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But this man has very little hair left on his head, and the remaining hair has many streaks of silver in it.
His breaths come out slow and ragged. He moves his head to look at me as I walk in.
To my surprise, his eyes still have that twinkle in them. When he sees me, his whole face lights up in a big, beaming smile.
“Josie.”
The nurse leans in to talk to me in a low voice. She explains that he heard about my visit earlier that day and became quite excited, demanding to see me.
“Hello, Mr. Black. It’s been a long time.” I lean in to kiss him on the cheek. His arms remain at his sides, but I pick up his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.
So, Logan’s dad survived the accident. I think back to the way my grandparents looked at each other. Logan’s mom must have died. Seeing the condition of Logan’s dad, the accident must have given him life-altering injuries.
It seems no amount of tragedy can break his spirit, though. He looks at me like a child looking at Christmas lights the night before Christmas.
“I’m happy you’re finally home,” he says.
My stomach knots at the word home.
I haven’t felt at home in years. It’s been so long since I felt like I belonged anywhere. With anyone.
I think on it; going back to the city doesn’t give me warm, fuzzy feelings. With my parents working abroad, and no one waiting for me in my New York apartment, I feel somewhat displaced.
In fact, the last time I felt like I was home was…
I swallow. When Logan was kissing me under the bleachers.
“I always thought of you as a daughter,” Mr. Black says, never taking his eyes off me. My chest tightens.
“Logan said you were coming, and now you’re finally here. Did you get those peanut butter chocolates?”
I frown. “I’m sorry, not this time. Logan said I was coming?”
The nurse steps in again. “The accident triggered early onset dementia,” she whispers. “He thinks you and Logan are married. So, Logan has been telling him you’re at the store and will be here soon.”
I hold my breath at the thought. For all these years, he’s been visiting his dad and telling him I was at the store. Pretending we’re still together.
After several moments, the tightness in my chest becomes unbearable. “I’m going to run to the store and get those chocolates,” I say, my voice shaking as I rise to a stand.
Mr. Black’s smile fades. “Oh. Oh right.” He coughs. “Logan will be here soon, I expect.”
I nod, forcing back the tears brimming my eyes. “Yep.” My voice is far too high-pitched. I say my goodbyes and shuffle out of the room.
When I’m out of the room, I turn to the nurse. “Does Logan come to visit often?”
The nurse nods, her smile beaming. “He’s so devoted to his father. He comes in every week. And he’s donated generously to the clinic ever since he started with the NFL.”
I clutch my purse, my head spinning. “He didn’t say a word to me.”
The nurse cocks her head to the side. “I expect he has his reasons. Perhaps he didn’t want to burden you.”
I nod, but my hands won’t stop trembling.
Back at my grandparents’ house, I lay in bed, still in my gown, and look up at the dark ceiling. Shadows dance across the walls of the trees outside the window. Everything is quiet, much quieter than my apartment in the city, but my head is full of noise.
I try to picture Logan—fresh out of high school, about to start a scholarship at college—finding out his parents were in an accident and his mom is dead.
“Your father survived, but he’ll need round-the-clock care.”
