He hadn’t changed much at all since I first met him.
So if that were true, what had changed?
Me?
Possibly.
“Let’s go to the Road Spud,” he suggested. That’s what he calls the Rosebud Café. He picked that up when he worked as a busboy there. All the busboys called it that.
Back then, I’d thought it was so funny. Now, suddenly, it just sounded dumb. Couldn’t he think of a new joke? It wasn’t as if he still worked there.
“No, not the Rosebud,” I said.
“Yeah, come on. Why not? The Spud has good food.”
“I don’t want to go there, okay?” My words sounded much sharper than I’d meant them to. It was as if I couldn’t control my annoyance with him.
“Whoa,” he said with a wary laugh. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that I said I didn’t want to go but you keep insisting. Don’t I get a choice? Do we always have to go where you say?”
I’m sure I was taking Logan by surprise. But I couldn’t help it. It was how I felt and I couldn’t bottle it up inside any longer.
“Of course not. Where would you like to go, Mary Anne?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted.
Logan let out a sigh. “Then would you like me to pick a different place?” he asked.
“No. I want us to pick it together.”
As I spoke, I realized that this was exactly the kind of thing that had been bothering me.
Logan was Mr. Take Charge, especially since the fire. He said what we would do. He decided what we liked and didn’t like.
I was sick of it.
“How about the Argo Diner?” I suggested.
“Fine,” Logan agreed, sounding annoyed.
It bothered me that he was irritated.
Was it so horrible that I made the decision?
Did it bug him that I even had an opinion?
We headed down Rosedale toward the Argo. We walked just a bit too fast and didn’t look at each other. Anyone watching us could probably tell we were both ticked off.
Logan stopped abruptly in front of a restaurant called Renwick’s. “Why don’t we go in here?” he suggested. “It’s nicer than the Argo.”
It was a better place. He was right about that.
But then we’d be going to a place he’d picked. Again.
“I chose the Argo,” I reminded him.
He nodded toward the Argo, diagonally across the street. “I think it’s closed,” he said.
“On a Saturday night?” Turning to look, I was surprised to see that the Argo was dark. It did appear to be closed. But I wasn’t giving in. “Come on,” I said, hurrying across the street. “I bet it’s open.”
Logan was right, though. There was a sign hanging on the door. “ ‘On vacation until November first,’ ” Logan read. “I guess we’re going to Renwick’s.”
“Too expensive,” I disagreed.
“I have money.”
After that, it seemed a little childish to argue. So we went back to Renwick’s.
“Remember the first time we came here?” Logan asked, holding the door for me.
How could I forget? We went to Renwick’s on our first date. “Of course,” I answered snappishly.
“Are you okay?” asked Logan.
“I’m fine,” I replied as we entered the restaurant.
A hostess smiled at us, picked up two menus, and led us to a table. The waitress appeared right away, and we ordered.
After she left, we sat and looked at each other. We used to talk a mile a minute whenever we were together. Lately, though, there just didn’t seem to be anything to say.
Logan began reading the back of the menu, which told the history of Renwick’s restaurant. He didn’t seem to know or care that I was just sitting there.
I’d seen couples who acted this way. Older people who’d been married for a thousand years.
Was this what my future with Logan was going to be like? Sitting around together, bored to death?
I remembered when I couldn’t wait to see Logan. I told him every single thing that happened to me. It was almost as if nothing were even real until I told it to him.
I remembered it — but I didn’t have that feeling anymore.
Now I deliberately didn’t share thoughts with him just so they’d stay personal; a part of me that was Mary Anne, alone. Not MaryAnneandLogan, as if we were one person.
Finally, though, I couldn’t stand just sitting there another second.
“Logan,” I said quietly.
He looked up from the menu. He blinked at me as if he were returning from some far-off place. Did he really find the history of Renwick’s that interesting?
Or maybe he was just as bored with me as I had become with him.
You might not believe it, but that thought actually cheered me up.
If he were unhappy, then he wouldn’t mind what I was about to say; what, suddenly, I knew I had to say.
“Logan,” I repeated. “We have to talk.”
He straightened in his chair. “I knew something was up. What’s wrong?”
“It’s us,” I said. I was afraid I’d lose my nerve if I didn’t just come out and say it.
“Us?”
“It’s not working out between us these days. You feel it too. Don’t you?”
He shook his head slowly.
My throat went dry. He didn’t?
“What do you think is the matter?” he asked.
“It’s … that thing. The problem we’ve always had,” I began.
“What thing?”
“The you-me thing.”
“Oh, not that again!” he cried. “I mean, I thought we figured that all out.”
“I thought so too, but it’s back.”
We stared at each other miserably. Anyone listening might not have known what on earth we were talking about, but we knew. When we’d broken up before, it had been because Logan was being too overbearing.
“Well, I’m sorry, Mary Anne,” Logan said, breaking the silence. “I’m just being me. I don’t ask you to change.”
“Yes, you do. You want us to do everything your way. That’s asking me to change. And you do it all the time. Plus you’re overprotective of me. Like you think I can’t do anything on my own.”
“You should tell me about it when it happens,” he said.
“I do, but you don’t hear me.”
“You’re right, I don’t hear you. Because I don’t think you speak up. Only you think you do.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. And just then our food arrived.
It was horrible. I mean, the food was fine. But eating it was miserable. I felt as if I were swallowing lumps of clay that kept sticking in my throat.
As I choked down my food, I thought about what Logan had said. Was it true that I never spoke up?
Maybe there was a little fault on both sides. It might be that I didn’t let my feelings be known enough. Even if that was true, it was also true that Logan didn’t listen enough.
He was always so sure his way was the best way.
I couldn’t put up with it any longer.
Logan put down his hamburger. “So what do you want to do?” he asked, his voice a little angry. “Break up?”
Part of me couldn’t believe I was doing it, but I nodded.
The color drained from his face.
“Yes,” I said in a small, dry voice.
It was awful! Logan couldn’t have looked any more surprised and horrified if I’d cracked the plate over his head.
I realized then that when he had asked, “Do you want to break up?” he was being sarcastic.
He’d expected me to say, “Of course not.”
Tears jumped into my eyes. Under the table, I dug the fingernails of my right hand into my left palm.
I did it to hold back the tears.
If I started crying, I knew I’d take back my words. I’d say I didn’t really want to break up, that
I was just in a bad mood — anything to make Logan feel better again.
And that wasn’t what I needed to do.
The waitress passed near our table. “Check, please,” Logan said. She nodded.
Logan turned back to me and seemed about to speak. Then he laughed bitterly. “I did it again,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“I asked for the check without asking if you wanted to leave.”
He was right. He had done it again.
It didn’t seem the right time to make a big deal out of it, though.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “I’m not very hungry anymore either.”
“See? That’s just it, Mary Anne,” he said. “I know you so well. I know what you’ll like and won’t like. So I just go ahead and act on that. Is that so bad?”
“You don’t always know,” I said quietly. “You’re just always so sure that you do. Only sometimes you’re wrong.”
“But a lot of times I’m right.”
The waitress put the check on the table. We pooled our money and left it there.
Without talking, we left the restaurant. Logan walked ahead of me. By the time I came through the front door, he was already standing on the corner with his back to me. I took a deep breath and looked up at him. “Logan, I —”
I cut myself short.
Logan was crying.
The sight of his crumpled, red-eyed face stopped me cold. How could I do this to him?
Images flooded into my mind. I remembered all the fun we’d had together, all the times Logan had been there for me. I wished — wished really hard — that I could find my way back to the way it had been, that I could feel the same way about Logan now as I’d felt then.
I couldn’t, though.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” Logan asked, wiping his eyes with a quick, rough movement.
“Yes,” I forced myself to say.
“Okay, then,” he said, looking away from me. “Let’s go home.”
Anyone else might have stomped off and left me to go home by myself. But not Logan. It was one of the things I’d always loved about him.
“Come on,” he said.
I knew he’d insist on walking me home, even if every step of the way was miserable for him. So I didn’t even bother to argue. I just fell into step along-side him as we headed toward my house.
We didn’t speak for almost four blocks.
Then I couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
“Logan, I really want us to stay friends,” I said.
He mumbled a reply, but his voice was so low I couldn’t make out the words. “What?” I asked.
“I said, ‘I don’t think so,’” he told me, nearly shouting this time.
“Why?”
“Because that never works.”
“It can.” I was walking fast now, trying to keep up with Logan’s unusually fast pace. “Stacey is friends with Robert, and I think she still talks to Ethan. Claudia is friendly with Josh.”
“That’s great for them,” Logan snapped. “But it won’t work for us.”
I grabbed his elbow, forcing him to slow down. “Why can’t we be friends?” I pleaded.
“Mary Anne,” he said angrily, “if you want to be my friend so much, why are you doing this?”
“Because being friends is different than being boyfriend and girlfriend.”
He began walking again, even faster than before. I was nearly jogging to keep up with him. By the time we reached my house, I was almost breathless.
I expected Logan to stop. He didn’t even slow down, though.
Without turning toward me, he just lifted his hand to wave. “ ’Bye, Mary Anne,” he said, and kept going.
I stood on the sidewalk, watching him.
Now that he was gone, I could cry.
My tears overflowed, running down my face. All of a sudden I didn’t know if I’d done the right thing or the stupidest thing possible.
I’m not sure how long I stood there. It might have been one minute or five. But, after awhile, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.
Wiping my eyes, I realized Claudia was standing beside me.
“Mary Anne, what’s wrong?” she asked. Even in the darkness I could see that her face was full of worry.
“I just broke up with Logan,” I told her in a choked voice.
Her hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t think you’d really do it,” she confessed. “I thought you were just letting off steam yesterday.”
I shook my head.
“How did he take it?”
“He’s pretty upset.”
My tears began flowing again. I put my hand over my face, but I couldn’t stop them.
Claudia put her arm around my shoulders. “Wow, it’s a good thing I was on my way home. Otherwise you’d be out here all by yourself.”
I wanted to tell her it was all right, that she didn’t have to stand outside with me. When I started to speak, though, all that came out was this awful-sounding choked sob.
With her arm still around me, Claudia began moving us both along. “Come on,” she said. “Come to my house and we can talk.”
“Pringles or Cracker Jacks?” Claudia asked, taking one of each from her bottom dresser drawer.
“Some of both, please,” I said. I sat on her bed, my chin propped in my hands. I wasn’t sure that junk food would make me feel any better, but it wouldn’t hurt.
“You’re right,” Claudia said as she opened the box of Cracker Jacks. “This is definitely a two-treat night.”
I smiled. A little. At least I’d stopped crying. Although I was now a puffy wreck and couldn’t keep from sniffing.
Claudia handed me the Cracker Jacks. “Do you think you guys can be friends?” she asked as she dug into the Pringles.
“I suggested it, but the idea seemed to make Logan even more upset.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “He probably doesn’t think you mean it.”
“But I do. After all we’ve shared, how could we just not be anything to each other?”
“I understand how you feel. But being friends with a guy after you break up with him is hard. Maybe impossible.”
“But you’re friends with Josh,” I reminded her.
She shifted uneasily in her chair. “Well, yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re not enemies. We stop to say hi, and we talk a little, but I’m not sure I’d say we’re friends. Not the way you and I are friends, or the way I’m friends with Kristy or Abby or the way I used to be friends with you-know-who.”
“Why don’t you and Stacey make up?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“Okay.”
“What I mean about remaining friends,” Claudia continued, “is that not being mad at each other is not the same as being friends. Josh and I thought we’d still be able to hang out and do things together, but it hasn’t worked out that way. And we were friends before we started going out. You’d think we could go back to that. But, somehow … I don’t know. Maybe it will be different for you and Logan.”
“I don’t know how it can be,” I said, “If Logan doesn’t even want to try.” My voice broke and the tears came back. The next thing I knew I was crying all over my Cracker Jacks.
Janine, Claudia’s sixteen-year-old sister, poked her head into the room. “Claudia, I can’t find —” She broke off when she saw my face. “Mary Anne, are you okay?” she asked.
Janine is an actual genius with a sky-high IQ. Sometimes she talks and acts like a college professor or something. But she’s definitely human. And she broke up with her boyfriend, Jerry, not long ago.
“Mary Anne just dumped her boyfriend,” Claudia told her.
“Oh, no. Logan? That’s terrible. But if it had to be done, you’ll be glad you’ve done it, later.”
I spoke through my tears. “You’re right, I guess. But I’m not happy about it now.”
Standing up, I
rubbed my eyes. I wasn’t ready to talk about this in any logical way. “I’m sorry, but I think I should go. I’m rotten company right now.”
“No, please,” Janine protested as I grabbed my jacket from Claudia’s director’s chair and brushed past her.
Claudia bolted out into the hall after me. “Don’t go. You need to be around friends right now.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I’ll call you later,” Claudia said as I headed down the stairs.
When I got home, the house was still dark except for the lamp Sharon and my dad leave lit in the front hall. They’d said earlier that they might go to the movies, and I guessed that they had.
No one home. Good, I thought as I let myself in the front door. I just wanted to go to my room and cry until I fell asleep.
I was halfway up the stairs when the phone began ringing. I froze. Maybe it was Logan.
Hurrying back down, I grabbed the phone on the third ring, just before the answering machine picked up. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mary Anne, it’s me.” It was my stepsister, Dawn, calling from California.
“Oh, hi,” I said. With the cordless phone to my ear, I wandered into the living room and sat down on the couch.
“Hey, you sound shaky. What’s the matter?” she asked. Dawn and I were friends before her mom married my dad and we became stepsisters. (In fact, it was our idea to get them back together, since they’d dated as teenagers.)
“I just broke up with Logan,” I told her. This was the second time I’d said this and it wasn’t getting any easier.
“Wow! Again?”
“This time it’s for good.”
“Are you sure? You two have been through this before.”
“I’m positive,” I said. “It’s the same old problem. It just keeps coming back and I can’t take it anymore.”
“Logan’s crowding you?” she said thoughtfully. She was silent for a moment. “Then you did the right thing.”
“You think so?”
“Definitely. Logan’s a great guy, but he does not need to be in charge all the time.”
“But sometimes that’s what I liked about him,” I admitted.
“Yeah, but you’re changing. You’re more your own person now, and I can see how he could get on your nerves.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. You’ve changed since I first met you — in good ways. You even look different.”