Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Logan
Flying into Chicago at night always reminds me of a circuit board or light grid. Or maybe the movie Tron. I squint past the glittering network of lights and try to follow how far the glow from the city spreads across Lake Michigan until it fades into total darkness.
When I’ve stared into the void long enough, I pick up my phone and check my messages.
She still hasn’t answered.
My flight was delayed forty minutes, and when I texted her to tell her that, I said I wished I could have spent that extra forty minutes with her.
That message is still showing “Delivered.” I have no idea if she’s read it, or not, because what grown-up turns read receipts on? All I know is I’ve gotten used to texting her all night long when I’m out of town, and if that trend suddenly stops—
It’s not going to stop. You’re catastrophizing.
I look at my phone, where my text is still up telling her I wish I had more time with her.
It’s been three hours. This long without hearing from Georgie is at least a small catastrophe.
***
I put on my headphones and pull up the hood of my gray hoodie as I walk through O’Hare’s famed terminals.
The main concourse is as picturesque as the Home Alone movies make it look, all soaring glass and steel trusses, and somewhere in another terminal is the tunnel with the neon ceiling everyone takes pictures of.
People are rushing too much to notice me at first, but because Chicago is a baseball town and I look exactly like my dumb famous brother, soon enough, I have people whispering, pointing, and asking me for selfies and autographs.
“I’m not Lucas,” I tell them each time.
Most of the time, they’re big enough fans to realize that the Firebirds are ending a game right now, so I can’t be him.
And sometimes, they’re huge jerks.
“You broke up Jake Rodgers and his girlfriend. You suck, Fischer!”
I have to bite my tongue the half dozen times that gets yelled at me.
I can’t tell them Jake and Scottie were fake dating to rehab Jake’s image and that when Lucas and Scottie were caught together, they weren’t cheating.
Jake’s PR makeover worked too well, and he’s now one of the most popular players on the team—especially among women.
Lucas was in hot water for a few days while Jake and Scottie worked on a joint statement that settled most fans.
Not all of them, clearly.
I reach baggage claim without getting fully mauled, and I see the driver the team sent holding a sign with my name on it. Rojas arrived with his wife and baby yesterday, Dad’s in Milwaukee umping a game, and Lucas and Coop are still playing, which means Liesel and Scottie are also occupied at work.
I sit in the back seat alone while the driver takes me to the short-term corporate apartment the team’s put me up in. The light from the city streets shows me my reflection in the window as I watch the city.
And it’s that same lonely reflection that accompanies me up the elevator and into my sleek new apartment.
I drop my bags and look around the modern, perfectly tidy kind of apartment I always thought I wanted …
until Lucas moved out. Until I saw Georgie’s place, teeming with mementos and memories.
I know she’s holding on to too much, but after seeing the heart and soul of her apartment, something like this is too far in the opposite direction.
This apartment reminds me of the hollowness of March to August—the empty silence that greeted me when I stepped into my apartment after a road trip, the cold quiet I slept in, read in, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner in.
So many hours filled with the rasp of my breathing or the whisper of a page turning or the animated narration of whatever audiobook was playing in my ears while I folded laundry.
How many times did I turn the TV on in the other room so I wouldn’t feel so alone?
Dropping my keys, wallet, and hat on the entry table, a chill spreads through my chest.
I can’t go back to this life.
I’m not using Georgie to fill a void instead of learning to handle isolation, am I?
Shut up, I tell my anxiety. I didn’t imagine our connection during Spring Training, and I know I’m not making it up now.
But am I rushing things with her because I hate feeling isolated? Because I’m practically allergic to my own thoughts?
You’re only wondering this because she hasn’t responded yet. Calm your mind.
I fall into a leather armchair that’s more comfortable than it looks and massage my scalp, thinking about the feeling of nothingness when I float in the tank. My eyes fall closed, and I shift them left and right and left in right in a simple bilateral stimulation that makes my heart stop racing.
That’s progress, right?
My phone buzzes, and my eyes fly open.
Georgie
Hey, did you make it? I’m sorry your flight was delayed and that I missed your text. My dad’s in town and we had a family dinner. I went for a walk after to clear my head and forgot my phone. I’m sorry if you were worried at all.
Logan
The only thing I was worried about was you meeting a better baseball player and deciding you’re done with me.
Georgie
Come to think of it, that guy in the parking lot DID look like Jake Rodgers…
Logan
GROOOOOAAAAAN.
Georgie
So you’re a fan, too?
Logan
GG, do not mess with me. Jake the Jerk is not for you.
Georgie
Is he a jerk? He seems so sad and misunderstood.
Logan
You can’t change him. And you like me, remember?
Georgie
;)
I don’t believe in trying to change anyone. I think change comes from loving yourself and being loved well enough that you feel safe enough to change.
Logan
Phew. Then Jake will never be your type.
Georgie
But he’s so pretty!
I’M KIDDING!
Sorry, was that funny?
I’m really trying to learn how to tease but I’m wretched at it.
Logan
No, you are most certainly not wretched at it. You’re weirdly good. I don’t think I need you to mess with me anymore.
Georgie
Are you sure? You dared me into this multiple times. I can keep trying until I have it down.
Logan
Nope. Not necessary. You’ve officially graduated. You have your “messing with Logan” certificate and can retire now.
Georgie
But what if you’ve created a monster?
Logan
As long as that monster never gets near Jake Rodgers, I’m good.
Georgie
He’s not bookish enough to tempt me. ;)
Logan
Was that a Sense and Sensibility reference?
No! Pride and Prejudice, right? That has Darcy written all over it.
Georgie
My heavens, Logan Fischer.
Logan
What? Was I wrong?
Georgie
No, you were right. It’s Darcy.
You’re pulling Elite Dream Man? moves here.
Logan
Whoa, is that a trademark? You REALLY like me.
P&P is a good book.
But I liked the first Twilight and The Da Vinci Code, so I’m no respecter of novels.
Georgie
I love Michael Crichton. Give me anything he writes, and I’ll read the heck out of it.
Logan
I noticed that when we dedicated two full shelves to him yesterday.
Georgie
Don’t judge. I love him so much.
Logan
Yeah, so I think you’re forgetting the part where I admitted liking Twilight.
Georgie
Pfft. Men can read romance.
Logan
They can and some do. Just not usually Twilight.
Georgie
One of the things I actually like about my dad is that he likes romcoms. They’re his favorite genre. He’s not a big reader, but I grew up watching all the classics with him. Sleepless in Seattle, French Kiss, While You Were Sleeping. I love a good 90s romcom.
Logan
I’ll see your 90s romcoms and raise you some classics. I grew up watching Roman Holiday and An American In Paris.
Georgie
I’ve never seen Roman Holiday. I’ve never heard of An American In Paris.
Logan
Movie marathon.
The second I get home.
Georgie
Don’t say that or I may hold you to it.
Logan
You can absolutely hold me to it.
Georgie
:)
I forgot to ask where you’re staying! Home? Lucas’s?
Logan
Team is putting me up for the first week, and then I’ll move in with Lucas.
I don’t love being at my house by myself. Too many memories that are hard to process without other people.
Georgie
Wow, I never thought of that.
I’ve only processed my memories alone. The idea of shared grief is so foreign to me.
Is it nice?
The peanuts and Coke Zero I had on the flight turn sour in my stomach. Here I am complaining about being alone when she doesn’t know anything different.
Saying she grieved alone doesn’t begin to cover it.
And texts aren’t enough.
I FaceTime her, and she answers on the first ring. Her face is pale and her eyes are glossy, making her look more like a statue than a woman who’s hurting as badly as she is.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” I say. “That was insensitive.”
“It really wasn’t,” she says. “You have a different frame of reference than I have.”
“I don’t know what it would be like to grieve alone.”
“It sucks,” she says, shrugging. “But I don’t think that’s unique.”
“Where was your dad? Is he still in the picture?”
“He’s always been in the picture—he just never sticks around after it’s taken,” she says with a snort that’s foreign coming from her. We’ve logged a lot of hours talking, but I’ve never heard her talk like this: so dark and open, but without seeming vulnerable.
“My dad’s a medical-device salesman,” she says. “It’s a demanding job. Plenty of people make it work with their families, though. My dad doesn’t care enough about other people to put in that effort.”
“So has he not been around since your mom passed?”
“Not as much as he should. He left the day after my mom’s funeral for ten days. He was crying when he gave me a kiss, but he said the best thing we could do was keep going.”
“He left?”
“Yeah, he left me with my grandparents, but they died in a car accident about ten months later, and shortly after, he met Marlowe.
“Am I allowed to hate your dad for leaving you like that?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but thank you for doing it anyway.”
Her smile looks like it was carved into hollow wood.
“What about Marlowe?” I ask.
“She does not hate my dad. She’s crazy about him.”
“Not you?”
Georgie looks up and away. “I think she sees me as the competition.”
I suck breath in between my teeth, and Georgie looks back at the screen. “This is probably more ‘Sassy Georgie’ than you bargained for.”
I hate hearing her downplay her own sorrow. “I’m here for all of it. Whatever you need.”
Her smile feels more real now. She twists so she’s resting the side of her head on her couch. “You’re going to make this separation really hard, aren’t you?”
“I can’t let you forget me.”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” She exhales. “I don’t want to.”
“Me either.”
Her eyes flit to the corner of the screen and she sighs. “I hate to go, but I have homework and a 4:23 AM wake-up call with my name on it.”
“Talk tomorrow?”
“I’d like that.”
“I like you.”
Her smile reaches her dimples, and I can finally settle. “Even better.”