“Julie!”
Ricky and I shouted at the same time. I reached for her shirt from the backseat, and he pulled her shirt sleeve, jerking her in his direction, shutting the door with her.
“Are you crazy?!” he hollered, his nostrils flaring. “Dammit. I’ll pay your bill tomorrow, but tonight you’ll stay at my place.”
“You’ll do that, Ricky? God, we’d appreciate that a lot. Wouldn’t we, Lo? I’ll pay you back, I’ll pay you back every cent of it.”
I nodded, feeling the heat finally kick in from the car.
Warmth.
“I’ll grab the kid some food, too. I doubt you fed him.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter shaped like a hula dancer. As he flicked the lighter on, the hula dancer moved side to side. I became hypnotized with the movement, unable to take my eyes off of it. Even when he finished lighting the cigarette, he flicked it on and off nonstop.
When we arrived to Ricky’s apartment, I was blown away by how much stuff he had. Two sofas and a huge arm chair, paintings, a huge television with cable, and a refrigerator filled with enough food to feed the world. After eating, he set me up on one of the sofas, and I began to drift to sleep, listening to Ma and him whisper in the hallway nearby.
“He has your eyes,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, I know.” His voice was filled with spite, but I wasn’t sure why. I listened to his footsteps grow closer to me, and opened my eyes to see him bending down next to me. His hands clasped together and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re my kid, huh?”
I didn’t reply.
Because what was I supposed to say?
A sly smirk fell from the side of his mouth, and he lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into my face. “Don’t worry, Logan. I’ll take care of you and your mom. Promise.”
***
At four in the morning when I finally came down from my high, I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Me: Are you up?
I stared at my phone, waiting for the ellipses to appear, but they didn’t. When my phone rang, I took a breath.
“I woke you up,” I whispered into the receiver.
“Only a little,” Alyssa replied. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m fine.”
You’ll be dead by twenty-five.
“Was it your mom or your dad?”
She always knew. “Mom.”
“Was she high or sober?”
“High.”
“Did you believe whatever she said or not?” I hesitated, and started flicking my lighter on and off. “Oh, Lo.”
“Sorry for waking you. I can hang up. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” she yawned. “Stay on the phone with me until you’re able to fall asleep, all right?”
“All right.”
“You’re okay, Logan Francis Silverstone.”
“I’m okay, Alyssa Marie Walters.”
Even though it felt like a lie, it was one that her voice almost always made me believe.
Chapter Four
Logan
I never truly celebrated my birthday before two years ago when I met Alyssa. Kellan always took me out to dinner, and I loved that. He was pretty great at reminding me that I wasn’t alone in the world, but Alyssa went bigger than ever each year for my birthday. Two years ago, we went to Chicago to watch a documentary special on Charlie Chaplin at an old theatre, then she took me out to a fancy restaurant that I was way too underdressed for. She came from a lifestyle where fancy dinners were normal, I came from a world where dinner wasn’t always available. When she noticed my discomfort, we ended up walking down the streets of Chicago, eating hot dogs and standing under the giant bean.
That was the first best day of my life.
One year ago, there was a film festival going on in upper Wisconsin, and she rented out a cabin for us to stay in. We watched each and every film together for the whole weekend. We stayed up late discussing which movies inspired us, and which were made by people who probably dropped a lot of acid.
That was the second best day of my life.
But today was different. Today was my eighteenth birthday, it was past eleven at night, and Alyssa hadn’t called me once.
I sat in my bedroom watching the DVD on Jackie Robinson while I listened to Ma stumble around the apartment. A pile of bills sat beside my bed, and I felt a tight knot in my stomach from fear of not making rent. If we weren’t able to make rent, Dad would never let us live it down. And if I asked him for help, I was certain Ma would pay the price.
I reached under my bed and pulled out an envelope, checking the money I had saved up on my own. The words on the envelope made me sick.
College funds.
What a joke.
I counted the money. Five hundred and fifty-two dollars. I’d been saving for two years now, ever since Alyssa made it seem like a thing I could do someday. I spent a lot of time thinking that one day I’d save enough to go to school, get a solid career, and buy a house for Ma and me to live in.