Oh my gosh double update? I think so!
James consoles himself with the fact that sitting at a dinner table with his deadbeat father, his deadbeat father's stripper wife, their two perfect children, and Megan has to be better than listening to Logan.
It has to be, because nothing was worse than listening to Logan.
"Haven't seen you in a while, James," his dad says, trying to start up an already failed, falling-flat conversation. "What made you want to visit?"
Nothing made him want to visit, actually. Nothing ever would. But Megan drove here automatically, and he didn't have the energy to sit longer in the car with her.
He shrugged.
"I haven't seen you since your birthday and all I get is a shrug?"
This is the second lie his dad is telling. He actually hasn't seen his father since last Christmas.
"Your house was closer than Mom's."
"He was all the way in Rochester, Lance," Megan explains to James' father, who isn't paying attention.
James's father rakes a hand through his hair. "Why?"
James shrugs again. "I was at the Mayo Clinic."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Logan is sick," James answers.
"With a fever?"
That's not James's dad, that's James's half-sister, Ella. She's five or six, he's not sure. She's not the reason for the divorce, the reason for the divorce is sitting next to her. George, James's nine year old half-brother. He assumes he's nine, it's been nine years since James's parents have been divorced.
George is wearing dirty clothes and has mud in his hair, for some unknown reason. James looks away and shakes his head at Ella's question.
"My friend Grace had a fever and she didn't come to school for a week," Ella continues. She stops briefly in the middle of her sentence to push away the green beans on her plate from the mashed potatoes. She takes a bite of potatoes and resumes talking.
"Did—Logan?—have to miss school for a week?"
Logan was in the hospital for almost a week. He missed living, he missed fresh air outside hospital walls for a week. He missed talking, and he would likely have missed breathing if they didn't
Logan would've hated missing a whole week of school.
George rolls his eyes at her sister. "No one has school in the summer, idiot."
And finally, James is blessed enough to hear his stepmother's voice grate on his eardrums. Crystal looks younger than her voice. Her voice sounds like an old hag that swallowed a fistful of nails.
Or maybe he never liked hearing her voice to begin with.
"Georgie, don't call your sister an idiot."
Yeah. James never liked that voice to begin with.
"But what if she is one?"
George's voice is equally annoying, he realizes.
"Apologize."
George sighs at Crystal's command.
"Sorry, idiot."
Now George is hysterically laughing.
"George!"
Irritated Crystal is fun to watch. At least, when she's not irritated at James.
Megan thinks it's fun too, he can see her trying to suppress a grin.
Ella starts to cry, then. Now, James's father is trying to be a father.
Comforting her—the screaming, crying six year old.
When James was six he screamed and cried about how his mother said his clothes didn't match, or about how his mother said his hair wasn't done properly.
And James's father, without fail, always told him to shut up and stop being such a priss.
James pulls out his phone. He doesn't know why he thought it was a good idea to come here, it definitely wasn't.
It's still better than the hospital and Logan, but only marginally.
His phone is on silent, but he sees the messages from earlier.
From Carlos: Are you coming back?
Where are you?
Kendall says you're not picking up your phone.
Pick up, James.
Come on.
The last one was from fifteen minutes ago:
Logan is asking if you aren't coming because he feels sick and he'll die anyway so there isn't any reason for you to.
That last text is stupid.
He didn't actually say that, James types out.
HIs phone quickly buzzes with a reply. He did.
Well, that's stupid.
The next reply takes a few minutes.
Logan thinks it's his fault you aren't here.
It is, that's what James wants to type out.
But Carlos wouldn't take that very well.
He doesn't know what to reply.
His phone buzzes with another message. Not from Carlos. From Kendall.
Where are you?
These replies come easier. None of your business.
I don't care where you are, James.
James rolls his eyes. This is not the way to convince him to go back to the clinic. Real nice of you to say.
Just get here.
He'd rather not. He'd rather suffer through a full dinner with his deadbeat father, his deadbeat father's stripper wife, their two perfect children, and Megan, than go back to that clinic.
Are you at your dad's or something?
Kendall did not just randomly guess that off the top of his head.
Are you a stalker or something?
Kendall's reply comes quicker than the others. That means it wouldn't matter whatever James commented. Kendall was going to drag him into one of his plans.
I'll be there in twenty minutes.
It takes thirty minutes, if there's no traffic.
"James is using his phone at the table!" George shouts at him.
"You're not supposed to do that, James," Ella agrees.
James stares at the screen in his hands. Kendall would be here in twenty minutes.
"James," his father says, "put your phone away."
James doesn't know what to reply. Not that Kendall would take no for an answer.
"James," Crystal, the stripper wife, scolds him. Like she has the right. "Listen to your father."
He stands up from the table.
Megan rolls her eyes at him, but she's biting down a grin. She's going to enjoy whatever fight unfolds.
He doesn't have the energy for a fight anymore.
There isn't going to be a fight.
Not if he leaves.
So, he leaves.
—
Kendall is falling asleep as he pulls in. James pulls open the passenger side door. And the driver's side.
"James," Kendall yawns. "What the hell are you doing? Go sit down."
"What the hell are you doing?" he exclaims. "You're asleep, Kendall. If you drive, you'll get us killed."
"Wouldn't be a bad idea."
"Move over," James orders. Kendall, obstinate and stubborn, does not move.
But James was prepared for that. He just shoves his way into the driver's seat until Kendall's tired body naturally collapses into the passenger seat.
James reaches over for both their seatbelts.
"Get out of my car, James." Kendall protests.
"How are you planning on getting back?"
"I'll drive."
James rolls his eyes. He starts to back up. "You're not driving."
"I thought you would be too pissed to care."
"I'm still pissed," he admits. "But right now, you're—third on that list."
"Is your dad first?"
James nods.
"Then who?"
"His wife."
Kendall grins tiredly. His eyes are closing. "The stripper, right?"
"Yeah."
Crystal isn't really a stripper. Just the name. Crystal Diamond. That's the name of some Vegas stripper, James knows it.
"Who's third?" Kendall asks.
James sighs. "You, idiot."
But Kendall doesn't respond. He's asleep.
James is still pissed at him.
But he lets him sleep, they don't need to get into an argument right now.
He turns up the radio, letting the music hum softly in the background.
He almost forgets where he's going.
One glance at Kendall reminds him.
Kendall hasn't slept. All because of Logan, all Logan's been doing is sleeping.
It's funny how James just can't think about Logan right now.
Even though that's who they're going to see.
James almost turns around.
He doesn't want to see Logan.
Logan is dying.
He doesn't want to watch Logan die.
God.
Logan is dying. Logan is dying.
Someone honks from behind him. More than once, it's more than one car.
He ran a red light.
Logan is dying.
Kendall groans in the passenger seat.
"It's fine, Kendall. Go back to sleep."
Kendall does.
Logan is dying.
James can't focus, he's never been sick with nerves so fast before.
He pulls into the nearest gas station.
And immediately, he pukes.
He runs into the gas station bathroom, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. He can't brush his teeth, but he wants to.
Instead, without meaning to, he settles for crying.
Logan is dying.
It only takes a few minutes. He knows Kendall is passed out in the car. He has to actually take them to the clinic, he can't keep stalling like this.
He opens the car door slowly, trying not to wake up Kendall.
It's useless, the way the door slams closed wakes him up anyway.
Kendall murmurs something under his breath. "Are we there yet?"
"Just a few more minutes."
In reality, it's another hour.
He doesn't know how he's going to keep himself together.
And he hasn't even seen Logan yet.
Logan is dying.