Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
I should have left work hours ago, but I lost all sense of time arranging a display at the gallery. We have a new artist show casing her work next week, and I want everything to be perfect.
I am hungry and exhausted, but I enjoy the drive back to my cabin. It is absolutely beautiful this time of year when the sun sets over Crystal Lake.
Autumn is by far my favourite season. The days are still warm, and the evenings are cool enough to need a cozy sweater.
Huge bonus points that I can keep the top off my blue Jeep Wrangler a little while longer.
The air smells crisp and the leaves are changing to brilliant shades of red and orange.
Life gets a little slower in the fall, and after a busy summer we deserve it.
Soon, it will be my turn to host Friendsgiving which is one of my favourite annual traditions. Give me all the turkey and pie please. Extra bonus points for it being the beginning of spooky season.
Recently I have gotten into the very bad habit of driving down Cedar Avenue and pass the house Logan grew up in. Tonight, won’t be an exception because I’ve become a little obsessed.
While visiting my mom at the beginning of August, I noticed a for-sale sign had been placed on the lawn of the pale-yellow craftsman bungalow.
I always loved the covered veranda and giant backyard there.
In addition to the drive-by, I also looked up the listing and have done a couple virtual tours. I confess I may have a problem.
I’m not surprised that the house is being sold. Beth held onto it as a rental for a long time. There have been several tenants over the past decade. Mostly students, but nobody stays for more than a few semesters at a time.
Then, a couple weeks ago, I saw the sold sign and a moving truck in the driveway. It’s affecting me more than I am comfortable with.
As time passed, the anger and pain of losing Logan has lessened, but instead of closing that chapter of my life, the sale has been very triggering.
It’s bringing up memories that I have long buried.
It’s reminding me of the tremendous grief I felt after losing my father, and my boyfriend slash best friend in such a short time.
Logan broke every single promise we made to each other that winter.
Never in my wildest dreams did I believe he would walk away.
My 31-year-old brain understands that time has passed, and I don’t have to hold onto this pain anymore.
But my 21-year-old heart still hurts that he abandoned me when I needed him the most.
A couple of years ago, after way too much wine, I convinced my friend Beck to look up Logan on social media. Zero good decisions are made when wine is the third member of a trio.
Beck moved to Emerley after Logan left so she only knew as much as I had shared about him. Unflattering names may have been used occasionally.
I had deleted all my own accounts about a year after we broke up, unable to handle the constant Snapchat memories popping up reminding me of him.
She confirmed that his accounts are visible but have been inactive for years.
Not one single post since he left. The last thing he posted was a selfie of the two of us grinning like lunatics at the same cabin I now own.
It’s off centre and blurry but it’s unapologetically us.
That was the first and only time I have looked him up.
This afternoon when I stopped in at Maggie’s to grab lunch, I overheard people gossiping about who bought the house. Wild theories are being thrown around. People are divided on whether it’s a single mom with four kids or an elderly man who’s recently lost his wife.
If the Indian low rider motorcycle parked in the driveway is any indicator, I would say neither of those theories is correct. But we will know soon enough. The nosey citizens of Emerley will put their best detectives on the case for sure. No doubt Brian Marshal will take the lead.
Or maybe they will appoint me since I am the one currently stalking the neighbourhood. What the fuck is wrong with me? Why does it matter who bought the house? It’s not like I was planning on buying it. Can you imagine, how fucked up would that be?
Turning up the volume on the radio, I let the music replace my thoughts as I drive out of the neighbourhood with the knowledge, I’ll probably repeat this trip again tomorrow.