Logan nodded, then swallowed. “You wouldn’t believe some of the batshit stuff people told our friend Paige, who lost her twin sister.”
Hearing him call Paige our friend sent a warmth through me that was hard to dissect. Was it the “our”? The “friend”? That he was getting more out of group than I’d probably given him credit for? It all felt eye-opening, but I wasn’t sure in what way.
Because he’s more than you thought.
“Fuck, that’s rough,” Stick said.
“Yep,” Logan agreed.
“What other kinds of things do you talk about?” Jane asked.
“Baby, maybe they don’t want to talk about it. Or maybe it’s like AA or something and they can’t.”
Logan and I looked at each other. He wiped his face off with a napkin (my eyes still stayed on his mouth—it wasn’t just the salty fry lure after all) and shrugged. “It’s okay to talk about, I guess. I probably shouldn’t have used Paige’s name, but yeah, we can talk about it.”
“In fact, Marlo would probably say it’s a good thing that we talk about these things outside of our sessions,” I said, and Logan murmured his agreement. “Like tonight,” I added, then saw Logan tense. It was gone in a second and he reached for his shake, transferring the straw from his drained pop cup to the chocolatey goodness. “Should I not?” I asked.
“No, it’s fine.” At Stick and Jane’s shared glance, he went on, “It got a little… I don’t know ifheatedis the right word, but there was a…”
“Spirited debate?” I offered, trying to cut the tension. During class, the unease between us all was palpable, with each group trying not to offend the other but also wanting their views acknowledged.
“Yeah, that works. Spirited debate. Huh.” His eyes met mine, and the tension that had been in our classroom only an hour ago disappeared as his gaze softened. “It was dumb, really.”
“It wasn’t dumb. It was true. All of it was true,” I said. I turned to Jane and Stick, who both had “well, now youhaveto tell us” looks on their faces. “Part of the group lost their… person in an accident or, like, a heart attack. Suddenly. They weren’t there. No chance to say goodbye or anything.” I tried to keep emotion out of my voice. Logan and I hadn’t even been the most vocal during the discussion, but we were very much on different tracks.
“And the other half of the group had someone they loved die of some illness. A couple of them prolonged illnesses, where you watched the other person fade, or be in pain or whatever,” Logan said.
He rushed through it, as if the words said at a greater speed would not have a chance to land.
To hurt.
“So, it kind of went from ‘at least you got to say goodbye’ to ‘but you didn’t see them suffer’ for about a half hour until Marlo tried to get us to see all sides of it.”
“Jesus,” Jane whispered.
“Yeah,” Logan and I both said.
“Like some kind of Loss Olympics,” Stick said. “That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah,” Logan and I both said.
We finished our food and drove back to Schoolport in silence. About a block before we got to Logan’s house, he reached over and took my hand, placing it with his on the seat between us.
“We leave for our first series tomorrow after classes,” he said. “We’re at Boston U Friday and Saturday nights.”
“Yeah? Good luck, bro,” Stick said. Jane nodded in agreement.
“Right. Good luck,” I said. “Or do you say break a leg in sports? Or is that just the theater?”
“You definitely don’t say it in hockey,” he said. We all chuckled, and I felt any tension of the night that was still hovering completely melt away.
When he got out of the car, he didn’t ask if I wanted to come in with him, but he did squeeze my hand before he released it. “See ya next week,” he said, and I gave a single nod.
As we drove away, I told myself I wouldn’t have gone in to his house with him even if he had asked me. The night had been too fraught with emotion to bring lust into it as well. Or curious housemates.
I knew I was lying to myself. I would have gone if he’d asked.
But he didn’t.
