Danika tsks. “Then maybe you should reevaluate your parenting skills because you fucked up somewhere.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” My mom demands, her voice reaching a new octave.
“Gladly.” Danika kneels beside me and rubs my back. “Babe?”
“Don’t even think about leaving, Logan.” Mom spits. “You’re grounded.”
Danika ignores her and helps pull me to my feet. I feel pathetic. Beyond pathetic as she wipes my cheeks. But there’s no judgement in her eyes. Only love and understanding. “Let’s go for a drive.”
42
Logan
We end up at the beach.
I guess it’s fitting. Technically we as a not-couple began here. Once Danika knows about me, we’ll end here too; coming full circle.
The sand is warm, having baked all day in the sun. That’s the great thing about Florida, it’s the middle of November and still hot outside ninety percent of the time. I wouldn’t go swimming, the water is probably colder than I like, but to sit outside in a pair of shorts this time of year is a luxury the rest of the country doesn't have. Probably why I’ll never leave this state. I hate the cold.
Danika sits beside me, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. She closes her eyes, letting the sun’s rays beam down on her. She’s gorgeous. So much more than I deserve. Without her, I’d probably still be on the bathroom floor, mom screaming at me through the door. Eventually she would have given up and left, but mom’s got good lungs. She could yell for hours. I saw her and dad go at it like that back when I was a kid.
“Want to talk?” Danika asks, squinting in the sun. We’ve been sitting here for a while now, long enough that I’m half tempted to walk over to the restaurant and grab us some drinks. Danika won’t say anything in front of Cooper, but there’s a good chance mom has already called to rant about how I’ve embarrassed her. Cooper doesn’t know the details, but he figured out that something went down with me and Dr. Shaffer when dad refused to let me go back to therapy.
“Not really,” I tell her honestly. “But for you I will.”
Danika smiles, waiting patiently. When I don’t immediately start talking, she scoots closer. I lay back in the sand, tucking one arm under my head and the other around her, pulling her down with me and onto my chest. This may be the last time I have her in my arms. Might as well enjoy it.
I take a deep breath and let it out. My story is a long one I’ve never shared before. I’m not even sure where to start.
I run through the details in my mind, trying to figure out when this particular problem began.
“I was in the third grade the first time Piper came to live with us. I was so excited I could barely stand still. This girl—my new sister—was an outcast, unwanted and unloved by the only family she had, her mother. I've never fit in with my family, still don’t, and I thought Piper and I would bond over our differences.”
Danika squeezes my arm, her way of silently saying, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
I kiss the side of her head, breathing in her rosewater shampoo and close my eyes. “We never bonded, not until this year. She, like everyone else, fell under the Cooper spell, and tossed me aside. She wasn’t intentionally mean to me, but like my mother and Cooper I think she forgot I existed.
Dad, on the other hand, never forgot about me. In fact, he remembered me a little too much. Especially after a few drinks. I like to think Mom didn’t know what was happening, but the truth is there’s no way she didn’t. Dad was smart though, he only hit where the bruises wouldn’t show.”
Danika runs her hand over my side. I shiver because she already knew about Dad. I broke down once in the seventh grade and told her. Showed her the black and blue welts across my back. The scars from where his belt broke skin near my ribs.
“I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but at some point, Mom became worried about how Piper was adjusting and brought Dr. Shaffer, a child psychologist, to the house. He spent some time getting to know Piper, then talked to both Cooper and I individually.
There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about Dr Shaffer. He was older, maybe mid-forties, with thick blond hair. I remember he had a huge mouth and big teeth. He looked a little goofy, but it fit his face, especially when he smiled. It was easy to open up and talk to him because he was nice.
Piper was fine, but Dr. Shaffer was worried about me. Apparently, I was depressed, which looking back isn’t surprising, but Mom acted shocked. She cried to Dr. Shaffer, complaining how she didn’t know what to do because I never spoke up about what’s bothering me.”
“Maybe if she would have paid attention, she would have noticed,” Danika mumbles, that same fire dancing in her tone as before. I lace her tiny fingers with mine and kiss the palm of her hand. My heart beats wildly against my chest. I haven’t gotten to the hard parts, not yet, and I’m terrified she’ll pull away and leave me once I do.
“I started therapy once a week the next day. At first everything was great. Dr. Shaffer and I played games and watched tv together. Sometimes, he’d sit on the couch beside me and read me stories. It was the first positive experience I’d had with a man because my dad and I had a terrible relationship.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t say anything when Dr. Shaffer’s hand rested on my thigh the first time. Sure it felt weird, him touching my leg, but I liked him. I wanted him to be proud of me so we could keep our sessions. I was eight. I didn’t know that this was not how therapy went.”
“Oh, Logan,” Danika whispers.
I swallow the lump in my throat and keep going. If I stop now, I’ll never finish. “We stayed like that for almost a year, playing games and watching movies together. Dr. Shaffer’s hand from time to time would linger too long on my shoulder or rest a little too close on my leg, but overall it wasn’t a big deal. I trusted him.
I was ten the first time Dr. Shaffer touched me. He told me we were moving to the next step in our therapy, that at first, I might feel uncomfortable, but that my discomfort was normal. All the hairs on my body have only stood on edge a handful of times, and that was the first. Every time since, whether for good reasons or bad, the pin-prick-hair-rising feeling always brings me back to that moment. To the way I jumped back in fear when his hand touched me.”