9. How My Heart Behaves
CHAPTER NINE
how my heart behaves
LOGAN
EMERALD BAY UNIVERSITY
FALL 2021
“I have an iced pumpkin oat milk latte for Logan!”
I push through the small crowd to grab my drink from the barista, heading out the door with a quick thank you. There’s already a bit of a bite, even only a couple weeks into autumn, but I still find myself smiling as I take in the golden leaves on the ground, almost glowing with the glare of the sun cutting through the crisp air.
I have a bit of time before my next class, so I decided to continue a podcast on the history of Sociology I started when I woke up this morning; I got part of the way through an in-depth discussion and analysis of the works of Augustus Comte, all for a little last minute-prep before I had to head out for the day.
I reach into the pocket of my tweed jacket, rooting around for my AirPods.
“Shit.”
Empty.
I fish around in my pants, struggling to slurp down some coffee at the same time to get that buzz as soon as possible.
“Dammit, gotta be...”
With my coffee tucked precariously in the crook of my elbow, I continue the hunt in my bag, rummaging around blindly while trying my best not to crash into anyone.
“Come ooon! Where the fuck– oh!”
I’m delighted to feel the smooth rounded edge of the AirPod case, but just before I pull them out, I slam right into someone, soaking myself in iced coffee.
What a great way to start the semester.
“Oh my God! I’m so, so so?—”
Her dark hair is styled in waves, tussled by the wind into a perfect mess as she vainly tries to help. She’s wearing a black and white striped dress, pointy black boots, and even has little bat earrings to complete the ensemble.
“Abi, is that…?”
She lifts her head, her mouth falling open as her eyes hit mine.
I didn’t think I’d see her again. We agreed it would just be that one night in Toronto. There would be no exchanging of numbers, no last names, no divulging of personal information, and absolutely no looking each other up on social media after the fact. She said she wasn’t looking for a relationship, that everything was lovely, but she was taking the next steps in her life and she didn’t want to bother me with any of that.
I swallowed that pill, even if I had to choke a little to get it down. I’d be lying if I said she didn’t wander through my mind at least once a week after the fact.
“Logan?! Oh my God— Your jacket, I am so fucking sorry. ”
“No, it’s fine!” I shake my head, holding back a laugh. “Abi, what are you doing here?”
She fiddles with one of her earrings, looking just as surprised as I am.
“Me? I’m– Well, I work here!”
Suddenly my soaked shirt doesn’t even matter.
“Work? Here?”
“Yeah! I got a postdoc position here. I mean I guess I don’t really technically work here yet, I’m starting today!”
I still can’t believe she’s right in front of me. I have to admit, I was tempted to look her up online, but I respected our promise not to hunt each other down. Besides, what the hell was I going to search? A bi comma Hot ?
“Wow, that’s quite a move!”
Hopefully she came here alone and not with her ex. I try to see if she’s wearing a ring, but her left hand is stuffed in the pocket of her dress.
“Yeah, well, I needed a fresh start, and EBU had an opening.”
The way she sucks on her lip makes me want to bite it, but I need self control now more than ever.
“I didn’t know you worked here!” She squeaks, still blushing.
“Yeah. Been here for a while now.”
“I couldn’t really access the faculty portion of the website. Frankie said it’s been down.”
The faculty website is ancient. I swear, some idiot made it in the early 2000s with some of that good old Angelfire drag-and-drop bullshit, full of the standard slew of dead links and blank pages. Frankie tried to fix it himself but wound up almost tearing his hair out. He’s still trying to convince the department that we need to live in the future— or at the very least the recent past.
“That site’s about as useless as the G in lasagna.”
“Actually, I think the G helps with pronunciation,” Abi replies. “Linguistically speaking. Otherwise it would be lah-sanna .”
I chuckle, nodding my head.
“Alright, point taken. But, hey, Postdoc is great! What department are you in?”
I figure shifting away from what may have been the most stupid comment about lasagna I’ve ever made is probably a good idea.
“Oh, Sociology! I’m sticking with it no matter what.”
Is she serious? More importantly, is the universe fucking serious? Frankie didn’t tell me anything about a new postdoc starting, but I guess that makes sense. Abi and I won’t have a lot of crossover because she’s not working under me.
Uh… with me.
“Wow! I knew we were looking, but I had to bail from the search committee, and Frankie’s not allowed to talk about— I’m rambling, sorry. So, you moved here? All the way from Canada?”
“Yeah. Thank God for dual citizenship, huh?” She chuckles.
“Yeah, no kidding.”
This whole thing is surreal. I’d just sort of accepted that I was never going to see her again, and now that she’s here I’m struggling to keep myself from going straight for a kiss. Unfortunately, it looks like she may have caught on to the somewhat awkward situation as well.
“So, this is… unexpected.”
She tucks a bit of hair behind her ear, shifting on her feet.
“Yeah…”
Wow, Flynn. Profound.
“Listen, I’m late to my next class, but?—”
“Oh, gosh! I’m so?—”
“No, no! I like talking to you.” I suck in a deep breath. Just do it. “Do you want to meet up for a drink later and talk about this? There’s a bar on campus?—”
“The Hi-Dive,” Abi replies. “Frankie gave me a tour.”
“I’m done teaching around 4:00, so does that work for you? Don’t worry, I’m buying!”
“I’m pretty certain I owe you a drink, actually.” She gestures at my latte-soaked shirt and jacket. “And probably a dry-cleaning bill.”
“How about you buy me a beer and we call it even?”
The Hi-Dive is falling apart, and it seems to get worse every year. The lights flicker like a haunted house, the floors seem perpetually sticky no matter how many times I’ve seen them mopped, and the place has been severely understaffed since the new owners took over, and that had to have been at least 2 years ago now.
But none of that is important. The drinks are cheap, the karaoke is amazing, and they wouldn’t dare to charge us to play pool. If the cast of Friends has Central Perk, the EBU faculty have the Hi-Dive. All that to say, If this place ever closes, I’m probably going to have a mental breakdown.
“Hey! You better not have paid for that, we made a deal!”
Abi walks towards me, pointing at my beer as she does. The slight illumination from the only semi-transparent windows gives her an almost ethereal quality, and I find myself taken aback by the sight of her for the second time today.
“I, uh— Well, I mean technically, I spilled a drink on you first, so… you kind of got me back, right?”
“Well, I’ll get the next one.”
She orders a pint of beer for each of us, and follows me to the back of the bar, sliding into the seat across from me. We stare at each other in a silent standoff as we try to figure out who should start the conversation. I chose the spot tactically; it’s probably the most quiet and private spot in the bar during their busier hours, not that there’s anyone here to disturb us right now.
“So, this is…”
“Serendipitous?” She asks, her lips curling into an adorable little grin.
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”
“Maybe once.”
I stare into my drink, hoping to find some sort of answer written at the bottom.
“So… you wanna talk about the elephant in the room?” I ask.
We might as well rip the bandaid off.
“Yeah. I think that’s a good idea. Frankie’s informed me of the staff fraternization policy.”
I sigh, feeling my shoulders slouch as I deflate. That’s what I was afraid of, but it’s not unexpected, and it’s not like I’m the kind of guy to break the rules or anything. I love my job, and I don’t think I could start over at 36.
I tried to wait tables in college to make some extra cash, but it was a disaster. Sure, analyzing Habermas is a piece of cake, but working at Chili’s? I was in the trenches. Mixing up orders, dropping full plates of food on the ground, and forgetting absolutely everything I’d been told. I lasted about two weeks before they finally fired me.
“I figured as much. Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or make things weird by bringing our… past up out of nowhere.”
“Logan, I really like you, and I’ve thought about that night a lot .”
I sit up a little straighter.
“You have?”
“Yeah. But, you know…” She twists her drink nervously, chewing on her lip.
I have to crush the urge to reach out and stroke her cheek.
“We can’t do what we did again,” I finish for her.
“Exactly.” She’s smiling, but she looks about as bummed out as I feel. “And, if I can be honest?”
“Sure.”
“Even if the rules weren’t this strict, I… don’t think I’m really ready to get into another relationship. Not right now.”
Although I’ve been steeling myself for this conversation for hours now, the words still feel like a knife in the back. I don’t want to be one of those guys who doesn’t take rejection well, but it doesn’t mean I’m not a little crushed.
I’ll get over it, though, and I’ll move on.
That’s what people do, isn’t it?
“I get that this is awkward, but the fact of the matter is, I had a fucking awesome time with you that night. And if it’s not too weird, I’d really like to be your friend — if you need a friend.”
“Yeah, I kind of do,” she laughs. “Most of my friends are all the way back in Ontario, so… kind of have to start over.”
For the longest time I was never really sure how adults were supposed to make friends. Do you just ask them, or is it better to naturally fall into familiar routines and conversations with people who match your energy? My dad was always so good at it; everywhere he went, he met up with some pal from the old days. I remember the day of his funeral, over 100 people showed up. It was incredible to see how many lives he’d touched.
Abi swallows, looking down at her drink. I can tell she misses home, and I try to fill the silence as best I can.
“I get it. I mean, take me for example: I’m from New York, my whole life was there before I pulled up my roots. Parents, sister, best friends, the whole nine yards. The good part is I think you’ll find that this department is pretty tight-knit, and we take care of each other. I think anyone would struggle to find a better group of people to work with, with… maybe a couple exceptions.”
“Everyone seems really great so far.” She takes a sip of her beer. “I gotta say, I definitely didn’t expect to run into you today, so my first day has been full of learning and unexpected surprises.”
“Look, I know we have a bit of an awkward history, but if you ever need to talk, my door’s always open — and will remain open. When we’re both inside. Because of professionalism.”
She raises a glass.
“To boundaries, and not freaking out when they’re set.”
“Hey, boundaries are great! What do you think keeps the zombies out in all of the movies?”
We clink glasses and dive into our drinks, as I resign myself to the fact that the woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for months is now totally off-limits.
Out of reach again.
“So? Are you enjoying it here?” I ask. “The city, I mean.”
At least this time I can still talk to her.
“I am, actually! The mountains are gorgeous, and I managed to get an apartment near Guardian Point. It’s kind of small, but all my stuff fits in there. Everything except my books at least.”
“I think that’s an academic problem,” I laugh. “I’m guessing they weighed… thirty, forty pounds a box? Can’t imagine having to transport all of mine.”
“They’re comic books,” she says softly, clearly a little embarrassed. “Kinda different.”
“You read comics?”
Abi gives an enthusiastic nod.
It’s the opposite, of course. It makes her at least twice as cool.
“I like the old horror comics. Twisted Tales, Tales from the Crypt, stuff like that.”
This is blatantly unfair. I need to have a discussion with the universal force in charge of my love life because it just feels like I’m being curb stomped into the concrete at this point.
“Oh sure, my dad used to collect those.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, he wrote a lot about horror, and its impact on social consciousness. You know, stuff like why we love to be scared, how horror influences culture, things like that.”
“Is he an academic?”
Hearing him brought up in the present tense stings a little. I still text his number sometimes when I’m feeling down. Stuff like little reviews of movies I watch, papers I’ve gotten published… I love you.
It’s my little way of holding on.
“He studied Cultural Anthropology.”
“No shit!” Abi laughs. “That’s what I got my PhD in!”
“Oh, maybe you’ve seen one of his papers. Declan Flynn?”
Her jaw drops and she leans in toward me, eyes shining with a newly burning passion.
“I’ve read five of his books! It’s been a while since I dove into any of his work, but I’m pretty certain I remember it all!”
I puff my chest out and grin.
“Seriously, he’s your dad?”
“Yep.”
“Wow, that’s amazing! Is he still writing? Or teaching?”
This part always sucks. There are a lot of people who read my dad’s stuff and don’t know that he’s passed. When you Google him, his obituary isn’t anywhere near the first result; his work is what floods the search engines.
Thankfully, it’s exactly the way he would have wanted it.
“He’s uh… he’s passed away.”
Abi’s face pales, and she reaches across the table, putting her hand on the back of mine.
“I’m so sorry.”
I fight the urge to reciprocate, to rush over and hold her. It’s something I’m going to have to get used to.
“It’s okay. He was really sick.” I shake my head, a little ashamed that’s the first thing I thought to mention. “He lived a good life, and went out on his own terms.”
Her eyes widen, and I realize the implications of what I just said.
“You mean, like he…”
“No, not— It was medically assisted death,” I tell her, hoping it does at least a little to ease her concerns. “The whole family was there, and the nurse walked us through the process. It was… peaceful.”
And gut-wrenching.
That’s the part I didn’t talk about for such a long time, because it felt selfish to bring up. Who was I to question his decision? To crave his presence for just a little while longer, if all it would do was cause him more pain?
Once he was gone, I had to step up and be the man of the house. I insisted on dealing with lawyers and the paperwork so that mom and Imogen wouldn’t have to. I made sure that everyone felt safe in their grief while I swallowed mine whole.
Abi and I sit quietly for a while, both of us staring down at the table, only stealing the occasional glance at each other. When Roman and I talk about this stuff, it’s based in theory. I think it’s a way for us to deal with our own personal tragedies without having to fully open up.
“So that’s what inspires the work you do?” She finally asks, still not fully looking at me.
“Did you look me up?” I laugh.
“When I got back to my office after we met today, yeah,” she confesses, somewhat sheepishly. “I just typed in ‘Logan’ and ‘Emerald Bay University,’ and all of your papers popped up.”
“Ah, I see you had a chance to revel in my genius.”
“I guess so,” she laughs. “Listen, I was wondering if I could pick your brain about?—”
“You can pick my brain any time, Shortcake.”
“Shortcake?” she chuckles. “I’m 5’10”, that’s tall!”
“Not next to me,” I reply with a smirk.
She rolls her eyes, kicking me gently under the table.
“Don’t worry. You’ll have all the time in the world to come up with an even worse name for me.”
Really, what a great way to start the semester.