Page 63 of Paint Eater
Logan lowered the sheets, glaring at her retreating form. “I don’t need an intervention. And I don’t like tea,” he shouted.
“Yes, you do, and I don’t give a shit,” she called, disappearing out the door.
“Asshole,” he muttered. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the scraps of will he had left, and got out of bed.
He stood there for a moment, lost as to what to do, before going to open the window. The summer light was dimming. Everything was golden outside.
Logan ran a hand down his face, turning away. “Fuck.”
He washed up, unsurprised to find Nisha sitting primly on his desk chair when he got back to his room.
“Here. Tea.” She thrust a mug at him, not spilling anything by the grace of God alone, apparently.
“Thanks,” he said only half sarcastically.
“You’re welcome,” she replied in kind.
Logan sat on the edge of the bed, holding the mug listlessly as he stared at some point above Nisha’s head, but he could still feel the piercing needle of her gaze.
“Logan,” Nisha said after the silence had stretched out too thin, her voice having lost all hardness. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
Logan shook his head, but Nisha went on before he could say anything.
“When I told Jay to come to the charity function—okay, I didn’t knowexactlywhat I was doing, but I knew you’d freak out.”
Logan looked at her. “Then why did you do it, Nisha?” he asked quietly.
“I…look, I know you think I don’t understand what you go through with your parents. And maybe I don’t geteverything, but, Jesus, Logan. When we were little, you were sohopeful.Like, do you even remember? You used to hug me so tight every time you saw me.”
Logan looked at this lap, eyes suddenly burning. Nisha took the mug from him, placing it on the desk and gripping his hand.
“I’ve watched the light get dimmer and dimmer in you each year, and I just couldn’t anymore. We both know how much you liked Jay in school—shit, I remember when you came back from his house and you were like, ‘We all made spaghetti together’, like it was the best thing you’d ever experienced.”
Logan laughed wetly. He’d almost forgotten about that, pushed it down where he couldn’t quite reach.
“I mean, you think it’s a coincidence that I reintroduced you two?”
“Obviously not, Nisha. As if I don’t know what you’re like,” Logan scoffed, squeezing her hand.
“But do you realisewhyI did it? Because it’s the same reason I asked Jay to the charity function.
Logan stared at her, shaking his head. “It didn’t work.”
“Yes, it did! Yes, it did. You’re trying so hard to isolate yourself in this fucked-up version of life where all you do is study and work and listen to the bullshit your mom comes up with for who you should be, and Jay just…crashed through that. He’s the only…Logan, he’s the only person I’ve seen that can do that to you. And I’m sorry for going behind your back, I’m sorry that it’s…hurt you so bad. Maybe I should have given you more time, but I was so scared that you were just going to keep doing what you’ve always done and put what you want last.”
“Life isn’t about what I want,” Logan said, voice hoarse. Even to his own ears, the words sounded weak.
“Maybe not completely. Butyourlife sure as hell shouldn’t be just about what your mom wants for you.”
Logan closed his eyes, barely able to stand listening to what Nisha was saying. For the last few weeks since the trip to Boston, his skin had become hypersensitised to the raw rub of everything in his life that had chafed for years. Every class he went to, every luncheon, every time he sat down to do homework, was like a coffin getting tighter and tighter around him.
For a little while, Logan hadchosen. Sure, he’d chosen Jay, and Logan missed him with such a fucking ridiculous intensity that sometimes he couldn’t believe it himself. But it wasn’tthatmaking him crawl into bed every chance he got. Logan just couldn’t stand his life anymore. He couldn’t standhimself.
And now, here he was, having to confront it all. Having to admit that his mom might be the one to dictate what he did, but Logan was the one who followed the orders.
Logan took a half-choked breath. “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed, his voice limping out of him, small and hurt.
“Oh, darling.” Nisha gripped his hands so tight it almost hurt. “Come here.”
