“Hey, Doc,” Cindy said, as she made the rounds to refill drinks. “You haven’t been around in months.”
“Been busy,” I answered coldly, not bothering to look up from my glass.
“Yeah? Well I sure hope she was worth it because you look like hell,” she commented before walking away.
I felt like hell. I felt like I left my soul on that doorstep as I walked out of that house, leaving Clare and Maddie forever.
All that was left was numbness, that constant void of nothingness.
“Hey, stranger, long time no see,” a familiar woman’s voice greeted me from behind. I awkwardly swiveled around in my bar stool, seeing double. As my vision cleared, I couldn’t help but grin, stunned by who stood before me.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, gorgeous.”
Chapter Sixteen
Clare
Sitting alone, on the floor in the middle of the family room, reliving the horrid events of the last night, I felt like there wasn’t enough air left in the room. I took another gasping breath, trying to fill my lungs between the echoing sobs, but it wasn’t enough.
Why did he leave me? I didn’t understand.
Would it always feel like this? I made it through Ethan, but I didn’t know how much more my heart could take. As my sobs filled the room, I silently thanked God Maddie’s wasn’t here. Leah had arrived early this morning, after I finally broke down to make the call and told her what had happened. After fifteen minutes of convincing her not to go to Logan’s place to rearrange his anatomy, I asked her to come here and pick up Maddie for the day.
“Don’t tell her. She can’t know yet. It will destroy her,” I whispered in her ear as they walked out the door, slapping on a fake smile as I gave Maddie a hug and waved goodbye. It was a miracle she didn’t notice anything, overjoyed to be spending breakfast with Leah.
And now it was just me.
And the silence. The deafening silence.
I’ve loved you, Clare, you every minute of every day, since the very first day.
Had it been a joke, a sick way to pass the time?
No.
I had felt it and seen it in his eyes when he looked at me, when he brushed his fingers across my skin and trembled as he came deep inside me. Whatever this was, whatever reason he had for leaving me last night had nothing to do with loving me.
Looking around the room, my eyes narrowed in on something spread across the corner chair next to the door, Logan’s jacket. He had left it here in his mad rush out the door. Out of my life. Knowing it would only cause more hurt, but unable to stop myself, I rushed over to the chair like someone in the desert desperate for water. I grabbed the now dry leather in my hands, bringing it to my nose, inhaling the rich spicy smell of Logan. Fresh tears blurred my vision, knowing this was the only thing I had left of the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with.
Knowing I looked ridiculous, but figuring the silence wouldn’t care, I slid the jacket on, letting the scent engulf me. I tried to imagine it was him wrapped around me, holding me tight. Slipping my hands inside the pockets, I wrapped my hands around my body, picturing his hands replacing mine.
My fingers rubbed against a piece of paper that was folded in his pocket, and I pulled it out and read it.
“What is this?” I asked out loud.
I saw lab results, something about a biopsy, and the worst part was Logan’s name at the top.
I’m sorry, Clare. You have no idea how much I wish things were different.
I gasped as everything fell into place. The mysterious phone call at the airport, his distant behavior over the last few weeks ending in his abrupt departure last night.
“Oh my God, no,”
Before the next thought was even formed in my head, I was rushing out the door, needing answers only one person could provide. I don’t remember the drive to Logan’s house, just the overwhelming desire to see him pushing me forward. When I arrived, I jumped out of the car, racing for the front door, ringing the doorbell in desperation. A few seconds passed and then I heard the growing sound of female laughter moving toward the door.
My heart plummeted and I felt sick. He wouldn’t. Would he?
Oh, God. I can’t see this.
Before I could turn and run, the door opened, and I was face to face with a gorgeous brunette. Judging from the long Harvard t-shirt and coffee cup she was carrying, it’s was no secret she’d been there all night. The image of her with Logan in his bed made me want rip out her throat, and wipe that charming grin right off her face. He told me I was the only one he’d ever taken into his bed, and now he was bringing bar trash home.
“I’m sorry, I must have the wrong house. Sorry to bother you,” I blabbered, slowly backing away from the door. It was the best thing I could come up with. Lame yes, but I hoped it would get me out of there faster so I can go back to my hole and die. If I stayed any longer, Logan might see me. Seeing the two of them together would only confirm the awful picture I had swimming in my head.
“Are you Clare?” she asked.
Why would the bar trash know my name?
“Um, yes. And you are?” I asked, rudely.
“Oh God! What you must be thinking! I’m so sorry! I’m Melanie,” she said brightly.
“Logan’s ex-wife Melanie?” I was not impressed. Her introduction was so not helping.
“Yes. Oh! And I’m here with my husband. With whom I’m expecting a child....and love very much!” she exclaimed, resting her hand on her belly. Now that I looked beyond her face, and was not willing her to die, I noticed the swell of her stomach.
“Sorry. Should have included that part in the beginning,” she added.
“Come on, why don’t you join me for some coffee? It’s decaf, but if you close your eyes and pretend, you can almost taste the caffeine,” she winked before leading the way inside.
“Is he here?” I asked quietly, following her to the kitchen.
“No, Colin came by about an hour ago and picked him up. Something about sobering him up and then kicking his ass,” she answered as she moved about the kitchen, grabbing another mug of hot coffee and handing it to me.
“Logan didn’t tell me you were coming to visit,” I said, making myself comfortable at the counter, unsure how to continue this awkward conversation.
“Oh, he didn’t know. Colin called us. He said something was wrong with Logan and he didn’t know what to do. He thought Logan was about to do something stupid. So we can down to intervene.”
Uh, okay.
“No offense, but when was the last time you even spoke to Logan,” I asked, knowing I was being kind of rude.
“No offense taken. And it’s been awhile. But he needed help, and I will always be here for him. Whether he wants it or not.”
Like Colin said, sometimes Logan needed a kick in the ass.
“He and I were completely wrong for each other. I was in love a man who didn’t love me, and Logan was in love with the idea of love. It was doomed from the start. But the man I saw last night, he was a wreck. And the only thing that can cause that type of agony is love.”
“Then why did he do it? Why did he leave me?” I asked bitterly, the hours spent in tears weighing heavily on my mind.
“That’s something only he can tell you.”
“Did you really love him?” I asked, unsure why I was asking, but this woman had once loved Logan and I guess I felt we had some weird kinship. God knows I wasn’t going talk about how great Logan was in the sack.
“Yes, as much as I could. How much can you love someone who doesn’t love you?” she replied.
“You knew?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
Shocked, I asked “Then why...?”
“Did I marry him?”
I nodded, waiting for her to continue.
“I was young and he was my first love. In my mind, I thought I could make him love me. That, eventually, over time, the love would grow. But it doesn’t work that way. Love ca
n’t be forced.”
“And then came Gabe,” I guessed.
“Yes.” she said with a wistful smile. “I had a crush on him in school, but he’d always been seeing someone else. When he moved to New York and asked me to help with his practice, I gladly said yes. It was innocent at first, but eventually we gave in, letting our passion take over.”
She shook her head, her face lined with regret. “It was so wrong, what we did to Logan,” she said quietly.
“He doesn’t blame you, Melanie,” I said reassuringly.
“It still doesn’t make it right. I took a vow. I made a promise.”
“And now you can ask for forgiveness,” I told her, joining our hands, as a tear trickled down her cheek.
“I don’t deserve it,” she whispered, as her tears fell.
“You have it,” Logan’s voice said softly, causing my heart to flutter as he stood at the entrance of the kitchen. Another man, Gabe I guessed, trailed behind. Logan’s hair was a disheveled mess, and he had dark bags under his eyes. But he was most beautiful sight I had ever seen.
His eyes briefly connected with mine before walking to Melanie to pull her into a tight hug.
“You have nothing to apologize for, we both made mistakes,” he assured her, as she sobbed in his arms. They stayed like that for some time, and I let them have their moment. They both needed to heal and move on.
Eventually Melanie pulled away to wipe the tears from her eyes and looked up at Logan.
“You’re a good man, Logan. You deserve happiness,” she said.
Kissing him on the cheek, she turned to me, gave me a quick hug and then walked out with her husband, giving us privacy.
With his back still turned, he said, “She told you.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, she didn’t. She didn’t have to. You did,” I said.
He turned, confusion scattered all over his worn face as I held up the test results to him.
Understanding quickly set in, and he nodded, saying, “My jacket.”
I set the test results down on the counter and said, “Although, I don’t understand half of the stuff on this paper. Are you sick?”
Time seemed to go by slowly as I waited for his answer.
“I have cancer,” he finally said.
“No....no,” I wailed in disbelief.
Deja vu hit me hard, and I was suddenly in two different places at once, reliving the moment when Ethan told me the same exact thing. It couldn’t possibly happen twice.
It can’t be true.
Violently shaking my head in disbelief, I said, “But you’re so healthy. Maybe there’s some sort of mistake. We should call the hospital. Make them run the tests again.”
I ran to the phone, intent on doing just that, but Logan caught me before I was able to lift it off the cradle.
“The test results are correct, Clare. I have a form of lymphoma, Hodgkin's disease. Very easy to miss, since the symptoms are so slight. Sometimes non-existent for many patients.”
No, dear God no.
“Ethan has a rare form of brain cancer”, the doctor said “It’s why it was missed on the CT. We’re so sorry, Clare.”
The floor rushed up, and the room spun as I felt Logan’s solid arms wrap around my waist.
“It’s okay, Clare. Breathe,” he said, brushing the hair out of my face as he tried to calm me.
“No, it’s not okay Logan. It’s not okay.”
It would never be okay. How could fate be so cruel?
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,”
“So, you broke up with me instead?” I snapped, anger replacing fear, flooding my system.
“I wanted to save you the pain of having to go through this again. I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”
“How dare you make that decision for me? What gives you the right?” I seethed.
“Do you really want to go back to that hospital? Sit in the waiting room while I go through chemo treatments, give blood samples, and wait for test results? Can you honestly tell me that your heart can take that again, Clare?” he asked, his words full of emotion.
His words brought back every memory of Ethan’s sickness crashing back, watching my strong husband turn into nothing short of a weak child. It was a horrid experience no person should ever have to endure.
“It’s not your decision to make,” I whispered.
“No? I’ve been agonizing over this for weeks while I waited for those results. How would I tell you? Would you stay? I’ve seen the pain in your eyes, the grief you still endure over Ethan’s death. How could I ask you to stand by my side, knowing it could all have the same result?”
“You don’t think I’m strong enough?” I asked.
“I think you’re strong enough for anything. But how can I ask you to willingly suffer?” he admitted, his voice filled with regret and longing.
“But I love you,” I said softly.
“But for how long? Did you love Ethan until the very end, with all your heart?”
My heart skipped a beat, its pacing quickening, as my breath became irregular.
“What did you just say? Of course I did! How dare you!” I snarled.
“Did you really? You’d spent all that time caring for him, raising Maddie practically by yourself, and after everything, he was still dying.”
“It wasn’t his fault.” I whispered.
“But it didn’t change anything. He was still leaving you. How did that make you feel, Clare?” he demanded. I felt anger welling up in my veins, and the words erupted from my mouth before I could stop them.
“I HATED HIM!” I screamed, “Is that what you wanted to hear? I hated him for leaving me! I hated him for abandoning me and Maddie.”
Raw, angry tears splashed down my cheeks as he pulled me into his arms, and the sobs continued to rake through my body. With every sob, I felt like I was purging the soul-sucking secret from my body, like a dark weight had been lifted off my chest.
I had just uttered my darkest shame, my most unforgivable sin and I felt like I could breathe for the first time in three years. In my darkest moments, as I watched my husband, frail and sick, dying before me, I hated him. It was sick and wrong, and I could never forgive myself for it. He was the most selfless person in the world, and I sat there angry at him for something he couldn’t control.
“Shhh, Clare. Baby, it’s okay,” Logan soothed, running his hands through my hair and we held each other on the floor of his kitchen.
“No, it’s horrible.” I sobbed, “What kind of person am I?”
“You were losing the man you loved, Clare,” he said.
“It’s no excuse.”
“There’s no ‘how-to’ guide for death, Clare. You were faced with unimaginable circumstances and you faced them with so much strength and courage. Don’t carry around this burden,” he told me.
I let him hold me, feeling the security his arms gave, afraid I’d never know this feeling again.
“So where do we go from here?” I asked hesitantly.
He pulled back slightly so that I could see his face, still rough and unshaven from the night before.
“I still can’t ask you do this Clare, but it’s your decision. I understand that now,” he acknowledged.
“But,” he continued, “I want you to think about it, long and hard. It can’t be rash decision. I want you to take time, remember Ethan and everything the two of you went through, and decide if you can do it again.”
“Logan, I don’t...”
“Yes, you do. Please Clare. For me, give it some time. If you say yes, I want to know it’s for me, and not out of guilt, honor or a split-second decision. Those emotions you just felt. I need you to remember all of them. Every heart crushing moment. And then I need you to decide if you can go through it again, if that is where this road may lead us.”
Nodding, I started to pull away, knowing there was nothing else to say, but I needed one thing before I went.
“Logan, can you do me one favor
?”
“Anything,” he vowed.
“Kiss me.”
“Always,” he answered, before pulling me back into a fierce kiss, full of desperation, passion and fire. It was the type of kiss that left you breathless, permanently altered, and stayed with you for the rest of your life. Slowly I pulled away, taking one last look into his beautiful blue eyes before I left, the fate of my future before me.
Logan
“So, you just let her go?” Gabe asked hesitantly as he entered the living room.
I didn’t bother looking up, continuing to strum my fingers on the strings of the guitar. The melody changed haphazardly from one song to the next, mimicking my thoughts.
A complete clusterfuck of chaos.
“Yup,” I said.
“You’re not going to run after her? Fight for her?” he inquired, settling himself on the sofa opposite from me.
“Nope. This is something she’s got to figure out.”
“And you really broke up with her, hoping she wouldn’t find out?”
It had been a dumbass move, I’ll admit to that.
“I was trying to protect her,” I explained as I plucked out the notes to “I Gave You All” by Mumford and Sons, before switching to something by Oasis, which was a little less depressing. Apparently, I was in a British mood tonight.
“Man, a little heads up, woman hate when you make decisions for them.”
“The ball’s in her court now,” I muttered.
“Oh, that’s good. Right? I mean, she’ll come back?”
God, I hoped so. I’d resigned myself to a life without her. My booze and I would live a very miserable life together, in hell, and that would be that. But when I walked in my door today, and saw her in the kitchen, all I wanted to do was fall at her feet and beg forgiveness. When she became so angry at me for making such a crucial decision without her, I let myself hope that she would follow me, no matter where life may lead us. But I couldn’t chance it. It had to be real. I couldn’t be a constant reminder of Ethan’s death. To win her back now, and lose her all over again when she decided it was too hard? It would end me.
Exposed: An Anthology Page 45