by David Horne
“Do you think he does trust you?”
“I'm not sure. At the end of our time together he just left. Something seemed off. Maybe it was just because we were out by the sea again. Maybe it prompted some memory,” Simon said. He wasn't going to tell Amy that he and Logan had almost kissed, not wanting to suffer the embarrassment.
“He must have been through a lot. It's going to take him some time to settle back in.”
“I know, the only thing I really learned is that he still hasn't been to see his mother.”
“Wasn't she at the wedding?”
“Not when he arrived. She left earlier, remember.” Simon thought back to the frail woman in a wheelchair, ill and infirm. He remembered Bob saying that his mom had to live in a nursing home. It had been a tough life for their entire family. Logan disappearing when he was just a boy, the head of the household dying, and then the mother falling ill. At least Bob got married to Jackie, and now Logan was back. Maybe the sun would begin to shine again for them.
At that moment there was a thunderous knock on the door. Simon glanced at Amy. Both of them looked confused. They rarely received visitors, and when they did nobody ever knocked like that. Simon moved to the door warily and opened it. As soon as he did, Bob burst through, pushing Simon back. The man's face was a vision of anger, all red and eyes wide. Simon was flung back and slammed against the wall, the breath being driven from his lungs.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Bob cried. Amy shrieked, yelling at Bob to stop. “Stay out of this, Amy. This doesn't have anything to do with you. Stay away from my brother, Simon. Leave him alone. Leave us alone.” He spoke so forcefully that spittle flew from his mouth. He pressed so hard against Simon's collarbone that it ached for hours after. When Bob released him, Simon fell to the floor, clutching his neck. Bob glared at him and Amy, then slammed the door behind him.
Amy fell to her knees beside Simon, helping him up to the couch.
“Are you all right? Do you want me to go after him?” she offered. Simon shook his head. He didn't say anything though, numb from the ordeal. Amy brought him some water and sat beside him.
“I'll go after him if you want? He shouldn't have acted like that. You know what Bob's like, though. He always thinks with his heart first. I'm sure he didn't mean it, not really,” she said, although her words faltered.
“He did mean it,” Simon eventually said.
“Maybe it's better for everyone involved if you just let it go. Is this story really worth the hassle?” Amy asked.
Simon breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. He sipped the water as he ruminated on the problem.
“I think it is,” Simon said. “I can't give into pressure like that. And it's not Bob's decision to make. This is Logan's story. He's the only one who can decide if it's worth telling,” Simon said. Amy remained quiet, her silent disapproval was stifling. But Simon had never been more sure of anything. If he was going to be a good reporter, if he was going to do his job, then he would have to see this through. Bob could challenge him all he liked, but ultimately it was all down to Logan.
Amy left him to his own devices, but ordered a pizza to share. Simon went into his room and settled on his bed, trying not to think about Bob accosting him. There was only one arm he wanted around his neck, that of Logan’s, but it seemed like that wasn't going to happen. Was Bob sent there on behalf of Logan? Had Simon done something wrong? Maybe he had interpreted the signals wrong and completely misunderstood the situation. What if Logan hadn't been interested at all?
Like a storm, these thoughts clouded Simon's mind and he was unable to concentrate. The pizza came, but he wasn't hungry. He could only think about the possibility that he had hurt Logan's feelings, and that made him sick to his stomach. This story was so important to him, but after spending the day with Logan, the man had become more important.
Picking himself up, Simon walked out of his room. Amy looked at him, worried.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I'm going to talk to Logan and the others. I need to sort this out. I need to make them see why this is important.”
“You really don't want to go over there. You saw what Bob was like. He's not going to like it.”
“He'll have to like it. He'll have to see that this is really important.”
“Important to who Simon? The magazine? The readers? Or yourself?”
“For everyone.”
“I get that you want to take this opportunity and be a reporter, but maybe this story just isn't the one for you. Maybe you should take a step back and reconsider everything. Maybe it's better that you should just let them be.”
“You don't understand, Amy. If it's not me going after the story it'll be someone else. It's going to be written either way. This is news, and as much as Bob doesn't want it being written about, he can't stop it. What's he going to do, attack everyone like he attacked me?”
Amy didn't have an answer for him. Sluggishly, Simon dragged himself away and drew himself a bath. Slipping into the warm water only served to remind him of Logan though, and how the two of them had thrashed about earlier that day. In that peaceful serenity anything seemed possible, including the two of them developing a romance. Love was a minefield, so confusing and turbulent. The emotions that raged within his heart were so easy to understand and yet when thrust into the outside world they were so confusing. What was going through Logan's mind? There was a moment where Simon thought everything was going to happen as he wanted, but then Logan had pulled away. If he could just see Logan again, to explain...but then again, maybe that would only make things worse.
After the bath, Simon dragged himself to bed again and pulled the covers over his head, shutting himself away in a self-made cocoon. The night fell upon him, and he slept soundly, his dreams filled with the man who so tormented his heart.
Chapter Nine
The following day, Simon made his usual monotonous journey into the city. The train joined the subway and the faces of the other passengers came and went. This time he looked at them more closely, wondering how many of them were in the throes of anguish thanks to love, or how many of their careers were on the line. He knew that if he didn't see this story through to the end he'd not get another chance for years. This was the only way he could prove himself as a good reporter.
All eyes were on him as he entered the office and took a seat at his desk, although he was subdued and tried to avert his eyes from everyone else. He turned on his computer and started to get to work, telling himself that he'd do more research rather than face Logan again. The man had told him that when he'd made his decision he would come to Simon. It was all out of Simon's hands.
“Ah, and we have our intrepid reporter. Do you have anything we can read yet?” Hannah asked, circling his desk like a vulture would a carcass.
“Not yet, but I'm making some good progress,” he said.
“That's good for you, because the moment it's clear that you won't be able to pull this off I'm going to swoop in and steal it from you. And believe me, that moment will happen. You've got a long way to go yet before you can compete with the likes of me,” she said, narrowing her eyes toward him. After being attacked by Bob, Simon didn't think that anything could chill him again, but Hannah was a different matter entirely.
Billy sauntered up to Simon and perched himself on the edge of the desk.
“Don't worry about her. She's just jealous. I think most writers are insecure. There are always people who can do the same thing we can do, and she's just worried that she's going to lose out. How is the story going?” he asked.
Simon took a breath. “I've done a lot of research. I had a talk with Logan yesterday.”
“Oh really, that's impressive. How did it go? I bet he's got a hell of a lot of interesting things to say.”
“He has, but he hasn't actually agreed to be interviewed yet. He said that he wanted to get to know me first, but now I feel like everything is in his control. I don't want to s
it here twiddling my thumbs waiting for him to talk to me, and his brother and sister-in-law have made it clear they don't want this to happen. His brother actually came and saw me the other day.”
“Yeah, I remember how that goes. That's why I like writing about nature. The birds and the bees aren't going to come and hound me for anything I write.”
“You've actually had people come after you?”
“Oh yeah. I remember one time I gave a very poor review to a local production of Chess and the director came by the office the following day, giving me a point by point rundown of why I was wrong.”
“What did you do?” Simon asked, dumbfounded.
“What else could I do? I sat there and listened to him, then said if he spent as much time directing his cast as he did chasing reporters the whole thing might have been better. Thing is Simon, you can't let others dictate the pace of the story, or the pace of your life. You need to do the things you're going to do, and you're never going to make everyone happy. That's just a fact of life. Sometimes it's a matter of choosing who you're going to piss off.”
“Yeah, I mean, I don't want to hurt Bob's feelings, but I've been telling myself that it's Logan's story, and it's up to him if it gets told or not.”
“So wait for him to get back to you, but I'm sure there are other things you can pursue while you're waiting. There are a lot of different ways to tackle the story, and obviously the best way is to get an interview with him, but he's not the only one involved here. The whole town is. There are people who were around then that are still alive, show how it impacts them. Go to the different locations. Collate all the information you have into one article and look at the different theories about what happened and see if Logan's reappearance disproves any of them. It may not be as good a story as it could be without Logan's involvement, but it will still be interesting, and a good way to explore this local mystery. At the end of the day you're a reporter, and your first duty is to the story. I'm a firm believer that stories want to be told, and that people have a right to the truth.”
“Surely people also have a right to privacy?”
“Of course they do, but they don't have a right to tell you what you can and can't write about. There are lots of avenues you can go down with this one, just try and find the one that works the best. I don't think Bob is going to be happy either way, but maybe if you write a respectful article he'll see that you're genuine and change his mind. Find the truth of the story, the heart of it, and that will guide you through.”
“Thanks Billy,” Simon said, giving the older writer a genuine smile.
Simon stared at the computer screen for a little while, trying to think about the various ways he could take the article. He still hoped that Logan would come back to him and tell him that he wanted Simon to write about him, but Simon couldn't afford to pin all his hopes on the elusive, mysterious man. There was something that haunted Logan, and while it increased Simon's attraction toward him, it also made him unpredictable.
Simon flicked through the old articles again, thinking that it might be interesting to delve into the mind of some of the original reporters of the incident, but one name kept popping up: Logan's mother. Perhaps she was the key. Because of her condition, Simon hadn't given much thought to her, but at the time she had been the picture of health. It was only in recent years that things had begun to slip downhill. The least he could do was pay her a visit, to see if she was willing to talk. She was still in control of her mind, even though her body had failed her, and perhaps she would be more willing to talk.
With that decision having been made, Simon raced out of the office and through the city, back on the train to the nursing home on the outskirts of the city. It was far enough away that it would be a trek for anyone to make a day trip here, although he'd gotten the impression that Bob and Jackie made it out here as often as they could. Lila, Bob's mom, was the only family Bob had left after his dad died. Their house must have been filled with sadness every day of the year. Simon didn't understand how anyone could have moved on from something like that. What were Christmases like? And birthdays?
He assumed that the toll it had played a part in Lila's current condition. A whole life lived under the thrall of such misery would be grim.
The nursing home was a little cottage with crabgrass out front, and a white picket fence. There were huge glass doors looking out to the street. Inside, Simon could see elderly people languishing in their chairs, looking almost comatose. Old people shuffled around, peering at him, wondering if he was a relative coming to visit. Seeing them filled him with a profound sense of sorrow, for all the life they had lived culminated in this, being forgotten in what amounted to a tomb, where all they could do was wait to die.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked. Simon looked around and put on his best smile.
“Hello, I'm here to visit Lila Thomas.”
“Of course, if you just sign in here. Would you also mind putting in your relationship with her?”
“No problem, I'm just a family friend,” Simon said, entering the information. The receptionist smiled at him and showed him through to the lounge. There were a few people playing chess and other board games, some were huddled around a television, others were having a book read to them. Lila was gazing out at the world going by. The receptionist brought Simon up to Lila.
“She's having a decent day today, just be aware that she might slip into the past. She's just taken her medication, and they tend to affect her mental state.”
Simon took a seat beside Lila, who was in a wheelchair. She sat hunched forward. She was a small woman, with curly white hair, and looked far older than her age. She'd been a late mother, but even so, she was only in her late fifties. Her health had deteriorated quickly, and it was sobering to think that one day Simon could very well be in a place like this, with nobody around to help him other than strangers.
“Hello Lila. I don't know if you remember me. I'm Simon, one of Bob's friends. I was at the wedding on Sunday. It was a lovely occasion, wasn't it?”
“Yes, yes it was,” she wheezed. Her eyes were milky, and they did not turn to face him. Her hands were gnarled with early onset arthritis. From what he could remember she had been a strong, forceful woman, always ready with a tongue-lashing for kids who weren't behaving themselves, even if they were not of her blood. She'd come to all the school events to support Bob. Simon had always thought of her as a good mother, but it seemed that disease had ravaged her body. What part had stress played in it?
“Anyway, I'm just here because I work for The Literary Summit. I don't know if you've heard of it before, but it's a small local-interest magazine celebrating its seventy-fifth anniversary. I'm writing a feature about a story, and I'd like your input,” he said. Lila didn't say anything in response, so Simon took this as an invitation to continue.
“It's about your son, Logan, and when he went missing,” he said tentatively, afraid of how she would react. Bob had to get his temper from somewhere, and the last thing he needed was for an unwell woman to throw herself upon him in fury. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions, and maybe you could tell me a little bit about what life was like when it was all going on.”
A few moments passed before Lila spoke. “I should never have let him go. I knew what he was planning,” she whispered.
Simon's ears perked up. “Who are you talking about?” he asked, unsure if she meant Logan or her husband.
“It was all so sad, and so sudden. I couldn't believe it when I heard,” she whispered. “Logan, why did you have to go like that?”
Simon wanted to ask her more questions, but she began to shake. “Lila, wait,” he said hoping that he would be able to calm her down. Should he tell her that Logan was back, that he was alive? The words were on the tip of his tongue, but at the last moment he stopped himself. That wasn't his news to give. That was Logan's right. If he didn't want to tell his own mother, then Simon certainly wasn't going to.
“Please, cal
m down, I just wanted to ask you a few questions—”
“No, no!” she said, shaking her head, closing her eyes. Her hands curled into tight balls as she slammed them against the arms of her wheelchair. “NO!”
Simon looked around alarmed as a nurse rushed forward. The nurse apologized, claiming that it was just Lila's medication, but Simon knew differently. There was something else there, something about the past that was rotting Lila's mind. As he left the nursing home and made his way back to his apartment his thoughts centered on his visit with Lila. Surely this must have had something to do with why Logan refused to visit her. There was something more to this disappearance, and Simon was determined to dig as deep as he could to find out the truth.
Chapter Ten
“There's something bigger going on here,” Simon said as he returned home.
“What do you mean?” Amy asked.
“I went to see Lila today and as soon as I mentioned the story she started talking about the past, saying that she wished he didn't go. I don't know if she was talking about Logan or her husband.”
“You went to see Lila?”
“Yeah. I figured she was the last of the major players left I could speak to. It was worth a shot, although it's taken a great toll on her. I don't think I'll be going back there again.”
“Simon, she's an old woman! You shouldn't have gone there in the first place. Do you realize how tragic it was for her?”
“I do now, but I was just pursuing the story.”
“And how far are you going to pursue it? Who else is going to suffer? I'm not sure I like what this is doing to you Simon.”
“What it's doing to me? What about what I'm doing for me? For the first time in my life I actually feel like I have a purpose. I feel more important than I ever have before. I finally know what it's like to go after something that I really want, and I don't want anything to stop me. All my life I've been thinking about other people and it's gotten me nowhere. If I'm going to make it as a reporter then I'm going to have to step on a few toes. I'm sorry if that means your ex-boyfriend has to put up with a bit of hassle, but it's not like I'm beating down his door. I don't know why you care so much about him anyway. You're the one that broke up with him all those years ago.”
