Nick stood up and stepped into Logan’s path, placing his hand on his shoulders to halt his restless wandering. “Hold on there, Mr. Doom and Gloom. How much money are we talking about, to buy Acken’s shop?”
Logan looked at Nick like he was explaining gravity to a four-year-old wanting to fly. “Plenty. Beat up as it is, with all his tools and stuff, Dave’ll want at least a hundred and fifty grand.”
“Well you don’t need the whole thing up front, only a down payment.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Logan snapped. “Well, let me it make it clear to you then, Zales. I ain’t even got that. ’Specially since I can’t seem to unload my old shop in Elco.”
A near-veteran of interpreting Logan’s moods, Nick recognized his peevishness as more fear and insecurity than anger. Since he remembered from college and graduate school how it felt not having the money other people took for granted, he didn’t take the show of irritation personally. Fortunately, over the years, Nick had developed a knack for dealing with this very issue in creative ways. “Logan, how much could we get for the Thunderbird now?”
“What’s that got to do with—”
“Just answer the question.”
Logan scratched his chin, obviously giving the matter some thought. “The shape it’s in now, you could get $25,000 easy, $10,000 more if it goes to auction.”
“There we go,” Nick exalted. “There’s your down payment.”
“How you figure? That’s your car. You already gave me the money you owed me.”
“I can get back my original investment, and there’s enough left over for your down payment. Besides, I think of it as our car. We did that together—turned a pile of junk into something beautiful.”
“That’s real nice, but it doesn’t really change the fact that you’re giving me charity.”
“Jesus!” Nick threw up his hands in frustration before offering, “Then call it a loan. You can pay me back after you start making money—which, as good a mechanic as you are, won’t take long.” Nick watched anxiously as Logan chewed at his hangnails—always a sign that he was mulling something over.
“I don’t know,” he drawled. When Nick couldn’t suppress an audible huff of irritation, Logan hastened to explain, “I’ve seen money come between people, and I’d sure hate…. I’d hate to mess up… us.”
Touched more than he wanted to admit by that sincere declaration, Nick grasped Logan’s arm firmly, promising, “It won’t.”
“Besides, you love that car. I can’t let you sell it for me.”
“Not as much as I—” Nick’s throat dried up, and he couldn’t force out the rest of that sentence. He took a deep breath as he thought to himself, If not now, when? One swallow, two, and then he said it. “Nowhere near as much as I love you.”
To Nick’s eternal shock, in a barely audible tone, Logan answered, “I love you, too.” Louder and more resolute, he added, “That’s why I can’t let you do this.”
“If you love me like I love you, then you should know that selling the T-bird won’t bother me!” Nick insisted. “Don’t you see? This is your chance, and I’d give anything to help you take it. You hate that job at the garden center, and you love fixin’ cars. If you buy Dave’s place, you can do that full time, and you’ll be living closer to ho—to here.”
Logan’s laugh rang out, brightening the dim room considerably. He was evidently anything but offended by Nick’s Freudian slip. “And I’ll be living closer to home—you can say it. I know I’m pretty much livin’ here.”
“Yeah, I guess you are.” Nick suddenly found it easy to admit the truth, though he was starting to feel overwhelmed by the swell of emotion and sought some breathing room by grabbing his shirt off the floor and shrugging into it.
From over his shoulder, he heard Logan say, “So… while you’re figuring what I owe for my half of the mortgage, you might as well add in what I need to pay you on that loan every month.”
Nick whipped around, gaping at Logan, who was retrieving his own shirt as calmly as he’d made that last momentous statement. “So you’re gonna—that means you’ll do it?”
“Sure.” Logan smiled sheepishly as he stepped close and pulled Nick to him. “You’re one persuasive man.” He punctuated his pronouncement with a quick kiss.
Though he returned Logan’s embrace wholeheartedly, Nick couldn’t stop himself from murmuring, “To everyone but myself.”
Logan held Nick out at arm’s length and studied him carefully. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“The hell it don’t.” Logan dragged him over to the couch and pushed Nick into a seated position while he parked himself nearby. “Come on, you’re always making me spill my guts. It’s your turn.”
Nick reclaimed his beer from where it had been abandoned on the coffee table and took a few sips before starting. “Tonight Eric and I talked about me going to…. You see, it turns out that maybe I want—that maybe I should… go see my father.”
The shock was plain on Logan’s face. “What? Why?”
“A lot of reasons,” Nick answered pensively, then paused, trying to remember them himself. “So I can see for myself that he’s not really some fire-breathin’ dragon, that he’s just a weak old man. So I can tell him what he did to my mom is really why she’s dyin’ now and that’s on him. So I can hear what it is he’s had to say all these years and prove to myself that it doesn’t mean anything—whatever it is. And that he doesn’t mean anything to me, like I’ve always said.”
Logan squinted at Nick thoughtfully. “Okay… then if you have to, do it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Nick laughed bitterly.
“Hey, Bud,” Logan drawled as he put an arm around Nick’s shoulder. “I know what it is to be scared.”
“I’m not scared of him!” Nick protested vehemently, jerking away from the arm encircling him.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Logan assured him, refusing to let Nick shrug away. “But I think something about seeing him bothers the hell out of you. I don’t know what it is….”
Nick ceased his struggles and leaned back into Logan, whispering, “I’ll be giving him what he wants.”
“And?” When Nick didn’t answer, Logan prodded, “I don’t get it.”
“Growing up, all I ever wanted was to hurt him like he hurt my mom.” Nick clenched his fists in reflexive anger, unwanted memories assaulting him from all sides. “To make him pay,” he bit off. “But I couldn’t.” Nick sighed before continuing in a deceptively calm voice. “One time I tried to get between ’em, and he threw me ’cross the room like a rag doll. Later my mom begged me to never interfere again.”
“So you’ve been tryin’ to punish him by not going to see him all these years?”
“Yeah.” Another bitter laugh escaped from Nick as he admitted, “It sounds almost stupid when you say it out loud.”
“Nah, it’s not stupid. I get it now.” Logan took the beer from his hand and put it on the end table before drawing Nick fully into his arms and then easing them both down into a reclining position. Nick snuggled gratefully into Logan’s embrace, and then he heard him ask, his breath puffing softly into Nick’s hair, “So what’re you gonna do?”
Safe in his lover’s arms, Nick was finally able to say, firmly and unequivocally, “I’m going to go see the son of a bitch.”
Chapter 19:
And the Truth Will Set You Free
…And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.
— John 8:32
EVERY DAY since that fateful session with his therapist, Nick had planned to call up Fayette County Prison and investigate the arrangements for visiting a prisoner. Yet the last weeks of January and every single day of February had slipped by without him doing it. Yes, Nick had many legitimate reasons for the delay—the pace at ACC was as hectic as ever, his mom’s condition continued to worsen to the point where every day might be her last, and there was the bustle and excitement of Logan
buying Dave Acken’s shop and starting his own business. However, Nick was self-aware enough to know, deep down, that all of those things were mere excuses. Even though he hadn’t faltered in his resolve to visit his father at last, he still hadn’t managed to convert that resolution into the reality of seeing Sam Zales in person.
Eric was now at the point of true exasperation, and in their next therapy session, he instructed Nick to pick a cut-off date. “Set a fucking deadline or admit you’re never going to do it,” were his precise words.
“All right,” Nick snapped, his ire matching Eric’s. “I’ll do it next week. I’ll call tomorrow and—oh, shit,“ he exclaimed.
“What?”
“Next week Logan’s sister is coming to visit, and he’s going to—we’re going to tell her.” When Eric continued to regard him with a somewhat jaundiced expression, Nick explained, “About us. You know, being together.”
“How long is she staying?”
“One night.”
“And this grand one-night visit leaves you no time in an entire week for a ninety-minute round trip to Fayette County?” Eric asked archly.
“It isn’t that, it’s…. Well, coming out to your boyfriend’s family is enough excitement for one week, don’t you think?”
“For Logan, yes,” Eric sighed. “For you? I’m not so sure.” He sipped his coffee before asking, “Nick, what’re you really waiting for?” As Nick frowned and ran a hand through his hair, Eric prodded, “Don’t think, just answer. What is it you’re waiting for?”
When he complied with the psychiatrist’s instructions, to his surprise, Nick heard himself blurting, “I’m waiting for my mom to die.” A near-gasp escaped after his candid utterance. “Wow,” he said softly.
“Wow, indeed.” Eric leaned forward, demanding eagerly, “Expound on that immediately—don’t take any time to put your rather impressive defenses back up. Why do you want to wait?”
“I don’t know,” Nick answered honestly.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t know that you do.” When Nick rolled his eyes in response, Eric suggested, “You’re waiting so you can accuse him of her murder—is that it?”
“Maybe.”
“That didn’t sound very convincing. It seems that you might have to give this some thought after all.”
Neither man said anything as a few minutes ticked by. At last, his mind working furiously, Nick drawled, “I guess…. I guess it would be like… like tying up all of the loose ends. Closing the book on that whole chapter of my life, for once and for all, you know?”
“I do know,” Eric agreed. “You like things clearly delineated, all boxed up, neatly squared away. That’s probably one of the reasons that you’re such a master of compartmentalization. But life can’t always work that way.”
Somewhat stung by that observation, Nick protested, “I know that!”
Eric’s wistful smile was almost fatherly as he agreed, “Yes, you know that in the abstract, and I’m sure you recognize it about your clients’ lives. But in your own life, it’s what you always strive for.”
Nick couldn’t find it in him to refute that observation. “Okay, so? So what does that mean for me?”
“It means you need to get past this inclination. Medical school may be a long time behind me, but I can tell you that your mom could die tomorrow, or next month, or the month after that. This delay is blocking you from progressing in your therapy. In this instance, you cannot wait. You need to pick a firm date, pick it now, and stick with it.”
The truth of Eric’s firm pronouncement left Nick with no wriggle room. He gave it some thought, and though his idea was initially nothing but pure sarcasm, the date held a twisted appeal. A wry smile bloomed on his face as Nick proposed, “How about the Ides of March? That’s a nice, auspicious day.”
Eric cocked an eyebrow at Nick and gave a short laugh. “Okay, as long as you promise me no daggers will be involved.”
“No worries, Doc. I’m sure they have metal detectors there.”
A FEW days after Nick’s decision, Logan heard a car pull into the driveway of the house in Observatory Hill. When a quick glance out the front window confirmed that it was indeed his sister’s Nissan Pathfinder, he took a deep breath to settle his nerves and went out onto the porch, trotting down the steps with a show of eagerness he didn’t actually feel. Logan greeted first Daisy and then his niece with a peck on the cheek. He transferred his sister’s overnight bag from her possession to his own, asking, “Did you’ins have any trouble findin’ the place?”
“None at all,” Daisy answered, craning her neck to take in the neighborhood before following her brother up the porch steps. “Your directions were real easy to follow.” She then turned around and addressed her daughter. “You could take that damn iPod thing outta your ears and say hello to your uncle, Lisa. Thank him for putting us up.”
Lisa deigned to remove one earbud and protested, “I did say hi, and he’s not putting me up.” With the merest suggestion of smugness, she added, “I’m spending the night at Carlow.”
“Well, it’s thanks to him that I don’t have to pay for a hotel while you’re doing this slumber party thing at that college.”
“Mo—ther!” Lisa huffed. “It’s an overnight in the dorms, not a ‘slumber party’.” The teenager looked at her uncle, explaining, “It’s to give us an idea of what it will be like next year. You know, living on campus and that.”
“Oh, God,” Daisy addressed her brother. “If she’s this impossible now, I can’t wait to see what a swelled head she’ll have when she’s actually going to college.”
Logan ushered his family into the house, staying determinedly silent as the two women continued to bicker.
“I think your head’s swelled worse than mine,” Lisa accused. “Wasn’t me that told every last person in Elco, Roscoe, and Stockdale about me getting into Carlow.”
“Well, ’scuse me for bein’ proud of my daught—” Daisy suddenly seemed to notice her surroundings and interrupted herself with a startled, “Oh. This is real nice and homey, Logan. When you said you had moved in with your friend, I have to admit I was picturin’ some bare, ugly bachelor pad.”
“Nice, Mom,” Lisa intoned sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell us how you really feel.”
“Oh, you hush. I can say what I want to my little brother, can’t I, Logan?”
As Logan gave his sister a wan smile and answered, “Sure can,” he couldn’t help but wonder if the reverse were true.
Twenty-five minutes later, they had dropped a very happy Lisa off at Carlow University, and Logan directed his sister on how to get through the maze of streets onto the Penn Lincoln Parkway so they could head to the Southside and see his new shop before meeting Nick for an early dinner at The Liberty Grill.
“Good Lord, Logan,” Daisy exclaimed. “Do you fight this kind of traffic every day?”
Logan shrugged off her concern. “Nah. As early in the morning as I head to the shop, it ain’t so bad.”
“Never took you for a city boy. What possessed you to buy this place, anyway?”
“It seemed like—” Logan stopped himself short and amended, “It was the right opportunity. I like the place, it’s the right size, and… and I think I can see my way clear to turning a profit real soon.”
Logan recognized that Daisy had offered him an opening into the matter at hand—the real reason Logan was now living in Pittsburgh—but his plan had been to speak to Daisy in the quiet of his shop, not while his sister was navigating unfamiliar roads. To distract her, he said, “Besides, with Lisa at that city college next fall, ain’t you glad I’m livin’ not too far away?”
“Guess so.” Daisy snorted in apparent amusement. “Maybe she’ll even treat you better ’an she’s been treatin’ me and Chuck.”
“Aw, she seems like a pretty good kid,” Logan demurred.
Daisy’s lips were set in a hard line as she concentrated on the bridge traffic. As soon as they crossed over the Monongahela, she r
elaxed slightly and explained, “Well, she’s gotten awful mouthy lately. As I’m sure you noticed.”
“That seems to be the way of a lotta kids these days.”
“Not your two.”
“Not usually. But I see signs of Krista headin’ that way. Meghan, too, sometimes.”
“Are they takin’ the separation hard?”
“Yeah, kind of,” Logan admitted, wiping his sweaty palms off on his denim-clad knees, his anxiety ratcheting up with each passing mile.
“Logan,” Daisy ventured, in a hesitant yet hopeful tone that let her brother know exactly what was coming next. “Ain’t there no chance that maybe you and Linda could work things—”
“No,” Logan interrupted firmly, wanting to cut this conversation short—for the time being.
“I never would’ve thought Linda was the kind to hold such a grudge.”
“It ain’t her—make a right here, on South 18th street,” Logan directed, deciding he could hold off any further explanation until the frank talk he had planned. By the time the Pathfinder was heading up the steep driveway of his shop, his dread had grown until he felt it as a choking cloud, filling the car and fouling the air until Logan felt lightheaded from the effect. He strove mightily to appear nonchalant as he jumped out to open the garage door and let his sister pull into one of the shop bays.
Fortunately, Daisy seemed so occupied by her inspection of the recently renamed “Crane’s Auto Clinic” that she was oblivious to his display of nerves. After twenty minutes of idle chitchat mainly composed of verbal comparisons of the present place to his shop in Elco, Daisy finally said, “It seems real nice, Lo.” She looked at her brother, who was perched on the edge of the ancient desk he’d inherited from Dave. “Though the location ain’t too convenient. I mean, you sure can’t park any cars on that driveway, can you?”
“Nope,” was the only answer Logan managed, as his mouth had gone dry as dust as soon as he had entered the shop with his sister. Indeed, all of his contributions to the conversation thus far had been mostly monosyllabic.
Dreamspinner Press Year Four Greatest Hits Page 129