Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Grief is weird. Over the past eight weeks, I have ping pong between disbelief, sadness, and anger daily.
My memory keeps circling back to the last time I heard my dad’s voice.
The circumstances surrounding that conversation.
The last time he told me he loved me. How I was so angry I refused to talk to him.
I have so many regrets, guilt lays heavy in my heart.
Mom is drowning in her sadness. She barely talks to me, and she doesn’t want to see anyone. She rarely leaves her room, and I can hardly get her to eat.
Ryan has been coming to the house twice a week to see her and check on me. He has convinced me that I should see a therapist as well and I agreed to go next week.
Francis is still helping with the house, cooking, and even grocery shopping.
I have closed the art gallery until June.
I don’t think mom will be able to return to work anytime soon, and that will give me time to hire someone new to help me out.
That alone is ridiculous. What do I know about hiring an employee?
It would be simpler to just sell it, but I want it to be there for her when she is feeling better and ready to go back to work.
Beth has successfully transferred all my dad’s clients to new realtors, but there has been a delay in selling the business. As organized and meticulous as my dad has always been, there is money missing. I don’t think it’s a lot but enough for our accountant and lawyers to be involved.
To be honest, they could give the business away or burn it to the ground for all I care. The professionals can manage it, and I’ll just sign what I need to sign to make it all go away.
People keep telling me how strong I am, like I have a choice to be anything else. I feel like I am always on, hyper vigilant, preparing for the next crisis. Every night I fall into bed exhausted and pray my brain turns off even for a few hours.
I’m overwhelmed and so incredibly lonely. I miss school, my apartment, and most of all Logan. I just want my old life back.
I think the only good thing that has happened in the past two months is nobody is talking about my dad’s affair and guessing on who the other woman is anymore. If they are, it’s gone underground because my little circle hasn’t heard anything.
Going through the familiar motions of my bedtime routine, I’m reminded how strange it feels to be back in my childhood bedroom.
It looks exactly the way I left it when I graduated high school.
The same colour of paint, the same posters on the walls.
The same stuffies, art supplies, and books on the shelves. Everything is the same, except me.
I love living independently in my cozy apartment.
I enjoy visiting my parents, but I am quite happy living away from Emerley.
I enjoy the complete anonymity of living in a city.
I know all teenagers look forward to their freedom when they leave for college, but my desire to leave was much greater than that.
It makes me feel like a complete asshole, but I needed to escape the weight of this household.
I love my mom beyond measure; I just wanted a break from her.
My dad understood and encouraged me to go.
He was always so incredibly supportive to both of us, I wish I had realized it then and appreciated all the sacrifices he made for us. I wish he was here to support me now.
Maybe if I had stayed, things would be different.
Maybe I would have seen mom’s mental health declining.
Maybe I would have seen the signs my father was cheating on her.
Maybe none of this would be happening. And so, my spiraling thoughts continue.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to wish and maybe myself right to death.
I text Logan a couple of hours ago, and he still hasn’t responded. This is becoming a theme lately.
When he initially returned to school, we text and spoke multiple times a day.
We even managed to fit in one hot, late night FaceTime call.
But I have felt a shift since his last visit.
Maybe it’s just my imagination, but over the last couple of weeks, he’s been distracted, and I can feel him pulling away.
When we do talk, he’s quieter. Even after all these years of being friends we still always have lots to talk about. He still asks me about my day and my mom, but something is different. I’ve asked him if everything is okay, and he just says he’s tired.
He is supposed to be moving home after exams in April, but whenever I bring it up, he changes the subject. I know he’s focused on completing assignments and studying for exams, but we have always made time for each other no matter how busy we are.
I have been preoccupied with my mom and all the estate stuff lately, so maybe he feels neglected? I don’t know.
There is a tiny voice in the back of my head that says he didn’t sign up for this. We are supposed to be starting our life together away from Emerley, and I flipped the script with my family drama.
Maybe he has met someone else who is less messy. Someone who can be there with him.
Logically, I know that’s not the case. Logan is my best friend; he loves me and would never hurt me like that. But I never dreamed my dad would cheat and hurt Mom either.
Ugh, I shake my head to clear my thoughts of problems that don’t exist. It’s fine. Everything is fine, he’s just busy. I’ll just call him to ease my mind so I can go to sleep.
I pull on one of his T-shirts with my sweats and wool socks. After tying my hair up in a scrunchy, I climb into bed.
It’s already 11:30 p.m., but he’s a night owl so I’m sure he’s still awake sketching or watching a movie. I hate to think of him all alone at our apartment. Maybe we should get a cat, so he has company.
Snuggling deep under my cozy blankets, I dial his number. The phone rings multiple times before it goes to voicemail. I don’t want to leave another message, so I try again.
The phone rings five times before it finally connects. Smiling, I put the call on speaker phone.
“Helllllo, Logan’s phone,” an unfamiliar girl’s voice sing songs over the line.
My jaw drops and eyes widen as I clench the phone in my hand. What the actual fuck?!
“Hey, give me that!” I hear Logan wrestle his phone from her while she giggles.
“Logan?” I call. I can barely hear him above the noise.
“Umm yeah. Hey, Hannah.”
I can hear a group of people chanting “shots, shots, shots” in the background. Sounds of loud music and laughter come through the phone.
“Sorry about that. I set my phone down to take my turn, and she grabbed it. What’s up?”
“I’m confused, Logan, what’s going on? Where are you and who answered your phone?”
Logan doesn’t spend much time out at bars with friends and only drinks occasionally, so this feels completely out of character.
“I’m at my place. I have no idea who she is. The hockey boys are throwing a floor party.”
“Your place? Like back at the dorm?” I question because this doesn’t make any sense.
“I thought you were staying at my apartment for the rest of the semester?”
“No, I ended up coming back here,” he sighs. “Look, can we talk later?”
“I think we should talk now. Can you go into your room?”
“Nope. I definitely won’t be doing that,” he chuckles. “Aidan is hooking up with some girl in there.”
“Okaaay?” I draw out. “Logan, is there anywhere you can go where we can talk privately for a minute? I miss you,” I whisper.
I hate that he would rather party with his friends than talk to me for even a few minutes, but I will let it go for now because I desperately need the comfort of his voice.
“Sure, hold on.”
I can hear him cover the speaker and say something to someone, then a door opens and closes.
“I moved to the stairwell.”
“Logan are you okay? What’s going on?”
“I’m fine. How’s your mom?”
I don’t understand why he’s deflecting. We have always been honest with each other.
“She’s the same. Are you sure you’re, okay?” I ask, nervously chewing on my bottom lip. “Please talk to me.”
“You have enough going on. You don’t need to worry about me,” he mumbles.
“I do worry, though. Is everything okay at school? Are you ready for your exams?” He doesn’t sound like himself and it’s scaring me.
“Yeah, school’s fine.” He pauses and takes a big breath. “Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”
“Okay,” I say hesitantly.
The blankets fall to my waist as I push myself up into a sitting position.
“What are you thinking about?”
He clears his throat, then says, “I think we should end things.” His voice is so quiet, I’m sure I’ve misheard him.
“Pardon? We should end things. Like break up. Why? What’s going on?”
His words are like a slap across my face. My stomach clenches and my heart races as I repeat his words.
“I just don’t think we should be together anymore. You deserve a better person than me. You deserve so much more than I can give you.”
“I don’t understand. Did I do something? Oh my god, did you?” Tears run down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away.
“Logan, did you cheat on me? Is that why you are breaking up with me?” I voice my biggest fear.
“No. No, I would never. It’s not you, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I just can’t do this anymore. I’m only going to end up hurting you.”
“You’re hurting me now,” I sob. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? You have been drinking.”
That must be the explanation. We can’t break up.
“I’ve only had a couple of beers, Hannah. I’ve known for a while.”
“A while? How long is a while?” This is insane.
“You will be home soon. I know we can work it out if we just talk.” I stumble out of bed and begin to pace the length of my room.
“I’m not coming back,” he whispers.
“I’m not coming back to Emerley,” he says again with more conviction.
“What do you mean you’re not coming home?” I stop moving and yell in disbelief.
“You are not breaking up with me in a two-minute phone call, Logan. You have been my closest friend for over a decade. The very least you can do is look me in the eyes while you break my heart!”
“I’m sorry, Hannah. Please understand that this is for the best,” he says with a hitch in his voice.
“The best for who? Certainly not for me. How could you do this to me? You promised we were in this together!” I cry, sinking to the floor and resting my head against the wall.
“Please trust me, this is for the best. I’m so sorry. Goodbye, Hannah.” He disconnects the call.
I stare at the phone in my hand, immediately call him back and it goes straight to voice mail. I try three more times with the same result. I send him multiple texts begging him to just talk to me. Nothing. No response.
I’m not sure how many times a heart can shatter in a lifetime but mine is in pieces – again.