Tailspin (Better Than You)

by Raquel Valldeperas

  It all happens so quickly; Emily looks up from her phone, sees me standing in the hallway with a shotgun in my hand, drops her phone and screams as it shatters into what sounds like a million pieces.

  “Jesus Christ Em!” I yell as I lower the shotgun, place it against the wall and run the last few feet to her.

  She’s got her hands over her heart, clutching her chest as if to keep it inside. “What the hell, Nathan?” she screams.

  When I reach her, she places her hands against my chest and shoves- hard- but I barely go anywhere. Grabbing her hands, I stop her from pushing me again. “Em, stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t- What are you doing home? It’s the middle of the day!”

  She pulls her hands out of mine. “My class got cancelled. Jesus, Nathan! Why the hell do you have a shotgun?”

  Taking a deep breath, I step back, run my hands through my hair. Think. “I didn’t know who it was. I thought…”

  “You thought what, Nathan? Who did you think it was?” Emily steps forward and in a softer voice, asks, “What’s going on?”

  I sigh. Where do I even start? “A lot. Let’s grab Joshua out of school and talk about it on the way to the gun range.”

  Much to her credit, Emily doesn’t ask any questions. She picks up her phone, gives me a dirty look, throws it in her purse and follows me out the door. Joshua, on the other hand, is a completely different story. As soon as he’s in the car, he’s firing off questions without taking a breath.

  “What’s going on? What happened? Is everything okay? Why did you take me out early?”

  This is probably the most I’ve heard him speak at once in a long time, and I’m tempted to let it continue. He’s animated, sitting forward between the front seats and swinging his head from side to side while asking his questions; a normal, pesky thirteen year old boy.

  “Go ahead, Nathan. Tell him where we’re going.” Emily smiles at Joshua, who whips his head around to face me. Even though my eyes are firmly on the road, I know that both of them are staring at me, Emily with a smug smile and Joshua with wide eyes.

  “First of all, J, sit back and buckle up.” God, I sound like my dad. “We’re going to the shooting range.”

  “WHAT!” Joshua leans forward again, practically screaming in my ear. “THE SHOOTING RANGE! ARE YOU SERIOUS!”

  All of his questions are said in a way that doesn’t sound like questions. “J, again- sit back.” I glance in the rearview mirror as he flops back into the seat. Before he can open his mouth to ask yet another question, I cut him off. “I’m going to teach you guys how to shoot. For protection. But, and this is the only time I am ever going to say it, that doesn’t mean you can ever, ever, touch the guns in the house.”

  “But what if we need them?” Joshua asks smartly. Emily snorts.

  Glancing over at her, I say, “This isn’t funny. If you ever need them, you better be ready to kill someone.”

  Emily snaps her head towards me. “Nathan, you can’t say that in front of Joshua.”

  “This is serious, Em. I pray to God that you will never need to touch a gun outside of the range but if it ever comes down to it, I want you to be prepared.”

  There’s silence, and then Joshua’s small voice. “You’ll be there to protect us, right Nathan?”

  My hands clench the steering wheel. I want to tell him that I won’t always be there, that something could happen to me and he’ll need to know how to protect himself, but I don’t want him to understand that truth just yet. Who knows; maybe he already does, but I can’t solidify it right now. “Yes, Joshua. I will always be there. Always.”

  ~~

  “That was awesome,” Joshua says, jumping up and down beside me as I dig in my pocket for the car keys. “I wasn’t even scared. I could totally shoot someone.”

  “You’re such a liar. I saw your arms shaking. And anyway, shooting at a paper person is way different than shooting at a real person. A real person can shoot back.”

  I step into the driver seat and into the conversation. “That’s enough, guys. Joshua, don’t talk about shooting people. Got it?”

  “Yep,” Joshua responds, already back to his silent ways.

  “Now what?” Emily asks once the car is on the road.

  I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It’s barely three. It should be enough time to do what I know I shouldn’t do. “I have to get you guys back. I have some errands to run.”

  Emily sighs loud, crosses her arms over her chest. “Of course you do.”

  “Don’t do that, Em. Don’t make it seem like I’m never around.”

  “I’m not making it seem like anything. You’re never around. There’s nothing imaginary about that.”

  The truth is; she’s right. If I’m not at the bar than I’m on duty or at the station. Some nights I’m home for dinner, but mostly I’m not. I get Joshua to school in the mornings and then I don’t get home until after the sun has gone down. “I’m trying, Em. I really am.”

  “I know, Nathan,” is all she says, looking out the window with her arms still crossed over her chest. She doesn’t say bye when I drop them off at home. Neither does Joshua, but I’ve come to expect that from him.

  Instead of backing out of the driveway as soon as their safe inside the house, I sit there and wage an internal battle.

  I shouldn’t go.

  But I have to go.

  No I don’t.

  But I want to.

  The no part of me never wins. I reverse out of the driveway faster than I should and am heading to Brody’s house for what feels like the thirtieth time this week. First, I drive straight by without stopping, only barely slowing down to check for Logan’s car. The second time around, I stop a few houses down, where I have a perfect visual of the house. Surprisingly, the door swings open and Sam and Logan step out in…are those dresses? I’ve never seen Logan in a dress, but as she comes closer, I realize two things. It’s a cover up, sheer and see-through enough to make out the pattern of her bathing suit, and that she’s smiling.

  Sam says something that gets Logan laughing, and the way she tilts her head back, the early afternoon sun splashing through her hair and lighting up her face, has my gut wrenching. Not for the first time, I wish it was me making her smile, making that laugh come out of her mouth and float into the air. Logan says something back to Sam, who pushes her lightly, and then they’re both running to the car. Before I know it, they’re inside and then gone. Just like that. But the few seconds I got to see her, even from a distance and without her knowing, is enough. Knowing that she’s alive and happy, from the looks of it, is enough.

  After I leave Brody’s, I head to the bar. It’s pretty dead, the season having ended recently, but I jump behind the counter and start bartending anyways. Kait yells at me, says I’m stealing their tips, but I just need something to keep me busy. I could go home, eat dinner with Emily and Joshua, maybe play a game of Monopoly, but it’s easier here. No one asks me questions. No one expects anything from me but a well-made drink; sometimes not even that much. Here, the load isn’t so heavy.

  22

  November 3, 2009

  It’s been six months since the last time I saw her.

  Whenever I close my eyes, that’s the way I see her; with the sun in her hair and a smile on her face. After I saw that she was happy, I felt this hole inside of me because I realized that she didn’t need me to be happy or safe. I might have just been making everything worse the entire time. From that day on, I promised myself I would stay away. And I have.

  “Nathan, you paying attention, man?”

  I turn my focus on Crowley, my partner, and shake my head. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  He sighs, rubs his hand over his shaved head. “I was saying-” Radio static interrupts him. “Damn it.”

  “Calling all units. 10-24 at 3465 103rd Street. Medical units already dispatched.”

  Crowley glances at me; grabs the radio. “Copy,” he replies.

  “That’s Logan’s mom’s house,
” I say casually.

  “I know.”

  Nothing else is said about it. Crowley turns on his lights and we drive the rest of the way with the sirens filling in the gaps of our silence.

  When we get to Lena’s house, there’s an ambulance and a coroners van out front. Before the car has even stopped, I’m out and running towards an EMT who’s jogging towards the house with a medical bag in his hand.

  “What’s going on?”

  He glances at me, looks down at the porch to sidestep some rotting wood, and then says, “Young Caucasian female, non-responsive. I’m gunna check her out before we load her up.”

  Young Caucasian female? I trail back as he sprints ahead, into the house where the stench of something dying hits me in the face like a tidal wave. Crowley steps up behind me. “Holy shit. What is that smell?” He cups a hand over his nose.

  “That, officers, is the smell of a decaying body.” We both turn to find the coroner behind us, decked out in a white space looking suit. “If you’ll excuse me,” he says, gesturing to our bodies blocking the door. We step aside and he shimmies through the space between us, careful to jump over the holes and cracks in the wood.

  Crowley gestures with his hand for me to follow. “Ladies first,” he says, his words muffled from covering his nose.

  Instead of replying, I copy the path the coroner just took; step to the right, long step, step to the left, and then I’m finally inside the house. The smell is making my eyes water, triggering gag reflexes in the back of my throat. I hold my breath and try to ignore the fact that the air is now going through my mouth.

  Everything looks the same as it did so many months ago, when I came here looking for Logan. It’s a little dirtier, if that’s at all possible. There’s a dark stain in the carpet by the kitchen. A thick layer of dust covers every empty surface. It’s a total health violation, most likely going to be deemed unlivable once we leave.

  Still holding my breath, I turn left and head towards the bedrooms. There’s commotion coming from the first one, and nothing could have prepared me for what I see when I step in front of the open door.

  Two paramedics are working over a girl lying on the ground, flashing lights in her eyes and checking her pulse. The coroner is hovering over the bed, poking and prodding what I think is a body. He shifts enough to allow me to see more, and sure enough, it’s Lena. As I step inside the room, two things come to light. There’s maggots surrounding Lena’s mouth that is pressed against the pillow, and the girl on the floor is Logan.

  “Logan?” I whisper. I don’t move.

  The paramedic I was speaking to earlier looks up at me. “You know her?” he asks urgently. I nod, and he nods back. “Logan? You with us?” he asks her, gently tipping her head up. Her throat moves, as if she’s swallowing, maybe getting ready to say something, but nothing comes out. I think Crowley steps up behind me, but I’m so lost in this moment that I pay him no attention.

  The other paramedic has his fingers on the base of her throat. “Her pulse is through the roof. What is she on?” he asks his partner, but then he glances at me.

  “I don’t…I have no idea.” I haven’t seen her in six months. She was happy. She was supposed to be okay. Why is she here?

  “Let’s bring her in. Get her checked out,” the other one responds. They slide her body onto a gurney I didn’t see before. “A little bit of help, guys?”

  Crowley and I step behind them and lift the gurney into the air, maneuver it out of the small house and around the rotting porch steps.

  “Start a drip. Nothing else until we know what’s in her system.”

  The paramedics work around her, gathering tools and pricking her skin and filling her up with liquid. She looks dead, pale and thin and not like the Logan I saw six months ago. What happened? I stand there, helplessly watching as they set her up and then start to close the doors.

  My hand shoots out to stop the door. “I’ll ride with her,” I say. I can feel Crowley watching me.

  “Sorry, Officer. Not unless you’re immediate family. You’re welcome to follow behind.”

  Then the doors are closed, the ambulance is pulling away, and Crowley is snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Let’s go, Hawkins. You can drop me by the station.”

  It’s strange how some moments happen so slowly that it seems like the world itself has stopped moving, and then other moments feel like they’ve been put on fast forward. On the way to the station, while Crowley is driving, I close my eyes and replay walking into Lena’s house, seeing what was left of her body, finding Logan. I try to match that Logan with the Logan I saw six months ago and I just can’t seem to find any common thread. It’s the worst I’ve seen her. Even worse than when she was with Danny. I can’t help but wonder if it’s my fault, if maybe she was better off with him than with Sam or Lena or wherever she’s been.

  It’s not that easy, Logan had said to me. Why didn’t I just believe her? Why couldn’t I understand?

  The car comes to a stop, and here we are, in front of the station. Derek Crowley turns in his seat, meets my eyes. “You okay?” he asks sincerely. His eyes, dark as night, stare at me unblinking.

  “I’m fine,” I reply automatically.

  Crowley nods once, steps out of the car and walks into the station without a backwards glance.

  In a rush, I switch seats and peel out of the parking lot, head towards the hospital and hope it’s not too late. Too late for what, I have no idea. The nurse at the front desk offers up Logan’s room number easily. It’s close by, only takes a few seconds of power walking to get there, and then I’m standing in front of an open door, Logan on the inside and me on the outside, the existence of our relationship looking just like this.

  Logan’s eyes are closed, a tube shoved up her nose and a thin gown covering her bony body. The blankets are folded around her waist. I step in quietly, pull the blanket up a bit higher and sigh with relief when she doesn’t stir. As long as she’s asleep, I can pretend that it’s okay that I’m here. As if I’m a concerned boyfriend instead of what she told me I am to her; nothing.

  I walk over to the window and stare out at the pathetic view; the top of the next building and a gray, cloudy sky. Even though the air inside feels cold, I’m sweating through my uniform. Grabbing the baseball cap off of my head, I turn back towards Logan and watch as her breath pumps in and out of her chest. Even in sleep she looks lost.

  The clock on the wall ticks as the seconds and minutes and hours pass by. Eventually I find a chair and silently scoot it underneath the window. The room begins to change color as the sun sets. I stay seated. I send a text to Emily and let her know I won’t be home. I watch as the sky darkens and the starless night passes by. Sometime in the early morning, a nurse comes in and checks Logan’s vitals, glances at me between checking her pulse.

  “They’re going to insist she stays,” she says, gently pushing a piece of hair behind Logan’s ear.

  “I figured as much.”

  “Will you convince her to?” She cocks her head to the side, folds her hands in front of her. I’d say she’s in her late thirties, early forties. There’s something motherly and nurturing about her. Maybe it’s because she has a daughter of her own. Or maybe it’s because she’s a nurse.

  “I won’t push it.” I don’t know what’s good for Logan anymore. I don’t know that I ever did.

  “Sometimes people need a little bit of a push.” She pats Logan’s hand and then walks away, her muted pink scrubs swishing on the way out.

  Not even five minutes later, Logan’s breathing accelerates, the machine next to her beeping a faster rhythm. Then her eyes open and they’re wide and confused. Her hands reach up to the tube stuck deep into her nose and start to pull.

  “Nurse!” I yell, and a few of the ladies outside at the desk look in but make no move towards us. “Woah, Lo.” I grab her hands, try to pull them away from her face. “Stop pulling at it like that. The nurse is on her way.”

  A different nurse
from before, this one with grey hair and yellow scrubs, jogs into the room. “Hold on, dear. It’s much easier if you let me do it.” She grabs the tube and I step back, watch as she carefully tugs it out of Logan’s nose. She squirms a bit, her wide, honey eyes trained on the nurse’s face. “Be still, dear. It doesn’t do to fuss like that.”

  I want to reach out and grab Logan’s hand, assure her that I’m here and everything will be okay, but I know she wouldn’t take it. Once the tube is out, the nurse places it on a little cart and turns back to Logan. “There you go. Do you need to pee? Are you hungry?”

  Logan’s throat moves like a wave and then she speaks. “Just a little thirsty.”

  It punches me in the chest, the sound of her voice. After all of this time, I’m pissed to admit that I’ve forgotten what it sounds like. Raspy but sweet. Weak but sure. The nurse leaves the room and then Logan looks up at the ceiling, moisture gathering in her eyes. She doesn’t know I’m here. To announce myself, I clear my throat. Her head snaps to the side, surprise and anger covering her features.

  “Lo.” I take a step forward, watch as her eyes shift over my face, my hair, my uniform, my hands. Maybe I look different. I know she does.

  “What are you doing here, Nathan?” It’s not a question, it’s an accusation.

  “I was on duty when your call came in. I just wanted to make sure you were okay…” Her eyes burn into me, too much to take, so I drop my head to the floor.

  “I’m fine,” she says, but her voice shakes.

  “Where are you staying these days?” As soon as I ask the question, I realize that I don’t really want to know. It’s better if I don’t.

  “With a friend.”

  “Would this friend’s name happy to be Danny?” I don’t know why I’m pushing this.

  “No.” Her answer says more than just the one word. It says it’s none of my business. It says it’s a guy.

  Still looking at the ground, my shoes, the hat in my hands, anywhere but her eyes with their fucking glare, I nod. “That’s good.”