When I wake, it is to a slight rapping on the door as Ronnie enters. Logan is gone, and I’m alone on the bed.
“Time to get up, dear. It’s dinnertime. Sara and I got take out from Gino’s on the way back, and Marcus will be here any minute.”
Ronnie gives me one final appraising look, worry etching her usually vibrant face. She must decide I’m okay as she finally gives me a gentle smile before leaving. As I wash up for dinner, I look myself over in the mirror. The hair is growing on me, not literally… It’s easy to take care of, which is good considering raising my arms too high always sends sharp pain through my side where my ribs are healing. My skin is always pale, but it is nearly drained of all color right now. My eyes have dark circles under them, and I’m more exhausted than any eighteen-year-old should be. Lip gloss does nothing to improve my state, so I give up and slowly make my way downstairs to the dining room.
As I enter, I see I’m the last to arrive, and everyone watches me with sympathetic looks on their faces as I move slowly to my place at the table. I’m directly across from Logan, and he gives me an intimate, warm smile without hesitation or restraint. I can feel the warmth of my cheeks as a sudden blush takes them over but quickly realize no one is paying us much attention.
Marcus and Sara spend the better part of the meal in a heated, albeit good-natured, debate about politics, while Ronnie referees. Sara is a chip off the Ronnie block, which means she is passionate, vibrant, and loud when she wants to be. Marcus is strong willed and level headed. Neither ever gets offended or upset, and you can tell they thoroughly enjoy these sparring matches. Logan is known to go his rounds with his father, too, but on this night he’s very content just watching me.
He does little to hide his attentiveness to me, filling my water glass so I don’t have to get up from the table and grabbing what bowls I need so I don’t have to reach too far. Ronnie is the only one who seems to notice his attention, but he doesn't seem to care at all that she is watching him closely with an intrigued and subtle smile on her face. Instead, his gaze remains on me, waiting patiently for me to meet his eyes whenever I can bear it.
When Marcus and Sara finally call a truce, Marcus asks Logan when he’ll be headed back to Denver. My gaze snaps unwittingly up to Logan’s as he looks back at me with concern. In barely a whisper, he responds. “Tomorrow morning.” But as he sees my face drop instantly, he continues quickly. “I’ll be back in a few weeks, perhaps a month. I have to be back in Detroit soon, so I won’t be away for long.”
He’s looking intently and reassuringly at me when his father asks, “Something interesting going on in Detroit then, I take it; a big case?”
“Something like that.” Logan returns his attention to me. “I’ll talk to you about it soon. Once I know more about it.”
Marcus nods in agreement before letting the conversation drop. We end up playing Scrabble for a couple of hours before Sara finally stands to leave for the night. She’s taking me to my first physical therapy appointment tomorrow, and after confirming when she should pick me up, she gives me a quick kiss on my cheek, elbows Logan in the shoulder, and hollers her good-byes over her shoulder.
Ronnie excuses herself and Marcus for the night, pulling Marcus along with her. Logan and I are finally left alone again, and my body is suddenly anxious and electrified. We settle in on the sectional in the family room, some obscure drama playing out on the TV. Rather than pulling me into his body as has always been Logan’s custom with me, he moves behind me in the corner of the deep and comfortable sofa, straddling my hips and resting a hand on my waist. He lets me move my body back to his at my own speed before he gently wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck with his mouth. The warmth of his breath on my skin, starved of his attention, sends a quiver through my entire soul.
I’ve discovered I ache terribly by the end of the day, but on this night I could care less. The electricity coursing through my veins staves off the pain better than any painkiller can. I’ve missed this touch and this closeness. I came to depend on it so much when we were together, and when I lost him I was starved of it. Now I can feel his warmth, his firm body against mine, his scent, I’m finally content again. Pain or no pain, I’m complete. But I’m complete in this moment. What about tomorrow morning when he’s gone again? Can I survive another month without him? And then what? Then how long do I have to wait to see him? Does he want to continue this pseudo-relationship in this way indefinitely? Can I do that? Could I ever be happy with that? The first time I ended our relationship, I knew the answer to that question. No! I knew that his loss would kill me and being with him was simply torturing myself, but now after so long away from him, I’m tired of being alone and I just miss him too damn much to fight it. I just want to feel this contentment. But the reality of tomorrow is there whether I want to acknowledge it or not.
These fleeting encounters won’t make him happy any more than they will make me happy. He’ll eventually want a relationship that is truly present in his life, not sporadic. What makes me think he hasn’t already started seeking it out? He’s beautiful, and whether he chooses to attract attention or not, he’s always gotten it. If it hasn’t happened already, it will happen soon enough, and with me half a country away what choice will he make? What choice should he make? Painful stabs of jealously rack my fragile body at the thought of him with someone else. And as my jealousy takes over, the images of another woman in his life start stabbing my heart. I see him longing for her, I see her touching his body, and I see the hungry look in his eyes before he consumes her. It’s as if I’m watching all the many times we’ve been together, but it isn’t me. It is some faceless, nameless woman who is probably far more beautiful than me, and it hurts. Is this what it is supposed to feel like to lose something you hold so dear?
I don’t want to do this to myself tonight. I desperately want to stop this torture before it takes me over. Why can’t I just shut this part of my mind off? I’ve had too much of this pain for the past few months, and I curse myself for allowing it to come between us now. I wallow in it, trying to hide this most unwelcome shift in my mood from Logan, but he always seems to know what I’m feeling. He tightens his hold on me and nuzzles closer to my neck.
He traces the edge of my ear with his nose grazing and tickling my skin before he whispers in my ear, “Why are you suddenly so tense? What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”
Yes! But not from the pain he thinks. I turn slowly to him, unwelcome tears stinging my eyes, and at once he stills as concern consumes him. He grasps my cheeks in his hands, searching my eyes desperately for some sign of what’s going on inside my head, and as the first of my tears spill over, I bury my head in his chest, craving his warmth and his strength.
He won’t let me hide from him, and he pulls me back from his body determined to make me open up. “Don’t push me away, Row. Please. I can’t leave you like this again, running from me, hiding. I know this is hard, but please just hang on… I…” He trails off wanting to say more, but what? Is he afraid he’ll hurt me? Afraid he’ll piss me off? He looks like he’s in as much agony as I am, and when finally he’s recovered from whatever helpless feelings have so evidently taken him over, he takes my cheeks in his hands again, and running his thumb over my lower lip he speaks. “I’ll be back soon. I will see you. I promise.”