Chapter 4 Logan #3
There’s nothing left to say, so when the plates are cleared, we pay.
I take a quick peek at her cut, which has stopped bleeding, then we walk back to the motel.
It’s nice. Peaceful. Rose and I just went over an hour without insulting each other.
The night air has cooled down some. She walks beside me, close enough for me to smell her shampoo when the wind shifts.
My hands stay in my pockets. I’m aware of the exact distance between us, the sound of her footsteps against the asphalt, the way her arm grazes mine on the narrow shoulder of the road.
I find myself slowing my pace to match hers.
She smells like waffles and strawberries, and cream. And something distinctly Rose. Spicy, like cinnamon and cloves, which grows stronger the closer together we walk, until we’re tucked under the short awning at the back of the motel.
“You and Pearl are close, huh?”
The question puts me on guard. I turn toward her, leaning against the motel door. “We are,” I hedge. “Since high school.” Rose knows that, I can’t imagine why she’d ask.
She nods. “Are you two…”
I stare at her for a second, wondering where she’s going with this.
The question isn’t offensive in itself, but I was having fun at the diner.
I’d forgotten who Rose really is. She tormented Pearl for years.
Stole her boyfriend, stole her car and sold it for cash, did a dozen other things I probably don’t even know about.
And now she’s standing here, asking me if something is going on between us, like she has any right to the answer.
“Pearl is one of my best friends,” I say simply.
“Yeah, I know. I knew that. It’s just…”
She bites her lip and looks toward the woods behind the motel. “I had a nice time. At the diner, I mean. Not the crash.” She laughs lightly, then turns back to look at me. Her lip is a little red from where she had it caught between her teeth. “Look, Pearl doesn’t always—she’s not always—“
“Rose.”
She blinks. “I’m not trying to start something, I just—“
“One good hour doesn’t make us friends,” I say a little harshly.
“I know that—“
“Then don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”
“No, I need to say this. After what you said about me on the plane… Look, Pearl isn’t always the most honest person, and—”
“For fuck’s sake, Rose.” I feel the warmth of the last hour drain between us.
“I’m not trying to trash-talk her.” Her voice climbs. “I’m just saying she makes things up about me, and can be a little self-serving sometimes—”
“Right. So she’s a liar and a narcissist.”
“Stop cutting me off.” Her voice cracks with frustration. “Tonight was good. You know it was. And we have to get through tomorrow together, so I’m asking you—whatever Pearl has said about me, can you just set it aside? Just until the wedding’s over. You can go back to hating me after.”
“You’re the one who comes at me every time we’re in the same room.”
“That is not true. I have stayed out of your way. I’ve stayed out of hers. But she doesn’t make it easy, and—”
“So, you’re a victim now?”
“That’s not—” Her face goes red. “I’m not asking you to take sides. I’m just saying she makes things up, and whatever she’s told you about me—we had a nice time tonight, didn’t we? I just thought maybe we could—”
“What is this?” I take a step toward her. “We flirt over waffles, and suddenly I’m your confidant? Are you jealous she has friends in her corner? That she has me?” Why else would Rose care what I think about her? This is some kind of game. She’s working an angle.
“God, you’re so fucking arrogant. No. I’m just trying to make peace.”
“How is calling your sister, one of my best friends, a liar and a narcissist, making peace?”
“You aren’t listening to me. And you said those words, not me.”
I scoff and look up at the sky. Rose gets under my skin just by existing, and for a second there, I started to wonder if I’ve had her wrong this whole time.
I admit, “Look, Pearl probably exaggerates. Most people do. But there’s a difference between stretching the truth and making up a decade of shit about their sister. She’s told me a lot of things about you, but one thing I know is that Pearl isn’t a liar.”
Rose’s eyes blaze with fire, face contorting in anger.
“What did Pearl lie about?” I ask, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“How am I supposed to know?”
Jesus fucking Christ. I scrub a hand over my face. “You live with Easton now, right? Her ex? Are you fucking him?”
“That’s none of your—I mean, yes, I live with him, but I’m not—”
I hold up my hand. The whole diner thing was a performance. A setup. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I sat there like an idiot and ate it up. She probably saw Pearl’s text and saw an opportunity to get between us. This is what she does, Pearl’s warned me about it a hundred times.
“Do you know how many foundations Pearl runs? How many charities she’s involved in?
Do you have any idea how selfless your sister is?
” Rose’s expression turns hard, but I keep going.
“And what do you do all day with your time? You don’t have a job, you just freeload off everyone around you.
Pearl is a good person. She shows up for people.
She calls, she remembers things, she makes plans and keeps them.
You are not half the woman Pearl is.” I look Rose over slowly.
The way she goes from hard and angry to something a little smaller.
Shoulders rounding in, head slumping slightly.
“I’m glad you had a nice time over waffles.
Must be exhausting performing like that.
But at the end of the night, you and I aren’t friends.
You’re just a sad, bitter woman who’s showing up alone and late to your father’s wedding—the only family you have left not even wanting you there. ”
I regret it the second those words leave my mouth. I watch the fight go out of her—the blaze behind her eyes dimming, eyes watering—not from exhaustion this time, but from hurt.
She opens her door and slams it shut behind her.
So much for making peace.