Brother's Keeper (4 page)

She turns to me, instantly finding my eyes. “No. I’m sorry, but I won’t talk to the police.”

“What do you mean? He can’t get away with this. You don’t deserve to live like this. Why would you want to protect him? You don’t owe him anything, Rowan.”

“It’s not him. I hate him. He was nothing to me before my mother died, and he’s nothing to me now.”

“Then why? I don’t understand…”

“Because I have nothing. Don’t you understand? I don’t have your family. I don’t have your life. My mother was the only child of parents who passed away before I was even born. My father’s family is non-existent. Or if they exist, I’ve never seen them. I don’t get to go on with my life, my education, my dancing, my future… My life will be turned upside down. I could end up in a group home for the next couple of months, and for what? Don’t you see? I will be on my own next year. I can make it until then. It’s so close. I’ve already received my scholarship letter. I can’t screw that up now. I work as much as I can, but I can’t afford to be on my own right now. I’ll be eighteen in less than two months. Sara and I will be in Ann Arbor by next fall. I will never have to go back to that life and his shitty trailer. But I have to get there first without destroying everything I’ve worked for.”

She is fighting back tears and speaking so forcefully. It’s obvious this isn’t something that she’s considering for the first time. She has gone over and over and over this scenario many times before. But it isn’t right. He can’t get away with this. He’s already gotten away with years of child abuse. Now that she’s nearly grown, should he get away with this assault as well? There has to be some way, and I start thinking out loud. “My parents would let you…”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re their son. I can’t do that. I’m sorry. I just can’t. They’ve already paid my way through dance school for the better part of my life, and I feel guilty enough every time they foot the bill for me. You have to understand, this hasn’t happened for years. There’s just no point.”

But I can’t accept the conclusion she’s trying to push me to. “Don’t ask me to keep this a secret for you. You can’t ask me to do that.”

She’s crying again. “I’m sorry. You were never supposed to know.”

Her comment hits like a ton of bricks, and I’m suddenly struck by the sobering words she’s saying. I might never have known had it not been for that one phone call. The idea this could have continued to go on without anyone ever finding out is terrifying. And now she wants me to make a decision that’s not only unethical but also dangerous. This isn’t a decision I can make in an instant.

“Row, you have to give me time to think about this. I can’t even think straight anymore, and I need to know I’m making the right decision.”

At that, the conversation is over, and Rowan stands to leave the room. I watch her leave and want to call her back and keep her with me. She is suddenly the most vulnerable part of my life and that which I feel an undeniable need to protect. And with her gone from me, I start to drift asleep again, but my mind is racing. I know what I want to do, but I’m compelled to think about what will happen to her if I do. I can’t force her to comply. Were I to call the police, what would she ultimately do? Refuse to speak with them? Refuse to acknowledge what he’s done? I’ve watched Rowan grow up, and I know to what degree she was neglected by that man. She has wanted all her life while Sara and I have wanted for nothing, ever. She is poor, desperately poor. She has no support system whatsoever. Should I be the one that pushes her away now? But as heartbreaking as it is, I can’t overlook the fact that she’s been wronged, and the man responsible has yet to be held accountable and never will if she has her way. He has to pay, but at what cost to Rowan?

*

Logan is sleeping soundly, and I have to get home and change for work. I quietly grab a pair of Sara’s shoes and find Logan’s keys on the kitchen table. I unload my bike from his car before returning the keys and heading toward home. I change quickly, not wanting to spend any more time there than necessary. Dad is watching TV in the living room, not the least bit interested in the world around him. Fortunately, his anger always fades with sobriety, and the post inebriation amnesia kicks in. The fact I had escaped him the previous night evades his memory. I leave the house without saying a word and manage to make it to work with a few minutes to spare.

It is Saturday, and we will be busy. I spend most of the evening going through the motions. My mind is fixated on Logan. My future is in his hands, and I haven’t forgotten it. I feel like I’m waiting for the doctor to tell me the inevitable bad news. On the one hand, if Logan can’t come to terms with lying for me, not to mention setting his conscience aside, then my life as I know it is over. On the other hand, if Logan does keep my secret, I’m responsible for pushing him to a lie he shouldn’t be a part of, and that jeopardizes his reputation and possibly his career. So the diagnosis is detrimentally bad and detrimentally bad. And as I obsess about his decision, I’m driven insane by my worry. What must he be thinking? What will he decide? And then I see him.

He’s just strolled in with Amy. Have I mentioned I hate Amy? She is gorgeous and everything every man in every world has ever wanted. She’s a bitch, but she hides it well. She’s the type of girl who would slit your throat to keep you down but talks sweet as pie. Logan’s been seeing her for the better part of the past two years and everyone thinks they are the perfect couple. It’s sick. Sure, they look perfect together, but what he could possibly see in her is beyond me. He is nothing like her; he has none of her selfishness. Logan has always been caring in a way she would never understand. He is good, she is bad. It’s as simple as that. I suppose she just puts on a good show for him. Never mind I hate her by virtue of the fact her boobs are three times the size of mine.

To my horror, they are seated in my section, but hey, at least I look good. Ha! What could be better than being seen in the obligatory uniform of black pants, white button up shirt, and a pathetic looking red ascot? Oh, and let’s not forget the customary black beret. I hate being lame, and I especially hate looking lame in front of beautiful women. Just once, I’d like to be the beautiful one—not the one looking like a circus sideshow freak.

Logan watches me as I approach their table. My hands are shaking as I fill their water glasses, and by the uncomfortable look on Logan’s face, he’s well of aware of this fact. Amy is off in her own little world, looking around to see if anyone she knows is there. He says “Hi”, and I manage a “Fancy to see you here,” the fake casual tone of my voice a little too contrived and obvious.

Amy suddenly decides to join the rest of the world and finally acknowledges my existence. Not, of course, in any civilized manner. “Oh my God! What happened to your face? You look terrible.” Her words are as fake as her blonde hair and pathetic personality.

My embarrassment is palpable as I look desperately around for any excuse to leave their table. I find nothing and abruptly give a bizarre nod of my head before turning heel and heading back to the kitchen. Sometimes I just can’t act normal to save my life.

I realize, as I’m halfway down the corridor to the kitchen, Logan is behind me. I keep moving, suddenly sure I have some sort of food stuck to my butt and completely unsure what to do next. He makes that decision for me by catching up to me, taking me by the elbow, and pulling me into a small side hallway.

“She didn’t mean anything by that, Row,” he starts as he turns me to face him.

I open my mouth to object but then think better of the decision. He’s done a lot for me and insulting his girlfriend isn’t the best way to make it up to him. Besides, disagreeing with him will only put him in a position to make a choice between us. He will either support the mega bitch or me. He doesn’t owe me any allegiance, and why should I care anyway? It’s not like he’s my boyfriend. If he wants to be enamored with the blonde bombshell, so be it. Oh, who am I kidding? I do care, and I’m not at all sure I want to know how he would choose. I settle on the non-response, resorting to staring at the ground. I sense him staring at me, waiting patiently for my response.

“Why did you come here?”

“I wanted to make sure you got here okay.”

“Well, you can see that I did. Will you please leave now? The food here sucks and…”

“Why are you trying to get us to leave? We just got here, and I’m hungry.”

“Because, it’s … it’s humiliating being seen in this stupid outfit and having to work around you.” My eyes widen as I realize what I just blurted out.

Logan contemplates this as embarrassment burns through my cheeks. There are many long, awkward moments of silence where I know without looking at him that his eyes are trained on me.

“Well, I happen to like seeing you in this little getup, and having you serve me seems quite appropriate after the night you put me through.” And at that, he reaches his hand up to the front rim of my beret and flips it with his finger.

Looking nervously to his eyes, I see he is smirking down at me. He’s enjoying himself. I can’t help but smile back at him. He’s just so beautiful, and I wish again that I was one of the beautiful ones, too. Just once.

I manage to get them through dinner without dropping anything or humiliating myself further, though I can feel Logan’s eyes on me as I move through the restaurant tending to other tables. I’m sure he’s thinking,
“This little girl is hardly worth my trouble.”
And I can’t help but feel ashamed that he knows so many awful things about me. When they finally leave, I’m relieved to see them go. It is the first time my body hasn’t stood at attention since catching sight of him. My shoulders instantly slump, I stop sticking my pathetic mosquito bites out trying to pretend I have breasts, and I let my body relax. How pathetic am I? The rest of the evening is a blur, and I’m glad when ten o’clock finally rolls around. We finish up quickly, and I head for the door.

As I enter the back parking lot through the employee entrance door, I immediately notice my bike is not leaned up against the dumpster where I left it. I then become aware of Logan’s Cherokee parked by the other employees’ cars. He’s standing leaning against the hood of his Jeep, talking on his cell phone. When he looks up and sees me approaching, he wraps up his call.

“You ready to go?”

“Go where? I thought you were on a date.” I suddenly have posture and boobs again by the time I reach him.

“I decided to make it an early night. Besides, I felt bad about what Amy said to you earlier. She doesn’t always understand the meaning of tact, and you didn’t deserve to be put on the spot that way. Get in.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where are we going?”

“To get you an overnight bag from your house. You’re not staying there tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not? Logan, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. If you want my silence, then here’s the way it’s going to be. Any night, regardless of what night of the week it may be, that your father goes to the bar, you will stay at my apartment. The only exception is when you have plans to stay with Sara. No one except for us will know about this, and that includes Sara. She can’t keep her mouth shut, and the last thing I need is my parents finding out, or worse yet, the DA’s office. I have a spare bedroom that will be yours, and you can leave anything you need there so you can come over anytime, even when you can’t get home for your stuff.”

He grabs my hand without taking his eyes from mine, unfolds my fingers gently with his own, and places a key in my outstretched palm. And while I’m stunned to the point of being shocked at what he’s saying, I still note the shiver that runs through my body at his lingering touch on my skin.

“This is yours in case you are unable to get hold of me and need to get into the apartment. Oh, and here.” He hands me a cell phone. “It’s a prepaid phone, and my home and cell numbers are already programmed in. I don’t care who you give the number to, but I want you to use it anytime you need to reach me. No more payphones in the middle of the night. I’ll take care of adding minutes when you need them.”

I’m sure my mouth is gaping as he’s speaking, but this is unreal, and more than that, unacceptable. As if it’s not bad enough I’ve allowed myself to be supported by his parents, now I have Logan managing my life.

I start to protest he is doing too much when he cuts me off. “I’m sure you think this is open to negotiation, but I assure you it’s not. I’ve been considering this since you left today, and I will accept nothing else. If I’m going to risk your safety and my ethical conscience by keeping your secret, you will give me the assurances I want.” He pauses, staring at me for some seconds before continuing. “Do we have a deal?”

What reasonable choice do I have? I fumble and stutter to get the words out. “Yes. Yes … But … but I feel bad that you are doing so much. I can’t…”

“Why don’t you just say ‘thanks’ and leave it at that? Okay?” He smiles a gentle and reassuring smile at my concern.

“Thank you. I mean it, Logan. I really appreciate you doing this.”

“I know you do. Of course, I have a contract you’ll be required to sign.” He raises a brow as he rounds the front of the Jeep to the driver’s door. There, he stops and watches my slack-jawed expression with amusement before letting me off the hook. “Relax. I’m just kidding. Now get in. I’d like to be in and out of your house before he gets home.”

We head toward the Elm Crest Trailer Park and my trailer. The house is dark when we arrive, and my father’s car is missing. I’m embarrassed to let Logan see the inside of our old, dilapidated, ugly trailer, and I try to get him to wait in the car while I run in. He refuses. Awesome. We enter and go straight to my room. I collect a couple pairs of pajamas, the ones that aren’t too ugly and tattered for him to see, and clothes for the next day. He stands by looking around at the wood paneled walls, disgusting dirty carpet, and outdated decor. I can tell he’s not impressed with our decorating sense.

When we finally reach his apartment, it is late. His apartment is a renovated old brownstone in the downtown area of our little burg. When the Harringtons bought this complex five years before, it was in desperate need of renovation. Logan spent an entire summer helping his father fix up the apartment complex every evening after Marcus finished up at the law office. Even Sara and I helped with some of the work we could do. Marcus has a huge woodworking shop at their house and loves doing this type of work. The result: a beautifully restored building that has its original character blended with a contemporary style to create one of the most sought after buildings in town.