Bonus Chapter: The misunderstanding from Logan’s perspective

*This chapter contains spoilers*

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Noah’s hell-bent on not allowing me to explain myself. I’ve spent days stressed and confused about why. I’ve tried to understand what possible reason she would have to believe I’m still married, but her silence keeps the answer out of my reach.

I run my hands through my hair—it’s an absurd thought. Why would I invite her and her niece over to hang out at my apartment if I was trying to cheat on my wife? I’ve looked around for evidence that would point Noah to believe I’m still married, but there are no mementos or photographs anywhere—Hannah’s death is still too raw for that.

This is a misunderstanding and I want the chance to explain myself, even if I’m not ready for the conversation needed to set things straight. My wife’s been dead for nine months. I have to talk about it eventually.

My mood has noticeably improved since Maggie and I moved to our apartment. When I’m not feverishly applying for jobs, including ones not at all in my wheelhouse of interests, I’m getting intimately acquainted with Downtown Alexandria. Aunt Claire wasn’t kidding when she said this place is welcoming.

When I walk Maggie to school in the morning, we pass the small donut shop with a line out the door. On my way back home, I unearthed a detour that snakes past a flower garden and some other shops.

The small town’s a big departure from Long Beach and the sand I’ve called home most of my life, but Alexandria is becoming home in its own way. The Downtown streets are full of people who never fail to say hello, storefronts with spirited fall and Halloween displays, a cafe and bakery filled with treats spiked with Southern soul—they all hold my hand through this next stage of my grief.

My Aunt Claire’s words—that Hannah wouldn’t want Maggie and I to sit down and let the world pass us by while we hit pause on our lives permanently—come back to me every few days. I know that my wife, who was ripped from my life by the cursed “C” word after so many years spent worshiping and adoring her, would be disappointed with every minute I spend not fervently chasing happiness. But my Hannah Heartsickness won’t be cured overnight.

The thought of texting Noah bounced from one side of my mind to the other like a tortuous game of Ping Pong for most of the week. Our burgeoning friendship revolves solely around her niece and my daughter’s playdates, but the time we spend pushing each other’s buttons and exploring our identities provides an escape. We’ve not spent enough time together for me to miss Noah the way I do.

My friendship with Noah feels simple and weightless. There’s some small pressure, probably of my own creation, to be “enough” around Paul’s friends. That doesn’t exist with Noah. She speaks plainly and meets me right where I’m at. There’s a level of comfort with her that I can’t explain.

The only thing that currently helps erase my thoughts of Noah is spending time with Maggie. After dinner midweek, Maggie requested we play “house,” which involved a tea party on the floor of her bedroom with every doll she owned, a trip to the beauty salon, and then tucking the dolls into her bed. We rounded out the night with hot chocolate and a quick story before bed. The problem is, once my daughter is asleep I struggle to fill my time.

I’ve scoured the internet for jobs until my fingers are ready to fall off —the idea of searching for several more hours is as appealing as falling into a pit of wet cement and slowly letting it dry around me. We just moved into this apartment, so there’s not much to clean. I’ve watched so many movies lately that I’m sick of them, so I settle on reading.

Another perk of living downtown? My apartment is less than five minutes from the library. I was an obsessive reader as a kid and have no reason not to get back to it. I want to get back to it. After school on Monday, Maggie and I walked across the street and received our first library cards as official Alexandrians. There weren’t any trumpets played or confetti thrown, but it felt like another step in choosing to settle down here.

Three pages into my current book, my phone pings to alert me I have a message.

Playdate Noah: Hey.

After a misunderstanding that’s left Noah so angry she doesn’t even want to hear what I have to say—all I get is a ‘hey’? How do I even reply to that? Should I throw it all out there and tell her what I need to in order to clear the air before she goes silent again? How would a text that conveys I’m glad to hear from her sound? Does that come across as needy?

After overanalyzing the single word message, I still didn’t know what to reply. I send a reciprocal ‘Hey.’ Now the ball’s in Noah’s court—it’s up to her to let me know what she wants.

Playdate Noah: I don’t know where to start. I’m still angry with you. We were just getting to know each other, but friends don’t leave out big freaking details like the fact that YOU’RE MARRIED.

Her wordy reply quickly deflates any excitement I had to hear from her. She’s not wrong that I haven’t divulged my marriage—just that Maggie and I moved here from California. I wasn’t playing coy, but oversharing every last detail of the last nine months of my life felt too painful.

I had no idea that Noah and I would become friends so quickly when we met for our girls’ first park playdate. By the time I realized that was where our relationship was going, it felt awkward to suddenly bring up that ‘oh by the way, my wife died in January and I hadn’t told you yet, but here you go—now you know why my year has been straight shit.‘

Logan: You don’t know my situation, and you already told me you don’t want to hear my explanation.

I don’t know what she wants from this conversation. The answer may be she wants nothing other than to tell me she was angry and our friendship is over.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

Playdate Noah: I liked the friendship we started, but I guess that’s over.

She’d liked our friendship, but she guesses it’s over? She didn’t say she wanted it to be over. I give it one more shot, promising myself to let it go if Noah won’t hear the truth.

Logan: I wish you’d hear my side of things. I’m not sneaking around or making you ‘the other woman.’

There’s too much for me to type all of it out. Do you want to meet?

Playdate Noah: How about somewhere besides your place? /

Logan: You want to host?

Playdate Noah: A restaurant would be better, I promise. My cooking skills are only slightly more developed than yours. Logan: Let me know where you want to meet.

She shoots back the name of a restaurant and we decide to get together on Friday for dinner. I’m relieved she’s willing to meet, but not knowing how receptive she’ll be to my explanation ties my stomach into knots.

***

Thursday entailed more of the usual ‘we regret to inform you’ emails from the prospective employers I spent hours pursuing. I grew frustrated by noon and decided a trip to the farm to get some air was necessary. Claire and I have spoken over the phone several times since and Maggie and I moved out last week, but we’ve not been back for a visit yet.

“Logan!”

Claire’s on the porch when I climb out of my vehicle. I’m not surprised—my aunt is multi-talented, and one of her greatest strengths is making people feel welcome. I make my way to her and wrap my arms around her in a tight hug. She ‘hugs my neck’ back, as she likes to say.

We sit together on the creaky porch swing and catch up on the last week of our lives. With me and Maggie regretfully out of her home, Claire resumed some of the community work that she loves. She’d mentioned a few of her activities briefly when we first moved in, but stepped back her involvement to help me navigate my first few months in town. I felt awful when Rufus made a comment about how unusual it was for Claire to be at home this much. I urged her to continue doing whatever she normally would be, but she laughed and reminded me that family came before all else.

After we’re caught up, Aunt Claire requests an update on Maggie.

“She’s doing great. Her teacher brags about her reading level and how kind she is to other students.” I thought back to Noah’s story about Maggie helping Rainey—it had made my night to know I was raising a helper.

“How’s she liking Liberty Elementary?”

“She’s loving it. She comes home everyday with a stack of papers —worksheets, drawings, you name it—and of course, she has to show me every single one of them. She’s making new friends, and I think the little girl she had a few playdates with is becoming her best friend.”

“A few playdates? I only recall hearing about the one from Maggie.”

Shit. I knew what was coming—I mentioned a second playdate and my aunt isn’t an idiot—she’ll be dying for more information, not about Rainey and Maggie, but about my friend.

“Yep. They had their first one at the playground, but Rainey came over to play last weekend at our apartment.”

“Just Rainey?” Claire smirked, ready to hear all the details.

“No, not just Rainey . . . I know what you’re doing. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean? I’m just interested in hearing about my nephew’s life.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, go on then—tell me.”

“Rainey and her aunt came over last Saturday. The girls played, and I attempted to make lunch.”

“Attempted?”

“It was a disaster. Spaghetti noodles need more than a half cup of water to cook, and you have to set a timer for the garlic bread. Ask me how I learned those tidbits.”

Claire covered her mouth to stifle the laughter that was bursting to come out.

“Like I said—a disaster.”

“So what’d you end up doing? Surely you didn’t serve that to your guests.”

“Of course not. Noah saw the tragedy unfolding and was on the phone with Uncle Rick’s pizza before I had a chance to air out the smoke from the charred toast.”

“Ooooooo. Uncle Rick’s has the best cheese sticks. Did you get some?”

“We didn’t. I let Noah order, so I guess Maggie and I will have to try those soon.”

“Why the long face, Logan? It sounds like you’ve been having a good time.”

I look at my aunt, roll my eyes, and shake my head.

“I think that ship may have sunk. She hates me now.”

“Wait right there young man. I have questions. First off: what ship? There was a ship?”

”A friendship. We were friends, Aunt Claire. Or at least we were starting to become friends. But Noah believes I’m a married man who keeps an apartment to hang out with women.”

“What? Why does she think you’re still married?”

“Because I’ve never told her about Hannah.”

“Well . . . I can see how that could create a problem, but you’re not wearing your ring, so how did a wife come up and ruin this friendship?”

I explain Maggie’s slip up in talking about her mom. Surprisingly, Claire lets any feelings of pity for my daughter pass by and focuses solely on how I can repair my relationship with Noah.

“She finally agreed to meet me tomorrow evening to hear me out. I’ll just have to wait and see how that goes, I guess.”

Claire, still prying but also genuinely concerned and searching for ways to be helpful, asks the million dollar question: what do I want to come from meeting with Noah?

“I just want things to go back to before Noah thought I was a cheating scumbag.”

“And how—exactly—were things?”

“Aunt Claire, has anyone ever told you that you worry too much about other people?”

“Never,” she lied.

“It was easy and light-hearted. Noah’s just a genuine person—she’s caring for her niece while her brother’s out of town for a while. I know I don’t know her that well, but her selflessness and honesty are nice.”

“Mmmm.“ Claire murmured.

“What’s ‘Mmmm’ mean?”

“It means I think you might like-like this girl, Logan.”

Good god. Here’s the curveball I’ve been expecting. It was too early to tell if that may be the case, and I honestly don’t feel prepared to think about it. My Hannah Heartsickness doesn’t want to give even a millimeter of brain space to the idea.

“I don’t know have any expectations or desires. I’m just looking for a friend, and Noah’s been a good friend so far—well, except for the whole cutting me off thing.”

“It ain’t my business to be sticking my nose in—“ Claire started, but I interject before she has the opportunity to complete her thought.

“But you’ve done so beautifully.” I flash a quick smile at my aunt to convey that my feelings aren’t hurt.

“Like I said . . . it’s not my business, but I can’t ignore how your face lights up just a little when you talk about this Noah. There’s no need for a big conversation—I can tell by the look on your face you’re dreading me sharing any of my words of wisdom.”

“You’re not wrong about that. As much as they’re appreciated, I should probably be getting back home. It won’t be long before I have to pick Maggie up from school.”