Sherry Ficklin - Losing Logan

The lie comes out smoother than I expect. I think I can count the number of times I’ve lied to my mother on one hand, that is, if you don’t count all the times she’s asked me how I’m doing and I say, Fine mom. Everything’s great . Because those lies would number in the thousands.

She gives me a wary half smile. It’s hard to tell if she’s not buying it, or if she’s just exhausted. She’s been working double and triple shifts at the hospital for months. I get why. Idle time is when the pain creeps back in. Happens to me too. Maybe that’s why I agreed to help Logan. Maybe I just need a distraction.

Mom walks into my room and puts her arms around me in an awkward hug as I try to hug her back with one arm while still holding onto my clothes.

“You doing okay?” She asks, brushing the hair out of my face.

“Sure mom. I’m fine.”

She nods and takes a step back. “Have you done your back to school shopping yet?”

“I’m going to see if Carlos wants to go today.”

Her eyes brighten and I turn away. She adores Carlos.

Hell, who doesn’t?

“Well you two have fun. I’m going to put together a dessert for the staff barbeque tonight. Did you want to come with me?”

I frown where she can’t see me. Truth is I’d rather be raked naked over hot coals than spend five minutes with her colleagues from the hospital. Between the gossipy nurses, rude orderlies, and Doctor Tucker, the resident surgeon who always leers at my mom right in front of his poor wife, a fork to the eyeball sounds more fun.

“I think Carlos wants to go to some poetry reading at the tea room tonight.”

Another lie. Wow, I’m really on a roll today.

“Hey, your mom is really trying to spend time with you. You should go.” Logan chimes in from the chair. I grit my teeth and ignore him.

“Oh, well, ok then. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow after my shift.”

I nod, not turning back to her as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

“You know, if you die tomorrow and those were the last words you said to her, you would feel like shit. Trust me, I know.”

“Ground rules. Number one, no watching me sleep like a perv. And number two, no guilt trips about my relationship with my mom—or anyone else for that matter. Keep any and all urges to be my undead life coach to yourself. Clear?”

He nods. I turn on my heel and head for the bathroom. I need a shower and five minutes away from all of the people talking in my head, living and dead.

I dress in the bathroom, which I never do, because I don’t want to risk my pervy little buddy catching a peek. I’m self conscious enough about my tall, overly skinny body without him making any comments about it. Mom calls it good genes. I call it no boobs, and let’s face it, having no boobs in high school is a genuine handicap. Once I’m dressed and I’ve blown out and flat ironed my long brown hair into submission I head back to my room, to find Logan staring out the window.

“Something interesting?” I ask, tossing the damp yellow towel across my chair.

He doesn’t turn to look at me.

“I’m just bored. I never realized how boring being dead could be.” He sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Still, it could be worse.”

“Worse than being dead?”

He glances over his shoulder, his blue eyes piercing from across the room. “I could be dead and alone. At least I have you.”

I feel a blush creep up my neck and I try to shrug it off. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re just dying to hang out with me.” Then I force a weak chuckle.

“I mean it, Zoe.” He turns, walking toward me slowly, stopping just a few inches away. My heart skips in my chest. Even dead he’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. From the sharp slope of his nose to the curve of his jaw, from his broad shoulders to his dirty blonde hair that is perfect-messy in the way only movie stars seem to be able to achieve.

“If I didn’t have you to talk to—if you couldn’t see me—I’d have gone crazy days ago.” He reaches out and for a second, and in an idiotic, unrealistic heartbeat in time, I think he’s going to touch my face. But before he gets close he drops his hand to his side and the corners of his mouth turn up just a little.

At which point I realize that I’m standing there like a moron.

“Maybe I should start a business.” I fan out my hands in front of me. “Zoe Reed. Therapist to the dead.”

“You could have business cards with coffins on them.”

I snap my fingers, “And my tag line will be, Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you’re not crazy. ”

He laughs and it rolls through the room and across my skin like a cold breeze. I shudder and grab a light denim jacket from my closet.

“What’s first on the agenda today, General?”

He points to my phone. “First text Carlos about taking you shopping.”

I stand up tall and salute him. “Yes sir.”

As I’m texting, Logan goes over and starts looking through my closet.

“Carlos has one thing right. You are entering a combat zone. You need a first day battle outfit.”

“Ooh, leather and stilettos?”

He looks over his shoulder, frowning.

“The point is to make you look less like…”

“Me?”

“Like you might rip someone in half just for saying hello.”

I put a hand on my hip. “So no leather then.”

“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.