Blow(86)

“What do you mean, forbidden?”

“Everyone knew she was off-limits. She was from the other side of Dorchester Avenue. A Catholic girl who went to a Catholic school. She practically wore a chastity belt. What I didn’t know at the time was that she also happened to have lunatics for her father and brother. I liked the challenge, the danger of it all. It took some time, but eventually she latched onto me,”

I tried not to parallel Logan, the teen, with Logan, the man, but it difficult. Was that what I was to him—a challenge? The thrill of danger?

God, I hoped not.

“I know what you’re thinking. And no, that’s not what this is.” He motioned between the two of us. “I’m not that same lost kid anymore who thought he could rule the world with money and power.”

I pushed my doubts aside. This wasn’t about me—it was about him. “I’m fine. Go on.”

He assessed me for a long time.

I gave him a slight nod to let him know I was okay.

“For a while, I thought I loved her, but then I realized that was my friend James talking, making me think that. Don’t get me wrong; I liked hanging out with her. It made me forget everything else I had going on. But I wasn’t looking for all the shit that would come with telling her father or my grandfather, and she was cool with that until one day when she wasn’t. Out of the blue, she told me she wanted to tell them.”

I could see the confusion in his face, like he just didn’t get women and their changing their minds.

“After that, I started to get nervous. She said she’d keep us quiet, but I wasn’t so sure. Then she started to get more and more serious about us and she was throwing around words like love, marriage, and forever. The day she told me she loved me and she wanted to run away together, I broke it off.”

The words were spoken with such absolute distaste, the sound made me cringe.

He shook his head. “I mean for f*ck’s sake, we weren’t even sixteen.”

“I take it she didn’t take the breakup well?”

He shook his head again. “No, she couldn’t accept that we were over. For almost two months, she kept coming over, calling me, crying to me that she wanted me back. She was like a stalker. I did my best to ignore her, but then she threatened to tell her father about us.”

“Did she?”

“Fuck no, I knew she wouldn’t. She was smarter than that.”

I was almost afraid to ask. “Logan, who was her father?”

In a mumbled voice he answered, “Patrick Flannigan.”

Two words that put everything in perspective.

I drew in a sharp breath, not liking where this was going at all. The car was stop and go but I felt like we were flying down the road, ready to crash into anything that got into our way. “Patrick Flannigan,” I gulped.

A slow nod.

“Was that when he was part of the Dorchester Heights Gang?” I asked, starting to wonder if Emily had anything to do with the merging of two gangs.

Another slow nod.

His knuckles were white around the steering wheel. “To say he was an overprotective father would be downplaying it. When he found out, I knew he’d cut my balls off. But I had to call her bluff, so I told her I didn’t really care who she told. As callous as it sounds, I was done with her. By then I’d learned just how selfish and self-centered she was and I couldn’t stand to be near her. Anything I had felt for her was gone. I just wanted her out of my life.”

Trembling, I knew something bad must have taken place. I turned my body toward him and with my voice nothing more than a squeak, I asked, “What happened?”

Logan wouldn’t look at me. “It was a Saturday and the Red Sox were on. I was at my grandfather’s house watching the game. I was the only one home when she came over. I didn’t want to let her in, but she left me no choice when she wouldn’t stop ringing the f*cking doorbell. I remember it like it was yesterday. I flung the door open and left her there while I walked into the family room and flopped on the couch with my arms behind my head. She came in and handed me a piece of paper with all these different numbers on it. When I asked what I was supposed to do with it, she told me it was confirmation of her pregnancy.”

The flashing lights in front of us seemed to be getting closer and my eyes darted to the sneakers on his feet and the slamming of his right foot on the brake. His arm jerked in front of me as if he could hold me in place. We were inches from the car, but there was no impact.

He finally looked at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

We were close to the hotel and I wanted to know what happened. “Logan, please just tell me what all of this is about? And why you’re telling me this story.”

He scrubbed his jaw and resumed driving. “I crumpled up the paper and threw it to the ground. I told her it couldn’t have been mine. We hadn’t f*cked in months and I’d always used a condom. She told me she was three months along. That I should know condoms aren’t always effective. When I didn’t blink an eye, she insisted it was mine. I still didn’t believe her. Not that she was pregnant, and not that it was mine. I lost it then. I told her I’d had enough of her lies and to stop harassing me. I didn’t hold back. I told her what I thought of her and that I couldn’t believe she’d stoop to the oldest trick in the book to try to be with me. I couldn’t stand her—why would she even want to be with me? She cried that her father was going to kill her. Send her away to live with the nuns. I didn’t listen; instead I told her to leave and never come back. She ran into the bathroom and I didn’t bother with her. I wasn’t about to play her game. An hour later, I didn’t know if she was still there, but I got up to check anyway. That’s when I saw the blood pooling from under the door. I busted it open and she was lying there. Blood had arced up in splashes on the wall, the ceiling, and the side of the toilet. It was everywhere. It took me a moment to figure out where it was coming from. Then I saw it. She’d cut her wrists open—she’d killed herself, and it was too late to save her. I was too late to save her.”