Page 19 of The Family Across the Street
‘Concentrate,’ he admonishes himself.
His phone rings, and he looks at the screen on his dashboard, hoping it’s Debbie, but it’s Mack. Mack checks up on him at least twice a day. Logan knows that he will finally have earned his brother-in-law’s trust when the phone calls stop. He takes a deep breath and answers the call.
‘Hey Mack.’
He opens his mouth to tell his brother-in-law about Maddy but before he can say anything Mack starts talking.
‘So, bit of a weird one. You know those emails that we usually send out after a parcel has been delivered, the ones that ask how our service was?’
‘Yes,’ says Logan warily.
‘Yeah, well, something went wrong with the computer system and the emails went out before deliveries had been logged as done…’
‘Mack, why have you called?’ Logan cannot hide his frustration, desperate to hear from Debbie.
There is a beat of silence at his abruptness.
‘Anyway,’ Mack continues, ‘that’s all sorted but one woman – um, Katherine West – was on your list for early this morning and she clicked extremely dissatisfied on the survey. Now I can see that the parcel hasn’t been delivered and I’m assuming that – based on the store it’s from – it’s a computer, so what I’m wondering, Logan, is… where is that computer?’
Mack’s tone is polite, just enquiring. Logan knows that anyone listening would believe that he was just trying to work out where things had gone wrong. But Logan knows that he is being accused of theft. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and he knows it won’t be the last. The matter is always cleared up quickly and his brother-in-law will say something like, ‘I knew there was an explanation,’ but Logan knows that Mack is waiting for the moment that there isn’t an explanation, that things aren’t cleared up quickly.
He is quiet for a moment as he gathers his thoughts and forcefully quashes any anger that he knows is rising up inside him.
‘I tried to deliver the computer this morning but she wouldn’t open the door. I told her it needed to be signed for but she still wouldn’t open the door. I told her I’d drop it at her nearest post office at the end of the day. It’s still in the van – just a minute and I’ll grab a picture for you.’
‘Oh,’ says Mack, ‘no, that’s not necessary…’
But Logan knows it is. He gets out of his van and slides open the side door, finding the parcel and snapping a picture so the name of the woman is clear. He sends it off to Mack. ‘Did you get it?’
‘Yeah, yeah… okay, strange then. She was probably upset that she didn’t get it today.’
‘Well, I’m hardly likely to force my way into her house, am I, Mack?’ says Logan and he tries, he really tries, to keep any menace out of his voice.
Mack clears his throat. ‘No, of course not. She may have just hit the wrong button. I’ll send her the survey again and maybe give her a call in a couple of days. I’m sure it was a mistake.’
‘Yep, sure it was. I’ll get on with my day then,’ says Logan, any thought of trying to explain about Maddy disappearing, and he hangs up.
He has no idea what to do with himself as he waits for Debbie’s call. He was heading for Katherine West’s house but from the sound of the survey, she’s probably fine and just pissed off that he wouldn’t leave the computer. He looks at his delivery list. What else can he do? What else is he supposed to do? He turns left and slaps the steering wheel as he thinks about Patrick’s face and his scraggly beard.
He thought the day couldn’t get any worse, but sometimes it feels like the whole universe is gunning for him. All he wanted was an ordinary day and a cold beer at the end with his wife. He allows the fury to reveal itself as he drives. He’s alone in his van after all. He slaps at the steering wheel a couple more times, the hard plastic stinging his palm and the slight pain tracing its way up his arm, and he mumbles to himself, incoherent vile thoughts that he would never say in front of anyone else, that he has trained himself to never say in front of anyone else. He pictures his father, a smile on his face that is more a sneer: ‘You’ll end up in prison, boy, mark my words.’ His first night in prison had been a torment of noise and fear and his father’s face, his father’s words.
‘A good parent, a parent worthy of a child, wants success for that child,’ Aaron told him. ‘You didn’t get to have that support but you can still find success in your life after this.’
Logan has to keep reminding himself of those words, repeating them when he is furious with the world and himself. He thinks about Maddy and the damage that was done to her. He tries not to allow his imagination to bruise and bloody her face and body. It makes him sick to think of her hurt, to think of her alone in a hospital bed without him there to hold her hand.
He has loved her from the moment she came home from the hospital with their disinterested mother, who cracked open her first beer when Maddy was three days old, sighing, ‘Been waiting for that.’
Maddy wouldn’t have chosen a man who would hurt her if she hadn’t been raised by parents who’d done the same. It’s as simple as that.
In his van, Logan opens his mouth and roars his frustration at what his life is, at what he has done to himself and at how difficult every day is because of choices he made, not knowing any better. He roars so loud that his throat scratches, but when he’s done, a calm settles over him.
He arrives at his next delivery, unsure as to how he has made it to the right address, and gets out of the van. While he is waiting to be allowed into the block of units he wonders if the woman, if Katherine West, just hit the wrong button on the survey. Was she angry about him not leaving the computer or was it something else? Was she trying, in some way, to make sure that she got a call or a text that she could respond to? Logan shakes his head as he is buzzed in, sure that he’s turning this whole thing into something it’s not. But he can’t help feeling that Katherine West was trying to get a message to someone. In a strange and odd way, she was attempting to alert someone that something was wrong. He is almost sure of it. The feeling that the woman is in danger will not go away, even with everything else going on in his mind.
The door to the apartment he is delivering to is standing open, a woman in a sari smiling in anticipation.
‘My spices,’ she says, ‘what perfect timing, I’ve just run out.’
Logan smiles and hands over the box, and as he does, he catches the quick glance she gives his hands and face. He feels himself flush, more from embarrassment than from the heat.
