Grace for Drowning

by Maya Cross

  "Are you comfortable?" my dad asked. "Do you need anything?"

  "I'm fine," I said, which was obviously far from true, but all I wanted was for them to leave me alone.

  "Really, anything at all," chimed my mother. "We're staying at a hotel just a few blocks away, and we'll be here as long as you need."

  It was creepy to have them fussing over me again like nothing had ever happened, like there wasn't a fucking enormous unacknowledged elephant taking up seventy five percent of the room.

  "We've been talking to the police," my dad continued. "They haven't caught the fiend that did this yet, but they're following some leads. Whoever it is won't escape justice."

  "That's good," I replied. I was surprised to find I didn't really care about justice or retribution. Maybe later, but it wouldn't change anything now.

  "I haven't seen Tom around," my father said with a trace of hesitation in his voice. My eyes darted to Joy, who just shrugged. Apparently nobody had told my parents anything more than they needed to know.

  "Tom's dead, Dad." I searched their faces for some trace of happiness, because that's how I imagined they'd react. To their credit, I found none.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," my father replied, his voice utterly neutral.

  "Are you?" Part of me knew it was a bad idea to go down that path. I barely had the energy to keep talking, much less get into an argument. But I was pissed off. I was pissed off at the world for fucking me over. I was pissed off at Logan for his betrayal. And I was pissed off at my parents for waltzing in here and acting like everything was suddenly fine again.

  "Just because we didn't agree with your decisions doesn't mean we don't care about your feelings."

  "Really? Did you think that maybe kicking me out and cutting me off might hurt my feelings just a little?"

  He didn't even have the grace to look guilty. "We were trying to help you. You have to know we've only ever wanted the best for you." The sad part was, I knew he believed that. My parents weren't cruel people, they just had an incredibly narrow perspective of the world. For them, everything fit into neat little boxes, and if something was astray, they'd push until it fit as well.

  I closed my eyes momentarily, feeling light headed. My mother spotted a chance to diffuse the situation. "Surely we can put aside our differences for a little while. Right now you need your family."

  My family was the last thing I needed, but they weren't going to leave, regardless of what I told them. They had me pinned in place for God knows how long, and they smelled blood. This was their chance to get me back on track.

  "Right now, I need to sleep," I replied. I desperately wanted to get rid of them, but it was also the truth. It was frightening how exhausted I felt after just a few minutes of conversation.

  "Of course," my mother said. "I've left our numbers on the table there. You call us any time, night or day."

  "Thanks."

  I wasn't sure I would actually drift off. Everything hurt, inside and out. But the moment I closed my eyes, the blackness rose up around me, familiar and welcoming.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Grace

  Charlie visited three days later. I think he'd been avoiding me, but he could hardly refuse when I had Joy ask him directly.

  He showed up at the door with a bunch of flowers in hand. A gentleman, even at times like these.

  "Oh, you didn't have to do that," I said.

  He shrugged. "Didn't seem right to show up empty handed."

  "Well, they're beautiful."

  He set them down on the table and sat down next to the bed. "So, how you feeling?"

  "Like hell," I replied.

  He laughed. "I'm not surprised."

  "The doctors say I'm lucky to be here at all though, so I'll take it, I guess." I tried to make myself sound grateful, but it was hard. The longer I was awake, the more I wished I wasn't. It would have saved me from feeling like this. The pain of Logan's absence only grew worse with each passing day. I kept expecting to wake up and find him perched there beside my bed, lamenting his mistake. I'd have given anything just to see his face, to hear his voice, but the chair remained empty. It was like everything that had happened between us suddenly meant nothing. The hope he'd instilled in me was revealed as a lie. I hated him for that, and I hated myself more for falling for it. Things didn't get better. There wasn't light at the end of the tunnel. I'd known that, but somehow I'd let him convince me otherwise.

  "Yeah, you gave us quite a scare," replied Charlie.

  "Some more than others, apparently."

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn't an idiot, he knew why I'd asked to see him.

  "Why hasn't he come?" Despite my best efforts, my voice shook.

  Charlie looked away. "Grace, I don't want to get caught in the middle of this."

  "Well, I don't want to be trapped in a hospital bed alone with no idea what the hell is going on, but here we are." It came out harsher than I intended, but I couldn't make myself care. Next to me was the only person who might be able to give me some answers. The only real connection to Logan in the whole world. It was so frustrating. I couldn't go to him myself and look him in the eyes and ask him to make me understand. I had to rely on second hand information, pried from the mouths of hesitant friends.

  Conflict played across his face. "Logan hasn't said anything to me. He's not exactly a talker at the best of times, and now he's basically shut up shop completely."

  "But you know him. Why? Why would he just abandon me?"

  He let out a long sigh. "Logan's not like other people. I can't pretend like I know everything that goes on in that man's head — he's a mystery, even to himself — but I know the things he's been through and, like I told you, that shit leaves scars. Deep ones. The kind that can hijack your brain, make you do things you don't want to do."

  "I know, I mean, we talked a lot. I just thought..." I didn't know how to finish that sentence. What had I thought? That love would conquer all our problems? That we were destined to be together forever? Everything had felt so idyllic between us, but obviously that was just naivety, the calm before the storm. "I guess it wasn't what I thought it was."

  He chewed some invisible object for several seconds. "He does care about you, Grace. A lot. He wouldn't have reacted this way if he didn't."

  "Apparently not enough." I spat the words, as if I could cleanse some of the bitterness from my body by hurling it out into the world.

  "If anything, it's the opposite. I think he cared too much. I've known the man a long time. I saw him with Fi and with the others, and he never looked at any of them like he looked at you. He was...better, around you. Lighter. It worried me, because I always knew it had the potential to break him, but it was also wonderful to see. He deserved a little happiness."

  My heart constricted. I wanted to believe that was true but, even if I did, it only made the pain worse. It meant some problems were just insurmountable.

  "How is he now?" I couldn't help it. I wanted to know. Despite what he'd done, I couldn't just stop caring about him.

  There was a pause. "Not good. Probably the worst I've ever seen him, to tell you the truth."

  I didn't know if that made me happy or sad. Part of me wanted him to be hurting, because it meant our relationship had been real and had meant something. But, even now, I hated the idea of him being in pain.

  "Are you sure he won't come?" I asked. "Maybe if you just ask him again..."

  Charlie shook his head sadly. It was such a tiny gesture, but it crashed over me like a breaking wave.

  "So what do I do?" I felt this incredible sense of dread descending upon me like an avalanche. Until now, there had still been some shred of hope. I didn't even know if I could forgive Logan for what he'd done, but maybe I'd have found a way. Now that didn't matter. He wasn't coming. I was alone.

  I had no idea how to go on. Everything suddenly seemed hopeless. I realized I'd made all these plans for the future, and Logan was in every one. Why did this keep
happening to me? First Tom, and now this. Once again, I was left with just the abyss.

  "You focus on getting better."

  "Why?" I asked. I really wanted him to come up with something, some tiny motivation for me to keep going.

  "Because Logan would want you to."

  I wasn't sure if that was enough.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Logan

  She was awake. She was actually awake. I couldn't fucking believe it. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been at death's door. Nobody should have survived that. Yet she had. She was expected to make a full recovery, and I wasn't there. It was the most bittersweet news I'd ever heard.

  When Charlie had first told me she was conscious, all I could think about was going to her. I wanted to see her smile, to touch her face, to hold her and tell her how goddamn sorry I was. But with that urge came a crippling wave of shame. She wasn't going to welcome me with open arms, not after I'd abandoned her. I'd committed the ultimate crime, one from which there was no coming back. She may not have died, but that didn't matter. For me, she was as good as gone.

  I seized my whiskey and took a long slug, polishing off the last fifth of the bottle. It burned so sweetly on its way down, and I felt my muscles relax. I hated that I was so weak. A year of fighting the booze, of fighting myself, and now it was all for nothing. I was back at square one. But what the fuck was the point in sobriety when everything had been stolen from you? My world had crumbled to dust around me. First I lost the ring, and then I lost Grace, too. Those were the only two things that kept me sane. Now, I had nothing left except an army of ghosts and regrets, clawing at me twenty-four hours a day.

  Deep down, I'd always known this was going to happen. Things with Grace had been too good to be true. I'd thought maybe enough time had passed that I could be the man she needed, but it was clear now how much of a fucking joke that was. I was always going to ruin this. It was just a question of when.

  I hated myself for hurting her. Nothing I'd seen on deployment compared to this. I'd betrayed the woman I loved. There was no getting over that. The only solace I could take from it was that, ultimately, she'd be better off. I'd torn myself from her life, and now she could start to rebuild without the weight of my past constantly bearing down on her. She had her family around her again. She had Joy and Charlie. She was strong, and she was going to get over it.

  As for me, well, I deserved everything that had come to me.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Grace

  My parents visited every day. I went through the motions, catching them up on the first year of my life out here and being caught up on New York in return. It was empty chatter, but I think it made them feel better. Plus it offered something of a distraction.

  At first, I avoided talking about Tom or anything that had happened since. It felt pointless to give them any more ammunition. But one day I opened my mouth and it all came spilling out. I think maybe I was challenging them, challenging the universe to shit on me one more time, but, to my surprise, I was greeted with sympathy and understanding. I don't know if they really got it, but they reacted exactly like parents should; no backhanded comments or judgmental looks, just hugs and kind words. I felt like I were eleven years old again, pouring my heart out to my mother after whatever pseudo-disaster had rocked my little childhood world, and it felt really good.

  The only thing I didn't mention was Logan. I didn't know how to begin talking about that. Some days I was angry beyond belief. I had visions of tracking him down and yelling until my throat was raw, of releasing my rage through my fists, just like he'd taught me. Other days I spent staring mutely at the ceiling, overcome by fear and confusion.

  Often, the urge to drink became so strong I contemplated dragging myself from my bed and crawling out the doors in search of booze, but my body was still too broken to even allow that. I had a morphine button, which let me pass some of the time in a blissful haze, but it wasn't enough. For most of my waking hours I was trapped in this hell I'd made for myself, with only my thoughts for company. I felt like nothing more than a passenger in my own life, being pulled along toward a future that loomed, dark and empty, ahead of me.

  The healing process was agonizingly slow. Aside from my multitude of external injuries, I'd broken five bones, fractured seven more and torn two tendons. Apparently it was a miracle I hadn't damaged my spine, although most days I felt like a quadriplegic nonetheless. I could barely move for all of the plaster and bandages and stitches and, for the first few weeks, even the tiniest flexing of my muscles sent a lance of pain through my system. It was terrifying. You don't understand how much you take your body for granted until it's stolen from you. All I could do was lie there while the world rolled on around me.

  Gradually, though, I began to heal. They moved me back on to liquid food, and then eventually solids. Everyone made out like that was a big deal, because obviously being able to chew steamed carrots is the epitome of achievement. It just made me feel like a child. My legs were still too damaged to allow proper walking, but once they felt I was strong enough, I began being taken for wheelchair rides around the corridors. I spent the bulk of that time fantasizing about taking control of the wheels and pushing myself out the doors. Nothing waited for me out there, but at least I'd be free to deal with it as I wanted.

  My position at The Apollo was filled before I even woke up. Milo sounded truly sorry over the phone, but I didn't blame him. He had a business to run, and who knew when I'd be mobile enough to actually work a shift in a kitchen again. Maybe I never would be. Ordinarily, that thought would have left me curled in the fetal position, but now it just felt like another entry on the long list of ways the world was trying to screw me.

  You know that phrase "in the blink of an eye?" Most of the time when people use it, it's an exaggeration. They just mean something happened really quickly. But in this case, it's perfectly accurate. One moment, I had everything — health, happiness, a fantastic job and a man who loved me. Then I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, all of that had been scoured away, gone in the blink of an eye. It's horrifying that everything can change so fast.

  About two weeks after I woke up, they caught the guy that hit me — some combination of security footage and DNA left in the car, apparently. He said he was high when it happened and he didn't even remember it properly. Funny how he could do something to me that I'd never forget, but it just slipped through his mind like water down the drain. Now that the ramifications of his actions had sunk in, my apathy had faded, replaced by a low burning rage. Whatever happened to the guy, it wouldn't be enough to make up for what he'd done.

  Joy visited most days. She did her best to cheer me up, coming armed with ice cream and Jersey Shore DVDs and a litany of stories about what was happening around the bar. I loved her for that, and the few smiles I found during my recovery were due to her efforts. She never asked about Logan, but the way she looked at me when the conversation lapsed said she understood how much his betrayal had hurt me. I think she felt as powerless as I did, in some ways, knowing there was nothing she could do to ease my pain.

  One day, a month or so after I'd regained consciousness, she came into my room looking grimmer than normal. She tried to hide it, but the conversation was distant and distracted.

  "Is everything okay?" I asked. "You seem...down."

  Her brow furrowed and she looked away, as though she was suddenly uncertain. "I saw Logan yesterday."

  My mouth dropped open. "What? How?"

  "Charlie let slip that he had him stashed away in some cabin he owns, so the other day I snuck into his office and found the address, then I drove out there."

  A million questions flooded my mind, so I picked one at random. "Why?"

  "You haven't been yourself since the accident. You put on a brave face, but I can see how much you're hurting. I was worried. I thought maybe I could convince him to come back. I know how important he was to you."

  I couldn't believe she'd gone to those le
ngths. "And what happened?"

  She shook her head. "It was bad. He was bad. He looked like he hadn't slept in about ten years. To be honest, I barely recognized him. He was so gaunt, and he was wearing these filthy clothes. I'm not sure he's actually left the cabin this whole month."

  "Did you talk to him?"

  "I tried. He told me to leave. Then when I wouldn't, he threatened to throw me out. I would have kept trying, but I think he was serious. He got all up in my face, and he didn't look like he had much self-control right now. It was eleven in the morning and he was already drunk. Judging by the bottles on the floor, he's been doing a lot of that."

  He'd fallen off the wagon. I guess I expected as much. Charlie had said Logan was "the worst he'd ever seen." Even though he hadn't given any more details, it told a pretty clear story. I felt a pang of sympathy, but I shoved it aside. Logan didn't deserve my pity. He'd made his choice, and now he had to suffer the consequences. I didn't know if he was driven by guilt or anger, or something else, but it was irrelevant.

  "Well, I appreciate the effort," I said.

  "It was worth a shot, right?"

  I nodded, although it felt like a lie. I wanted to believe that if he walked through the door at that moment, everything would be okay, but that just wasn't true. Too much had happened for us to have any kind of easy reconciliation.

  Joy's expression drooped further. "It frightened me, seeing him like that."

  "Why?"

  She hesitated for several seconds. "Because I'm scared the same thing is going to happen to you."

  I tried to contain my surprise. I'd never talked to Joy about my drinking. In the beginning it had just been too embarrassing, and later, I thought it was under control. Was her comment specifically about that, or just general self-destruction?

  "To me?" I asked carefully.

  "I'm not stupid, Grace. The puffy cheeks and red eyes, the constant trips out to the alley, the fact that you lost your last job — I can put two and two together. I know that for a while there you were drinking more than you should have. I can't say I blame you, after the things you've been through."