Forty-Two
Forty-Two
When I arrive in the student union, I find Logan chatting intently with a boy I recognize from Tiffany’s criminology course. Even with his back to me, I can still see the two pizza boxes he’s holding in his hands. I was very hungry before he showed up. Now my stomach is so tight that it will be a miracle to get water into it.
“Hey, I’m here.” Logan gives me a radiant smile, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. As though I don’t already feel guilty enough.
“You came!” he exclaims enthusiastically. “Vanessa, this is Mike, Mike, this is Vanessa,” Logan says, looking between me and his friend.
I extend my hand toward Mike to introduce myself and he does the same. He apologizes to me for needing Logan to leave, but I tell him it was no problem.
“Hey, what happened to the roses?” Logan asks, catching me unprepared.
“Y-your roses?” I echo. “Well, I-I wasn’t sure how long you would be and I didn’t want them to wilt, so I asked a friend to take them to her room and put them in a vase.”
“Oh.” He seems pretty confused. “Okay. Well, as you can see, it didn’t take me long. We can go pick them up if you want?”
“No! S-she’s not there right now, she’s out, she’ll give them to me tomorrow.” I want to slap myself for telling so many dumb lies. Luckily, Mike interrupts us, asking Logan something about his car and all talk of roses fades into the background. After a little more back-and-forth, Mike says goodbye and leaves us alone. Logan and I head for his room, which by some strange twist of fate is also located on the fourth floor, on the opposite side of the hallway from Thomas’s.
Inside, the two rooms are also furnished in the same way. Yet somehow it lacks the warm and cozy vibe I felt in Thomas’s room. Although the room is heated by radiators, I still feel cold somehow. Everything feels foreign here. And for some reason that I can’t quite name, I have the oddest feeling that I’m in the wrong place. With the wrong person. What is going on with me? I’m losing it.
I shake my head in an attempt to banish these thoughts. I’m not going to let Thomas’s ridiculous insinuations influence me.
“I didn’t know what toppings you liked, so I got two Margheritas,” he says, taking off his shoes and putting the pizza boxes down on the table.
“That’s fine, don’t worry about it.” I follow him in and smile. Logan goes to the kitchenette and takes some cutlery from the drawer. He returns to the table and cuts the pizzas into slices. I linger in the kitchenette, not really knowing what to do.
“Do you want to watch some TV?”
When I say yes, he takes the remote control and turns on the plasma TV. He grabs his pizza box and sits down on the carpet in front of the TV, where he invites me to join him. Sitting next to him at a safe distance, we watch a rerun of America’s Got Talent and eat our pizzas. Or rather, he eats, while I stare blankly at the TV, trying not to think about Thomas at that damn party, locked in a room with some girl. Or, even worse, with Shana herself. He always comes back.
“Aren’t you eating?” Logan asks after a while, giving me a concerned look.
“Oh, um.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, being very careful not to reveal Thomas’s hickey. “To tell you the truth, I’m not very hungry right now.”
“Do you not like it?”
“No, the pizza is fine, it’s just that…I don’t think I’m feeling very good.”
He frowns. “Are you sick? I can give you something.” He tries to stand up but I grab his hand and pull him back down.
“Don’t worry, that’s not necessary.” I don’t think there is a medication that treats this kind of sickness.
“Okay, do you want to tell me what’s going on with you? You’ve been weird since I got back. Have I screwed something up and not noticed it?” he asks, upset.
“What? No, absolutely not. You…you haven’t done anything wrong.” I use my fork to poke at the pizza crust.
“So what’s going on?”
“Logan…” I put my fork on the pizza box and turn to face him. “Some things happened while you were away.”
“Meaning?” he asks frowning.
I lower my eyes and bite my lip. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I gulp, cover my face with my hands and then finally spit it out: “Before you left, you said that when you returned you would want an answer from me, remember?”
“Is that what this is all about? Did you get scared?” He touches my hand but the moment he tries to interlace our fingers, I pull away.
“No, I didn’t get scared.” I sigh and try to ignore the clenching in my stomach. “Believe me, the last thing I want to do is hurt you. You deserve honesty, though. You deserve it because I would want it if I were in your place and because you’ve always been good to me. Being honest is the least I can do.”
“Okay…”
“I can’t be with you, Logan. I can’t because…I don’t feel the same way about you that you feel about me.” He sits silently, just staring at me, as if he is trying to process what I’ve just told him.
“You’re ending it?”
I nod softly. It’s the only thing I can do right now.
“Wow…jeez.” He pauses, and for a moment he looks incredulous. Then he gives me a serious look before saying, “Maybe I should have expected this. After all, you didn’t contact me while I was gone and never answered my calls.”
“I really am sorry.”
He seems to be thinking something over. “But it’s not just that, is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you ending things with me because you don’t have feelings for me or because you have feelings for someone else?”
I let the silence stretch out for a long time before I answer. Be honest, Vanessa.
“I have feelings for someone else.”
Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Thomas,” he says resignedly.
I nod again as I try to puzzle out his face. I can see acknowledgment, sadness, and anger in it. So much anger.
“Are you with him?”
“No,” I answer quickly.
“No?”
“Or rather, yes.” Sigh. “Actually, it’s complicated.”
“Are you his girlfriend, yes or no?” he asks, clearly needled.
“No.”
“Good.”
I blink in confusion. “Good?”
“Vanessa, I like you. I want to be with you. And if to do that, I have to wait for you to realize just how wrong Thomas is for you, then that is what I’ll do.” He gently touches my cheek, but I shake him off.
“Sorry, did you not hear what I just said?”
“Yes, I heard. But in all honesty, I don’t care. You can’t control your feelings, and the ones I have for you are so strong that they won’t allow me to give up.”
“Maybe you should,” I retort, getting irritated.
“Is that what you want me to do?”
“I don’t want problems. If you don’t back off, I assure you there will be problems.”
“So you’re asking me to back off because you’re afraid for me, not because that’s what you really want?” It’s a question with a healthy dose of presumption in it. Afraid for him? Well, yes, of course. I am partially worried about him, but he can’t seriously think that’s the main reason I’m making this decision?
“Do you think I’m afraid of Thomas?” I ask softly, getting more annoyed.
“Don’t think that I don’t know how sketchy and out of his mind that dude is, and I don’t blame you for feeling intimidated. You are just one more poor victim who has fallen into his trap. I see he was careful not to define your relationship. What a disgusting coward. He convinced you to be his but he didn’t actually make you his girlfriend. With me, there would be none of that. You could be happy, you could have everything that—”
I interrupt him, because I have heard more than enough.
“You’ve got it wrong, Logan. Completely. I’m not telling you this out of fear. I’m telling you this because I don’t need to be his girlfriend to know that what I feel for him is stronger than anything else I’ve ever felt. I don’t need to be his girlfriend to know that he is the person I want by my side. Him, and no one else. I’m sorry if I hurt you and I’m sorry I acted the way I did, but don’t ever talk about him like that again, because you don’t know him.” I dart a quick look at him before I get up off the floor, grabbing the bag I left beside the table. I slip on my shoes and head for the door.
“Vanessa, wait.” Logan stands up and joins me. “I’m sorry if what I said upset you, that wasn’t my intention. I’m just confused and angry right now. I need a moment, okay? I think I’m entitled to that, right? I mean, I just found out you spent these last few days with him. But please, please don’t go. Stay with me, at least for dinner. No hard feelings.”
“It’s late, Logan, and I said what I needed to say to you. It doesn’t make sense for me to stay any longer.” I’m about to grab the doorknob, but he stands in front of me.
“I can take you home at any time, that’s no problem. But don’t leave me alone. Please, I don’t like feeling abandoned.” He stares desperately at me.
“Logan…” I say uncertainly. I can’t deny that seeing him like this makes me sad, but I don’t want to give him false hope by staying here.
“Please,” he begs me again.
I sigh but finally decide to humor him. If what he needs now is a little company, I can give him that. “Okay, but only for a little while. And I don’t want to talk about Thomas anymore.”
He nods fervently. “Whatever you want.”
I put my bag back on the floor and I head for one of the two armchairs in front of the TV. I sit in it, while Logan takes the one next to it. We pass the time with a little more TV, and once we get past that initial awkward silence, the situation becomes less and less tense. To melt a little of the ice that has inevitably formed, Logan offers to make me some hot ginger tea. He tells me about his family, how he spent his days at home. I learn that his mother is a very successful lawyer and that his father is a judge. He doesn’t have any brothers or sisters and so he often goes home to help his parents. Time passes slowly and, before I know it, I am overwhelmed by an inexplicable drowsiness, so I begin to doze.
Slowly, I slip into a kind of strange, confused half-sleep. I could not tell exactly when I fell asleep nor how long I’d been that way before I started hearing muffled knocks, as if someone were pounding ferociously on a door.
I can hear my name being called over and over again. I can hear the tension and fear in the voice that is saying my name, like a cry of alarm. I want to answer, but for some reason I can’t. I feel stiff and weak. The voice, which is gradually becoming more and more familiar, keeps calling tirelessly for me. I begin to realize who it is.
Thomas…
“Ness, open this door!” I open my eyes with difficulty, but I see only nothingness. I blink over and over again, trying to pick out something, anything, but the darkness envelops me completely. “Where am I? Why does Thomas keep calling me and why am I lying on a bed that isn’t mine?”
I’ve fallen asleep. How? When? My throat tightens. I jump to my feet and rush out of the room.
Sitting in the armchair in the living room, watching TV unperturbed, I find Logan. Why did he let me sleep? Why didn’t he drive me home like he said he would?
“Logan.” At the sound of my voice I see him jolt. “What am I doing here? Why did I wake up in your bed?”
“You fell asleep in the armchair but you looked uncomfortable, so I took you to the bedroom,” he answers calmly.
The knocking on the door continues unabated, as does Thomas’s voice ordering me to come out. I wasn’t dreaming, Thomas is really out there! When I realize the gravity of the situation, my eyes widen and I turn my outrage on Logan. “What were you thinking, letting me sleep here? And can’t you hear that Thomas is outside? Why the hell didn’t you open the door?”
I pull my phone out of my overalls pocket and, in addition to realizing that it’s two in the morning, I also see an endless series of missed calls from Thomas. And now he’s right out here, more enraged than ever. And he has every reason to be. I move quickly to the door. I hear the squeak of the armchair and realize that Logan is following me.
“Wait.” As soon as I put my hand on the doorknob, he grabs my wrist.
I look down at his hand and then back up at him, giving him a sideways look. “Let me go now.”
More knocks rattle the door. “I swear if you don’t open this fucking door in three fucking seconds, I’m gonna break it down,” Thomas bellows. Logan looks at me blankly for a moment and something in his stare disturbs me. Then, as if he has just come to his senses after a bout of amnesia, he quickly lets go of my hand and recoils as though stunned.
What the hell is going on in his head? I open the door, and Thomas barrels in. He grabs Logan by the neck and slams him against the wall. The crashing sound makes my hands fly up to cover my mouth.
“What the fuck did you do to her?” he yells, inches from Logan’s face.
“I-I didn’t do anything to her.” Logan is struggling to speak, but Thomas’s fingers are tight around his throat and prevent him from doing so.
“Thomas, stop! He didn’t do anything to me!” I pull on his arm, hitting him several times on the bicep. But it’s no use because Thomas cocks back his right arm and sends a punch flying right into Logan’s face. He slumps to the ground immediately, his nose bleeding.
“If I find out you laid a finger on her, you’re dead.” He punches Logan again in the stomach, before grabbing him by the hair and forcing him to tilt his face up. “Dead,” he repeats. Then he turns to look at me, his face aflame, and for one moment, I am afraid of what he might do. He grabs me by the arm and drags me out of the room. In the hallway, I see some students peering out their doors, trying to see what’s going on.
“Thomas, slow down, you’re hurting my arm.” I try to pull free from his grip, but he ignores my protests. When we get to his room, he shoves me in forcefully and, after closing the door, he slams his fist into the wall.
“Tell me, Vanessa, what the fuck is wrong with your brain?” he yells, venting all his rage.
I dig my hands into my hair, unable to believe what’s happened any more than he can. “Thomas, listen to me, you have every right to be—”
“I have every right to be what? Mad? Pissed off? Furious? I am so much more than that, I’m out of my fucking mind! I’ve been calling you for hours!” The veins in his thick neck seem ready to burst.
“Because I didn’t hear the calls, I-I fell asleep and I didn’t—”
He interrupts me, skewering me with his gaze. “You what?”
I swallow. “I-I fell asleep,” I stammer, continuously pulling my hair behind and in front of my ears in little nervous movements. “I-I have no idea how it happened. I was very, very tired. I remember curling up in the armchair and then that was it, I collapsed.”
He stares at me in shock. He stabs a finger at me and warns, “This is the last time you see him. That you talk to him. That you so much as say hi. That you do anything you can think of with him. The last time.”
“Thomas, you have to believe me, he didn’t do anything to me, honestly.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you think. If you had listened to me before, we could have avoided all this shit!” Thomas is right. I was wrong. I was wrong to go see Logan; I was wrong to stay there. “I know, I…I’m sorry.”
“I’m taking you home,” he declares harshly.
I stare at him in bewilderment. “What? No!”
“It wasn’t a question,” he snaps.
I shake my head firmly. “I-I don’t want to go home.” I want to stay here with him. Calm him down, reassure him, clear up this whole this thing, fall asleep with him, clasped in his arms, surrounded by his smell and his warmth.
“I don’t want you here.” The cold, authoritative way in which he says it makes me shiver. My heart starts pounding in my chest, as I feel that familiar burning sensation in my eyes.
“Thomas.” I say his name desperately.
“Move.” He grabs a set of keys from the counter and walks out the door without giving me a chance to say anything.
On the back of his motorcycle, I cling to him despite feeling how detached he is. As we race along the asphalt, ignoring the speed limits, the wind whips my tears away. We stop in front of my driveway, with the engine still running. Thomas rests one foot on the ground to help me off the bike. I unbuckle my helmet and hand it to him. He hangs it on the windshield, lowers his visor, and, without giving me even one more glance, he hits the gas and disappears into the night.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to myself, alone and hurting in the middle of a deserted street. I feel my tears flooding uncontrollably. The wind picks up, some damp leaves flutter around me, and the first raindrops streak down my face, merging with my tears. My stomach is tight, in a painful clench.
And he’s gone…