Chapter 56

NYC

Logan

"What can I get you?" The waiter asks.

"Do you have some white wine?" Noah asks.

The waiter nods. "Chardonnay or Sablis?"

"I'll have a Chardonnay."

"Make that two, please," Amy adds.

Then the waiter turns to look at me. "And for you, sir?"

"A chamomile tea, please. No sugar, thanks."

Amy's eyebrows shoot up when she hears my order. She waits for the waiter to leave to make a comment. "I'm sorry, I forgot that you're sober now. We don't have to drink if you're not-"

I shake my head. "It's fine. Watching other people drink is not actually tempting to me." Having this conversation, on the other hand...

"Oh."

They both look nervous as fuck. Maybe it's because it's the first time we're actually speaking since four months ago. Partly because my mom forced me to go to rehab after she found me passed out on the street a couple of months ago. I've only been out of rehab for a couple of days.

"How was rehab?" Noah asks.

I sigh. Rehab was... Intense. I've always turned to drinking to cope with the stress and anxiety in my life. The first month was horrible: my anxiety was literally over the roof. At times, I felt that my heart will beat out of my chest. I had maybe three to four panic attacks per day. I was physically exhausted and emotionally drained. Oh, that and the fact that I couldn't sleep at all.

I thought of her every single day. I missed her. I miss her. And I know that it's over because I ruined everything and hurt her in the worst way possible, so it's not like I have the slightest hope of her forgiving me or something. I know that what I did is despicable. But damn it, everything reminds me of her.

I remembered her when I looked at the mountains that the rehab overlooked. I remembered her whenever a Beatles song was on. I remembered her when I watched the stars and wished for her, every single night. Flashbacks of her smile, her touch, her anger, her tears haunted me every single day.

But slowly, things began to get better. The rehab had a lot of physical training space. I spent my time between the gym, yoga classes, and socce- football training. My chest tightens as Emily's voice plays in my head.

They gave a bunch of space to figure out our thoughts and emotions and although I was extremely hesitant at first, I grew to appreciate everyone in the support group who shared their stories. We spent a lot of time together too, so that helped distract my mind from reminding me how much of a shitty person I am.

I also saw a shrink. I hated him at first, but now, he's not so bad. His name is Mark Johns.

In other words, the rehab was okay-ish. Intense, yes, but at least I think I've figured some things out now. I'm learning to... to deal with the trauma, I guess, in the healthiest way I can. Part of that is talking to Amy and Noah about what happened. It's the only way I can get closure and move on.

"Logan?" Noah asks.

"Yeah?"

"I asked you about rehab. You're good?"

Oh, right. "Yeah, it was good. I mean, I thought it would be worse."

"Cool, cool. Glad to hear that."

Amy sighs. "Thanks for reaching out to meet up. It means a lot."

I take a deep breath. There it goes. "I called you because I need, uh, closure, I guess." I look away, really wishing I was drinking something stronger than chamomile tea right now. I'm trying really fucking hard not to snap at them for the pity looks they're sending my way.

"What I'm trying to say is that I need to know what happened. Everything. All the details. That's the only way I can move forward."

Noah gulps and looks away. "Yeah, I'm guessing the Mar version was extremely... equivocal."

I avoid the urge to roll my eyes at his fancy words because I agree with him. All this time away made me realize that I was too impulsive. I didn't ask the right questions. I numbed the pain before I could feel it, which made it ten times worse.

Not to mention that I basically hurt everyone around me, especially Mar.

Which brings me here today... I'm ready for the truth now. No matter how ugly it is, I'm ready.

"She only heard bits of our conversation, Logan. You saved my life, that night, Logan. That's what really happened."

Slowly, words tumble. One by one, pieces of the puzzle start to fit together. Amy and Noah explain everything. An hour and a half later, lots of tears involved and a couple of glasses of Chardonnay (and chamomile tea for me), I remember everything.

I remember Amy's cries and Noah grabbing my face, asking me if I'm okay. I remember her lifeless body, staring back at me, mocking me. I remember the ambulance sirens and everyone running away from the party.

I expect to feel some rage. To have rapid heart palpitations or sweaty hands. I expect to feel anything, goddamn it, anything but this emptiness. Because the more they speak, the clearer my memory becomes. I remember.

And it's liberating. It's the most liberating feeling ever.

-

The next couple of weeks are hectic. Unfortunately, that's NYC for you: the hustle, the buzz, the crowds. It's hard to keep up.

I registered at NYU again for the Spring semester. I joined the football team. I stayed with my brother.

And my life went on. As if nothing ever happened. As if I didn't quite literally move across the globe a couple of months ago and live in the middle of nowhere. And it makes me think of what my shrink said to me, the other day:

"You know, Logan, there's this author, Miriam Adeney. She says something that I absolutely love about living abroad: You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."

It makes me think of Lebanon: my football team, my office, Josh, Sabine, Mel... My tiny rustic home, with the squeaking floors and thin walls and beautiful skies. Of Em...

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. Adam.

"Hey," I can't help but smile as I pick up the phone.

"Look who finally decided to answer their phone!"

I roll my eyes. "You know exactly what happened, Adam." I'm not proud of it. But back when I was in my drunk phase, I may have accidentally thrown my phone into the east river. Then I went to rehab and yeah... my parents aren't exactly psyched about getting me a new phone or something.

I just took a shitty phone that barely works from whatever I could find at home.

"Yeah, well now that you have a phone, and it works, you know that you really need to grow a pair and talk to this specific person. Yeah?"

By specific person, he means Em.

I  let out a long exhale. "I know..." I've been wanting to. I worked things out with Amy and Noah. I worked things out with Mar. It shouldn't be that hard to talk to Em, damn it. "I will." Not now... Not until I have my shit together.

"Because you're going to see her soon."

My heart stops. The entire world stops spinning. "What?"

"I'm getting married in NYC."

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I don't tell him congratulations. Or that I'm happy for him. Or ask him about the proposal. Because all what comes out is, "When?"

"Next month."

Oh.

Holy fucking crap. I'm seeing Em next month.