Tailspin (Better Than You)

by Raquel Valldeperas

  “I have no idea,” she says quickly. I don’t know if I believe her. “I swear,” she continues. “I like to think it was my dad’s name but I really have no clue. Anyways, it was probably just her way of reminding me every day that she wanted a boy but got a girl instead.”

  “It probably was your dad’s name.”

  “Speaking of names, how did Emily know mine?”

  “She,” I hesitate. I don’t want to freak her out. “Um, well, I told her about you. I mean, about what happened that night. At the party. We’re really close and she knew I was upset so we talked.”

  Logan snorts unexpectedly. “Great. She probably thinks I’m pathetic.”

  I shake my head. “She’s not like that. Judgmental, I mean. She may act catty and superficial sometimes but she’s really not like most girls.”

  She pushes her lips out. It looks like she’s teasing me. It feels like she’s teasing me. “What are most girls like?”

  “Catty, superficial, annoying.” I laugh at the look on her face, but then sober when her smile falls into a frown. If only I could hear her thoughts. If only she’d tell me them.

  “Do you, um, have a girlfriend?” she asks shyly. It surprises me. Not the question, but the way she’s asked it. Like she cares about the answer. As if she’ll be upset if I answer Yes, yes I do. I’m tempted to do just that, to get a reaction out of her, but I don’t want to play games. If and when I get a reaction from her, it’ll be from something entirely different.

  I shake my head, watch a seagull fly by. “No. I was dating this girl Heather for a while, but then the whole thing with my parents happened and things got really hard...” I take a breath and continue. “We ended on good terms. She lives somewhere in Tampa, I think. Engaged and stuff.”

  It’s a minute before she responds, busy pulling her finger through the sand and drawing shapes she crosses out before I can see what they are. “Does that bother you?”

  “It did. At first,” I say honestly. “But now,” I let my eyes roam over the smooth skin of her face, her tangled, windblown hair, her long neck and small shoulders and add, “Not so much.”

  A flicker of a smile crosses her lips, but it’s gone a second after it appears. “That’s good,” she says.

  “Anyways,” I say, changing the suddenly awkward subject. “We should probably get back. I gotta take Joshua to school.”

  “Right. Of course.”

  I stand slowly, unwilling to put this whole morning behind us. It’s the first time where it’s just been us; no bar, no Danny, no interruptions. Even though I don’t know her any better than I did before, something’s shifted. After brushing the sand off my hands, I reach out to help her stand, and she grabs on tightly. By some stroke of luck, bad on her end but good on mine, the sand gives out from underneath her and she slips into my chest. Instinctively, my hands grab her waist and I’m reminded of the way we met, in a position almost identical to this. So much has changed, but the way Logan looks up at me, eyes wide and uncertain but hopeful, is the same. It’s as if she’s waiting for something that neither one of us knows will happen.

  The moment’s gone as suddenly as it happened as she pushes away and smiles a practiced smile at me. “Ready?” she asks, but her voice is shaky, breathy.

  I clear my throat, run my hands through my hair. Slow my racing mind. “Yeah.”

  Once in the car, we don’t speak. It’s not uncomfortable but it’s tense. I can feel her eyes shift over my face every so often, but I don’t turn to meet them. I don’t stop to wonder what she’s thinking. I’m hoping she’ll just ask whatever’s on her mind, because I’d tell her anything right now. But she doesn’t ask any questions, much less say a word. By the time I pull up to the house, we’re strangers again, back to a place between nothing and something.

  “You wanna wait in here while I grab Joshua?” I ask. She hesitates, her eyes flitting between me and the house. There’s something in there she wants. “We’ll just be a minute.”

  “Uh, sure,” she finally agrees. But it hits me that this is a bad idea, bringing her around Joshua. I don’t know how she’ll react to a kid like him. He doesn’t have much of a filter, likes to say weird things to get a reaction out of people. It might be an attention seeking mechanism or it might just be his personality, I’m not sure, but as I open the front door and call his name, I can’t help but worry that Logan will freak out.

  “Joshua, hury up! We’re gunna be late!” I call out after he hasn’t answered. I can hear his footsteps running all over the second floor, like he’s just been sitting around and is finally getting ready. Finally, he bounds down the stairs, his backpack bouncing above his head. It’s almost bigger than him. It makes me smile. I ruffle his hair. “What’s up with your hair, dude?”

  He swats my hand away. “Cut it out, Nathan. I didn’t have time.”

  Pulling him into a headlock, I laugh. “You sound like a girl.”

  “Stop! You’ll make it worse!” he yells with a laugh. I let him go and he shoves me, but his backpack shifts to the side and nearly pulls him with it. It’s probably the funniest thing I have ever seen, but I try not to laugh. I remember how terrible middle school was.

  “Listen,” I say, placing a hand on his small shoulder. He looks up at me with big blue eyes, completely focused and ready for what I have to say. “I have a friend in the car. Her name is Logan and she’s really special to me, so I need you to go easy on her, alright?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he says innocently. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d believe his act. But I do.

  “Seriously, J. She’s really…shy, and she probably won’t take well to you bugging her.”

  “Alright, alright. I’ll play nice.” He smiles this smile at me, and I know he’s just blowing smoke up my ass. I roll my eyes as he walks to the car. Then I start to jog after him to make sure he really doesn’t say anything too crazy. I hear Joshua ask, “Who are you?” as I open the door.

  Logan’s eyes meet mine in a silent plea. “I’m, uh-”

  “Don’t listen to him,” I tell her. “He knows who you are.”

  Joshua’s silent as I back the car out of the driveway, and I’m thinking that maybe that’ll be the end of it. But then he opens his mouth once we’re on the road. “So, Logan. How long will you be staying with us?”

  I glance over at Logan and laugh. I can’t help it, but she looks seriously panicked. “Um, not long. Nathan’s helping me find an apartment,” she says stiffly.

  “She’ll stay as long as she needs to,” I add.

  “Do you know how to cook?” Joshua asks.

  “Yes?” She clears her throat. “I mean, yes. I do.”

  “Do you clean?”

  “Joshua,” I warn, glancing in the mirror at him. “That’s enough.”

  “What? I’m just asking questions,” he argues.

  Surprisingly, Logan responds to his question. “I can clean. I don’t like it much, though.”

  I can hear the smile in Joshua’s voice as he says, “Me either. I hate cleaning, but this guy refuses to take no for an answer.”

  I chuckle at his attitude. “We all do our share, buddy.”

  Logan’s body suddenly stiffens, her shoulders seemingly pinned to the chair and her breathing ragged. I glance at her as she shakes her head, as if trying to clear away a memory. I glance back at Joshua, who’s looking out the window and not at Logan. We’re almost to the school. Just a few more minutes. I don’t want Joshua to see her like this.

  Before the car’s even parked, Joshua’s door is open. “I’ll be here at three,” I yell as the door closes and he takes off, his backpack bouncing along behind him. A million thoughts and memories run through my mind as I watch him climb the stairs leading to the school’s entrance, mostly about how Mom and Dad will never get to see him grow up, how he’ll never hear their voices again or see them smile so lovingly at him. Instead, it’ll be me helping with homework and driving him to soccer practices. I’m the one that he’
s going to look up to and I’m the one he’ll have expectations of. Bringing the car back out onto the road, I can only hope that I’ll be able to meet every single one.

  “I have to run some errands,” I tell Logan, who’s back to being quiet. “You wanna tag along?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” she answers without meeting my eyes. It doesn’t sound fine, but I really do have things to do and I don’t trust her at the house. It’s not like I think she’ll steal things; fuck, I wish that was all it was, but I know that if I leave her alone she’ll inhale or swallow the first thing she can get her hands on. I want to believe that she doesn’t need it. I want to believe that being here with me is enough to keep her satisfied.

  ~~

  It’s been twenty minutes. It’s not a long time, but Logan’s in the car by herself and I can’t see her through the windows. I have this insane fear that I’ll walk outside and won’t find my car; that she’ll have left me to go find what she really wants. Needs. I don’t really know which one it is.

  “How much longer will this take?” I ask the guy on the other side of the desk.

  He glances up, pushes his glasses further down his nose. “Are you in a rush, Mr. Hawkins?”

  His tone of voice annoys me. Is he insinuating I have nothing better to do with my time? If only he knew. “I am, actually. Is there any way we can do this another time?”

  Sighing, he sits back, his bald head casting a glare straight into my eyes. His name plate reads Roger Finkel. What a funny name. “You’ll have to schedule another appointment. This can only be done with me and I’m a very busy man.” He takes his glasses off and begins wiping the lenses with his tie.

  “I don’t mind rescheduling,” I say politely.

  He pulls out his calendar and we figure out another date. Before he can even tell me to have a good day, which I doubt he was planning on, I’m up and walking to the glass sliding doors, already looking for my car before it’s even in sight. When I finally see it, I breath out a sigh of relief. But it’s obvious that Logan isn’t in it. The passenger seat is empty but the car is still on and I’m about to freak out because where the fu-

  And then I see her.

  Logan’s back is to me, her head tilted up at the sky, her shoulders rising and falling in a rhythmic movement. With her hair pulled up the way it is and her head at such an angle, it’s easy to imagine that I’m standing right behind her, my nose pressed into the flesh of her neck, breathing her in, healing her. Suddenly, I find myself walking towards her, hell bent on doing just what I’ve been imagining and wanting and needing all damn day. I’m almost to her, can reach out my arm and touch her, when she turns and walks straight into me, as if I’m not even here. Maybe I was never here; not to her.

  As she’s fidgeting with her shirt, placing a piece of hair behind her ear, anything to keep from looking at me, I ask, “What are you doing?”

  “I got bored,” she says, but I don’t buy it. She’s all over the place, her eyes jumping from here to there, her hands moving and never stopping.

  I could call her out on it, but I don’t. Why? Because I’m scared. Because it’s easier to live in denial. Because, what will happen when I acknowledge the truth out loud? “Sorry that took so long. I had to deal with some house stuff.”

  “It’s fine, really. I just,” she flips a hand in the air, “I needed some fresh air.”

  “Because you were bored,” I say with a challenge.

  “Yeah. I don’t do well sitting still.” As if to confirm this, she shifts from one foot to the other, runs her hands over through her ponytail. I watch every single one of her moments. “What’s next?” she asks. It’s obvious I’m making her nervous.

  “I thought we could grab some lunch.”

  “But we ate breakfast out,” she says quickly. As if realizing this, she adds, more slowly, “Maybe we should just eat back at your house. I can cook us something. You do have food to cook, right?”

  “Yeah, I have food to cook.” But I don’t want to go back to the house. She swallows, her whole throat jumping with the action. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why?” She places her hands on her hips. “That’s not a very flattering question, you know. Do I not look okay?”

  I shake my head, try to backtrack. How did it happen that I’m the one backtracking? “No, you look fine.” Better than fine. “It’s just…” I don’t know how to say what needs to be said, because there’s no doubt that Logan is beautiful. With her creamy skin and thick hair and eyes that pull you in with their darkness. But this is about the way her hands are shaking, or how she keeps licking her cracked lips.

  “Just what?” she asks.

  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  “Yeah, of course.” She doesn’t seem too sure.

  But I can’t lose her.

  Not yet. Not like this. Not until she knows just how much I care about her.

  I smile and say, “Good. Then let’s go back to the house. I’m hungry, and I’m holding you to your word.”

  19

  April 3, 2009

  Logan has become a part of my real life. She’s not just a piece of an assignment, a way in, a connection. She’s so much more, and I can’t help but watch every movement she makes with a sense of guilt. Joshua and Emily have taken her in; have given her a place in their hearts. Somehow, she’s wiggled her way into our lives and I know that I’ll do anything to keep her there.

  I’m ready to quit, to call Chief and tell him it’s over. There have been so many times when I’ve had my fingers over his number, ready to push the send button and seal my decision, but then Logan’s phone will vibrate. She’ll pull it out of her pocket and glance at the screen, sometimes biting her lip in thought and other times rolling her eyes in annoyance. I know it’s Danny. I’m not stupid. I am, however, stubborn and prideful enough to put my own phone away and stay in a position where I can bring Danny down. I’ve convinced myself that doing so will help Logan more than lying might hurt her.

  It’s nights like this, though, that start to change my mind. When Emily, Joshua, Logan and I are all sitting at the table, laughing and eating and we’re a family, that my resolve begins to falter. It may be my imagination, but Logan looks healthier. Happier. As if being here has healed her, at least a little bit. Even so, there are times when I see her disappear, fall back into her mind and the darkness I know is there, despite the fact that she hasn’t shared it with me. It makes it that much harder to leave, to go to Brody’s party’s and dodge the questions in Logan’s eyes. I’m supposed to be going to one tonight, but since tomorrow is the party, the one that should end it all, I stay and watch as Logan laughs at a joke Joshua is telling, let it make me forget about everything I’m supposed to do. It’s making me forget that she has issues that are bigger than me. Pretending they don’t exist is so much easier than trying to solve them.

  Logan’s eyes meet mine from across the table, and instead of looking away, she stares back. I can see the questions, the confusion, but I also see something else, something that should break me down but instead fortifies that resolve to do what’s right. If anyone can save her, it’s me. I may not have been able to save Mom and Dad, but I sure as hell will be the one to save Logan.

  By the time dinner is over, I’ve decided to ditch the party. It’s Friday night, no one is working, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here. “What do you say we watch a movie?” I ask, looking at Joshua.

  “Oh, can we watch that new alien movie?” Joshua asks excitedly.

  I look at Emily. “Is that okay, Em?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Sure. Whatever.”

  “Alright, go order it on the TV.” Before the words are even out of my mouth, Joshua’s running off, followed closely by Emily. And then it’s just Logan and I in a quiet kitchen, the space between us filled with so much more than air. I want to tell her how I feel, how I can’t stand to see her hurting and how I would do anything to take it all away, to make it bette
r. But she’s so distant, unmoving, while it’s all I can do to fight the urge to gather her up in my arms and never let her go. I want to believe that the way she’s looking at me is the permission I’m seeking, but what if I’m wrong? What if I make things worse?

  Just as I reach my hand out, car lights sweep in through the window in the kitchen. A car pulls into the driveway, and thinking it must be Cora, because who else would be here at this time of night, I don’t bother looking through the blinds like I usually would. I don’t even stop to wonder why the door is opening and slamming without a knock. It’s only when I hear the heavy thud of footsteps so unlike Cora’s that I begin to question who’s in my house.

  When my eyes land on Danny’s imposing figure, so much bigger and more menacing than I remembered, the sound of Emily and Joshua fade into the distance. The mask of calm I’m so desperately trying to hold slips away with each second I stare into his cold, determined eyes. It’s only been just that, mere seconds, but the course of this night and possibly my entire life has just shifted, sent into another tailspin as I sit helplessly behind the wheel.

  Danny raises the gun in his left hand, aims it not at me but at Logan’s head, and I know that I’m fucked. He takes slow, measured steps toward us, stopping right beside Logan, so close he could smell her hair. “Playing house, Logan?” he asks, voice smooth as butter.

  The reaction from Logan is immediate, the way her body tenses and her nostrils flare telling me that she’s at once terrified and confused. Maybe even a little bit disappointed that I couldn’t keep this monster away. We got too comfortable. The evil, crooked smile on Danny’s face tells me that he knows this, too.

  Without taking my eyes off of Danny, I call out to Emily, who’s still in the living room, out of sight of the kitchen and oblivious to what’s going on. “Let’s watch that movie on my TV upstairs,” I say.

  “Okay!” she responds. She probably thinks I need time alone with Logan. I’ve seen the way she glances between us, trying to play matchmaker or Dr. Phil or whatever shit it is girls do. She’s told me more than once that she thinks we’re meant to be. If she could see this now, the barrel of a .45 pressed against Logan’s neck, I don’t think she’d think the same.