Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela (35 page)

―Yeah, I guess so.‖

―How long?‖

Unwillingly, Logan offered up the truth. ―Long time. Since before

I married Linda.‖

―God, that must have been exhausting. There must be some relief

mixed in with whatever misgivings you have about coming out, yes?‖

Logan gave it some thought but couldn‘t find any relief lurking in

his heart. ―If there is, it‘s hidin‘ from me better than the other stuff ever

did.‖

―Have you thought about what you‘re going to tell Linda?‖

―Yeah.‖ Which wasn‘t exactly a lie. Logan had thought about it,

he just hadn‘t come up with anything. ―Sure ain‘t looking forward to

it.‖

Trudy issued an encouraging smile as she leaned forward, briskly

offering, ―How can I help?‖

―I don‘t think you can.‖

―That‘s not true. There must be something I can do. Perhaps we

could try some roleplay?‖

Logan was fairly sure Trudy wasn‘t propositioning him—

especially after recent revelations—but he wasn‘t clear on what she

was offering. ―Try what?‖

Judging by the sparkle in her brown eyes, she was now definitely

amused. ―You pretend I‘m Linda and tell me what you‘re going to tell

her. And I‘ll respond as if I were your wife.‖

It seemed to Logan that shrinks never ran out of crazy-ass ideas.

He shook his head dismissively, protesting, ―But you don‘t know what

she‘s gonna say or how she‘s gonna act. How‘re you gonna play her?‖

―Oh, we‘ll try a number of different scenarios—anger, tears,

pleading, accusations….‖

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

215

Now it seemed clear to Logan that what Trudy was offering him

was basically an hour of hell—on steroids. ―Ma‘am, I can‘t…. That

ain‘t gonna work for me.‖

Though she was clearly crestfallen, Trudy soon put her

professional demeanor back on and said, ―All right, it‘s up to you. But

we still have an hour here and two more weeks of court-ordered

therapy. The question remains: how can I help?‖

The ensuing silence stretched out for several dozen ticks of the

clock before Logan finally screwed up his courage and told the truth. ―I

think I‘d like to talk about Daisy.‖

―Your sister?‖

―Yeah. There was somethin‘…. See, she kinda forced me to cover

up for my brother over somethin‘, but I don‘t really wanta talk about

what. What I wanta talk about is how I felt about her askin‘…. Can we

do it that way?‖

―You know we operate under the rule of doctor-patient

confidentiality here, Logan. You don‘t have to be afraid—‖

―It ain‘t that,‖ Logan explained, failing to keep the exasperation

from his voice. ―I just don‘t wanta talk about it. Okay?‖

Trudy‘s brow furrowed, but after a few moments of

consideration, she said, ―Okay. If that‘s what you need.‖ Logan felt

some of the tension leave his shoulders as his counselor encouraged,

―So, go ahead. Tell me about your sister.‖

When Logan walked out of Trudy‘s downtown office forty

minutes later, some of his burden had been lifted. Not by a miracle of

psychiatry or self-analysis, not by any epiphany, but by having a simple

plan of action. Trudy had readily approved of his plan to talk to Daisy

when he took the Thunderbird to Elco to get it painted. She had even

done her best to convince Logan that it was a good idea to confront

both Linda and Daisy immediately.

Of course, her ―rip the Band-Aid off‖ analogy hadn‘t been his

favorite pep talk ever, and he still thought putting off the trip to his

hometown for a bit would be best for him. After all, neither Daisy nor

the car was going anywhere. What was the rush?

216

Felicia Watson

LOGAN had expected to feel nervous—and God knew he was—but the

dread that clawed at his nerves as he walked towards his old apartment

building on Wednesday night was an unwelcome surprise. Linda had

definitely been suspicious on the phone that morning, asking several

times why they weren‘t meeting at Dr. Gerard‘s office like before. He‘d

dodged the question as much as possible, and Linda had finally given

up and acquiesced to a private seven thirty p.m. get-together.

Though it was approaching quarter to eight, his feet seemed made

of lead as Logan slowly climbed the stairs. Still, no matter how much

he dawdled, the inevitable could only be delayed for so long, and he

soon found himself perched uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa.

Logan took a deep breath while he watched a grim-faced Linda set a

cup of coffee in front of him. She seemed unfazed by a loudly purring

Boots, who was weaving in and out between her legs.

Linda settled in a chair across from the couch and looked at him

expectantly. For lack of a better start, he asked, ―How long will Krista

and Meghan be at Girls Scouts?‖

―Debbie‘s mom said somethin‘ about goin‘ for ice cream after, so

they should be a while. I don‘t expect to see ‘em ‘til after nine.‖

―Who‘s this Debbie?‖

―She‘s a girl in Meghan‘s class who‘s in Scouts with them. Her

mom, Alison, has been takin‘ all of the girls to their meetings since

school started.‖ Linda sipped her own coffee and shot Logan a piercing

glance. ―But I know you didn‘t come here to talk about Debbie or Girl

Scouts, so why don‘t you just give me the bad news?‖

Logan was momentarily stunned into silence. Linda sure had

learned to speak her mind since they‘d split up. ―What makes you think

I got bad news?‖

A slightly shrill laugh emanated from her. ―I‘m psychic, don‘t

you know? Logan, a man don‘t arrange for a private talk like this

unless he‘s got bad news up his sleeve, so go ahead and spill it.‖

―All right,‖ Logan sighed. ―Thing is, Linda….‖ That was exactly

where he‘d gotten stuck every time he‘d practiced this speech in his

head.
Guess I should’ve done that play-acting thing with Trudy.
Linda

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

217

was staring at him through narrowed eyes, and Logan made a split-

second decision to withhold any but the most basic information until a

later date. Much later—if ―never‖ could be called later. He kept his

gaze fixed on the coffee table and said, ―Thing is… I don‘t think it‘s

gonna work. You and me gettin‘ back together, I mean.‖ Logan peered

up at Linda to find her glowering at him.

He braced for the worst, but she simply sighed sadly before

whispering, ―Yeah… that‘s what I figured. Carol—my counselor—

warned me ‘bout this.‖

―About what?‖

―About you bolting if I started sayin‘ right out what I wanted and

needed from you in our marriage. She said most abusive spouses can‘t

take that.‖

―That ain‘t…. Jesus Christ, Linda, I ain‘t like that, and you know

it.‖

―You ain‘t? Then what the hell is this about?‖

―I just can see now that….‖ Logan paused, searching for words

that would explain without saying too much. Finally, he avowed firmly,

―That you‘re better off without me. We was never right for each other.‖

Linda folded her arms and sullenly suggested, ―Meaning I was

never pretty enough for you.‖

―What? That‘s the stupides—that‘s crazy.‖

―Is it? I know everybody back in Elco used ta wonder how mousy

little Linda Strickland ever caught a hunk like Logan Crane—‘til Krista

was born, then I guess they all counted up real quick and figured it

out.‖

―Krista wasn‘t the only—‖

Linda was having none of Logan‘s protestations and steamrolled

over his objections. ―But I ain‘t that drab little Linda no more. Guess

it‘d surprise you to know how many guys give me the eye these days.

Go ahead and leave, Logan. Find another little mouse who won‘t ask

you for any effort or consideration, but I ain‘t gonna sit on the shelf for

long.‖

―Well, good for you,‖ Logan sneered.

218

Felicia Watson

―What‘s that mean?‖ Linda looked at him appraisingly. ―Seems

like you don‘t even really care. You‘re already plannin‘ on replacin‘

me double-quick, aren‘t you?‖ Logan failed to keep the guilt from

slashing across his face, causing his wife to ask with dawning

suspicion, ―Or have you done it already?‖ When he didn‘t answer, her

voice rose as she challenged, ―Have you?‖

It took some effort, but Logan managed to refrain from squirming

as he rumbled, ―Linda, calm down—‖

―Oh, I‘m plenty calm, you cheating son of a bitch,‖ she barked.

―Who is she?‖ Tears were welling as Linda jumped to her feet and

faced him over the coffee table. ―Some little teenage slut you picked up

in a bar? Does she know what you did—‖

―Will you give me a fucking break?‖ Logan shouted. ―I ain‘t

hooked up with any teenage slut.‖ He did his best to avoid meeting her

accusing stare and watched the cat slink quickly from the room,

obviously unhappy with the crackling tension in the air.

―Right. So, she ain‘t a teenager, just a—‖

Grimly attempting to salvage his plan, Logan defiantly asserted,

―There ain‘t no ‗she‘.‖

Linda stood in silence, gulping air and studying him intently. The

faint glow of hope seeping through her anger almost broke him. ―God,

I‘m sorry. Guess I really flew off the handle.‖ She flopped back down

in her chair and hid her head in her hands. Though it was muffled,

Logan still heard her say, ―It almost felt good to have somethin‘

concrete to blame.‖

The knowledge that, without the whole truth, Linda might blame

herself pierced Logan so badly the pain felt almost physical. Though

some part of his mind was screaming ―no,‖ he still forced himself to

woodenly declare, ―There is somethin‘ concrete to blame.‖

―What?‖ Linda brushed a blonde lock out her eyes, saying, ―Me?

Me wantin‘ more out of this marriage than—‖

―No. It ain‘t that, it‘s….‖ Logan ran out of steam, wondering how

he could possibly say those words. He took one more look at his wife‘s

tear-stained face and started again. ―There is someone else.‖

Bitterly, she spat out, ―You lied to me.‖

Where the Allegheny Meets the Monongahela

219

―No, I didn‘t,‖ he said tiredly, crossing his arms tightly against

his chest. ―There ain‘t no she because… because it‘s….‖ His gaze fell

briefly to the carpet as he quietly finished, ―It‘s a he.‖ Time seemed to

freeze for Logan with his admission hanging in the air while Linda

stared at him incredulously for what seemed like hours.

When she spoke at last, her pleading eyes and strangled cry of

―What the hell does that mean?‖ practically begged him to explain it

away. He saw no need for any response; the words would have to stand.

―Are you tryin‘ to tell me that you‘re fucking a guy? My husband

of twelve years is… gay?‖ Wild-eyed, Linda waited for an answer, but

when Logan solemnly nodded, she leaped up, saying, ―I can‘t sit here

and listen to this shit!‖ She moved towards the hallway, gasping, ―Oh

my God… oh my God… I can‘t believe it.‖

Logan rocketed up and blocked her way before she could leave

the room, pleading, ―Linda, I‘m sorry. Ya gotta know, I didn‘t wanta

hurt you—‖

He reached out a hand to her shoulder, but she slapped him away,

snarling, ―Don‘t! Don‘t you dare touch me.‖

Logan stoically bore the weak punch she landed on his arm before

drawing his sobbing wife into his embrace. He felt there was nothing he

could do except let her cry, so he led her back to the couch and sat

awkwardly beside her until the tears subsided. When she was finally

hiccupping with her head thrown back against the couch, Logan

offered, ―Can I get you somethin‘?‖

Linda turned to stare at him for an uncomfortable stretch of time

before answering, ―Like what? Twelve years of my life back?‖ When

he shifted his gaze to the wall, she said, ―Forget it. I sure could use a

beer, though.‖

Logan left to fulfill her request, whispering, ―Me, too.‖

He came back with two IC Lights moments later and handed one

to Linda. After a long swallow, she looked him in the eye and asked

evenly, ―It‘s true, huh? You‘re not makin‘ this up?‖

After gulping some of his own beer, Logan answered, ―Yeah, it‘s

true.‖

220

Felicia Watson

―I‘ll be damned.‖ Linda shook her head and put her beer to her

lips, muttering, ―I sure didn‘t see that one coming.‖ She cocked her

head at Logan. ―You ain‘t nothin‘ like… you know… what you see on

TV and all.‖

―Nope,‖ Logan answered shortly, hoping to keep this calmer

version of Linda around as long as possible.

Another sip of beer fortified Linda enough to ask, ―So what, you

just figured this out recently?‖