50. The Bottom

Logan

Logan felt a bubbling in his stomach and the bright lights caused his head to spin. Lifting his knees to his chest, he placed both feet on the bench and cowered his head into his lap.

“I told you, that’s my seat!” A deep booming voice sent fear through his body, ending on his fingertips. He glared at the six-foot-five, three-hundred-pound man in front of him, and the ounce of logic left in his head told him to ‘flight’—now.

“Fuck you!” Logan’s anger surprised him. The forever diplomat, the charming politician, the suave new best friend, all of his personas had the night off and the raging drunk was on duty.

Nothing scared him more than the eyes of the men around him—rather, the fact that he could no longer see them as they averted their gazes to anywhere but him.

“Bitch,” Logan added for good measure. The blow was swift across his face, grazing his nose just a hair. He didn’t feel it as much as he felt his face slam against the cool, tile floor. Blood puffed out of his mouth, staining the floor. Its metallic taste had been on his tongue for the last three hours from his earlier fight. “Shit,” he said with a moaning groan.

One of the many guards opened the heavy metal door. “Parker?”

It was a silent ride to Logan’s apartment, he preferred it that way. Emma was fast asleep in the back seat.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Amber’s shrill voice cut the air. “What would possess a grown man to start a bar fight?”

Logan closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool passenger side window. “Please, just stop talking.”

“I can’t believe you made me take Emma to that disgusting, wretched place.”

“I didn’t tell you to bring her.”

“Yeah? Where was I supposed to leave her at three A.M.?”

“Ever hear of a babysitter? You know—the teenagers you leave her with when you’re working the Johns overnight.”

Amber was silent, oddly silent. No comeback, no retort. Logan closed his eyes and leaned back. He thought of apologizing. She had been the one to bail him out, after all. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to call. He tried to play nice as best as the alcohol allowed him. She pulled up in front of his apartment complex and put the car in park.

“Look, Amber I’m sor—” Logan started, the side of his face swollen and numb.

“I’m going for full custody at next week’s hearing,” she said, looking straight ahead. Logan opened his mouth to speak, but she continued. “Don’t bother fighting it. You can’t gaslight me with your bullshit anymore. You haven’t worked in six months. Daddy said not to give you any more money. This twenty-five hundred I just dropped to get you out of jail is money you’re taking from Emma, and I want it back.”

“I’ll pay you back. I swear—”

“I don’t want you picking her up after school anymore. You can have one supervised visit every other weekend.”

“You gotta be fucking kiddi—”

“I’m recording everything you say to me at all times for the judge.”

Logan’s heart tightened and turned so much that he feared it would make its way up his throat, taking strained, measured breaths, in an attempt to control his emotions. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

“I don’t want her to see you for a while. You have to get yourself together. You should really go to the hospital. Your face looks terrible.”

“Your face looks terrible,” he quipped.

“The judge will love that zinger.”

Logan almost said something sharp but instead heaved a defeated sigh. “I don’t have insurance.”

“Apply for Medi-Cal.”

Logan peeled some skin off his swollen bottom lip with his teeth. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Your white-trash, project of a husband on welfare.”

“Judge would love that, too.”

Logan quickly exited the car and slammed the door. After stumbling up the stairs and fumbling in the dark for his keys, the eviction notice on his door taunted him. Once inside, he almost tossed himself against the space where his couch used to be, forgetting that he’d sold it to someone online earlier that day so that his electric wouldn’t be turned off.

Despite his efforts, there were no jobs in the area in his field. His role of Lead Architect approving blueprints at the city had been eliminated, and it didn’t help to lose his income just three months after getting his own place. He had contributed his share for both the house and the apartment, making just enough to sustain both. Amber refused to let him move back in, given the volatility of their relationship. As hard as he tried to muster strength to walk to the bedroom, he fell forward, collapsing on the floor.

Logan woke up to a flash of light in his eyes and the murmur of voices around him. A rhythmic beeping grew louder and louder in his ears. The voices stopped, and a door clicked closed. Logan groaned in pain, his head feeling an overwhelming amount of pressure. His body was stiff and numb, a white sheet draped over it. A hand stroked his, but his vision was too blurry to see.

He tried to speak but only a low gargle came out. After clearing his throat, he tried again. “Hunter.”

The hand squeezed his twice and a familiar face hovered over. “No, Logan. It’s Mom. How are you feeling?”

Logan moaned again and blinked hard, turning his head toward the window. It was overcast and raining outside. His eyes burned, one red and ruptured, and his head felt an extreme amount of pressure.

“You broke your cheekbone,” his mother said. “You had surgery yesterday morning. It’s your second day here.”

“Where’s Emma?” he said, his voice low and raspy.

“She’s with Amber.”

“I don’t want her to see me. Not like this.”

Mrs. Parker grabbed a cup with ice from the tray beside him and brought a spoonful to his lips. “Your throat must be dry.” Logan opened his mouth reluctantly before closing his eyes, missing the cool, wet feel of water on his dry tongue. “You could have told me you needed money,” she said, scooping more ice. “You’re coming home.”

“What? Mom, no—”

“You’re coming home. You can’t imagine the screams that left my body when I found you on the floor like that. It’s the same way I … found your father.” She sniffled and then wiped away a tear.

“Why’d you even—how did you find me?”

“Amber called the night you were arrested. I took the redeye that night. Your door wasn’t even closed all the way.”

“She wants to take Emma from me.”

“Can you blame her? Logan, look at yourself. There was no food in the fridge. You didn’t even have furniture, just a mattress on the floor. I just—” she said before drawing in a deep breath and then sighed. “It’s okay to ask for help.”

Logan turned toward the window again. “I never wanted to marry her.”

“Well, whose fault is that? You didn’t have to get married.”

“No, Mom. You don’t get it.”

She opened a cup of green Jell-O from the meal tray and brought a spoonful to his mouth. “I don’t ‘get it’? What I do ‘get’ is that your decisions have caused a lot of heartache for yourself, for Amber … for Hunter. Anyway, you can only move forward now.”

Logan shook his head in dismissal. “She would’ve aborted her. If I didn’t marry her she said her family would disown her for having a baby out of wedlock. I didn’t care about her family, and I support women’s choices—you know I do. But I just couldn’t let her do it. I never knew I wanted children until I knew she was pregnant. I can’t imagine not having Emma.”

“Life is a journey. Now, you have Emma. Don’t lose her forever.” She picked up a roll from the tray. “Logan, you have to eat something. You know, you still have the money Dad left you.”

“I don’t want it. Besides, the lawyer said you should keep that until the divorce is finalized.”

“It’s a substantial amount of money. You may not need to work for a long time.”

Logan remembered how shocked the three of them were when they found out their father had contributed to four separate insurance policies, stocks, and cryptocurrency over the years. His father had never talked about money, living a modest lifestyle. Logan blinked tears down his face, feeling them sting his skin along the way. “How much longer do I have to be here?”

“Five more days and then we’re going home. I’ve made you an appointment with Dr. Anderson. She’s helped me a lot since your father passed.”