Текст книги "More Than Her"

Автор книги: Jay McLean

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THIRTY FOUR

Logan

I think making the actual decision was the hardest part. Amanda stayed neutral while I reeled of the pros and cons of the situation. She tried her hardest to not let her opinions or emotions sway my decision. I wasn't lying when I told her that her opinion counted. Because at some point in the last few weeks, she became more than just some girl that I slept with, or some girl I shared a bed with every night. She became more than just my girl. She became my everything.

When she wasn't around, I missed the shit out of her. When she was around, I didn't want to leave her side. If you called me a pussy right now, I'd tell you it was valid.

"So, you're sure Micky doesn't know any of this?" I asked her again. The problem I was faced with was that whatever choice I made, it wasn't just about me. I could make it that and be a selfish asshole, but I cared about Micky. Obviously. And Jake, too—he was just as invested in this as I was.

"I'm sure. No one's spoken to her about it. Ethan said that James hadn't brought up her name at all with Micky. You know, sore subject and all."

"Does James know?"

"Yeah, but what can he do?"

I sighed. "Nothing I guess."

She reached over and held my hand. We were on our way to Jake’s house to speak to Nathan, and then spend the night at my house. I wanted to talk to Dad about the whole situation and he still wanted to meet Amanda.

"I'm kind of glad you quit baseball," she said out of nowhere.

I chuckled, "Yeah? Why's that?" I picked up her hand and kissed her wrist.

"You just have more free time. I like having more of you. I don't think I'd ever get sick of having you around," she snorted, rolling her eyes. "Lame," she announced.

"It's not lame." I kissed her wrist again.

"You do that a lot."

"Huh?"

"Kiss my wrist—you do that a lot—why?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. It's like my lips—on your pulse. I can feel your heart beating and know that you're here. I guess sometimes I find it hard to believe that you're real—and that you're mine."

***

Nathan had all the information ready when we got there. He held off on a lot of it when we came the first time because he didn't want to overwhelm me—whatever that meant.

"You sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"No," I answered. It was the truth. "But I think I'd always wonder if I didn't, you know?"

Amanda and I decided not to tell Nathan everything we thought we knew about her, just in case it would sway my decision. That was Amanda's biggest concern. That I made the choice that I wanted.

"She's um..." He cleared his throat. "She's not at a good place at the moment."

Amanda and I looked at each other, we figured she wouldn't be, but we didn't know to what extent.

He continued, "She's in a home."

"A home?" I asked.

"Yes, a mental facility."

I exhaled loudly. Amanda held my hand tighter. I didn't know what to say, so I just stared at the desk in front of me.

"Logan?" Nathan got my attention. "She's on suicide watch."

***

Megan Strauss. Patient #163 at Dalton Psychiatric house.  At least that's what the file says about her. The picture they have of her is nothing at all like Amanda remembers her to be. If I had to describe her in one word it would be lifeless.

"Do you think she looked like me?" I glanced over at Amanda, who was eyeing the file on her lap as we drove to Dad's house. "I mean, before all that shit happened. Are there any similarities?"

She looked up at me then, her eyes squinting in concentration as she took in my features. "Apart from being ridiculously good looking?"

I had to laugh.

"No, Logan. I don't think so."

I didn’t think so either.

***

It was no real secret about what happened when I was younger, but I guess people had enough decency to not talk or gossip about it too much. By the time I reached middle school, I'd worked out that not that many people knew about my past. I remember talking to Dad about it once. He never tried to hide my past from me; he was always honest and straightforward. Apparently the fact that my birth parents never came back for me, made the entire adoption process simple. I remember thinking how amazing it was that I'd somehow been chosen to have a second chance at life. Even at a young age I knew better than to waste it. I guess that's what happens when you cheat death. I remember thinking that maybe Dad would keep me around and not hurt me if I kept my room clean. It was such a stupid thing to think—now that I look back on it—but when you're a kid and you're scared of monster's voices—then you do anything you can to not have to go back to that place in your life.

I still keep my room clean.

When I was fourteen, word got around town that my birth mom was looking for me. Apparently she went to Dad's work and created a scene. That's when he went looking for the best lawyer in town just in case anything went down. That's when we met Nathan. You can imagine my surprise when I made friends with some asshole with a weird accent, who was apparently some kind of baseball God, and went to his house to shoot the shit one day after school. Nathan—he didn't even flinch when he saw me. I stuttered my way through introductions and hoped to god that it didn't show. It's not that I was ashamed of my past, but I had just met Jake, so coming out and saying 'Hey, I'm adopted, my parents were abusive junkies and your dad's my lawyer' wasn't really in the cards. Not then. It took me a good year to tell Jake I was adopted—and even then—I still didn't tell him why.

Sometimes I forget that I'm adopted. Like this kid, Phuong, in one of my classes—he told me once that sometimes he forgets he's Asian. I found it so funny when he said it, but now—I kind of understood it.

I wonder if Megan ever forgot who she was before she became who she is. I wonder if she knew what was happening to her, as it was happening, or if one day she just woke up and she didn't know who she was anymore. There's a part of me that feels for her. She was this sad and pathetic little girl that didn't get what she wanted, so she stole it. Maybe she needed that attention, craved it in a way. Maybe it was because she didn't have that family-ness at home, like Amanda said. Maybe she did something that was supposed to just be some innocent prank because she was a bitter bitch, and it ended in the worst form of tragedy. Maybe I just feel bad for her because of what happened to her afterwards. Because even though we don't know each other at all, and even though the worst type of circumstance leads us to kind of knowing each other—maybe I don't want another human being to die in the hands of fucking drugged up assholes. Maybe this is my way of paying back what my dad did for me. Maybe I want to help her. Maybe I need to help her.

I told all of this to Dad while Amanda was at the store buying stuff to make dinner. He just shook his head and said, "Maybe she needs you to help her."

So that was that.

***

Amanda arrived not long after the conversation, grocery bags in tow. I'm pretty sure the last time the kitchen was used by anyone other than the housekeeper was when Micky was here.

I washed my hands and pushed my sleeves up. "What can I do to help?"

She laughed the same time Dad did.

We'd moved to the kitchen and she was unpacking while Dad sat at the counter.

"What's funny?" I asked them.

Dad answered, "I don't think I've ever seen you do anything cooking related."

Amanda laughed again. "Ever?" she asked him.

"Ever," he confirmed.

Assholes. Both of them.

She opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, she handed one to Dad and started to give me the other, before she hesitated and pulled it away. Her eyes went huge, realizing what she'd just done.

My dad chuckled. "Sweetheart, he's been drinking openly since he was sixteen, it's fine." He gave her a reassuring smile.

I saw her body relax as she handed it to me.

When I was sixteen, Dad noticed the amount of parties I started going to. It was before I got my license so we walked almost everywhere. When I got my permit, he sat me down and told me he was fine with me drinking, that he knew I was going to do it, so he wanted me to be prepared about the consequences of alcohol. He went through the entire medical side of things, and how often he saw kids having to get their stomach pumped and shit like that. Then he told me about Tina. Tina was his high school sweetheart. They'd dated since freshman year and all through college. He told her he'd propose to her the day he graduated. And he planned too. The night of graduation, she was hit by a drunk driver while crossing the road to get to the hotel room he had booked. The room he littered with candles and roses and where he waited on bended knee for her to open the door. He said he could still hear the sound a car makes when it impacts with a human body. He even showed me the ring he still held on to. He said that he believed in one true love, and that she was it for him.

She was his person.

***

"Holy shit, what is this?" Dad and I both said during our first mouthful of whatever Amanda made. I swear I saw Dad's eyes roll back in satisfaction.

Amanda laughed. "Good, huh?"

"Sweetheart," Dad cooed. "This is better than good."

"It's Taco casserole."

"It's amazing is what it is," I told her.

We moved to the living room after dinner to watch TV. She lay down with her head on my lap and was out within five minutes. I could see Dad watching us while I stroked her hair. "She asleep?" he asked.

I nodded, looking down at her. "Yeah. She's always so overtired. She works way too much."

"Does she need to work that much?"

"I offered to pay more rent, she won't let me."

Then it was quiet for a moment, while I continued to watch her sleep.

"She makes you happy, son?" he asked quietly.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "She makes me whole."

I had to wake her to move us to the pool house for the night, by the time we said goodnight and left the main house, she was wide-awake.

"It's such a nice night out," she said, her head tilted, looking up at the sky.

I agreed.

"Let's just stay out here for a bit."

So we did.

I walked us over to the day bed near the pool and laid us down. She put her head on the crook of my arm and her leg over me.

"So I've made a decision," I told her.

She looked up at me. "Yeah?"

"I think I want to go see her."

"With Micky?"

"I guess."

"Good for you, babe."

There was also something else I wanted to tell her, or ask her actually, but I didn't know how. So I just came out and said it. "What are your plans after college? I mean, are you planning on hanging around here?"

She sat up and little and eyed me curiously. "Not sure," she shrugged. "Why?"

I cleared my throat and faked confidence, locking my fingers behind my head. My heart pounded against my chest. I didn't know how she'd react to me asking but I kind of needed to know. "Just—I mean—when I choose med schools to apply for, I kind of need to know where you'll be, or what your plans are, you know?" I rushed out my words in one long breath.

She closed her eyes slowly and visibly swallowed.

Shit. "Shit," I said aloud. "Forget I said anything. I'm sorry. It's way too soon for this conversation."

She smiled. "Maybe it is—too soon, I mean—but who gives a shit, right?"

I laughed once. "Right."

Then she lay back down and rested her head on my chest again. Her hand went under my shirt, fingering my abs. "I'll follow you wherever, Logan. For as long as you'll have me."

Forever, I thought. But I kept that to myself.

THIRTY FIVE

Logan

I could tell it was hard for Jake to stay quiet while I told Micky that I wanted to visit Megan.

"Suicide watch?" Micky asked, her voice breaking. She'd been crying since the Amanda told her the rumors of Megan's life in LA.

I nodded. "I'm going a week from now, it's a five hour drive."

"I'm going, too," she insisted.

"So am I," Jake said.

Amanda held my hand tighter, she didn't have to say the words. I knew she would be coming to support me.

***

We took Dylan's truck for the trip. Mine was too small, Jake had no back seat and Micky's car was too unreliable.

Five hours later we stood in the foyer of the Dalton Psychiatric House. Amanda and Jake stayed outside. I had researched visiting protocols and times, so was prepared when they asked us to hand in anything loose that was on us. A metal detector and a security search later, we were inside what looked like a visiting room. Like in jail. Not that I'd know what that looks like in real life. Just TV.

"It looks like a jail," Micky said, reading my thoughts.

"Uh-huh."

"Are you nervous?" she asked.

"Are you?" I retorted.

"Shit yes," she choked out.

I turned to face her. She was already crying. I covered her hand that rested on the table with both of mine. "We'll be okay, Mick—promise."

Then the doors opened and she walked in. A nurse followed but stayed in a seat next to the door. Micky gasped the same time Megan's steps faltered.

She was worse than in her picture.

"Is that her?" Micky whispered, turning her head to me.

"Yes."

"Shit."

"Mikayla," Megan greeted. Her voice came out hoarse, like she smoked two packs a day. Then she looked at me. "Bro." She tried to smile, but she couldn't.

She looked old. Her skin sagged on her face and she had blood spots all over her face. Her hair looked dead on top of her head, she had bags under her eyes and her cheeks were hollowed out from how skinny she was. She sat down in the chair opposite us and rested her arms on the metal table. I could see the bruising on her arms from where the needles would have constantly punctured skin. She sniffed once, getting my attention. She raised her eyebrows in question. I must have been staring.

"Meth?" I asked her.

"Winner winner," she croaked out. She had a twitch. The type junkies get when they need a hit.

For a second I wanted to get Micky on her feet and get her the fuck out of there. I'd seen that face on other people before. Hell, I lived with those kinds of faces—but Micky—I don't know that she'd be able to deal.

"Megan," Micky whispered.

Megan's eyes went from me to Micky, and it was instant. Whatever emotion she was trying to hide disappeared the moment her eyes locked on her best friend. Her body slumped and a sob took over. "You're not supposed to see me like this," she said through a cry.

"Megan," Micky sighed. She reached her hand over and tried to hold Megan's, but she pulled it away, coming to a stand. The nurse stood too.

"No!" Megan yelled. "You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to see me like this and you're definitely not allowed to fucking pity me!" She started pacing. I saw the nurse pull out her walkie-talkie.

"No!" Megan yelled again. "Micky, what the fuck? Why are you here?"

"Because I need to forgive you," Micky said quietly.

"Forgive me?" Megan spat out. "No, Mick, you don't need to do that. You can't do that. You—and your family—you were all I had—and look what I fucking did!"

"Megan," she repeated again, tears streaming down her face. "You may have been a shit friend but you don't deserve what's happened to you. Nobody deserves that."

"So that's it?" Megan stopped pacing and faced us. "You came because you felt sorry for me? You can't do that Micky. You can't pity me. You just can't. I won't let you." She shook her head back and forth, her eyes wild. "I won't fucking let you Micky." She started walking backwards until she hit the corner of the room. "I won't fucking let you." Then her body slid down the wall until she was sitting in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. "I won't fucking let you." She kept repeating the words over and over. "I won't fucking let you."

Micky stood, but I pulled on her arm. "It's okay," she said.

I looked at the nurse, who nodded once in confirmation.

Then she walked over to Megan and kneeled in front of her. She placed her hand on Megan's shoulder and whispered loudly in her hear, "Megkayla brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like..."

Megan looked up then, "it's better than yours."

Then they both said, "Damn right, it's better than yours."

They both laughed. Through tears of anger, sadness, despair, pity, and sorrow, they laughed.

"Oh Micky," Megan said, leaning closer to her.

"Shh," Micky comforted her, and then turned to me. "Give us a minute?"

I looked at the nurse again. "I'm here the entire time," she assured me.

Amanda

"Did you have a pet Kangaroo?" I asked Jake. We were sitting on a bench just outside the building. We didn't know how long they'd be so we walked to get a coffee and some food.

He turned to face me with a slight scowl on his face. "You're shitting me right?"

I shrugged. I was. But Micky told me once that he hated getting stupid questions about Australia and his accent. "I'll take that as a no."

A few moments later, I asked, "How big is Australia? Is it the same size as Texas?"

Jake shook his head slowly, eyeing me like I was stupid.

I tried to contain my laugh.

"It's like the same size as America," he said slowly.

"Oh," I pretended to sound surprised. Then, "Did you guys have bowling?"

"Bowling?" he repeated.

"Yeah, like ten pin bowling."

"Oh my God," he laughed out, "It's not all red dirt country, of course there's fucking ten pin bowling."

"Oh," I said again, "Do they let you bring your pet Kangaroos bowling?"

He looked at me like I was crazy.

Then I threw my head back in laughter.

"Oh, you're fucking with me!" He finally got it, and laughed with me.

Then Logan's voice boomed from the doorway. "Hey asshole, you better not be hitting on my girl."

"Where's Kayla?" Jake asked, all humor left his voice.

"She's in there—it's fine," Logan raised his hand, "she's safe."

"What are you doing out here?" I came to a stand and moved in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

He did the same. "They just need a minute." His face came close to mine, rubbing his nose along jaw. He laid his forehead on my shoulder. I saw Jake watch us, and then he walked away, giving us some privacy.

"How is she?" I asked him.

He blew out a long slow breath. "Bad. But I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Okay."

"You know what I want to do, though?"

"What's that?"

He rubbed his nose against mine, and then kissed me long, and slow. I hadn't even realized that he was holding me up by the time he pulled away. "I just want to appreciate you. Everything about you. All of it."

Logan

"She's ready for you." Micky came out a while later, wiping tears from her face. She walked straight into Jake's waiting arms. He hadn't said a word since we got here. Not about Megan anyway.

I kissed Amanda and walked into the building, palms sweaty, heart racing, blood pumping. I didn't know what to expect when I went in, but she just sat at the table, looking calm and ready.

"Hey." Her smile was genuine this time. She looked at the nurse, and then to me. "I'm sorry about my outburst earlier. It's a lot for me to take on. I mean, you being here is enough—but Mikayla—it just—it was too much."

I nodded and took a seat opposite her. "She wanted to be here," I said.

"Yeah." She blinked tightly a few times. "She told me."

Then it was silent for a few moments until she finally sighed, "So..."

"So..." I repeated.

"Lucky we never slept together."

I choked on air.

She laughed.

Then it was silent again.

"He talked about you."

My eyes darted to hers, surprised. "Who?"

"Our dad," she answered.

"Not my dad."

She rolled her eyes. "I get it," she nodded, and then continued, "When I was younger, like really young, maybe up until I was six or something...he used to talk about you."

I laughed once. I didn't even know what to say. "He wasn't specific or anything, he just said that you existed. I knew your name. That was it. And then he stopped coming around. I wasn't sure why, but he was gone a few years. Anyway, my councilor at my old rehab sad I should try to find you—maybe it might help motivate me to get better." She paused to take a breath.

I leaned my elbows on the cold metal table and waited. What ever the fuck she was saying, there had to be a point to it all.

"Anyway, I think it must have been around the same time you got adopted out or something—when he stopped coming around."

"Maybe," I shrugged.

"Did he hurt you, Logan?" Her voice was still harsh, but underneath it, was a layer of sympathy.

"Why?" I asked her. "Did he hurt you?"

"No." She shook her head. "My mom, though. I saw it a few times. But not me—not when I was a kid at least."

"What does that mean?"

"What?"

"Not when you were a kid. Has he hurt you recently?" My eyebrows drew in.

Her eyes welled with tears but she looked down to the floor. "He's just not good people, Logan. You need to stay away."

"No shit. What the fuck did he do to you?" My jaw clenched and my fists tightened. She reached over to cover them but I pulled away. It was too soon for her to be touching or comforting me. I didn't need that shit. And even though I had to feel something for her—I wasn't ready to feel that.

She sighed, and leant forward. "Micky told me that you know...about my life in LA...she said that word got around and Amanda told you?"

I nodded.

"Also, Amanda Marquez?" She said her name like a question.

"Don't say her name again," I warned.

"Okay. Touchy asshole. No problem." Her hands went up in surrender. "So our Dad—"

"Your dad," I cut in.

"Fine, my dad—he went to LA, apparently to check up on me. But he was more excited to find out that my boyfriend was dealing drugs and that he could score off him. One thing led to another—it started with weed, then ecstasy, meth and then cocaine. It was like the most fucked up form of family reunion possible. For five months straight it was just..." her words trailed off. Then a single tear fell, "And then we had to pay for it all, and I mean—how could we? So my boyfriend decided to pay with me."

"And your dad let it happen?" I yelled. I couldn't help it. The nurse sat up straighter, "I'm sorry," I told her, and then repeated the question, quieter this time.

"Like I said, he's not good people."

My head fell back. I eyed the ceiling wondering how the fuck people get so unbelievably bad.

"Now they run some sort of drug ring," she continued. "Pauly from LA, Dad from here."

I shook my head.

"And me?" she said, her eyes falling to the bruises on her arm. "I have the same nightmare every night. Except it's not a nightmare. It's almost like a dream. It's too good that it hurts when I wake up. I dream every night of them. Of Mikayla's family. I can still hear Emily's laugh. And I shouldn't be allowed to. I shouldn't be able to feel the joy that that one sound can bring. I shouldn't be able to close my eyes and see them. I don't deserve to."

***

"Watch it, asshole," some dick in front of me said. Valid. I'd just walked out the visiting room doors when and wasn't looking where I was going, I would have run into him if he didn't say anything.

"Sorry, man."

"Yeah." He tried to square his shoulders, "You better be."

I took him in. He had the same lifelessness that Megan had. His hair was thin, almost like it was going to fall off at any time. He had those same fucked up blood spots on his face. You could tell he made an effort to dress up, his suit hung off his body and was sizes too big. He had flowers in his hand that were clearly picked from the bushes just outside. I don't know how old he was. He could've been forty—or he could've been twenty.

"Chill out," I said calmly, opening the door for him. I watched as he walked in and started for Megan's table. She looked up at him. She didn't flinch. She didn't gasp. Her breathing didn't even hitch. But I saw it in her eyes. She was scared. Scared of monsters.

Logan: I need your help

Dad: Anything.

***

"I wonder what fucked up things Dylan and Cam are going to do to your car," Jake said through a laugh. He turned his head to glance at me from the drivers seat.

"I know. Those assholes. We should do something to D's."

We were driving back home. Amanda had fallen asleep in the back seat with me, but she was starting to stir.

"Like what?" Micky asked.

Amanda sat up. "What are we talking about?" Her voice was scratchy from sleep.

"Fucking with Dylan's car," I replied.

She turned her head to face me, her eyes squinting, trying to focus. She bit her lip, looking me up and down.

"What's with you?" I laughed out.

She leaned into me and rested her hand on my dick, rubbing it softly. "I'm so fucking horny right now," she whispered.

My dick twitched.

She kissed my neck, and then bit my earlobe. "I can't wait to get you home and fuck you."

I groaned. My dick got harder.

I pulled her into me and kissed her. Hard.

She palmed my dick through my jeans.

"You got any ideas?" Jake asked.

Fucking cock-blocking Jake Andrews.

Amanda laughed and pulled away. "We can get soda and pour it on the car, get it really sticky, and then cover it with bird feed. A few hours from now it'll be covered in bird shit."

Jake threw his head back in laughter. "You guys are fucking perfect for each other."

I watched her face as a grin overtook her features. "Yeah," she said, her legs coming up on my lap. "We kind of are."