Mars (10 page)

26

Te quiero

Walking to the taxi, I hold onto Logan’s hand, whom I feel will faint of excitement any moment now. His eyes are big and sparkly. His cheeks are red from the slight Las Vegan winter, but he looks warm, all bundled up.

“Logan?” I say as he stops walking.

He turns to me. “We’re seeing the greatest band tonight. Together. Do you know how happy I am right now? Oh God, I love you,” he suddenly lets go of my hand and picks me up to spin me around.

Giggling, I tug him to the taxi, where our parents look shocked, but proud for some reason. His mom sits between us in the back seat, which made me want to laugh.

Now though, we are heading to the motel and catching up on an hour of sleep or so, to be wide awake at the concert tonight. We’re staying a night here, and flying back first thing in the morning.

We arrive at a small motel named 
Renais 
and check in. Logan gives my hand a squeeze as he leaves to his room, beside mine. Jane smiles at me and sets her bags on one bed; I set mine on the other. I close the curtains; it is still 10 a.m. in Vegas.

Jane goes to the bathroom and changes into baggy pants and a plain blue shirt. She ties her wet hair up in a pony tail.

I change into a pair of leggings and a big 
J’adore 
shirt and settle into my bed, seconds away from sleeping. The pillows in the motel are like clouds cradling my head.

“Amy?” says Jane.

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

I smile. “For?”

“Giving my son a miracle.”

“Isn’t that from the movie A Walk to Remember?”

She let out a chuckle. “When we found out about his cancer, I watched every movie about cancer and cried.”

“Movies like that make me believe that when he goes, he’ll go up there with a smile on his face.”

“He has a beautiful smile.”

“Hmm, I know,” I say, closing my eyes and sleeping peacefully for the first time in a few hours, with the image of Logan’s smile in my mind.

Someone knocks at the door for the fifth time. I jump, messing up the pink lipstick. Jane goes to the door and glares at the wall.

“Logan Thomas Masterson, it’s 6:01. Calm your pants and wait for us, or else.”

“Or else what, you’ll kill me? No need for that, it’s already happening.” his voice rises jokingly.

“Logan!” Both Jane and I shout warningly.

Jane turns to me and grins. “You look amazing.”

I had a short long-sleeved white lace dress on, with gray leggings. To keep me from freezing to death, I wore a black leather jacket over it. After showering, I straightened my hair and put a part of it up with a bow tie.

“You look better, though,” I answer. She is wearing an overly big dark green sweater that almost looked like a dress, with a belt on her waist. Her hair is straight and her makeup is done nicely and simply.

She opens the door and Logan enters, sighing. “Finally!”

“What took you so—” He stops when he sees me. “Wow.”

“Wow right back at you,” I say. He’s wearing a burgundy sweater and pale jeans. Boys look good in jeans. His hair, which is starting to grow back, is still hidden under a beanie.

“I just—you look beautiful. Even more than always.”

I do a little bow with my dress, feeling my cheeks flush. “Thank you. Did you take your medicine?”

Since we’re going to a concert, he had to take an extra dose of the pills that lessen the pain in his head.

“’Course. Do you have the tickets?” asks Logan, looking at his mom. She nods, patting her coat’s pocket.

“You both look great,” says dad, who had cleaned up nicely as well. “Now let’s go, the cab is waiting downstairs.”

We leave. The bubble of anticipation in my heart starts to grow and grow.

The cab ride is filled with Logan tapping his feet impatiently, Jane and I scolding him and my father nodding his head to Elton John on the radio. Apparently the cab driver had similar tastes in music as my dad.

The sun hasn’t set just yet, but the famous Vegas lights are starting to show. I feel amazing, being in a different city than my home town sparks excitement.

While Logan’s mother hands me the tickets in front of the small club where the private concert is being held, she says: “Don’t drink. Don’t be rude. Don’t touch things that shouldn’t be touched.”

It’s hard not to laugh, it really is.

“I won’t.”

Logan’s mom and my dad had decided to go for a friendly dinner and explore, before picking us up. I like the idea of them spending time together; it’s been a long time since my father has had a friend.

I glance at Logan as we enter the club. There are only about a hundred people, which is nothing. We have arrived early; therefore we rushed through the small crowd to be as close to the stage as possible. Logan is clutching my hand too hard. He looks dizzy because of the people pushing into him. I remember him saying that he is claustrophobic.

“Logan? Breathe,” I say into his ear, over all of the chatter.

“Look at me,” I command. He does. “Breathe in, breathe out.”

He obliges. He looks ahead and takes a deep breath, color seeming to come back to his face. “We’re seeing Coldplay in a half an hour.”

“Indeed,” I repeat, smiling. “You’ll also meet them in the supposed backstage.”

“Oh God,” he grins, “What would I do without you, Amaryllis?”

He offers to take my hand and I hold his, feeling like nothing in the entire world can take this moment from me. Chris Martin walks in, causing everyone to scream. The rest of the band follows. I look at Logan, who is smiling wider than anyone else and screaming along with them.

“VEGAAAS!” shouts Chris Martin, as the background music of the first song begins. It is a slow one,
A Sky Full of Stars.

He rests his chin on the top of my head. He does this a lot now; it’s my favorite thing in the world. I am afraid to squeeze him too hard, with the fear of him collapsing in my arms. He is fragile, but his way of being represents him as the one of the strongest people I know.

“Amaryllis?” whispers Logan, close to my ear, as I hold up my phone to join in the flashlight wave. I sway along to the sweet, raw music.

“Not now. Watch your band play.”

“Wait, I need to say this. There used to be a time where I was mad at God for making me get cursed to die before I fell in love,” he says softly, holding my face in his hands. “But God sent you to me. You’re my angel.”

I want to cry of joy and heartache, but I don’t.

I squeeze his hand. “And you’re mine. Now shut up and enjoy the music.”

27

Home

“Amaryllis? C’mon, baby, wake up. Amarylliiiis? Please wake up. Babe. Babe. Baby, please?”

Mentally, I am punching whoever is saying this so hard they lost consciousness. But, I recognize the voice and wake up with a start. Logan is looking down at me with twinkles in his eyes so bright the biggest star in the universe would be jealous.

“Logan?”

He smiles at me. “Come with me.”

“Uh, it’s 4 am. I need sleep.”

“Pleeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase. Baby, pleaaaaaaaase.”

“No, the concert killed me,” I whisper, fearing that his mom will hear me and wake up.

“I’m already getting killed anyway,” he jokes. At my glare, he stops smiling. “Please. I want to show you something.”

I groan. “Fine. Now?”

He eagerly nods. I get the covers off me and watch as his eyes widen. I look down to where he is looking and blush. Since the motel apparently put too much heating in the rooms, I ended up wearing short yoga shorts to bed. This means that my freshly shaved legs, my short ones might I add, are completely exposed to him.

I grab the sweatpants beside the bed and reach to put them on.

He takes my hand, throws me a hoodie I recognize as his. He had forgotten it at my house and I decided to keep it because it was too big and it smelled like him. I throw it on.

We creep out of the bedroom slowly and close the door carefully. He starts running to the elevator and he presses the lowest floor button. I stare at him questioningly, but I trust him.

He gets out and leads me to a big room I recognize as the pool area.

“Are you serious?” I say.

He shrugs. “There’s a hot tub.”

“But—fine.”

I look down at my sweatshirt and ponder on the fact that if I take it and the shirt I have under off, I’d only be in my bra.

He is already taking his shirt off and dipping his toe in the water. He takes his jeans off and sits in the hot tub area, sighing with contentment.

ASDFGHJKL.

He looks incredibly hot.

Like out of this world hot.

Like the-sun-is-jealous hot.

His eyes meet mine and he raises an eyebrow.

“Why aren’t you sitting in this marvel of the world with me?”

I shift my feet awkwardly. “I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“Pish, posh. You have the shorts, which I am still debating if they are underwear or not, and you can take the hoodie and shirt off.”

Insecurity is gnawing at me like a monster about to swallow me. I didn’t even like to wear bikinis, and Ethan, well, he had seen me before. Let’s just say that our make-out sessions could get a little overboard.

Taking my hoodie off, I stare at my shirt. Thinking off the polka-dot black bra I have under it makes me thank God I didn’t decide to sleep without a bra. I am soon clad in too-short shorts and a bra. 

Logan smiles and ushers for me to come in the tub with him.

I sit on the edge of the pool and play with my legs underwater. The level of water is shallow enough for me to sit. I do, and I feel relaxation wash over me when I feel the pumping of water behind my back. I feel warm.

“Can I?” says Logan, pointing to the space between us.

“Sure,” I say, while trying to ignore the fact that we are both half-naked. Or ¾ naked at this point.

He closes the space between us when he puts his arm around my shoulder.

“Now, do you regret coming down here?”

Shirtless Logan? Hot steaming water?

“Nope,” I say, grinning at him.

“You know, I think you underestimate your hotness.”

“Ah? Really, now?”

He nods. “Mhm. I have this theory that hot people are blind to their hotness.”

“But, you say you know you’re hot. Does that make you not hot?”

Of course not.

“Of course not. It just means that I am half-blind. Like I have one eye that sees, and another that doesn’t. With the one eye I see me, the other I see YOUR hotness.”

I laugh. “You know that made no sense, right?”

“No, it made sense to me.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re mean!”

“You love it.”

He puts a hand on his chin as if to think. “Yeah, I do. I love you being mean and I love you.”

“I really like it when you say that.”

“What? I love you?”

Dear stomach, if you don’t shut up the butterflies in there, I will die.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Okay then. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love—” He takes a dramatic deep breath. “—You. I looooooooooove you.”

I put my hand on his mouth. “Shut up.”

He takes my hand away. “Amaryllis?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think happens?”

“What happens when?”

“When you die.”

I close my eyes and pray not to cry. “I don’t know. But, you know, I bet good stuff happens. I dream about my mom all the time and she talks to me in my dreams. She says that she’s happy.”

“Really?”

I think of her smiling face that glowed with a white light. I remember her telling me to take care of dad and of myself. “Yeah. I think she would have liked you.”

“When I meet her, I’ll be sure to say hello.”

I can’t hold back the tears anymore, so I bob my head underwater. Now, if I cry, it won’t seem like it. I resurface.

“Tell her I miss her,” I say, pulling my hair away from my face. “Tell her I love her for me, okay?”

“She knows.”

“Will 
you
 know? Will you know how much I’ll miss you?” I say, hiccuping. I’m crying now, my eyes are burning from the water and from my tears.

He takes me in his arms and put his head on mine. “Of course, baby. I’ll know. Just don’t cry, okay?”

I pull myself away from him and look at him. “I can’t stop myself. I feel like —hiccup— my world will end when you go. I feel like all that’s good in the world will go away. You’ll take my love for you, with you. I don’t want you to go. I feel like you’ll tear my heart out of my chest and take it with you.”

“Amaryllis, I—”

“Don’t talk, please. I want to talk,” I say. “With Ethan I thought I was in love. But I wasn’t. I was naïve and I was in love with the idea of love.

"But you, Logan, I love you. I love every piece of you; I love every cell of you, even though some of them hurt you. You make me feel alive. You make me feel scared, though. I am terrified of how much I love you. I’m terrified at the thought that one day—I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. I just love you so much it almost hurts. It’s the kind of love that breaks you to pieces and glues you back together. You hold me like you’re holding the most precious thing, I love it and I hate it. Fuck, my heart beats for you, Logan. What happens when yours stops beating?”

He does not answer, for silence speaks louder than words. He takes my hand and everything that he needed to say is screamed by the way our fingers touch together.

He is home. I don’t want to be homeless.