“Logan,” I said.
Then I broke his heart, and I broke mine. Both shattered instantly. I told him that since we were going to be far away from each other, we needed to see other people. I babbled on—I can hardly remember what I said through my tears—then I babbled some more until I could no longer speak. All I could see was Logan’s shocked face, then his hurt, then anger, and back to hurt.
He whipped around and stalked about ten steps away from me, stood there, then turned back and said, incredulity running through every word, “Are you serious, Bellini?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What are you talking about? Why would we break up? We can call. We can email… We can still talk.”
“No, we can’t. You’ll be on the other side of the country. I’ll be here in Montana…”
“Bellini, we can do this. What is going on? What happened? I don’t understand this at all… What the hell?”
I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t even look at him. I was betraying him. I was lying to him. I was wildly, head over heels in love with him, and yet, I knew Drake, his vindictiveness andvengeful personality, and I knew what he would do to Logan if I didn’t break up with him.
“Oh my God. Are you pregnant?” He hurried back toward me. “Look, Bellini, if you are, we’ll have the baby. We’ll get married. We didn’t plan on kids this early, I know, but we can do it—”
“I’m not pregnant.”
He was utterly, completely confused, lost, struggling. “Bellini, come on. I love you. You love me. You’ve told me that a hundred times… What’s going on?”
We went back and forth, an endless arguing, crying circle, and finally I ran for my truck. Logan told me to wait, to talk to him, but I didn’t. What could I say? I went to bed for two days and didn’t take his calls or read his emails or let him in the house.
On the third day, Logan came over again, before we both left for school, and we talked outside my house. He was pale and drawn. I was the same, utterly miserable, but I was resolute. I didn’t change my mind. I told him we were going to be too far away, that we should see other people. I hadn’t eaten, I felt sick, and I was having an anxiety attack and could hardly breathe. We were both devastated.
“I love you, Bellini. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”
“I love you, too,” I said. It was out before I could stop it.
“Then why? For God’s sake, why? Did my dad say something to you? Bellini, I promise you I will protect you from my dad. I will make sure you never see him again. Ever. You don’t owe him anything at all. You have to tell me. Did my dad say something that made you break up with me?”
“It’s not that. It’s not him.” Oh, the lies I told that day. “We need to have our own space. We need to…date others…figure out who we are… I don’t want to hold you back…”
“What?” He shook his head. “We already know who we are. We’re Bellini and Logan. We’ve never held each other back…”
“And we won’t in the future either. We’ve been together for years. We need to be our own people. You said it— ‘we’re Bellini and Logan’—but you need to be Logan, by yourself, and I need to be Bellini by myself. I need to figure out who I am without you.” This was totally untrue. We had been best friends since kindergarten. We had been together as a couple for years. But I knew who I was by myself, and so did Logan. We had separate interests, we had different friends, we always encouraged the other in sports or debates or whatever other activity we participated in. “Bye, Logan. Please, go.”
I ran into the house. He didn’t follow because he’s not aggressive and rude like that. He wouldn’t want to scare me.
People say that teenagers can’t be “in love,” that they’re “too young,” or they’re “in lust, their hormones raging.”
That is false. Always has been.
I thought I was going to die. I thought dying might be easier. But I knew my decision was right. I couldn’t be the reason that Logan lost his land. We could make a clean break. He would meet someone else, marry her, and keep the memories of his mother close.
Logan emailed me about a week after we were both in school. I didn’t answer. He tried calling a few times, sent another email. He flew home on a break, came to see me. I wouldn’t see him…and then he gave up.
In his final voicemail, he said, “I love you, Bellini. I always will. I want what’s best for you. I want you to have a happy life, and I hope everything is going well for you. I’m not going to email or call you again, because it’s not right, but if you ever want to talk, call me.”
And that was that. It was hard to live through a thing like that.
A ferocious pain lodged in the depths of my soul that never went away. It stayed there until I came home and saw Logan again.
31
Logan
When Bellini broke up with Logan, it was the second-worst time in his life. Losing his mother and the gut-wrenching grief that followed was first. At least he could take comfort that Bellini was still alive. But he was crushed. He hid it in front of his new friends at college, his professors, his roommate. After growing up with his father, he was used to hiding his emotions.
