Sherry Ficklin - Losing Logan

“No. I’m thinking a dress. Something feminine.”

Oh sure. Pick the one thing I don’t own.

My phone vibrates. “Ok, Carlos is in, and judging by the amount of happy faces in this text, he’s a little excited.”

It vibrates again.

“He wants to take me to Potomac Mills, to the designer outlets.”

“So?”

“And how shall I pay for those expensive garments? With my good looks and winning personality?”

He frowns. I take a deep breath and go to my dresser, pulling open the top drawer. Pushing aside the underwear I grab the small black wallet.

“I didn’t want to have to do this.” I open the billfold and remove the one lonely card from the slot.

“What’s that?”

“My debit card to my college fund.” I clutch it tightly. What little inheritance I’d received from my dad’s insurance policy went into this account. I’ve never used a penny of it, not until now. It always felt like blood money.

“Do you have enough?” he asks.

I glare at him.

“You owe me for this, Logan. Big time. When you get up there, you had better give me a damn good recommendation. I mean it.”

He grins, “Deal.”

Twenty minutes later Carlos arrives, blasting the horn from the driveway. Mom is gone when I walk out the door. She probably had to make a grocery run for her famous rhubarb pie ingredients.

“Hey Zoe,” Carlos offers with way too much enthusiasm for this hour of the morning. He hands me a tall coffee which I accept gratefully. Logan appears in the back seat. I sigh. I hadn’t wanted him to go with us but he refused to be left behind. His death was very boring apparently. Even after I’d suggested he chill out in the girl’s locker room at the gym he refused to be anywhere but attached to my hip. I just hope I don’t forget Carlos can’t see or hear him and start talking to ‘myself’.

It’s a long ride from my small town to the Outlet Mall in Potomac Mills and Carlos talks the whole way. Most of the discussion is about his upcoming date, the first he’s had since the firmly-in-the-closet-quarterback fiasco of sophomore year. I try to be pleasantly interested and encouraging, and ignore Logan who is singing along with the radio at the top of his lungs. Digging through my purse I find my small bottle of pills and pop two in my mouth.

“I’m sorry, are you getting a migraine sweetheart?” Carlos asks, patting me on the knee.

“It’s not you,” I say honestly and smile.

Logan huffs in the back seat and leans forward, poking his head between us.

“Consider this payback for all the rude names you’ve called me in the last few days.”

I sigh.

“So, where to first?” Carlos asks as we finally pull into the parking lot.

I have no idea where to begin. There must be fifty stores, all trendy boutiques I’ve never heard of.

“Left to right?” I offer weakly.

Carlos shakes his head. “No, what sort of clothes are you thinking?”

Logan yells in my ear but I ignore him.

“I need something,” I pause, waiting for Logan to shut up before I continue. “Feminine.”

For a brief second I think Carlos is going to wet himself with excitement. He reaches across the car and pulls me into a bone crushing hug.

I pat his back and he releases me.

“What was that for?” I ask.

He wipes a pretend tear from his eye. “My baby girl is growing up.”

I slug him in the arm.

“I’m serious Zoe. I’ve been waiting for you to dress like a girl for three years.”

I roll my eyes and step out of the car.

“Well, your wait is over.”

I see Logan climbing out of the car behind me so I slam the door on him. He looks up at me half of him still in the car, half of him hanging out the door.

“Hey. That wasn’t very nice.”

I smile and let Carlos take me by the arm and lead me to the first boutique.

Three hours and eight hundred dollars later I officially have more bags than I can carry. Still, Carlos insists on one more shop. Exhausted and feeling like I’ve burned a hole in my poor credit card I protest, but he makes a pouty puppy face and I relent.

“Let him have his fun,” Logan advises.

“I am,” I mutter under my breath as we enter the last store. All three of us come to a complete stop two steps in. Across the room, on a rack near the dressing room, hangs the most beautiful red dress I’ve ever seen.

Carlos grabs me by the arm and points to it.

“That one.”

I shuffle my bags over to him. The sales woman, more than happy to help after seeing my haul from the other stores, puts me in a dressing room. It looks even better on, if that’s possible. It’s a halter cut red sundress that drapes in delicate folds from the waist. There’s a line of tiny woven designs around the hem which hits me at just mid-thigh. It has a 1950’s vibe without looking costume-ish. And looking at myself in the mirror, for the first time I can see why Carlos thinks I’m pretty. I twist my long brown hair up the back of my neck experimentally. It’s perfect. This is my war dress.

And I feel ready for battle.

“I want to see it,” Carlos whines from outside.

Not patient enough to wait, Logan slips just his head through the door making me jump.

“Wow,” he says, looking me over in a way that makes blood rush to my cheeks.

“Out of the dressing room, perv.” I whisper before stepping out to show Carlos.

He grins proudly and motions for me to spin around.

“It’s stunning. You’re stunning.”

“Good,” I say looking over myself in the bi-fold mirrors outside the dressing area. I run my hands down the bodice area. This dress even gives me the illusion of having boobs. It’s a freaking miracle dress. Reaching down I grab the price tag and almost lose my balance. This dress is over five hundred dollars. I glance up and see Logan watching me from the door to my dressing room. He looks…

Enchanted.

“This better work,” I mumble more to myself than anyone else.

“What was that?” the overly eager cashier asks.

I take a deep breath. “I said, I’ll take it.”

I fall asleep on the way home and at some point Logan vanishes. By the time I get home it’s growing dark and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Who knew shopping could be so much work?

Carlos helps me get the bags in before skipping off to gloat about his victory on his vlog. I’m sure he is going to tell the whole world about our little adventure. As soon as it’s online I watch, but there’s only a brief mention of the day’s shopping marathon. It’s mostly about the movie he saw last week, and of course, about the latest fashion blogs. I click off my computer and heat up some left over soup for dinner. I’m curled up on the sofa when mom gets home, quickly changes, then heads off to work the graveyard shift. I fall asleep watching SyFy not long after that.

“Hey, hey,” Logan calls.

I crack one eye open and he’s sitting beside me on the couch.

“Good, you’re awake.”

I flip him off.

“What time is it?”

He glances over his shoulder, “Um…two twenty.”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he smiles.

Reluctantly I sit up and flick the TV off, shuffling to my room like a zombie.

“Whoa, where are you going?”

“Bed. You know, where you go to sleep.”

He moves in front of me to cut me off, but I’m so tired I just step right through him.

“Hey,” he protests and follows me to my room.

I shut the door on him, as if that’s going to keep him out.

As expected he slides through the door just as I fall into bed.

“Seriously? I come to bring you good news and this is how you treat me?”

I close my eyes. “You’re still here. The news can’t be that good.”

He sits on the edge of my bed and though I don’t see it. I can sort of feel it, kind of the way you can feel when someone is watching you.

“Fine.” I sit up, pulling my thick green blanket around me to ward off his chill. “What is your news?”

“I was just at Bruno’s house—“

“Stalker.”

“Anyway. He was talking about having to be at lacrosse tryouts tomorrow. They are doing it before school starts this year.”

I yawn. “This is good news how?”

“Well, they are going to be announcing who is taking my place as team captain. And I’m sure it’s going to be Bruno. The guys love him.”

I wave my hand, “Again, this matters to me because…?”

“Because he was talking to Zach about how lucky Zach is to have his girlfriend coming to support him. It’s sort of a tradition that the girls come and watch tryouts, good luck and all.”

“Really?”

He nods excitedly. “And since Bruno doesn’t have a girlfriend, if you were to happen to be there, I dunno maybe working on something for the newspaper or the student council, you do that stuff right?”

I nod.

“Well, if you were there to wish him luck, maybe stick around and congratulate him after he makes captain…”

I sigh. I’m still not following his train of thought.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll ask you out. He already likes you and—“

“Wait, all I have to do to get him to ask me out is show up at practice? Is he totally desperate?”

Logan sits back, rolling his eyes.” No Zoe. He’s a guy. We really aren’t complicated creatures. When a pretty girl shows interest, maybe drops a few compliments, we are like human putty.”

Ah I see now. “So feed his ego a little.”

“Exactly.”

I’m trying to decide how to handle this new bit of information. I eyeball the red dress hanging on my door.

“Fine. But I’m not going to giggle and bat my eyelashes like a freaking idiot.”

He lowers his chin, looking at me seriously.

“One other thing you should do.”

“What?”

“Try to go five minutes without insulting anyone, okay?”

Five minutes with no insults? That might actually kill me.

He chuckles at my reaction.

“You can do it. You do it with Carlos all the time.”

I swallow. Carlos is different. He’s like…family.

“No promises. Now get out of my bed so I can sleep.”

Logan gets up and heads for the chair.

“No, like out of my room.”

He looks back at me, his eyes sad.

“I don’t really have anywhere else to go. My parents packed up my room today. It’s just boxes now.”

And in that moment, I feel like the biggest bitch alive.

“Okay.”I say, lying back down. Then, as I watch him fold himself into my chair, I realize he’s going to spend all night there. Just like that, staring off into the dark. Reaching over I grab the tiny remote off my night stand and flick the TV on.

“What channel?”

He looks up appreciatively. “Try USA. They have decent shows usually.”

I set the remote back down, roll over so my back is to the TV and curl up in a ball, pulling the covers over my head.

* * *

The light is already streaming in my window when I finally stretch and sit up in bed. Logan is gone, but probably not for long. I’m halfway through a bowl of Cheerios by the time he reappears.

“Sleep okay?” he asks sitting beside me at the kitchen table.

I answer with my mouth full. “Yep. Thanks.”

“Good. You needed your beauty sleep.”

I frown around my spoon. “What are you trying to say?”

He holds up his hands in surrender.

“Nothing. I meant nothing. You look quite rejuvenated today. That’s all.”

He’s probably right. I didn’t have any bad dreams last night, for the first time in as long as I can remember. Though I hate to admit it, I think having him there helped. Made me feel…safe somehow. Which is stupid because, well, it’s Logan.

“What time are tryouts today?”

“Four,” he answers, eyeballing my bowl.

“Hungry?”

He cocks his head to the side. “I don’t know. I can’t tell if I’m actually hungry, or if I’m just remembering what it feels like to be hungry.”

I pick a cheerio out of the bowl and motion for him to open his mouth, which he does. I toss the tiny O and it lands right in his mouth, then flies out the back of his head and sticks to the wall behind him.

He turns to look at it and we both burst into hysterical laughter until my sides hurt and I can’t breathe.

Finally we calm ourselves and he waits in the bedroom while I shower and dress. I choose a soft yellow skirt and my new black ballet flats. Logan picks out a deep green ruffled shirt which I slide on over my yellow tank top. I carefully pull my hair back into a loose, casual braid. When I’m done, I stare at myself in the mirror.