Chapter Two: What We Planned and What We Didn't
Logan
January 15
"I can't believe you just volunteered us to cook dinner for Stacey and her mother," I snapped, my fingers knuckle-white around the steering wheel as I drove my girlfriend and I to the little food market she insisted on shopping from instead of the big, chain supermarket that I preferred. "We can barely make a decent pot of coffee between the two of us, Mary Anne."
She sighed and shook her head. "Logan, you know perfectly well that isn't true. I can make a mean chicken tetrazzini."
"Yeah, when you buy it frozen and pop it into the oven," I reminded her.
"What is your problem?" she demanded.
My problem? Honestly, I didn't really know. I mean, in all honesty, the idea of having one of my girlfriend's best friends move in with us once her psychotic ex-boyfriend got out of jail was mine. Maybe it was all of the testosterone speaking or the gun that spent so much time holstered to my waist, but I felt that I owed it to our childhood friend to do everything in my power to protect and watch over her. I glanced at Mary Anne quickly before refocusing back on the road.
"Nothing, Mary Anne."
"Well, there's something wrong with you," she said shortly, beginning to sound annoyed with me. "All I know is that you had better get over it by the time we get over to the McGill's. Stacey told me that she waited to call her mother to let her know what was going on until after she had finished most of the packing so that she wouldn't have Mrs. McGill hanging over her and sobbing miserably the whole time."
"Are they going to be crying the whole time?" I asked, feeling a little uneasy. I'm not the kind of guy to feel especially uneasy around crying women- I'm not afraid of them and I don't rush to do anything they ask me to just to keep them from shedding another tear. It's just that I knew exactly why Mrs. McGill and Stacey would be so upset and, since I had to admit that I was starting to feel frustration well inside of my chest as well, I was just worried that I might say or do something to make everyone's evening even worse than it was already going to be.
"If it's going to worry you that much, don't come," Mary Anne snapped and unbuckled her seatbelt in record speed as I pulled into a parking spot in front of the market. She was out of the truck in a heartbeat and I had to jog to lock up and catch up to her. When I did, she froze and stared up at me, her breath icy in the mid-winter air. "Don't you dare make this any harder on them than it needs to be."
She spun on her heel and marched into the store, neglecting to pick up a basket on her way in. To make up for it, I grabbed two, one in each hand, and followed at a safe range behind her. For nearly ten minutes or so, she simply stalked around the various aisles, pretending to look at the various products, but setting each one down with such little interest that I knew she was barely seeing anything that she was looking at.
Gradually, her fury cooled and her pace fell back to normal. I picked up my pace and caught up to her. Glancing down into my girlfriend's face, I could see that her eyes were bloodshot from crying. Pushing both baskets into one hand, I swung my other arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She melted against me, burying her face against my coat.
"I'm sorry," she moaned.
I nodded wordlessly. There wasn't really any point in saying anything. We had already had similar fights before this, concerning Stacey and what it was going to be like with her living with us. How it would undoubtedly be difficult on her and her mother to be separated, especially since they had grown so close in the years since Stacey's parents divorced. Mary Anne always accused me of underestimating the strong bond of their relationship and what a strain it would be on Stacey to leave her mother's side for the first time in her life. I always countered back with telling Mary Anne that she was grossly underestimating Stacey's strength and what she would be capable of, even if she had to endure what would, in her life, seem like nothing but a minor inconvenience.
"Let's just get what we need and get out of here," she finally mumbled, pulling out of my arms, but holding onto my hand nonetheless.
I followed her wordlessly throughout the store, letting her toss things into both of our baskets, not saying anything when she tossed in items that I knew were too expensive or that we weren't going to use. I wondered if Mary Anne was even paying attention to what she was buying anyways.
I made sure to slip in the necessary items like tomatoes and herbs to make sauce so that we wouldn't show up with an armful of random things that Mary Anne had unseeingly thrown into her shopping basket.
I had to cringe when the cashier gave us the final amount and it was lucky that Mary Anne was studying the display of cigarettes behind the girl, who looked about twelve. I glanced over at my girlfriend.
"Mary Anne?" She jumped. "Are you coming?"
"Um. Um, hold on, Logan." Fishing deep into her tight jean pockets, which normally would've drove me wild had we each not already been in foul moods, she pulled out a wad off crumpled bills. "I want a pack of cigarettes." The cashier raised a carefully plucked eyebrow. "And a lighter? What?"
"What kind of cigarettes do you want?" the girl asked, her face an amazing combination of exasperation and boredom mingled into one expression. "There's, like, a hundred different kinds back there."
Mary Anne glanced at me, her eyebrows raised expectantly. I shook my head, completely thrown off balance.
"You don't smoke!" I told her instead of offering advice as to what brand she ought to buy. She scowled then stabbed her finger towards a slender, silver package with a pink stripe running down the side. How feminine. Go figure.
"Those," she muttered. She then plucked a lighter from the display on the counter and slapped it down as well. "Here."
"$5.26."
After Mary Anne paid for her cigarettes and her lighter and we had finally left the tiny market store and were back in my truck, I turned to stare at her. She was fumbling around with the lighter, trying to get the cigarette lit. I sighed.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm nervous, too," she said quietly.
"Honey, you don't smoke," I told her gently, trying my best to sound understanding and sympathetic. Mary Anne narrowed her eyes and glared at me.
"Logan, just leave me alone, all right?" she snapped. I threw my hands into the air in exasperation. "For God's sake, please, let's just go back home!"
She tossed the unlit cigarette out the window and rolled it back up to lean her forehead against the cold glass. "I don't feel so great."
"Me, neither," I agreed before starting the engine.
TWO
"Thanks for coming over," Stacey said quietly, a shy smile on her face.
I smiled back at her. Mary Anne and Mrs. McGill were in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner while Stacey and I volunteered to make sure that the living room stayed neat and clean. So far, so good.
"It's really no problem at all," I told her. "After all, we all know how hard this move is going to be for you."
Stacey looked away quickly, her bright blue eyes leaving mine to focus instead on the stack of boxes sitting next to the front door. They were the last items that we needed to move tonight, like her bedding and towels. The rest of her things, like her summer clothing and furniture, we were going to be moving over starting tomorrow and over a more gradual time period. After all, we already had the basic furniture she needed, so she really only needed to bring her necessities tonight, which is why I was a little baffled by the stack of boxes waiting to be loaded into the truck. I cleared my throat.
"You're bringing a lot of things over tonight," I said awkwardly. Would that make her think that I wanted her to bring less? Would she worrying that she had forgotten something and try to squeeze another box onto the truck? God, would she freak out and tell Mary Anne what I said and I'd have to look both of them in the eye and listen while they explained that women, unlike men, needed a little more than a toothbrush to survive the night away from their home?
Stacey nodded, thankfully snapping me from my thoughts. "Well, I figured that I'd start decorating my bedroom tonight, too." When I didn't respond immediately, a concerned look flashed onto her face. "If you don't mind."
"Oh, no, I don't care," I told her quickly, fearing an attack of tears. "I just didn't think you'd feel up to doing much tonight and would probably just want to go to sleep after we set up your bed."
Stacey shrugged. "I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight. If I'm stressed out, I sometimes spend the entire night awake." She raised a hand to begin chewing on her thumbnail. "Either that or I have nightmares."
"Nightmares?" I asked cautiously.
Stacey's eyes filled with tears and I could immediately tell that I had just tapped into something deeply painful and emotional for her. She stared into my own eyes helplessly for a moment before nodding and looking down.
"Yeah… they can get pretty… intense…."
"It's all right," I murmured, reaching out to hold her hand. I was surprised to find that her hand was ice cold and trembling, so I quickly took them both and began to rub them between mind, trying to warm her up. "Stacey, please don't cry."
"You're going to want to kick me out right away," she predicted morbidly and I sighed.
Mary Anne had already warned me about this. She had already warned me that Stacey would try and make herself become the most unattractive candidate to live in our home so that she could stay where she was, where she was comfortable, even if she wasn't safe where she was. It was only fear, I knew, but that didn't mean that I didn't feel a pang of discomfort when she threatened me with that.
"I'm sure we can figure out a way to make this work," I told her firmly.
"Dinner's ready!" Mrs. McGill chirped happily from the dining room and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Still holding Stacey's cold hands, I walked her through the kitchen and into the McGill family dining room, where Mrs. McGill and Mary Anne were standing beside the table, looking extremely proud of themselves. I handed Stacey off to her mother and Mary Anne clasped my hand instantly. Hers were warm and soft in mine.
"Everything all right?" she murmured into my ear, leaning towards me as we all sat down. I nodded slightly and she gave me a wide smile. "Good."
"This looks really good, guys," Stacey said, sinking down into the chair across from mine. "I know it's only pasta, but I'm sure that it must've taken hours for the two of you to make."
Mary Anne smiled wryly as she sat down beside me. "Oh, funny, Stace. It's not like you're some genius in the kitchen yourself, you know."
"I've never set anything on fire in there," she pointed out.
I snorted laughter into my napkin as Mary Anne shot me a dirty look and Mrs. McGill grinned broadly, looking around at her small group of diners. Stacey just smiled and shrugged at Mary Anne, as if to say that the better woman had won and that Mary Anne should just concede gracefully. I reached across the table to pick up the serving spoon in the pasta pot before the two girls could continue making fun of one another.
"I am starving," I said pointedly. Mrs. McGill settled back into her chair, looking a little ill at ease suddenly. I glanced at her, catching her eyes, and when she realized that I saw her discomfort, she shot me a winning smile. I returned it, feeling not so great once more. "I can't wait to start eating."
"It's not like you practically are already," Mary Anne laughed, picking up the salad bowl and passing it to Mrs. McGill.
"Silence, woman," I commanded gruffly and the three women at the table bristled, though I could tell each of them were trying to contain laughter.
"Don't be such a chauvinistic pig, Logan," Mrs. McGill scolded and Mary Anne smiled at me in perfect understanding.
In the past few years, Mrs. McGill and I have grown closer than I had ever expected us to. Four years ago, in July, when my parents received the news that my paternal grandmother was dying of cancer, Dad got it into his head that instead of just renting a place to stay out there for a while until she passed, he was going to up and move the whole family to Virginia for good. Since I was already out of college and had already grown deep roots in Stoneybrook (there was my then three-year relationship with Mary Anne, not to mention the close friendships I had and the new job at the precinct that I had just begun), I declined to come with them. Somehow, Mrs. McGill took over as my surrogate mother.
I had always thought that I would grow close with Mary Anne's stepmother, who was, in every practical way, Mary Anne's mother. After all, Mary Anne and I have known one another for nearly fourteen years now and have dated for eight of those years.
What's funny is that I can never imagine myself calling her anything but Mrs. McGill, no matter how close or how much I love her. She's always going to be Mrs. McGill to me, even if she were tucking me into bed at night and reading me a bedtime story.
Stacey's laughter broke through my thoughts and I smiled slowly, not quite sure where their conversation had led.
"Logan, you always space out whenever someone insults you," she laughed. "Is that some kind of a defensive mechanism?"
"I guess," I replied.
I decided to start eating instead of continuing that thread of conversation. I knew where it would undoubtedly end up and I knew that Stacey would undoubtedly end up in tears. That's because "spacing out" was her form of coping and escaping from what she perceived as threats. I could tell by the look in her eye as I pushed a twist of bowtie pasta and creamy cheese sauce into my mouth that she was thinking the exact same thing. Mrs. McGill's hand rested on top of hers and squeezed gently, effectively snapping Stacey out of her thoughts. Stacey returned to her plate, but without much enthusiasm.
"We cleaned up the bedroom at the end of our hall," Mary Anne said suddenly, after she finished chewing on whatever it was she had in her mouth. That's my girl, always the polite, well-mannered one. Why she ever picked me in the first place, I'll never really know.
Stacey blinked. "The yellow room." Mary Anne nodded. "Oh. Wow, thanks. That's a really big room."
"Well, it's not like we were really using it for much," Mary Anne said with a shrug.
The yellow bedroom at the end of our hall was where we had kept our old childhood and adolescent memories. We stored all of our old yearbooks, graduation gowns, report cards, art projects, everything. It was actually pretty full of things, but since Mary Anne liked to organize her memories, the room was neat and something of a laugh to the rest of our friends, who couldn't imagine having such a room in their own places. I suppose, though, the rest of our friends also couldn't really imagine living in the house that we were living in.
About a year after my parents left and my grandmother died, my great-aunt Helen also died. However, unlike my grandmother who passed everything to my grandfather, my great-aunt Helen didn't have a husband or any children to pass her estate onto. So, she decided to pass everything onto her favorite family member: me. I was completely floored when the lawyer told me the extent of my great-aunt's estate and precisely what I was inheriting.
Though the money she left behind I still haven't touched (she left it in a trust fund that I cannot open until I am thirty years old), the old farmhouse just outside of Stoneybrook was mine to move into as soon as it was cleaned out or as soon as I felt like moving in. Mary Anne, who was crazy with excitement over what seemed to her like some kind of a mystery or something, insisted that we have a copy of the keys to the house that very day so that we could take a look at what the place looked before anything was even touched or moved from its original position. I tried to explain to her that my great-aunt Helen was no stranger to modern technology, but Mary Anne wouldn't hear a word of it.
Now, of course, Mary Anne and I have moved into the farmhouse and it's settled into our home. Though there are more rooms than we honestly know what to do with, especially since there aren't any children running around there yet, it's cozy and it's ours.
"Right, Logan?"
"Hm? What?"
I blinked guiltily at Mary Anne, who gave me one of her pretend frowns. She shook her head and smiled at Stacey and Mrs. McGill as if to say "men!"
"I said that we could move the things from the yellow room downstairs into the little room in the basement."
Oh, that's right. There are actually two rooms in the basement. They were there when we moved in, but since it was too damp and dark to use the basement for anything, the first thing we did with the house was to have the basement finished. So, now, besides having the laundry room downstairs, there's just this little spare room where we kept empty boxes and plastic bags that we need for moving things around or if we need to help our friends move things around.
Stacey smiled and shook her head. "I still can't get over the fact that you guys live in a house that has seven bedrooms," she said. "I mean, that's so cool."
"Yeah, but there's only two full bathrooms," Mary Anne pointed out. "If we have kids, there are going to be raging battles for the bathrooms."
"Well, if you have a ton of kids like the Brewer-Thomas clan," Stacey giggled. "Or, the Pikes. I mean, if you keep it short and sweet, like just two or something, then there won't be too many battles."
"We only had three kids in our family and sometimes my mother would scream at us to stop acting out World War Three around the bathroom," I argued.
Mrs. McGill laughed. "You're going to have problems with any number of kids concerning the bathroom unless you either have just one kid or one bathroom per child."
Mary Anne snorted. "We're not building a new bathroom every time I get pregnant."
"Better only get you pregnant once," I said.
"Nice," she grumbled, rolling her eyes.
Everyone laughed and continued talking until the phone rang. Stacey excused herself hurriedly and raced to the phone to answer it. We kept talking, though in a somewhat hushed and careful manner, watching Stacey out of the corner of our eyes. Gradually, the smile slipped from her face and she grew pale. Mrs. McGill got to her feet and started to make her way to Stacey when Stacey said goodbye and hung up. The silence in the room felt like another person, it was so tangible.
"Honey?" Mrs. McGill finally answer softly. Stacey started, looking as though she had forgotten the rest of us were in the room.
"Teddy took his things and left just now," she said in a whisper. Mary Anne fumbled for my hand. "So, he's officially out of jail now."
"Oh, sweetheart," Mrs. McGill gasped and scooped Stacey into her arms as the redhead burst into gasping sobs.
Mary Anne squeezed my hand and looked at me. "Logan…"
"Do you want to leave?" I whispered.
Her face changed from uncertainty to disbelief in an instant. "What? How can you ask that?"
"I just thought that-"
"No, Logan!" she snapped and pulled away from me. Before I could grab hold of her hand again, she was over with the McGill's and holding onto Stacey as well. I sat awkwardly at the table and stared down at the remains of our dinner.
Sometimes, things just didn't go the way they were supposed to go at all.
TWO
"I still can't believe you said that!"
I groaned. "You looked upset, Mary Anne! I thought that you wanted to get out of there and give them some space!"
Mary Anne slammed the books she had in her arms down onto our kitchen table. "What would give you that idea? When have I ever done that?"
"God, Mary Anne, would you just get over it already?" She opened her mouth to retorted, but I held up my hand quickly. "Do you want me to just say I'm sorry? Will that make you happy?"
"You just want to make me happy?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch. God. Now she was really getting upset. "You really don't want to understand why I'm upset, you just want to shut me up!"
"I just want you to calm down," I told her. "You're not listening to a word I'm saying anyways, so I just don't want to do this right now."
She looked away from me and crossed her arms over her chest. I could tell that she was angry by the way her jaw was working and grinding. Her face was even red from trying to hold back whatever red hot remark she was dying to say. Finally, she looked back at me.
"I'm sleeping downstairs tonight," she declared.
I sighed. "Mary Anne, come on…"
"No, I just can't be near you right now," she said, pulling away when I tried to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Please, Logan."
I stared at her for a long minute then nodded. "Fine, Mary Anne. Fine. If that's the way you want it."
Before she could get another word in, I turned and stomped away from her.
I knew she had a point. I was even willing to admit that I could've been a little more sensitive at that moment, but I was also upset that she couldn't listen to what I had to say. The further I got from her, the more I realized that it would be better anyways if she stayed downstairs tonight.
Sleeping apart tonight was the first good idea I had heard all day long.
