Smart, Sexy and Secretive (18 page)

I know what my dad thinks.
I want to know what Logan thinks.
What did
you think you of my performance?
I bite my
lower lip.

I’ve never known what
music felt like before, and I know now. Thank you. But I already
knew you were fucking brilliant.

I run over and wrap my arms around
him.

He tips my face up. “No one
has ever done anything like that for me before.”

“
I’d do just about anything
for you.”

My mom finally gets to hug me. “You
should have seen your dad’s face the minute you started to sing. He
had no idea you had that in you. And then he realized the words
were about him. He sobbed through the whole
performance.”

“
I did not sob,” my dad
complains, his voice gruff but playful.

“
Cried?” Paul
suggests.

“
Boohooed?” Matt tosses
in.

“
Wailed like an infant?”
Sam says.

My dad huffs, but he’s not angry. “I’m
just so proud of her!” My heart expands in my chest at his
words.

Logan drops an around my shoulders.
“So am I.”

Paul yells, “I think that’s pretty
much unanimous!”

“
I’m starving,” Sam calls
out. “Can we go get a pie?” He rubs his stomach.

Dad laughs. “The pie is on
me.”

“
Better
make it
pies
,” Paul says. “You’ve obviously never seen these boys
eat.”

We start to the restaurant on foot,
since it’s only a short walk away.

My dad puts his arm around my
shoulders and walks with me. “You really surprised me tonight,” he
says softly.

“
I can tell.” I laugh. But
it’s not a funny topic, not to me.

“
I’m sorry, Em. I should
have heard you play a long time ago. I would have understood why
you have this passion for music. You’re talented.”

I wrap my arm around his waist and
lean into him. “Thanks, Dad.”

Logan and the boys have already
crossed the street, as has my mom. I stoop to tie my shoe, and my
dad stops in the middle of the road. He waits for me.

I hear the screech of the tires before
I even see the car careening in our direction. The ice on the
street is thin and black and hard to see. The car can’t stop. My
dad stands there immobile, frozen in the headlights. The car
swerves, but it’s not enough. My dad is directly in its
path.

The scene freezes in my head, like a
film played in slow motion.

“
Dad!” I call. I run toward
him, but then I look over his shoulder, and I see the moment Logan
makes his decision. His blue eyes meet mine, and he looks directly
into my face as he steps into the path of the oncoming car and
shoves my dad to safety. My dad falls onto the concrete beside me,
and the car hits Logan directly in the knees. He flies over the
hood and rolls into the windshield. The car skids into a parked car
with a screech of its brakes and a furious turn of the wheel. Logan
falls from the hood of the car and lands on the concrete. He lies
there. I watch, paralyzed with fear as I wait for Logan to get up
and shake it off. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t move. And then I see
the blood spreading across his forehead.

I run to Logan and grab the front of
his coat. “Logan!” I scream. “Logan.”

Paul pulls me off Logan and pushes me
into Matt’s waiting arms. I fight, kicking and screaming, until
Matt restrains me with his arms wrapped tightly around me. He won’t
even let me look at Logan. I scratch and kick at him, and he grunts
when I head butt his chin.

“
Stop it,” he
breathes.

He holds me immobile, his strong arms
wrapped around me while he keeps me turned away from the sight of
Paul and Sam working on Logan. They’re giving him mouth-to-mouth. I
can hear Sam counting, and I can hear Paul as he breathes in and
out. It seems like days until the ambulance arrives. They hoist
Logan inside, and I’m left there in the street with Matt holding my
hands behind my back. Paul rides with Logan. Another ambulance is
coming. I can hear the sirens. And that’s when I realize the second
one is for my dad.

I look down. He’s completely
motionless, and my mom has his head in her lap. She’s sobbing and
rubbing his quiet face. I watch, knowing it has to be too late for
my dad. He is as still as Logan. No one was giving him CPR, though.
Not like they were with Logan. The emergency responders load my dad
in the ambulance, and I stand there. I feel dead inside. I don’t
know what to do or where to go. My mom gets in the ambulance, and
they close the doors behind her. This reminds me so much of the
time that Matt was sick, and I had to call the ambulance for him.
They let me ride with him, though. No one left me waiting in the
street not knowing what to do.

Matt and Sam drag me toward a waiting
police car. “Get in,” Matt says as he pushes my head down like you
see the police do on cop shows. He slides in behind me and drops an
arm around my shoulders pulling me into him. He looks down at me,
getting in my face. “You didn’t get hit, did you?” he
asks.

I shake my head. “It wasn’t me. It was
Logan.”

Oh my God. It was Logan. Logan got hit
by the out-of-control car. He rolled over the hood and into
windshield. Then he lay on the cold concrete, unmoving. Pete and
Sam did CPR.

“
He wasn’t breathing,” I
say. I start to shiver.

“
No, he wasn’t.” Matt’s
hand rubs absently along my shoulder.

“
Are you scared?” My voice
is quivering.

“
Terrified,” he
admits.

“
The car was going to hit
my dad.”

“
I know,” he
grunts.

“
Why did he do that?” I
gnaw on my fingernail, tearing at my flesh until I feel
pain.

“
Why does Logan do
anything?”

“
I saw the look on his
face.” Tears roll unheeded down my cheeks.

Matt tips my chin up. “What look?” he
asks.

“
I saw him make the
decision to shove him out of the way.” I can’t believe he did that.
Why would he do that?

“
Mother fucker had better
live,” Matt murmurs. “If he doesn’t, I’m going fucking kill
him.”

The police officer lets us
out at the Emergency Room doors. Matt takes one of my hands and Sam
takes the other. I wish Pete were here.
Shoot! Pete.
“Did anyone call Pete?”
I ask.

“
Pete can’t get phone
calls,” Sam reminds me.

“
You’ll have to go see
him.”

Sam nods.

My mom runs toward me when we walk
into the waiting area. She wraps me in her arms, but I shove her
back. “Where are they?”

“
They’re in the ER. They
said we can’t go back.” She wrings her hands together. “Logan
wasn’t breathing.” She looks into my eyes, her brown eyes looking
for confirmation. Of what, I don’t know.

“
Was Dad?” I
ask.

“
Was Dad what?”

“
Breathing,” I
suggest.

“
Yes, your dad was
breathing.”

The weight doesn’t lift from my chest.
Not at all.

“
But Logan…” she says. “I’m
afraid it’s not good, Emily.”

“
I’m scared,
Mom.”

Paul walks from the back of the
hospital, running his hands through his hair. He tugs on the tips
and then does it again. Matt and Sam approach him, and he shakes
his head. He doesn’t know anything.

“
Why did he do that?” Paul
cries. Then the big guy crumples into a heap on the tiles. Matt
goes down with him, wrapping his arms around him, and Sam squats
down beside them and puts his hand on Paul’s arms. Paul’s body is
wracked with sobs.

I know why he did it. He did it for
me. Did my eyes silently plead with him? Did I somehow ask him
without using my voice to save my dad? He read something in my eyes
that made him do it? Did I beg him? Is this my fault?

Emily

“
I don’t want to be here,”
I whisper to Paul as he leads me into the church. My legs are
shaking. I’m afraid the casket will be open for everyone to view
the body, so I make sure not to look in that direction.

“
I don’t either,” he
whispers back.

“
Ditto,” Matt says from
behind us. We squeeze into the pew and slide down, making room for
Sam. Sam looks lost without Pete. It’s like he’s lost part of who
he is with his brother gone. He’s constantly looking over his
shoulder for his other half. But Pete’s not here. Pete’s still
waiting for arraignment.

Tears fill my eyes when the preacher
starts to talk about the loss of life and the tragedy of losing a
beloved brother, son, and friend. He talks about divine will, the
power of the soul, and the healing hand of faith. I’m not feeling
healed. When will that start? Soon, I hope.

It has been four days since the
accident. Four days to reflect on what could have been, what might
have been. What was. Four days to think about all the ways I should
have lived my life differently. And all the ways he could have
lived his differently, too.

My dad reaches from behind me and
squeezes my shoulder tightly. He’s more likely to touch me now than
he used to be. He’s more likely to show affection and tell me he
loves me. It’s like he realizes everything that has been lost, and
he doesn’t want to miss a day or a word or anything important
again. My mom didn’t come. She’s busy taking care of important
business, she said.

The preacher drones on, and I tune him
out until Matt takes my hand and squeezes it tightly as the casket
is carried from the building. We’re not going to the graveside
service. It’s enough that we’re paying our respects here. We file
out of the church, and I look into a wounded mother’s eyes. “I’m so
sorry for your loss,” I say.

“
Thank you,” she replies.
But it’s by rote. She’s dead behind the eyes, and I wonder if
she’ll ever find that piece of herself that she lost with her son.
Ricardo Santiago was driving the car that night. He was an
eighteen-year-old boy who was on his way home from the library. He
was on the street and didn’t see the black ice that turned the road
into a skating rink. He didn’t see it until he lost control of the
car. He hit Logan dead-on, and the car clipped my dad’s leg. Dad’s
on crutches with a bad sprain, but he’ll heal. Ricardo died on
impact when his car careened into a parked car.

I vaguely remember seeing Ricardo’s
mother at the hospital after the accident. I remember how they told
her about his almost-instant death there in the waiting room. I
remember thinking it could have been us, receiving that news. Our
news didn’t come until hours later. And it wasn’t good.

“
I’m sorry for your loss,”
I say to the next person in line, and I shake his hand. Ricardo’s
entire family is here. He had three brothers and two sisters. His
father is a wealthy attorney in the city. I remember reading that
much in the paper.

Matt and Paul have been shadowing me
ever since this happened. They won’t leave my side. When I sleep,
one of them throws a blanket over me. When I wake up, one of them
reminds me to eat. When I go to the bathroom, one of them stands
outside the bathroom door.

There’s one thing I am very certain
about: my life is not complete without Logan.

Logan

There’s not a place on my body that
doesn’t hurt. I wiggle my toe and try to lift my hand, but I can’t.
I blink my eyes open and stare straight ahead. It hurts too fucking
much to look left or right. Shapes move in front of my face, but
they’re too blurry. I can’t make them out. I close my eyes again
and drift back into the darkness. I welcome it because where there
is darkness there is no pain.

Emily

Someone shakes my arm. “Em,” a soft
voice says. Then more insistently, “Emily!”

I brush the noise away like
cobwebs from my face, but it doesn’t stop.

“
Emily, wake the fuck
up.”

I blink my eyes open to find Matt in
front of me. “He’s awake,” he says. He’s grinning.

I brush my hair back from my forehead.
“What?” I still can’t think.

“
He just moved, Em,” Matt
says. He’s nearly giddy. He pulls the blanket off me and takes my
hand, pulling me to my feet. “Go talk to him. I need to call
Paul.”

The boys have been taking turns
staying with me at the hospital. Only two people can be in the room
at a time, and I won’t leave. Paul, Matt, and Sam don’t seem to
mind. They take turns going home, taking care of Hayley, and one of
them is always with me.

I walk slowly to the edge of the bed
and look down at Logan’s prone form. “He’s not awake,” I say over
my shoulder. But Matt is gone. I look down, and I see the tiniest
flutter of Logan’s lashes. “Logan!” I cry. It’s stupid, I know,
since he can’t hear me.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and
take his hand in mine. I saw his eyelids move. I look down, and his
toe wiggles. His eyes are closed, though, and he’s still. Too
still.