11
Lia
Jane, Jane, Jane, Jane.
I wake up from an uneasy slumber, my body drenched in cold sweat. I’m lying under linen sheets.
I can’t remember going to bed. I can’t remember where I am. I don’t remember anything but driving down the road, the cold Irish wind blowing through my hair.
But now, I’m in a tiny room, and I’m alone.
Not entirely alone, though: on the other side of the door, I hear murmurs.
Panic seizes me. Where am I? Do they have me? Did they take me?
I can’t handle it. I can’t handle being locked up again with only those spots of black surrounding me. A crowd of masks. Or maybe they weren’t masks… maybe they were black holes. Constellations of black holes, ready to suck me into an endless vacuum.
The murmurs grow louder. Frantically, I hunt around the room, and my eyes land on a massive gun… or a tiny cannon. A bazooka.
The word sounds familiar… like I’ve just heard it. But I can’t remember where. I can’t remember anything but a baby named Jane and a constellation of black holes.
I grip it, leaning the heavy weapon over my shoulder. I don’t know the first thing about shooting a gun, let alone a bazooka, but I know I have it in me to do a lot worse than that, as long as it means keeping Jane from them.
I push open the door with a foot and wave the bazooka threateningly.
I don’t see any black holes in front of me. At least, I don’t think so; maybe I do. Maybe the black spots in my vision are the holes.
But they looked different before. They were attached to heads. Now, though, it’s my own vision that’s decorated with them, as if I’m about to pass out.
“Lia?”
I frown. How do they know my name?
There are four people in front of me. A redheaded girl, a man with wavy black hair wearing a hoodie, and another one with tan skin and brown curls who’s shirtless and heavily bandaged. They look familiar, but I don’t think I’ve seen them before.
And then, there’s someone dressed all in white, some sort of doctor, like the one who pulled Jane out of me then handed her to the black holes. I angle my bazooka at him.
“Give her back to me.”
“Lia.” The brown-haired man speaks, while the redhead inches back, her face frozen in shock. Meanwhile, the man with the hoodie looks on with vague interest.
“Oh, shit…” The doctor stares at the bazooka, then at me. “What the hell?”
“Lia, baby.” I blink at the man who spoke before. “Baby, it’s okay. Let’s put down the bazooka, okay?”
“No. No. He needs to give her back to me.” I wave the bazooka at the doctor, whose pale face has taken on a greenish tint.
“Okay. He will. Let’s put down the bazooka, and then we can ask him whatever we want. Okay, baby?”
“No. Stop.” I take a step back, aiming at him now. He pauses as I threaten him with it. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
He doesn’t look scared like the doctor, only upset. “Okay, Lia. Okay, I’m stopping. Let’s talk, okay?”
“I don’t want to talk.” I turn toward him. “I want my baby.”
“Shh, ghost girl. It’s fine. I told you I was going to fix you. Everything’s fine. I’ll find your baby. Now, put that down, okay? I love you, Lia.”
I blink at him. “I don’t know who you are.”
He pauses, stiffening. “I understand. I’m someone who loves you very much. Please put down the bazooka.”
I blink again, the fog in my brain making me want to throw up. “What… what…” My voice breaks. “What bazooka?”
“Lia…” He takes a step toward me, and I glance down at the heavy object I’m holding. What the hell is that? Where did I find it? How long have I been holding it?
Fuck!
A hand reaches around me to grab the heavy object away, while another hand latches onto my hair, jerking it backward.
“Ahhh!”
I don’t know why it hurts so much. But once I start screaming, I can’t stop. My entire scalp burns, tears leak out of my eyes, and I hunch over on the ground, feeling like I’m going to pass out.
“Please! Please! Don’t! Stop!” cries a girl.
A girl’s name slices through my mind. Jane.
But no, it’s not her. Who’s Jane?
“Piper!” I gasp, rising up and latching onto my redheaded daughter. And then my eyes follow hers to the bandaged guy repeatedly kicking the hoodie-wearing one as the latter lies on the ground.
Logan.
“Logan,” I stammer, and he stops at once, turning to me.
I read relief in his eyes, though I can’t understand why. I sink into his arms, crying. “Why were you doing that? Why were you beating up Quill?”
“Baby. Baby.” He hugs me to him. “I love you so much. I’m going to fix you.”
Behind him, I see Piper kneel beside Quill, crying.
“Why were you hurting him?” I ask him. “You made our daughter sad, Logan.”
“I’m sorry.” He kisses me. “I’m very sorry, Lia.”
His arm still around me, he leads me toward Piper. She’s crying, still crouched over Quill. His face is bloodied and bruised and he’s… smiling.
“Don’t cry, cricket,” he tells her, blood dripping from his mouth as he speaks. “I’m not hurt at all.”
“Stop it, Quill! You’re bleeding!”
“Need a Tylenol, Quill?” asks Logan.
“Nah, I’m fine. Just taking a nap.”
“Uh huh.” Logan turns to me. “See? Everything’s okay, Lia. I’m going to put you back to bed, and I’m going to stay with you, okay?”
He presses his lips to mine again.
“Logan, she was going to shoot you!” protests Piper. “Quill saved your life, and you beat the shit out of him!”
Logan turns glowering eyes at my daughter. “She is your mother, Piper. And I will beat the shit out of anyone who lays a finger on her.”
“But she was going to shoot you,” insists Piper angrily.
“And she has every right to. End of discussion. Let’s all go to bed. Quill, we’re good.”
“You can’t beat him up and then tell him the two of you are good,” lashes out Piper. “I’m pretty sure that’s for him to decide!”
“Yeah, it is.” Quill yawns, and more blood trickles out the side of his mouth. “We’re good.”
Piper lets out a cough that sounds a lot like “Men.”
“C’mon, you,” murmurs Logan, leading me into the bedroom. “I’m sorry I left you alone. It was my fault. The doctor was treating me, but I should have come to you the minute I woke up. I shouldn’t have passed out to begin with.”
He sits me down on the bed, and I stare up at him in confusion. “Did… did something happen, Logan?”
“No, of course not.” He sits across from me, dragging his fingers through my hair. “Nothing happened, except I love you more than ever. You’re my good girl, Lia. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, Logan,” I whisper, closing my eyes as he strokes my cheek.
“I’ll always love you. Do you know that?”
I nod, anxiety making my throat tight.
“Now,” he murmurs, pulling me into his lap, “who the hell is Jane?”
_
“I’m starving. Can we get some food or am I doomed to wither away to nothing?”
“You’re nowhere close to being nothing, cricket.”
“Quill! That’s so mean! I’m not fat.”
“Well, in some places you are. In the right ones.”
“That’s not even true. I’m so flat-chested I’m practically concave. And you’re mean. Let’s get takeout. Can you go ask Logan what they want? Quill? Hello?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Huh? Of course I did. Keep talking. I like the sound of your voice.”
“I meant, did you listen to anything I just said?”
Even in the confused state I’ve been struggling with since I emerged from my nap, I can’t help but smile. Hearing my daughter’s high-pitched, chirpy little voice is bittersweet. Remembering all I’ve found... realizing all I’ve lost.
“How are you feeling, baby?” asks Logan’s low voice. I turn to him and see that he’s sitting beside me on the bed, holding my hand and watching me attentively.
“Good, as long as you don’t ask me about Jane. It makes my head hurt. I remember enough to know that I should know, but I don’t and... it freaks me out.”
“I won’t ask anymore,” he promises. He marks a beat then adds, “So you don’t remember what happened earlier either?”
I shake my head again. “I guess I should. I can tell it was bad. What did Piper say? So much was going on at the same time, and...”
“She didn’t say anything important. We’ll stop talking about it.” His voice is nonchalant, but I can see the concern in his eyes and it makes me nervous. “I agree with Piper. Takeout sounds nice. Doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.
“I’ll see what’s around. Anything you want? Oh, here’s a pizza place that has good ratings.”
“Pizza?” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t really want...”
But he’s already out the door, talking to Piper and Quill. I get up too, my head pounding, my throat dry. I nearly fall but manage to stumble over to Logan, who turns around just in time to catch me.
“You okay, baby?” he murmurs. “You don’t look too good.”
I don’t feel too good, either. “I’m... hungry.”
He stares at me for a moment, as if trying to guess at what’s really going on, then turns back to Piper and Quill. “Stay with the girls, Quill. I’ll go out and—”
“No,” Piper interjects. She crosses her arms and looks angrily at Logan. “No, you can’t leave her with Quill. That’s not fair. We don’t know what she’s capable of, and...”
I gape at Piper, then at Logan who’s stalking across the room toward her. And then my eyes fall on Quill, who’s sporting a fat lip and is watching the scene in mild amusement.
“Let go of me!” squeaks Piper, lifting her arm before Logan can put his hand around it. “And don’t tell me she’s my mother! I know she is, but she... she...”
“You need to be quiet,” says Logan, his voice low. “Please stop speaking, Piper.”
She wipes tears from her eyes. “No, I won’t. I can’t. Logan, she almost hurt you. Maybe she’d hurt Quill next. I love her so much, but Quill comes first for me. You understand that, don’t you? That’s how it is with you and Lia. She’ll always come first, won’t she?”
He smiles sadly. “I used to think so, sweetie. But when push came to shove, I chose to protect you.” He clears his throat.
“Don’t worry, Piper. I can handle myself, and so can Quill.
Lia just had a short episode, but she’s okay now.
Everything’s fine. Don’t let a little thing keep you from forming the relationship you’ve been hungering for. Okay?”
Piper glares at him. “Well, I wouldn’t call a bazooka a little thing...”
But she’s already walking timidly toward me. “I’m sorry... mama. I love you.”
Logan smiles at both of us. “That’s right. You girls have a chat while I get the food. Quill, stay with them, okay?”
“Sure, I’ll babysit,” he answers from his sprawled position on a chair.
Rolling her eyes at him, Piper gently puts a hand on my arm and guides me toward the couch. “I hope you weren’t upset by what I said, mama. You just scared me a little. You’re really okay, though? You won’t do it again? What’s wrong? You look kind of out of it.”
“I...” I pass a hand over my eyes, trying to emerge fully from my haze. “What did I do? How did I scare you, baby?”
She frowns. “Oh... you don’t remember?”
“No, I do. I think. I mean...”
“Why don’t you girls talk about something else?” suggests Logan as he opens the front door. “You have eighteen years to catch up on. Almost nineteen.”
“Okay.” Piper’s strained smile makes my heart hurt. The front door shuts and her expression grows sheepish. “I don’t really know what to ask, actually.”
I take a deep breath, because I don’t know where to start either. “So tell me, baby,” I say at last. “You’re how old now... twenty-two? Are you still in college?”
She sighs. “I was. I got all the way to Christmas break of senior year before finding my adoptive parents, well...” She interrupts herself.
“Well, they passed, and then a lot of crap happened to me. I guess I dropped out.” She grimaces and I take her hand in mine, hunting for a less painful subject while making a mental note to ask Logan what happened.
“How long have the two of you been together?”
“Five years,” grunts Quill.
“One year,” says Piper at the same time. She looks at him. “I already told you, we are not counting the years we weren’t together because you dumped me...”
“I didn’t dump you.”
“You told me you’d kill me if you ever saw me again.”
“Well, that’s not dumping, is it? And anyway, it was obviously not true. I saw you every day.”
“Yeah, because you stalked me.”
Their usual back-and-forth banter is edged with something painful that makes me want to hug Piper. It feels horribly awkward to exist in this way, right at the outskirts of her life.
“I’m sorry that happened, but I’m glad you found your way back to each other,” I settle on.
Then I try yet again to find the right question.
I let out a breath of relief when Logan comes back, carrying a bag with the McDonald’s logo.
“Ew, Logan!” Piper scrunches up her nose. “You couldn’t find anything better than that crap?”
“The pizza place was closed.” Logan empties the plastic bag of its contents, laying a number of wrapped hamburgers on the table and two cartons of fries.
“Pizza?” Piper’s grimace deepens. “We’re in Ireland. You couldn’t have found something, uhm, Irish?”
“Like a potato? Don’t French fries count?”
Sighing, Piper heads toward the table. I follow, looking around uncertainly at all the chairs and the food.
The fog I’ve been struggling with is compounded by all these choices.
It’s objectively insane that I’d struggle over what chair to sit in or which of the burgers to pick, but my mind feels so heavy, so sluggish...
I heave out a breath of relief when Logan pulls me onto his lap and slides a burger and fries over to me.
“Did you girls reconnect?” he asks, unwrapping my burger for me then placing it in my hands. “What did you talk about?”
“Uhm...” Piper shrugs. “College. Boyfriends.”
“Oh yeah? Did she tell you what a gem I am?” Logan grins and takes a bite out of his burger.
“We-e-ll...” Piper chews on a fry. “We talked more about me, actually.”
“And that’s how it should be,” Logan tells her. “You’re our daughter. It’s only right that we should be asking the questions.” He glances at me, and whatever he sees makes his grin fade. “Let’s hurry up and eat. Lia’s exhausted.”
“No,” I say. It’s not exhaustion. I don’t know what’s going on with me, but it’s not exhaustion. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not. I have shrapnel in my head, a bullet wound in my arm, and a serious lack of skin on my torso, so eat your burger and let’s hit the hay.” He winks at Piper. “How’s that for a boomer expression?”