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"What exactly is dope?" She asked. "Marijuana?"
"No," he said, with a little laugh. "It's not. That's not what I was talking about. Look, I've only used it a few times and I really don't want to talk about it with you." Rita looked at his arm—at the dirty bandages—and she knew.
"I'll give you twenty dollars for a song," she said.
"Why, so I can buy drugs?" he asked cynically.
"No. Heavens, I hope you won't buy drugs with it." She looked at him. "I just really wanted to hear you sing."
Logan sighed and leaned over to get his guitar. It was a piece of junk compared to his other one. He hated it. He hated his life. He was humiliated after being so honest, but he was going to play a song for the lady so she would be on her way.
"I don't need your twenty dollars," he said, groaning as he opened the box. He strapped on his guitar and then he took out a cigarette and lit it.
Logan had spent hours working out the melody of this tune the night before, and his fingers went to work without having to think about it. The song was new, but he didn't need the chords or lyrics. It was already embedded in his mind.
Madeline.
She was a girl he knew as a kid. She was a few years older than Logan, and he remembered thinking that if he could just marry someone like Madeline Caldwell, everything would be okay. Even yesterday, as he wrote the lyrics and melody to this song, he imagined that if he could just find and marry Madeline, that plan could still go off without a hitch.
He sang with gentle passion even though his voice was garbage at the moment. His throat was dry, and his voice cracked and squeaked when he hit high notes.
He didn't care. He gave it his best effort, and he sang from his heart. It was an odd sensation, actually. He had only been using hard drugs for a few weeks, but for months, his music had been soulless. The writing of Madeline had been a fluke—the song had just fallen into his lap, come to him out of nowhere. Before yesterday, he hadn't thought about Madeline Caldwell in years.
He sang and played it for the lady, and when he was finished, he opened his eyes and looked her way. She had her hands in front of her face, and it looked like she was trying to hide from him. He ducked and peered between her fingers, and he could see that she was crying.
"What happened, what's wrong?" he asked.
She shook her head, and when she spoke her voice was high-pitched. "I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes and getting herself together. "I'm just touched by that." Her tear-soaked eyes met his. "You are an amazingly talented young man," she said. She let out a wheezing cry, scrunching her face and covering it again. "I'm sorry. It's just so beautiful, and you're reminding me of my own son. He's had some struggles, too." She paused and took another shaky breath, trying her best to hold herself together. "W-w-would you mind if I give you a hug, young man?"
Logan was not expecting her to say anything close to that. "It's just a song," he said, not wanting to hug her. It wasn't for his own sake that he wanted to keep his distance, it was for hers. Logan knew fancy old women didn't go around hugging homeless, squatter kids. He was nasty and he knew it. "You don't want to do that," he added. He felt bad for her. He wondered what he did that made her think of her son.
Logan took off his guitar strap and placed the guitar in its case. He wasn't doing it so that he could hug her, but she assumed he was, and she leaned over and fell into his arms once they were free.
"Oh, oh, I-I didn't know you were going to— uh, okay." Logan started to stutter, and he thought she would let him go, but she didn't. She adjusted, taking him further into her arms. She smelled like she just got out of the shower, and Logan hadn't had one in weeks.
Chapter 2
Logan Lacey
***
Later that evening
Logan could not believe that he had agreed to this.
He hated himself the minute the door locked behind her.
What had he been thinking?
He cursed under his breath, feeling nauseated and angry. He had been sleeping forever before Rita found him, and he was in a fragile, dazed state when he woke up. He had sat on that sidewalk for an hour, talking to that lady and playing music for her, and somehow, in the midst of all that love and compassion, Logan had agreed to the stupidest thing of his life.
Rita had asked if he wanted her to help him get clean, and he had agreed to it.
Seriously, what had he been thinking?
He looked at the door and then at the windows. The door was locked from the outside and the couple of windows were too narrow and too high for him to crawl out.
Logan had acome to Jesusmoment out there on that sidewalk with Rita Alexander, and he really thought he wanted to get clean and get a fresh start in life. She had told him he was capable of it and that she believed in him. He believed her, and in that moment, he believed in himself and felt like he wanted to try it.
