The Logan Brothers

Chapter 20 - Answers for Elsie

Chapter 20 - Answers for Elsie

The Fault in Our Stars was perfect. I had never cried so much in my life, but it was pure perfection. Wes had been pretty amazing, too. He never ran out of tissues and kept his arm around me the whole time.

I didn't sleep much that night, though. There was this pressure on my chest, squeezing my lungs together and making it hard to breathe. Who was I becoming? I wasn't the girl who dated two guys just because she wanted them - hell, I hardly dated guys at all. So why, then, was it so hard to decide between Grayson and Wes? I was being selfish, I knew that, and yet I couldn't stand the thought of letting one go.

I laid there, staring at the ceiling, stomach churning. At first, I thought it was the guilt eating away at me; I sure had plenty to feel guilty about. But then I jolted from the bed, barely making it to the bathroom before all of the popcorn I had eaten at the movies flew from my stomach. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I rested my head on the seat of the toilet, shaking.

Well great, I was sick.

***

I spent the rest of the night throwing up, and when there was nothing left in my stomach to puke, I couldn't stop dry heaving. My mom came in at at some point to investigate the barfing sounds, but she had never had a strong stomach when it came to puke. She could handle blood and guts all day long, but one glance at half-digested food and she was ready to pass out. One look at me and she was about ready to lose it. She brought me some Sprite, rubbed my back for a few seconds, and then left. I felt very alone after that.

Elsie was down the hall, but she didn't wake up and I didn't want to bother her. Plus, the last thing she needed was to catch my illness. She was already dealing with plenty.

After spending hours in the bathroom, laying on the cold tile, I finally felt well enough to stumble back to bed. My head was throbbing and spinning at the same time; never in my life had I felt so miserable.

Just as I was finally falling asleep, my phone started ringing. I groaned, unable to open my eyes as I fumbled around blindly for my mobile. "Hello?" I croaked, hardly able to speak. My throat was raw from puking all night long.

"Whoa, you don't sound good," Wes said, sounding surprised. Through the phone, I could hear someone yelling. "You sound almost as bad as Grayson."

I couldn't help the surge of sudden worry that ran through my body. "Grayson's sick?" I gasped.

"Yeah, he has a really bad stomach thing. When I got home from the movie last night he was puking his guts out. It was disgusting."

My immediate reaction was to feel bad for Grayson; poor baby, I didn't want him to be sick! But then I realized that Grayson and I were sick at the exact same time. He must've given it to me, Lord knows there were plenty of opportunities for us to swap germs.

I felt a sudden chill run through my body. Wes wouldn't figure it out. At least, I hoped he wouldn't. "Man, that sucks," I forced myself to say through the lump in my throat. "I-I'm not feeling too great either."

"Aw, I'm sorry, Immy. Do you want me to come over and take care of you?" he asked. I was tempted to say yes, but I didn't want to expose him any more than I already had. Plus, I didn't know if I would be able to look him the eye.

"Elsie's here, I think I'm covered," I lied, forcing myself to sit up. The room spun.

"Alright," he sighed, sounding doubtful. "If you need anything just call."

"I will, thanks Wes," I hung up, setting the phone down. There was no room in my body for any more pain or misery, but if there was, I'm sure I would've felt it at that moment. The chances of Wes getting sick too were high, and though I could blame that on him living in the same house as his brother, I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle this stress. There had been too many close calls already.

I had to make a decision. Soon.

When I stumbled down the stairs, Elsie was sitting at the kitchen island, munching on a bowl of cereal. In the past few days, she had gotten really comfortable in my home. "Hey," she said through food, staring down at her phone on the counter. "My mom and stepdad are supposed to get home today, so I'm going to- Whoa," she stopped, looking up at me. Her mouth fell open. "What happened to you?"

"Sick," I grunted, shuffling over to the fridge. I grabbed a can of Ginger Ale, even though I didn't think I could stomach it.

"Uh oh, no more kissing hot boys. For a while, at least," she smirked at me knowingly. I rolled my eyes, hopping into the stool next to her.

"You've been spending too much time with Leah. You're starting to act like her."

"This is all me," she laughed, gesturing to her body. "You're just getting to know me better and better. I'm coming out of my shell." I rose an eyebrow, unable to hold back a smile. The look on her face - wide smile, raised eyebrows, and hair draped over half of her face - was pretty hysterical.

"Oh no," I teased, "you're one of those." Not that it mattered. I had a feeling I was like that too. Elsie just scoffed and rolled her eyes, returning to her cereal. "So your mom's coming home today?"

Elsie gulped, "Yeah, which means I get to go home. I'm not looking forward to telling her about my dad." I couldn't even imagine what she was going through; my dad came around once a year unless he decided to skip. How could one imagine what it felt like not to see your dad for years, only for him to show up one day and beat the crap out of you in a drunken rage? She still hadn't told me details, and I wasn't going to push.

"I'm sorry," I said, placing a hand on her arm. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Through the dread in her eyes, she smiled slightly. "No, I think that would just make it worse. She doesn't know you. Thanks, though."

"Of course," I exclaimed, giving her a pained smile. "If you need anything, just call or text or something."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" She laughed as another wave of nausea rolled over me. I shivered, trying not to retch.

"Don't be technical, I was trying to be nice," I shoved her slightly, wishing I was able to laugh without losing what little liquid was in my body. As I tried to stand up, I swayed. The only reason I didn't fall over was because Elsie caught me. "And on that note," I muttered, frowning, "I'm going back to bed.

The stairs seemed like a never-ending mountain that I had to basically crawl up to concur. I don't know why I felt so weak all of a sudden, but it was hard to put one foot in front of the other, let alone walk up a flight of stairs. I flopped onto my bed, not caring how comfortably I landed. In minutes I was asleep.

***

When I woke up, I wasn't quite sure what year it was. My phone was beeping, so I groaned and picked it up. There were several texts, mostly from Wesley.

1:12: How're you feeling?

1:30: You're not responding, so I'm assuming you're asleep.

2:47: Need anything?

3:05: Okay well when you wake up please text me.

And then there was one from Grayson.

3:00: So I hear you're feeling just as crappy as me. Want to come over and have a snuggle party? ;)

My mom had also texted me, asking if I wanted some soup. I was feeling considerably better, so I said that some chicken noodle would be fantastic. Then set the phone on my chest, taking a deep breath. Time to respond to the boys.

To Wes: I'm up and feeling better. Thanks for caring so much. :)

To Gray: If you're feeling what I'm feeling, neither of us are up for a snuggle fest... :P

As I was laying there waiting for a response, I remembered that Leah was supposed to go home today. I had basically slept away all the hours of sun, so I figured she was already gone. Coughing, I picked up the phone and decided to call her. She picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" she wailed. She had been crying.

"Elsie, what's wrong?" I asked, immediately sitting up straight. My heart was pounding.

"Imogen, oh that god," she whispered, sounding frightened. "I think I've done something stupid. Like, really, really stupid."

"What happened?" I was already on my feet, tugging on my worn out Nike's. The nausea swirled in my stomach, but with a gulp I ignored it.

"When I got home I told my mom everything. She started freaking out, and she went on this rant about how she knew this would happen someday. A few years ago my dad tried to get visitations with me, but he showed up to all their meetings completely wasted and so she said no but then she followed him to his house just to make sure he got there okay and instead he went to this bar and she snuck in and they said he was there pretty much all day every day and he had a really big tab racked up and so she told me where it was and even though I knew it was stupid I thought that maybe if I found him the cops could-"

"Elsie, you're rambling," I interrupted, jogging down the stairs. "What did you do?" I already knew, though.

She gulped. "I found him." I felt like my blood had run cold. She had purposefully sought out the man who had beat her so badly? I had no doubt in my mind that he wouldn't have stopped if Elsie hadn't gotten away. What the hell had she been thinking?

"Where are you?" I demanded, shoving the car keys into the ignition. The car roared to life and I peeled out of the driveway, speeding down the street. Suddenly, I realized how easy it was for Grayson to drive so recklessly. It felt nice, freeing, in a way.

"In Greengrove. There's this bar on Colorado street called Heat Rush. I'm, um, hiding in the bathroom because as soon as I saw him I started shaking. I don't think he saw me, but I'm not sure."

"Stay where you are, okay? I'll be there in fifteen minutes." Before she could say anything else, I hung up. I knew she wouldn't call the cops, and someone had to.

As I was speeding down the highway, I called and explained the situation. I told them exactly who was sitting at that bar - a man who they had yet to be able to find even though he was only a couple of towns over - and that Elsie was in the bathroom. I didn't tell them, however, that I was on my way to the exact same bar. Something told me they wouldn't like that very much.

It usually took twenty minutes to get to Greengrove, but since I was speeding down the highway, just praying that there weren't any cops out, I got there in thirteen. There weren't any open parking spaces close to the bar, so I parked down the street and jogged to the front doors. With a deep breath, I clutched the handle and pulled.

It was not what I had been expecting on the inside. A cool breeze hit my face, blowing my hair back as the subtle stench of alcohol and sweat hit my nose. There weren't very many people milling around; just a few men sat at the bar, clutching bottles of beer in their hands. A country song played quietly in the background, just loud enough to be annoying.

I stood in the doorway for a few seconds, just staring, until the bartender realized I was there. He was a young man with tanned skin, maybe in his early twenties. He set his rag down and started to walk towards me, and that's when I shook myself back to reality. I needed to get to Elsie, not draw attention to myself.

But the man sitting on the end of the bar made my feet root into place. I had never met him in person, but I didn't think I would ever forget the picture the police had shown Elsie. It wasn't a face you could forget. He looked a lot like Elsie - she had his eyes and nose. Slowly, he turned to face me, and those bright blue eyes pierced my soul.

Finally, I moved. My eyes searched frantically for the restrooms, and after a few painful seconds, I found the glowing green sign near the back of the bar. Without making eye contact with anyone else, I speed-walked to the bathroom, passing a confused bartender on the way.

The bathroom smelt like an old diaper and was disgusting. The outside of the bar was definitely deceiving. The floor was sticky as I stepped across it, and I'm pretty sure there were all kinds of molds growing on the wall. Inside the back stall, I could hear the faint sound of sobbing.

"Elsie?" I whispered, pressing a hand to the stall door. The sobs stopped immediately, and the door swung open. Elsie through her arms around my shoulders and squeezed me tight.

"Why didn't you answer your phone? I called you a million times and you didn't answer!" She cried, tears falling on my shoulder. My heart clenched; she was a mess. I knew I couldn't possibly understand it, but if I had found my dad while I was all alone after he had beat me, I probably would've been pretty messed up, too.

"I'm sorry, I had to call the cops. I didn't know you called after that," I gasped, taking a deep breath. How had I missed her calls? "It's going to be okay. The police are on their way and they'll take him away. You'll never have to see him again."

Outside, there was a commotion. It sounded like chairs we're flying across the room or something, and I could only assume that the police had finally arrived. Elsie squeezed me tighter, making it hard to breathe, but I let her cling on without complaint. The noise outside continued for a few minutes, and when it finally died down, Elsie finally let go of me. For a few seconds I stared at her tear-stained face; her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but they shone with some sort of determination. She set her jaw and clenched her hands, straightening up. Before I could ask what was wrong, she stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door open.

I quickly followed, confused. In the bar, tables had been overturned and there was shattered glass on the ground. He had put up a fight. Elsie was marching towards the door, where the cops were just leading Mr. Caswell outside. He was handcuffed, head hanging in defeat. "Wait!" she cried, voice not wavering in the slightest. "I want to talk to my father."

The cops exchanged hesitant looks, but slowly turned him around. There were tears shining brightly in his eyes. I froze.

"What were you thinking?" Elsie growled, shaking. "What could possibly have been going through your head when you beat me? You broke my freaking arm!" For a minute he just stood there, staring at her with wide eyes. I didn't think he would respond, but finally, he took a deep, shaky breath.

"I was drunk," he croaked and quickly continued before any of us could respond. "Not that that's any excuse, but I wasn't in my right mind. Elsie, I hadn't seen you in years, and you look so much like your mother that seeing you brought back all the feelings of when your mom left me. I-"

"You left us," Elsie exclaimed, eyes narrowing. "If you're going to keep talking bullshit, get your facts straight." His jaw went slack, and his eyes widened. He looked genuinely surprised, and my heart clenched. I could tell nothing good was going to come from this.

"Is that what she told you?" He whispered, appalled. "Els, she left me for her new hippie of a husband. In the middle of the night, she packed your things and left, and I never saw her again. I tried to arrange all sorts of custody meetings with her, but she never showed up. All she did was convince the court to give her custody by convincing them I was a drunk. Finally, a few years ago I convinced her to meet me here, just to talk things out, and she told me that if I ever contacted her again, she would have me arrested. That's what happened, I swear."

Elsie's confidence was wavering, I could tell. Her bottom lip was starting to tremble. When she spoke, her voice shook. "Then why did you come to my house? Why show up all of a sudden?"

"I had been trying to work up the courage to come and see you for a while. I was planning on coming that morning, so the night before I went out with some friends to gather up some bravery or something stupid like that. I got completely wasted, I have never been that drunk in my life. I didn't even know what I was doing. When I saw you I thought you were your mother and I just snapped." At this point, he was bawling. My heart felt like it was breaking in two. "I swear Els, I never wanted to leave you. I wanted to see you grow up and learn things. I wanted to be there for your first day of school, your first date, your first heartbreak. I wanted to be your dad more than anything in the world."

Elsie was shaking, trying to hold back tears. Hesitantly, I stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. What was the right way to handle this situation? Silence fell over us in which Mr. Caswell stared at Elsie, begging her with his eyes to forgive him. With a gulp, Elsie ground out, "go to hell."