15. Mastermind
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
mastermind
LOGAN
LOGAN
PRESENT DAY
“I needed this,” Abi sighs, biting into a surprisingly hefty egg roll. “You really should have let me pay though, I’m the one who got us into this whole thing so I should have bought the apology meal.”
It’s late in the afternoon, and we’ve been lounging on Abi’s couch with a horror movie on in the background for the last hour or so, a big spread of fried rice, chow mein, and egg rolls sitting in front of us. Abi’s been eating like it’s her last meal on earth, groaning every so often when she hits a particularly good bite.
“Hey, I’m your fiancé now. It’s my job to provide your hangover food, right?”
She chews slowly, her cheeks tinged pink.
“I guess we should start to plan this out, huh?” She asks.
“I suppose.” I reach over and grab the remote, turning the TV down. “So, when’s the reunion again?”
“June 20 th .” Her tone is completely flat, and she’s staring off into the distance like the reminder just forced her into a PTSD nightmare. “Just four weeks away.”
I pull out my phone, taking a brief look at my calendar.
“Well, I don’t teach until the fall, and I’ve got nothing lined up, other than some extra writing, and I’m sure I can get at least something done on the road, so…” I glance up at her. “What would you say to a three week road trip across Canada? A week there, let’s say a week in Blackburn Falls, and a week back?”
She blinks.
“You don’t want to fly?”
“Hell no, I’ve only ever been to Toronto! I want to experience the majestic beauty that is Canada. I want to see a moose, and bears scooping big fish out of a lake. I want to watch a hockey player guzzle a bottle of maple syrup like its water and then punch someone in the face!”
“You know, I’ve always envied your breadth of knowledge,” she murmurs, grinning from ear to ear. “But your imagination is even more impressive.”
I love the idea of a road trip.
I want my foot on the gas, the windows rolled down, and my favourite music blasting from the speakers. More than that though? I want her in the passenger seat while the two of us talk up a storm. There’s a good chance her position may be cut in the coming weeks, so I want to get as much time with her as I can get before things get really hard.
Abi gnaws at her lip, reaching over to take a big gulp of her water.
“You really want to stay in my hometown? For a whole week?”
“Sure! Why not?”
I clear my throat, struggling not to sound too enthusiastic.
“I mean, it’s nothing special,” she chuckles. “Pretty boring actually.”
“Well, if you’d like to go to the reunion alone?—”
“No, no!” She sighs, running a hand through her dark frizzy hair. “I can text my mom and see if we can hang out with her for a few days. I’m just not really sure how to plan all this out, is all.”
“Well, luckily for you, planning is my specialty.” I point at her laptop. “Pass it over.”
“Are you sure? There’s porn on it. Written and visual. It’s not nearly as finely curated as the Logan Flynn Museum of Pornography.”
“Nothing is,” I sigh dramatically. “How about we drive?”
“Drive?”
“Sure! We could do a whole touristy thing— oh, we could even go camping!”
“You camp?” Abi asks, her brow raised in legitimate surprise.
I’m mildly offended, how could she think I’m not a camper?
“I love camping! It’s one of my all-time favorite pastimes!”
A wide grin spreads across her face, and she rests her chin on her hand.
“Okay, so when’s the last time you went camping?”
“Uh… I was 12? I think at least. Iggy was definitely 2, and we were in an RV.”
“That’s Glamping , not camping. You weren’t really roughing it.”
I roll my eyes. I know she’s doing this just to get a rise out of me, but it’s working.
“Okay, wilderness expert. What’s camping to you?”
“A tent, hot dogs over an open fire. Ghost stories are ideal, but you definitely need a whole lot of stars,” she says with a wistful look in her eyes. “I was in Girl Guides when I was a kid, we did that stuff all the time.”
“What the heck are Girl Guides? Is that like scouts?”
“Oh, right, you wouldn’t have them here. Yeah, we were like Girl Scouts, but our cookie selection wasn’t as vast. I got lots of badges though. My mom still has them framed in the living room like I went to war or something.”
This is a good start on the path toward learning about Abi’s past, and I have a good feeling she’ll open up a little more along the way.
So that settles it. The road trip is 100% necessary.
“Did you have Thin Mints?” I ask.
I’m a big Thin Mints guy. There’s something about chocolate and mint that’s just perfect. Roman thinks it tastes like chocolate toothpaste, but he has a far more discerning palate, whereas I tend to eat like a toddler loose in a candy store. At least that’s how he puts it.
“A variation of them, yeah,” she chuckles. “I remember one year, my best friend Kat and I sold enough boxes that we got to go on a trip to New York.”
“And you didn’t visit me ?!”
“I was 11! You would’ve been soaring through NYU by then, and I’m sure my pre-teen crush on Jack Skellington wouldn’t have been the most interesting conversation starter.”
Sometimes I forget about the age gap, but it’s more like I forget how old I actually am. I’ve never really felt like I belong in my 30s; most of the time I just feel like a big kid who’s allowed to drink. How someone gave me a mortgage, I’ll never know.
Abi’s angled her laptop between the two of us, and she gestures for me to get closer as she scrolls through a roadmap of the great white north.
“If you want to camp, my suggestion would be to do it in British Columbia, or Alberta at the latest.”
We spend the next half hour or so googling campgrounds in the two provinces, sad to discover pretty much all the ones on our potential route are already booked, save for one single campground in a place called Cranbrook.
“Logan!”
I shove my way in front of the computer and quickly mash in my details, paying for the booking before she can make any sort of real fuss.
“First off, it’s too late and my credit card’s already been accepted, so I’m officially a Canadian now, as per the Rules of the North as I’m sure you are aware… Second, it’s like twenty bucks Canadian. That’s basically a dollar in real money, so who cares which one of us pays?”
“You should teach economics, you really missed your calling.”
“You know, I would, but I’m far too controversial. Just print more money, you idiots!” I put my hands behind my head. “Boom, I just saved the American dream.”
Abi giggles, the mood much lighter now that we’ve taken at least a couple steps toward dealing with her predicament. It’s really not that big of a deal, but friends have to have each other’s backs, right? Besides, who was her other option, Frankie? That guy’s road trip playlist is pretty much just Dashboard Confessional. It’s like he never crawled his way out of 2007.
I watch as Abi stretches her legs out on the coffee table, wiggling her bare toes while the rest of the logistics begin to dawn on the two of us.
“We should probably lock in which cities we want to hit to give you the quintessential True North experience.”
“You’re the expert in all things Canadian, so I’ll forego my usual leadership strengths and leave that to you, my liege.”
I bow as deeply as I can, but when I look back up her focus is elsewhere.
“Well, you have to see Banff… and then you simply must experience the glory that is Saskatoon.”
“Did you know Saskatoon was named after a wild berry?” I ask, the fact shooting to the front of my mind completely unbidden.
“Did you google that just now?”
“No! I memorized it because I wanted to try every berry ever! Anyway, that one’s called?—”
“Misaskwat?minihk,” she finishes for me. “It’s Cree.”
“Yes!” I squeak, throwing up my hand. “High five me!”
When I found out Abi was Canadian, I went down a rabbit hole of research on the country. I learned how their political system worked, and fun facts about each province… It kind of became my main obsession for a couple weeks. I really wanted to impress her in the early stages of our friendship, and there’s no better way to weaponize my ridiculous brain than compartmentalizing obscure information.
“Well, we’ll have to get you some Saskatoon berries then. I only went there once when I was a kid. It’s mostly pickup trucks, Molson Canadian, and dudes in cowboy hats.”
“Sounds like a patented Roman Burke wet dream.”
“Nah, I think that would involve your sis?—”
“Abi!” I hiss, gently reaching over to mess up her hair. “This discussion is quickly turning uncouth, and is certainly unbecoming of a lady!”
She cackles, tossing her head back like she’s a goddamn cartoon villain.
Over the course of the evening we plan the rest of the trip, ironing out the kinks as I take note of any potential hotel to book along the way. Despite my persistence, she made me promise that we wouldn’t be camping the entire time.
About an hour in we finally reach Blackburn Falls on our itinerary, and I can feel Abi suck in a deep, silent breath beside me.
“Can I say something with all the love in my heart?” She asks, wincing slightly at her own words.
My stomach twists a little and I wonder if she’s already getting cold feet about the whole thing.
“What’s up?”
“Would you mind if we stayed in a hotel when we got there? I’ll pay for it. I love my mom, but there are just some… things that happened in that house that I’d like to forget.”
I look over at her as she chews on her lip, staring at the word document we’ve created. It’s very organized and color-coded by activity.
Classic Abi.
“Yeah, sure. You don’t want to stay with your mom?”
“No, I– I just don’t know if I want to sleep with my fake fiancé in my childhood bed—” She cuts herself off, almost immediately at least 3 shades of pink darker. “Sleep in the same bed . Not with?—”
“You’re worried the bed will be too small for the two of us, and it'll make for a really uncomfortable couple nights. I get it, say no more.”
“No, that’s not what I?—”
I put my hand up with a grin.
“I got it, Shortcake. I’m just messing with you.”
I reach over and squeeze her shoulder as she forces an awkward smile. The worst part about being friends with Abi is… well, it’s me. The way I feel about her has never faded, and what’s worse? I’m the only one who can deal with that.
Abi takes a deep breath.
“Thank you for understanding. How about I book this last hotel and we give your credit card a break.”
“You don’t wanna see how fast I can max it out? Not only is it exciting because my livelihood is on the line, but I get a whole bunch of stuff without having to spend any money! ”
She smiles half-heartedly but doesn’t say anything in response, and I give her another gentle shove with my shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just—” She sighs. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but it’s… not just Brendan’s weird gross energy tainting everything.”
She clears her throat, nodding to herself as if to confirm she’s ready.
“My dad OD’d in the living room of that house when I was 12. It’s… difficult for me to be in there.” Her chin trembles. “I had to give him CPR until the paramedics got there. They said his heart stopped.”
Tears slip down her cheeks; I can already tell the hangover might have made her a little softer, and much more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her in quite a while. Abi’s always been easy to get close to, but only to a point. It feels like she’s put up all these walls and guards around the really rough stuff because she thinks it’ll make her a burden. Now though, she’s offering me a look past all of that, at a piece of herself she’s been too afraid to show before.
“What happened after that?” I ask quietly, not wanting to push any of her limits.
She sniffles, taking another sip of her drink and wiping her nose on her sleeve. I know Abi’s dad is still alive, I’ve just never really known what kind of relationship they have. I just assumed it was normal family stuff.
“He never got sober. He couldn’t. ” She sighs. “I didn’t understand the ‘couldn’t’ part until I started to get into this research, but it really put things into perspective.”
Abi told me the vague motivation for her research in the past, but never where it came from. She always used to say she just likes to help people, but this is a big piece of the story, one that I’m only now starting to get a fuller picture of.
“Mom had to kick him out. She said she could raise a kid or take care of his illness, but she couldn’t do both, and she wasn’t about to abandon me. Not too long later Dad met another woman from town and the two of them moved out.”
“Jesus… When’s the last time you saw him?”
“I was 14,” she replies, her voice pitched a tiny bit higher than normal, but still in control. “It was mom and I against the world after that. She started a business, a little wedding photography studio in Blackburn. She was busier than she’d ever been before and she loved it. I’m pretty sure my dad was holding her back, horrible as it sounds.”
I’ve read everything Abi’s ever published, and a good amount of the material she’s cited in the process, which is how I know that kids sometimes wind up in a sort of role reversal. They feel responsible for managing a parents’ illness, or picking up the slack around the house, and often wind up with far too much responsibility on their shoulders, far too young.
In Abi’s case, she applied that responsibility to every aspect of her life going forward.
“I think you might be right,” I mutter. “Love isn’t always enough, and it doesn’t always save people, no matter how much we want it to.”
I wish all the love I had for my dad could have actually done something for him in the end. Anything. Instead he slipped away in that little room in Oregon.
“I really wish it did.”
I feel a lump forming in my throat as she stares over at me.
“Me too.”
I give her another squeeze, planting a quick kiss on the top of her head, and she leans into me for a brief moment before shaking herself off, wiping away the remnants of any tears.
“Okay. Back to business.” She reaches for her phone like it’s a security blanket. “I’ll text some people from back home and let them know we’re coming.”
Classic Abi, always ready to move on to the next thing on the list.
“I’ll pick you up next week from work and we’ll head out?”
She nods.
“Thanks for being such a good sport about this.”
“Hey, it’s the fiancé thing to do!” I chirp.
Abi just smiles, shutting the laptop before grabbing the remote and cranking the volume back up. It’s not long before the two of us fall back into our rhythm, snickering and dishing out random bits of movie trivia back and forth, like nothing had happened at all.
And the entire time, my arm never leaves its spot around her shoulder.