ordering the water to swallow me whole. As I stand near the beach, a one-hundred-foot-high wave looms over me, like it’s deciding whether I’m even worth its effort. Eventually, it consumes me, and I drown.
“Chloe, stop the car,” says Logan.
I pull off on the side of the road, far enough that the traffic behind me doesn’t have any trouble passing by. It’s then I realize that my face is wet.
“Baby,” Logan coos, “what’s wrong?”
“Don’t call me that,” I say through clenched teeth. More tears spill out and down my cheeks.
“What?”
I close my eyes. Give me strength. “I’m not yours to call ‘baby’ so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me that.”
Sarcastically, Logan says, “Um, okaaay . . .” Like I’m the crazy one who has issues.
I check my side mirrors before tearing off the shoulder, tires squealing, leaving a trail of black, burnt-rubber smoke behind.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Logan asks. “You’re kinda scaring the shit outta me.”
“I just . . . have a lot on my mind, okay? I promise to get you to your parents’ house in one piece.” At least that’s a promise I can keep.
With a heavy, extended sigh, Logan finishes giving me directions to his home. We don’t exchange any additional words for the remainder of the way. Not until Logan instructs me to turn on his road.
As I slowly creep up the street, Logan leans forward, squinting his eyes. “Yep, they’re still there. The truck’s outside, and so is Mom’s car.”
Glancing in the same direction, I notice the only house with a car and truck parked on the paved driveway. The house is a modest, two-story structure, with a coffee-colored paint job and bright pink, orange, and yellow flowers under the two front windows. It’s one of those cookie-cutter homes, the ones people buy so they can live the American dream and feel like they’re in a safe neighborhood.
I pull the RAV4 to a stop on the curb. Logan nearly leaps out of the passenger seat, but I can’t say I blame him; he’s been caged up with a crazy, emotional girl. But more than that, I think he’s just really excited to see his parents after six long months.
“C’mon,” he says, gesturing for me to get out.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so, Logan.”
He jerks back, like I smacked him. “What? Don’t be silly. I’m sure they’ll love to—”
“Logan, honey? Is that you?” A middle-aged woman steps out of the front door with a shocked expression, like she can’t believe her son has returned. Like she thought she’d never see him again. Her shoulder-length, brown hair flutters with the summer breeze, as does the knee-length dress she wears.
“Hey, Mom,” says Logan. “I’ve, uh . . .”—he clears his throat—“I’ve missed you.”
She squeals. “Oh, my dear, sweet boy.” They close the distance between them and embrace in a long, bittersweet hug. His mom strokes his hair, and I can’t be sure, but I swear, even from this distance, I see tears slide down her cheeks. She murmurs more words to him. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I’m sure her words are filled with love. “Logan, who is that with you?”
He collects himself, like he almost forgot I’m here. “Oh, Mom, this is Chloe. She’s helped me get clean. Chloe, this is my mom, Marcie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
“You too, dear.” She smiles. “Why don’t you two come inside and drink some of this lemonade I just prepared?”
Logan glances back at me. “Chloe, you coming?”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
Frowning, Logan cuts me off. “Don’t be like that. C’mon.”
So much for bailing and forgetting any of this ever happened. I lock up the RAV4 and trudge in behind Logan and Marcie. The inside of the house is decorated in the same tan colors as the paint on the outside, with the exception of black accessories—candle holders, bookshelves, and even the dining room table. Marcie has lit a couple of candles, and the aroma creates a calming atmosphere. Which is exactly what Logan needs right now, if he’s going to discuss borrowing five thousand dollars.
“Where’s Dad and Luke?” Logan asks as he and I sit down in the living room.
Marcie busies herself with fixing us lemonade. “Lucas had practice. Sally took him and her boys, so I didn’t have to go. He should be home soon. And yo
ur father will be home anytime now from work. They had him pulling overtime again. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Here you are,” she says, handing me a cold glass. She gives the other glass to Logan, who sits on the couch across from me, and then sits down beside him. “So, Chloe, tell me a little bit about yourself.”
Well, I definitely didn’t come here to be interviewed. “Um, well, I’m from Cherryview Falls, three hours north of here. I was an honor student in high school—I just graduated in May—and on the track team, and I’m a total movie nerd. I haven’t decided where I’ll attend college yet, but I have a few applications filled out.” I shrug. “That’s about it, I guess.”
“Uh-huh. I see.” Is that a disapproving look that crosses her face? Like I’m the most boring person on the planet, so what am I doing with her son? Interesting. “And how did you meet Logan?”
Logan nearly chokes on his drink, but I continue. “I found him in an old, abandoned cottage by the lake. I felt bad for him, and I couldn’t just leave him there.”
“He must’ve needed your help quite badly,” she says. “He wouldn’t let us help him for months.”
“Mom!”
She sighs. “Logan, honey, it’s the truth. Your father and I love you dearly, but you are as stubborn as they come.” She turns her attention toward me again. “We offered to send him to a wonderful rehabilitation program, but he refused. When there were no other options, his father kicked him out. It was the saddest day of my life.”
“I ran into Charlie,” Logan says. “He said you went looking for me that night.”
Marcie nods. “I stayed out for hours, but I couldn’t find you.”
“I’m not one hundred percent better, Mom, but I’m trying.”
She wraps one arm around Logan’s shoulders. “It’s all that we ask for. At least you can say you tried. If this doesn’t work out—”
“It’ll work out this time. I promise.”
Marcie contemplates this for a moment, then says, “Okay, baby. I believe you.” Abruptly, she stands up. “I’ve got to make a couple of phone calls, but I’ll be back shortly. There are some chocolate chip cookies on the bar in the kitchen, if either of you want any.” With that, she walks down the hallway, to the back end of the house. I assume she’s calling Logan’s dad, maybe even her friend who took Lucas to practice, to let them know Logan’s home.
Last Summer Page 10