Though apparently engrossed in playing with the damp curls on Nick’s chest, Logan asked, “You used to smoke?”
“Yeah, all through high school. Then I showed up at Carnegie-Mellon, and it seemed like none of the kids in my classes smoked. It was bad enough being a scholarship kid—didn’t need ’nother reason to stick out.”
”Seems to me havin’ a scholarship is somethin’ to be proud of.”
“Not at that school.” Nick paused as memories of those first lonely weeks at college, when he was sure he’d never fit in, rushed upon him. “And especially not my scholarship. See, it was for… kids who….” Nick swallowed, wondering why this was so hard—surely Logan had guessed the rest by now.
“Kids who were gay?” Logan ventured into the breach.
That suggestion pulled a surprised laugh out of Nick, and he relaxed slightly, enough to say, “No. Carnegie-Mellon wasn’t looking to build a super-race of genius queers. Besides, I didn’t even come out ’til my junior year.” He forced the rest out in a rush. “It was a partial scholarship for kids with a parent in prison.” Nick snorted, “I was able to go to CMU ’cause my dad went to Fayette County.”
Logan reached over to massage Nick’s shoulder gently while asking, “Is that where he died?”
“He ain’t dead—’cept to me,” Nick answered sourly. Wish he was. “He would’ve been due to get out soon, but he got some years tacked on back when he first went in.”
“Why?”
“I heard he caused a bunch of trouble his first few years in the place.”
“You ain’t never gone to see him?” Logan asked, pulling Nick close.
Nick snuggled in gratefully, murmuring, “Hell no. What for? So I can thank him for making me an accessory to the crime?”
“You ain’t—”
“Responsible,” Nick cut in with a sigh. “I know, but I can’t help thinkin’ how different everything would’ve been if I had just put that goddamn hammer away. Or had listened to my mom and not touched it in the first place.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t blame you,” protested Logan firmly.
“No? Right after she moved in, I was putting up that hoop out front, and she came out to tell me I better not be usin’ my dad’s good hammer.”
Logan stroked Nick’s hair, murmuring, “That don’t mean nothin’, Nick. You said she’s got that dementia.”
“I know, I know,” Nick agreed faintly. And he did know. He knew how kids from abusive homes tended to blame themselves, and he knew how fucked up that was, but he also knew that his case was slightly different. Tired of the subject, not just from this discussion but also from a lifetime of regret, Nick felt the need for distraction, and he knew one damn fine way to accomplish that goal.
“Do you wanna….” Nick chewed his lip for a second, wondering if this was a good idea but continuing anyway. “Spend the night?” There was no immediate answer, and though Logan’s face held nothing but surprise, Nick read the hesitation as a no. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “I know that’s a long drive back to North Braddock to make first thing in the morning.”
“I could stay,” Logan blurted. “I’d just have to get outta here by….” He squinted at the ceiling, evidently doing some calculations. “By about six.”
The surge of happiness Nick felt at Logan’s offer was strong and swift, banishing any gloom that had crept into the room with the topic of his father. “That’s fine. I can get out early, too. I’ve got a bunch of work that’s been piling up. That’ll give me a chance to get some stuff done before my first finance session. ”
Logan quickly rolled on top of Nick, pinning him to the mattress and saying, “So. That means we got all night.”
“I thought you had to get up early,” Nick teased.
“I’ll lose a little sleep for ’nother bout—or two—with you.”
Nick arched up for a kiss, whispering, “Glad to hear it.”
LOGAN YAWNED and shook his head as he inched along in the early evening traffic. It had been a long day after a night of little sleep. He and Nick had gone at it until well after midnight and had even taken time for a quickie first thing in the morning. Logan grinned at the memory. The sacrifice of sleep had been well worth it, even if it had left him ill-prepared for his session with Linda and Trudy.
The dashboard clock showed six forty-five p.m.; that meant Linda’s session had already started. Trudy had arranged it so that Linda would start half an hour before Logan, and then he would continue on for the same period after Linda left. Trudy said they’d do this for a few weeks, since it was likely there were still things they weren’t ready to share as a couple.
Logan wasn’t really ready to share much with either woman, though he did finally feel ready to make amends as much as possible with Linda, even if the idea of moving back in with her filled him with dread. Gotta remember, it’ll mean moving back in with my girls, too. Grim determination to do right by his daughters was the only thing keeping Logan on this course of action.
He did plan to put the reconciliation off as long as possible, hoping to stretch out his time with Nick as much as he could. And then what, get back with Linda and never see Nick again? The thought was staggering. But Nick didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would settle for being a piece on the side. Luckily for Logan, he had arrived at Trudy’s office building and could set aside this dilemma while he concentrated on getting through the next hour.
When he knocked on the door to Trudy’s office, Logan was surprised to hear faint laughter coming from the room. Tears, he would have expected—but mirth? What the hell? Trudy’s voice boomed, “Come in,” and Logan walked in to find them both smiling.
Trudy pointed at the chair next to Linda, directing, “Have a seat. Linda was just telling me some stories about work. Did you know she got promoted last month?”
Mildly surprised at the news, Logan shook his head. He congratulated Linda as he plopped down in the chair. When Linda had taken the job as an administrative assistant at a collection agency in North Braddock, Logan had figured it to be a temporary situation. Personally, he couldn’t think of a worse place to work. But Linda had said it wasn’t that bad and had always spoken fondly of the energy and camaraderie of the place. “You ain’t hounding deadbeats for a living now, are you?” he offered awkwardly.
“No, I’m the office manager.” Linda seemed to swell with pride at the announcement. “They gave me a real nice raise, too.”
Logan nearly answered that he supposed a collection agency was one of the few places doing well in the present economy, but he changed his mind, thinking that might come off as a cheap shot at Linda’s good news. “That’s great. I’m sure you deserve it. You always worked real hard there.”
“Thanks. And how are things at the garden center?”
“Good, real good. Gettin’ busy again.” Logan almost cringed to hear himself chatting with his wife like a near-stranger, but the sudden realization hit him: wasn’t that, deep down, what they were—and always had been—to each other?
Trudy broke into his reverie, saying, “Linda and I were talking about her goals. Why don’t you tell Logan what you were telling me?”
“I was talking with my other counselor about getting some formal training in accounting.”
While Logan was searching for something to say other than repeating “That’s great,” Trudy prompted, “I was thinking of the more personal goals we were discussing, Linda.”
“Oh yeah,” Linda breathed while nervously twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. She turned beseeching eyes on Logan, explaining, “It’s like I was telling you on the phone that time. I want us to be close again, Logan. To laugh and talk, really talk ’bout things. Remember how we laughed and had so much fun on our honeymoon? I want us to be like that again.”
Logan did remember that week in the Poconos, back when he’d still thought he might find some passion for Linda, back when he was actually kind of proud about the baby Linda was carrying, thinking it proved s
omething about his manhood. Now he knew the truth, knew what he really wanted, knew Linda could never provide it for him. In fact, he couldn’t imagine anyone other than Nick Zales could.
For the rest of the joint session, as Logan saw the false hope he was provoking in Linda, he felt like two men. One man who was going through the motions as the Logan of old always had, and another one who was standing back and observing the deceit with a disgusted but slightly detached air.
By the time Linda walked out, leaving him alone with Trudy, Logan had decided. He was determined to put an end to this charade. Nick was right. If he got back with Linda, he would end up hurting her in the long run, emotionally for sure and maybe even physically again. Who knew what he would be driven to if he had to go back to that miserable life of hiding and constant pretense?
He looked up to find Trudy looking at him expectantly. “I’m sorry, I missed that.”
Trudy shook her head as if he were a naughty pupil. “I said that you never really shared with Linda what your hopes for the marriage are. We need to get you—”
“I can’t,” Logan exclaimed suddenly, every fiber of his being protesting against the future she was holding out to him.
Frowning in puzzlement, Trudy asked, “You can’t what?
Before he lost his nerve, he stated, “I can’t go back to that….” He swallowed hard and added in an almost pleading tone, “I don’t wanna be married to Linda anymore.” He bit his lip before adding softly, “I don’t think I ever did.”
To his surprise, Trudy was smiling at him. In a tone of indulgent forbearance, she said, “I know exactly what is going on with you. In fact, I was expecting this.”
Horrified, Logan gaped at her. “You were?”
“Sure. You’re just now seeing the hard work ahead, what it will take to get past the abuse incident and forge a strong relationship with Linda, and your impulse is to give up—to run away.”
“Trudy, that ain’t—”
She shook a reproving finger at him, saying, “I’m not going to let you get away with it. You’ve come too far to give up now.”
“I’m not giving up….” Logan struggled to find words to convince her without giving his secret—and Nick’s—away. “I’m just…. I don’t want to get back with her.”
Trudy leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “I see,” she said dryly. “You’ve suddenly come to this startling conclusion just tonight, after months of telling me how much you wanted to get back with your wife. And the reason for this thunderbolt is you ‘just don’t want to’. Sorry, mister, I’m not letting you off the hook that easy. You’ve got to come up with something better than that.”
Defeated, Logan’s shoulders slumped, and he stared at his boots, feeling trapped—again. Right back where he’d spent most of his life. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he lied, looking up in Trudy’s direction though not meeting her eyes. “About why I said that.” He halfheartedly finished the session by telling Trudy whatever he thought she wanted to hear.
Logan drove home, dejected and frustrated, with a new sympathy for those animals he’d heard of that would chew their own legs off to get out of a snare.
Chapter 13:
Landing Is Inevitable
Taking off is the hard part, landing is inevitable.
—Edward Stickney
THURSDAY MORNING, Nick woke suddenly to the shrill jangle of his bedside phone. His heart thudded in panic as his thoughts flew to his mother in the hospital. He shot upright, immediately swinging his legs over the side of the bed and grabbing the receiver. “Hello,” he croaked. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded apprehensive.
“Hey, Nick.”
“Logan?” Nick’s heart rate slowly returned to normal as he checked the time. six a.m. “Is somethin’ wrong?”
“No. Sorry, did I wake you?”
Nick peered out the window at the dimly lit street, where the neighborhood was just showing signs of coming to life. “Yeah, I don’t usually get up for ’nother half hour.”
“Aww, geez, I never thought about that. I wanted to reach you before I left for work.”
“You’re workin’ today? I thought you had Thursdays off?”
“Not anymore. I changed my schedule so I could get weekends off, for when I’ve got the girls, you know?”
“Oh, right. What’s up?”
“I was just wondering….”
Any impatience Nick might have been feeling was banished by the yearning he heard stuttering across the line. “Yeah?”
“I was thinking, we sure gotta lot of work to do this weekend, and it’d help if we could get a head start. How ’bout we get some stuff done tonight?”
Nick couldn’t keep the smile out of his tone as he confirmed, “With the T-bird, ya mean?”
“Yeah—for starters,” Logan said.
From the purr in that throaty voice, Nick could easily picture Logan smiling back, but he was nagged by the feeling that there was something more to this call. “Everything go okay with Trudy and Linda last night?”
“Yeah, sort of.” There was a beat and then Logan added, “Not really. I’ll tell ya all about it tonight.”
“All right, but… you could tell me now. I’m in no hurry, and isn’t that why you really called?”
“Nah, I’d rather wait. I’m no good over the phone.”
“Okay, no phone sex, gotta remember that.” Nick was pleased by the amused snort he got for his small jest, but he couldn’t let go just yet. “You sure it can wait ’til tonight?”
“Yeah. Meet ya at the garage later?”
“Sure. I can be there by….” Nick paused, factoring in a visit to his mom’s hospital room. “Let’s say, six-thirty?”
“Sounds good.” Then Logan added, “Don’t be late, you’ve got the key—”
“—I got the key, so don’t be early,” Nick warned at the same time. Loud and strong this time, Nick’s laugh rang out as he promised, “I’ll call if I’m gonna be late.”
“Great.” Logan seemed ready to ring off, then added uncertainly, “Hey, Nick. Can I ask you something?”
Convinced that the truth behind this call was about to be revealed, Nick said smoothly, “Sure, anything.”
“That thing you said about your bed—was it true?”
Nick racked his morning-fuzzy brain but was at a complete loss. “What thing I said?” With a slight laugh, he joked, “If you’re gonna quiz me like this, Logan, you gotta wait ’til I’ve had some coffee. What’re you talking about?”
“What you said… about us, you know… christening your bed.”
The memory of that unintentional confession came rushing back to Nick. He rubbed the back of his neck as he stalled. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Oh yeah, what? That was the first time—”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
After briefly considering feigning confusion about the question, Nick said, “Why didn’t I ever have a guy over before? Umm… just the way it worked out, I guess.”
“Uh… okay.” Nick swore he could hear the wheels turning in Logan’s head but didn’t know what was being manufactured. He wasn’t enlightened any by Logan finishing, “See ya tonigh—”
“Probably because I never really wanted…,” Nick blurted, but then he hesitated, not sure that Logan was ready to hear the rest, certain he wasn’t ready to say it, maybe not even ready to believe it. He continued, “It just didn’t seem right, with my mom here and all.”
“Makes sense.”
After a moment of hesitation, Nick decided to seize the opportunity to get something off his own chest. “Listen, speaking of the other night….”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry I laid all of that on you—’bout my dad and the hammer and all. But thanks for listening.”
When the only response was a sharp intake of breath, Nick wondered if he’d only made things worse until Logan proclaimed, “It’s okay. You had every right to tell your story.”
Nick wa
s touched—and slightly amused—to hear the echo of his words to Cheryl. “Guess all this time with me and Trudy is rubbin’ off on you.”
“No way. You’re the only one rubbin’ off on me. I swear.”
When he stopped chortling, Nick said, “Good to hear. See ya tonight at Acken’s. Have a good day.”
“Sure thing, Nick. You, too.”
NICK TOOK advantage of the extra half-hour in his day by going for an early morning run. The exercise helped alleviate most of the tension resulting from the knowledge that he was facing a nine thirty a.m. appointment with Sheila Palmer. As he ran, Nick reviewed the last session he’d had with Sheila, noting all the reasons this client could be particularly exasperating. He reminded himself that Norah Seebold had also insisted on defending and finding excuses for her abuser in those first few weeks at ACC. Gotta be patient with Sheila. She’ll come around, just like Norah did.
Later that morning, Nick efficiently typed up some notes while awaiting Sheila’s arrival and made a bet with himself. Though most people would have been petulant at best with a counselor who sent them home in tears, he wagered that Sheila would try to make amends almost immediately. An intense craving for approval was one hallmark common to many abuse victims, and one he suspected Sheila had in spades.
At precisely nine-thirty, after a soft knock on his door, Sheila walked in carrying two Starbucks coffee cups and a couple of cellophane-wrapped biscotti. She gave Nick a small, lopsided smile as she dropped the cookies on his desk and handed him one of the cups, saying, “Good morning; I got you a cappuccino—and some biscotti.”
Nick smiled warmly, answering, “Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that, Sheila,” while thinking, Bingo, Zales, got it in one.
Sheila, a pretty, petite woman with beautifully coifed light brown hair, took her seat in front of Nick’s desk, smoothing out her buff-colored twill skirt before delicately crossing her legs. “Oh, it’s no big deal. I pass a Starbucks on my way here.”
“As much as I appreciate the gesture, I want to be clear,” Nick said, pausing briefly to look Sheila deliberately in the eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You had every right to leave if the things I said upset you.”
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