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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.
