My eyes lifted, "Sorry," I tried to say, but my words died. And so did my heart. At least for a second.
"Logan?" the woman in front of me said. She took two steps until she was standing only feet away. She looked me up and down. I didn't blink. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. "It is you," she whispered.
She was older. But then again, so was I. If you took away the effects of time, she looked the same. The same drugged up, fucked up person that carried half my genes. The only difference was her eyes. They looked tired. Or maybe that's just how the seven-year-old me remembers her. Maybe I remember the fire in them. The crinkle in her eyes was always due to the anger inside her. She never smiled. I remembered that then—that she never smiled. Not when I was a kid. But right now—she was smiling. It didn't make sense.
"Logan?" she said again.
What was I supposed to say to her? What's the protocol for mom meets beaten kid fifteen years later? I wanted to ask her why she did it. I wanted to know how she let it happen for so long. I wanted to ask her how—how she could do that to a kid? But really, I just wanted to tell her to get the fuck out of my face.
I could feel the muscles throughout my body start to get tense. My jaw locked from flexing so hard. My fists balled so tightly I could feel my nails breaking skin.
She took a step forward, eyeing me closer. I squared my shoulders. "Jesus, son, you've grown."
"I'm not your fucking son, don't call me that." My teeth clenched. My heart pounded in my ears.
Then I felt Amanda's hand curl around my arm, and instantly, I relaxed. As if she had some sort of power that made everything better. Maybe she did. Maybe that's why I needed her.
"Excuse me," I heard Amanda say from next to me, but she wasn't talking to me. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but fuck you." She released my hand and took a step closer to my mother. She was in between us, blocking my like a shield. "Of course he's grown," she said quietly, so only we could hear. "What? Is he too big now? You only enjoy beating on little helpless, defenseless kids?" She took another step forward. "You sick fuck. You need to crawl back in the demented hole you came from and I hope you die there. Because I swear it lady, if I ever see you again, I'll kill you myself."
Amanda
He didn't want to talk about what happened. So I left it alone. When we pulled into his house, he told his dad he wasn't feeling well and that he was just going to crash in the pool house for the night.
He sat down on the sofa, pulled me towards him, placed me on his lap, wrapped my legs around him, and held me. And that's how we stayed. For fifteen-minutes. Our arms around each other, chest to chest with our hearts beating as one. Then he sighed and pulled back. "We've had some shitty things happen to us, huh?" he said, his face so close to mine his breath brushed my lips. I closed my eyes and nodded. "It's not going to happen anymore, Amanda," he stated, almost like a declaration. "You and me—together—It's not going to happen anymore." He was talking to himself, but I nodded anyway.
***
It was clear from just looking at him that it was Jake's dad that answered the door the next day. He smiled when he saw Logan, but the smile turned megawatt when he saw me—and our linked hands. "Asshole," he greeted Logan.
I laughed.
Logan chuckled, that deep manly chuckle I love so much. "You trying to make me look bad in front of my girl," he answered, stepping into the house.
We walked hand in hand to an office where Jake's dad motioned for us to sit. We did. Then he took a seat in the chair opposite and linked his fingers under his chin. And waited. For what—I don't know.
Eventually he broke the silence. Leaning forward with his hand outstretched to me, he said, "I'm Nathan, you must be—"
"Shit," Logan broke in, "Sorry, this is Amanda." He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
We shook hands.
Then a loud screaming came from somewhere in the house. "Is that his car?" an excited voice rang out.
The office doors burst open, and a girl strolled in, followed by a woman. Jake's sister and mom I assumed. The girl halted immediately when she saw me. "Who are you?" she said, her eyebrows creasing. She looked me up and down. I felt self-conscious. 'Um..."
"Don't be rude, Julie," her mom reprimanded.
She rolled her eyes dramatically, but her eyes never left mine. "Logan?" she said, still eyeing me. "Who is she?"
Logan stood up slowly and stretched out his arms. "Julie, how are you?"
She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist—still glaring at me. I swear to God—she mouthed 'Back off bitch' just before he let go of her. I didn't know whether to laugh or piss my pants.
She finally tore her eyes away from me and I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding. Pre-teen jealousy is a bitch—a bitch named Julie, apparently. "What are you doing here?" she cooed, looking up at him.
"It's adult business, Julie," Nathan interrupted. "Go to your room and play with your Barbies." He had a shit-eating smirk on his face.
"I do not play with Barbies, Daddy! Guh! You're so embarrassing!" she cried, before leaving the room.
"That's mean, honey," his wife scolded.
Logan sat back down.
Then the woman smiled warmly at me.
Nathan cleared his throat.
Logan's gaze snapped to him.
They glared at each other. Then Nathan shook his head, "You are an asshole," he said to Logan. Then to his wife, "Mandy," he motioned his hand to me. "This is Amanda. AKA the Logan Tamer."
Her head threw back in laughter.
"Well, it's about time." She nudged Logan's side. Then shook my hand, "I'm an Amanda, too. But it's been a long time since anyone has called me that."
She faced Logan. "I made those cookies you like. You want me to bag 'em?"
Logan's grin took over his face. "You know Mandy, if you weren't married, and I didn't have a girl, we'd kind of be perfect for each other."
"That's enough," Nathan playfully warned. "Get out of here, wifey, before he works his magic."
She laughed, closing the door behind her.
Then it was silent as the mood turned serious. Nathan looked from Logan to me, and back again. "You're happy to have someone else—"
"She knows it all, Nathan, it's fine." He took my hand and squeezed once.
"Okay then." Nathan pulled out a folder from his draw and set it on the table. "What do you want to know?"
Logan shrugged, his eyes staring off into the distance. He gripped my hand tighter. I don't know if he knew he was doing it. I cleared my throat. They both turned to me. I said to Logan, "How about her name? Do you want to know that?"
He nodded, turning back to Nathan, who inhaled deeply, then opened the folder.
"Logan?" the woman in front of me said. She took two steps until she was standing only feet away. She looked me up and down. I didn't blink. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. "It is you," she whispered.
She was older. But then again, so was I. If you took away the effects of time, she looked the same. The same drugged up, fucked up person that carried half my genes. The only difference was her eyes. They looked tired. Or maybe that's just how the seven-year-old me remembers her. Maybe I remember the fire in them. The crinkle in her eyes was always due to the anger inside her. She never smiled. I remembered that then—that she never smiled. Not when I was a kid. But right now—she was smiling. It didn't make sense.
"Logan?" she said again.
What was I supposed to say to her? What's the protocol for mom meets beaten kid fifteen years later? I wanted to ask her why she did it. I wanted to know how she let it happen for so long. I wanted to ask her how—how she could do that to a kid? But really, I just wanted to tell her to get the fuck out of my face.
I could feel the muscles throughout my body start to get tense. My jaw locked from flexing so hard. My fists balled so tightly I could feel my nails breaking skin.
She took a step forward, eyeing me closer. I squared my shoulders. "Jesus, son, you've grown."
"I'm not your fucking son, don't call me that." My teeth clenched. My heart pounded in my ears.
Then I felt Amanda's hand curl around my arm, and instantly, I relaxed. As if she had some sort of power that made everything better. Maybe she did. Maybe that's why I needed her.
"Excuse me," I heard Amanda say from next to me, but she wasn't talking to me. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but fuck you." She released my hand and took a step closer to my mother. She was in between us, blocking my like a shield. "Of course he's grown," she said quietly, so only we could hear. "What? Is he too big now? You only enjoy beating on little helpless, defenseless kids?" She took another step forward. "You sick fuck. You need to crawl back in the demented hole you came from and I hope you die there. Because I swear it lady, if I ever see you again, I'll kill you myself."
Amanda
He didn't want to talk about what happened. So I left it alone. When we pulled into his house, he told his dad he wasn't feeling well and that he was just going to crash in the pool house for the night.
He sat down on the sofa, pulled me towards him, placed me on his lap, wrapped my legs around him, and held me. And that's how we stayed. For fifteen-minutes. Our arms around each other, chest to chest with our hearts beating as one. Then he sighed and pulled back. "We've had some shitty things happen to us, huh?" he said, his face so close to mine his breath brushed my lips. I closed my eyes and nodded. "It's not going to happen anymore, Amanda," he stated, almost like a declaration. "You and me—together—It's not going to happen anymore." He was talking to himself, but I nodded anyway.
***
It was clear from just looking at him that it was Jake's dad that answered the door the next day. He smiled when he saw Logan, but the smile turned megawatt when he saw me—and our linked hands. "Asshole," he greeted Logan.
I laughed.
Logan chuckled, that deep manly chuckle I love so much. "You trying to make me look bad in front of my girl," he answered, stepping into the house.
We walked hand in hand to an office where Jake's dad motioned for us to sit. We did. Then he took a seat in the chair opposite and linked his fingers under his chin. And waited. For what—I don't know.
Eventually he broke the silence. Leaning forward with his hand outstretched to me, he said, "I'm Nathan, you must be—"
"Shit," Logan broke in, "Sorry, this is Amanda." He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
We shook hands.
Then a loud screaming came from somewhere in the house. "Is that his car?" an excited voice rang out.
The office doors burst open, and a girl strolled in, followed by a woman. Jake's sister and mom I assumed. The girl halted immediately when she saw me. "Who are you?" she said, her eyebrows creasing. She looked me up and down. I felt self-conscious. 'Um..."
"Don't be rude, Julie," her mom reprimanded.
She rolled her eyes dramatically, but her eyes never left mine. "Logan?" she said, still eyeing me. "Who is she?"
Logan stood up slowly and stretched out his arms. "Julie, how are you?"
She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist—still glaring at me. I swear to God—she mouthed 'Back off bitch' just before he let go of her. I didn't know whether to laugh or piss my pants.
She finally tore her eyes away from me and I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding. Pre-teen jealousy is a bitch—a bitch named Julie, apparently. "What are you doing here?" she cooed, looking up at him.
"It's adult business, Julie," Nathan interrupted. "Go to your room and play with your Barbies." He had a shit-eating smirk on his face.
"I do not play with Barbies, Daddy! Guh! You're so embarrassing!" she cried, before leaving the room.
"That's mean, honey," his wife scolded.
Logan sat back down.
Then the woman smiled warmly at me.
Nathan cleared his throat.
Logan's gaze snapped to him.
They glared at each other. Then Nathan shook his head, "You are an asshole," he said to Logan. Then to his wife, "Mandy," he motioned his hand to me. "This is Amanda. AKA the Logan Tamer."
Her head threw back in laughter.
"Well, it's about time." She nudged Logan's side. Then shook my hand, "I'm an Amanda, too. But it's been a long time since anyone has called me that."
She faced Logan. "I made those cookies you like. You want me to bag 'em?"
Logan's grin took over his face. "You know Mandy, if you weren't married, and I didn't have a girl, we'd kind of be perfect for each other."
"That's enough," Nathan playfully warned. "Get out of here, wifey, before he works his magic."
She laughed, closing the door behind her.
Then it was silent as the mood turned serious. Nathan looked from Logan to me, and back again. "You're happy to have someone else—"
"She knows it all, Nathan, it's fine." He took my hand and squeezed once.
"Okay then." Nathan pulled out a folder from his draw and set it on the table. "What do you want to know?"
Logan shrugged, his eyes staring off into the distance. He gripped my hand tighter. I don't know if he knew he was doing it. I cleared my throat. They both turned to me. I said to Logan, "How about her name? Do you want to know that?"
He nodded, turning back to Nathan, who inhaled deeply, then opened the folder.
