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Keith has just sat down — popcorn popped, cold beer in hand — when there’s a knock. Sighing, he weighs the odds of the person going away, but knows it’s painfully obvious that he’s home. Backup approaches the door and barks.
“I know, I heard,” Keith mutters as he gets to his feet. He opens the door to find Logan walking away. “Logan, wait.”
He turns. “Oh, hey. Is Veronica here?”
“No, she’s working at the hut. Her usual shift.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” He smiles. “Head injury and all.”
Keith plays along. “Totally understandable. How’re you feeling, by the way?”
“Great. Back to normal. You heard the doctor last week. I’m fine.”
“Just checking.”
“Yeah…thanks.”
“Why don’t you come in. I was about to watch that new Bruce Willis movie. Die Hard: 8, I think.”
“Thanks, but I’ve gotta go.”
“Okay, then.”
“See ya.”
Logan doesn’t move. Finally Keith says, “So, I’ll tell Veronica you came by.”
“Right. Thanks.” He turns, but spins back around. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay.” After a few more seconds of silence, Keith adds, “It would help if you talked, then.”
“I was just wondering if you were free sometime this weekend, maybe you could help me out. I kinda need some advice.”
“On which new car to buy?”
Logan laughs. “No, they’re fixing the X-terra. Sorry to break it to you.”
“Just when I think it’s safe to go back on the streets,” Keith groans.
“So…if you have plans or whatever, it’s totally cool. I just thought maybe...” The words come out in a nervous rush.
“Sure, it’s no problem. How about tomorrow afternoon?”
“Cool. Thanks.”
“Unless you want me to dispense my sage advice now.”
“No, go watch your movie. I should…” Logan motions over his shoulder.
“Are you really going to make me mock this cinematic masterpiece by myself?”
Logan smiles. “Think it’ll be as bad as the one we watched with Carl Weathers?”
“Hope springs eternal.”
Inside, Keith gets Logan a Coke, and passes him the popcorn.
*
The real estate agent smiles widely as she ushers them into the house. The massive foyer is marble and gold, the vaunted ceiling soaring high above. “The marble is imported from Italy, and as you’ll see, the entire house is crafted from only the finest materials.”
Logan peers around and nods. He says little as she gives them a guided tour of the mansion, just as he has said little in the four other houses they have looked at. All have been palatial, with dozens of rooms and sparkling swimming pools, gated driveways and lush, rolling lawns.
When they make their way back to the foyer, the woman looks at Logan expectantly. He smiles faintly. “It’s nice.”
Her smile is tight. “Well, that’s all I have to show you today, but we’ll set up another appointment and I’m sure it’ll be no time before we find the perfect home for you, Mr. Echolls.”
Keith doesn’t comment, just nods and smiles politely before leading Logan back to the car. As Keith drives back towards the other side of Neptune, Logan stares out the window silently.
Keith’s about to flick on the radio when Logan asks, “So what do you think?”
“I think those houses are big enough for a small army.”
“Yeah. I guess she figured I’d want something like the old place.”
“And what do you want?”
Logan mumbles something that Keith doesn’t catch. When he doesn’t say anything more, Keith goes on, “Those houses we saw are spectacular. I bet your father would have liked them very much.”
Logan stays quiet, his hands twisting together in his lap.
“But you’re not your father. Even if you do have his money.”
After a long moment, Logan clears his throat and smiles slightly. “I don’t even know where to look. Obviously not back there.”
“Don’t worry. I have a few ideas.” Keith turns left and heads towards the water.
Two hours later, after driving around and finding a few open houses, they stand on the back deck of a bungalow up on a cliff by the ocean. The three-bedroom wood and glass house is small, but beautifully appointed and worth a small fortune thanks to the ocean view, visible from most rooms.
Logan surveys the water, a grin spreading on his face as he turns to Keith. “Dude, it’s like, perfect.”
Keith winces internally, but doesn’t comment on Logan’s choice of words. “Just think, you won’t even need to get a maid.”
There’s a pause before they both burst into laughter at the very idea of Logan doing housework.
The realtor joins them, and Logan tells the man he’ll take it. Appointments are scheduled, and they take one last tour of the house. Logan runs his fingers lightly over walls and doors, windows and counters. The sun is sinking by the time they are done, and they watch it dip towards the horizon, pink clouds in its wake.
*
In the car, Logan can’t stop grinning. Keith isn’t sure why he picks now, but the question has been hiding in the corners of his mind, and there will never be a good time. “Did you give my daughter an STD?”
Logan’s smile disappears, and he stares at Keith, eyes wide. “What?”
“Don’t make me say it again, I didn’t enjoy it much the first time.”
“No. I didn’t. We’ve never…” He straightens up in his seat. “I would never do anything to hurt her.”
Keith nods. He hopes it’s true.
“That lawyer made it sound like Veronica’s…look, she’s not like that.”
“I know.” These are things Keith works very hard not to think about, but sometimes it is unavoidable. “So do you know who…”
Logan shakes his head solemnly. “I can’t. You have to ask her.”
Keith nods again, knowing that he never will.
*
On Friday, Veronica is working her usual shift when Logan comes by. He stands awkwardly in the doorway for a few seconds before thrusting a raft of papers at Keith. “The lawyer said everything is all set, but could you just take a look?”
Taking the papers, Keith says “Sure,” and waves him towards the couch. Logan flops down and watches a survival documentary on the Discovery channel while Keith skims the contract. “Looks like it’s all in order to me. So you get the house at the end of the month?”
Logan nods eagerly. “Yeah, I can’t wait.” He seems to catch himself, and looks back at the TV. “I mean, it’ll be cool and everything.”
“You’re allowed to be excited, Logan.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I won’t tell.”
Logan laughs softly, and Keith spots a faint blush creep up his face. “I do have a reputation to protect, you know.”
Keith finds himself telling Logan about the first house he ever bought, and even though Logan hasn’t had to work a day in his life to acquire more money than the Marses will ever have, Keith is strangely unresentful. Logan listens closely, laughing at stories of Veronica carving her name into the wooden banister, and getting stuck under the bed while snooping to find Christmas presents.
They watch the end of a Julia Roberts movie, and Logan starts flipping channels when the phone rings. Keith picks up the portable and wanders into his room.
“Hey. I’m going to be stuck closing tonight, Amy’s feeling sick and we’re sending her home.”
“Okay, honey. You be careful on the roads, it’s been raining.”
He can practically hear her eyeroll. “Don’t worry, Dad. So what are you up to?”
“I’m telling Logan embarrassing stories about your misspent youth.”
She laughs. “My misspent youth? Come on, you’re totally playing Bruce Springsteen on the record player and reliving your glory days in excruciating detail.”
“That’s later, after I have a few more beers.”
“I’d better get back to work.”
“Okay. See you in the morning, sweetie.”
“And Dad? Thanks. You know…for Logan.” Before Keith can respond, the dial tone is buzzing in his ear. As he walks into the hall, he glances up at the TV and freezes in his tracks.
Lynn Echolls is onscreen, giggling and gossiping with another woman over lunch. Lynn is twenty years younger, her hair long and lustrous, lips pre-collagen.
She’s beautiful.
Aaron Echolls enters the frame, equally young, his face almost boyish with smooth skin and bright smile. Aaron flirts with Lynn, eliciting more giggling as she falls for his charms. Keith can’t remember the name of the movie offhand — something about happiness? — but he thinks it’s how Lynn and Aaron met.
He takes a step and looks over at Logan, who stares at the TV, transfixed. His eyes glisten, the remote clutched tightly in his hand as he sits unmoving. As Aaron pulls Lynn into an impromptu waltz, sweeping her past surprised restaurant patrons, she laughs merrily.
Keith sits down in his chair. “I think South Park is on channel 38.”
Logan jerks at the sound of Keith’s voice, but his eyes don’t leave the screen. He swallows thickly, and finally examines the remote in his hand, like he’d forgotten he was holding it. Looking back up, he presses the button. Lynn and Aaron vanish with a click, replaced by an infomercial about a blender that can make every meal you could possibly desire. With a shuddering breath, Logan keeps going through the channels until Cartman appears. He puts the remote back on the coffee table, sliding it away.
Keith watches him out of the corner of his eye, and pretends that he doesn’t see Logan swiping at his cheeks with his fingers. Two sitcoms later, Logan is curled up, asleep. Keith turns the TV off and leans over the back of the couch, picking up the blanket folded there. He drapes it over Logan gently before switching off the light.
In the morning, Keith wakes to the smell of sizzling bacon. He shuffles into the hall and watches Veronica and Logan giggle as they pour batter into the waffle maker. “You’re doing it wrong, it’s going to spill,” Veronica chides.
“How can you make waffles wrong?”
“Like that. See?”
“Well, maybe I like them like that.” Logan opens the fridge and bends down, looking for something.
“Wait, if we don’t have any ice cream, I totally have to go to the store.” Veronica leans over and opens the freezer just as Logan stands up.
Logan thwacks his head on the freezer door and stumbles backwards. “Ow! Fuck!”
Veronica gasps, “I’m sorry!”
Keith is in the kitchen in two strides, grasping Logan’s arm and maneuvering him onto one of the stools. “Are you okay?” The doctor’s warnings about the dangers of further head injuries ricochet through Keith’s mind.
Groaning, Logan rubs his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Keith grasps his shoulders and looks into his eyes. “You sure? You feel okay? You’re not seeing double?”
“No, I’m fine. Except for you’re squeezing really hard.”
Keith releases him and takes a step back. “You sure you’re not dizzy?”
Logan rubs the top of his head again. “I didn’t hit it that hard, it’s okay.”
The waffle maker begins to smoke, and Keith lets out an exaggerated sigh. “All right, now both of you get out of the kitchen before you do any more damage.” He points towards the couch. “Go!”
They do as they’re told, and Keith sets about rescuing breakfast. He scrapes out the burnt waffle and pours in more batter before taking the ice cream out of the freezer. The bacon is cooked and crispy, and Keith is glad that at least they didn’t screw that part up.
When he glances over at the kids, a smile plays on Logan’s lips as Veronica presses a kiss to his head. Keith checks on the waffles, whistling as he scoops the ice cream onto three plates.
Read the sequel: Pretty Clear