“Very apt,” she agrees.
“You had to, Logan,” he says, half-gone. “You had to come on this trip. You see that, right?”
Logan lets herself quietly cry as Joe falls asleep to Van. She watches his chest rise and fall like he’s a newborn baby, counting the distance between each breath.
ROSEMARY
On the drive back to Remy’s, she feels like she’s waking up from two days in bed with a fever. Everything that’s happened since the ambulance feels hazy and unfocused, as if she weren’t fully conscious for any of it. Now, she’s re-emerging, and she’s disoriented by the world outside the car windows.
Has Ocean Springs always been this ugly? Flat and unvaried, chain restaurants and chain stores blending into the crackedconcrete and humid, gray sky. A few days ago, Ocean Springs felt like a magical bubble, but now, it will be the place Joe dies. It’s the place where her relationship with Logan dies, too.
When they step inside the house, Odie is right there, curled up in a ball and waiting for Joe. And then Rosemary is on the floor, too, crying for the first time since the hospital. She wraps her arms around Odie and coats his black fur with her tears. She releases all of her emotions, and Odie absorbs them, and Remy just lets her cry in the entryway for as long as she wants.
Eventually, the tears run dry, and both Rosemary and Odie get into the shower. Beneath a stream of scalding hot water, she feels the last two days seep out of her.
The terror and adrenaline of hearing Remy cry out—of bursting into the bedroom to find Joe unconscious, maybe dead.
The instinct to repress all her feelings and worries and fly into problem-solving mode. To have control over the uncontrollable.
Sitting in the ambulance with Joe, holding his hand while the paramedics poked and prodded his body like it was already a lifeless cadaver, telling herself not to think about it,forcingherself not to feel.
The hours of uncertainty in the waiting room and the relief when he was stable. Turning toward Logan because she could finally let herself feel. She wanted to hold Logan and be held as the feeling overtook them both.
And then Logan walked away. Loganlefther.
Rosemary cries in the shower as she washes Odie with her expensive vanilla shampoo and tries not to feel the way she did in that moment, watching Logan’s back recede down a long hallway and realizing she was completely alone in her feelings.
She should’ve known Logan would walk away eventually. That’s what Logandoes, and even though they had a few magical days in Ocean Springs, it doesn’t mean Rosemary is an exception to Logan’s rules.
Rosemary should’ve expected it and was blindsided all the same.But she packaged it all up, filed it all away, and forced herself to stay in control for every minute she spent beside Joe’s bed.
She cries again when she gets out of the shower and sees her ruined reflection in the steamy mirror. She cries again when she steals one of Logan’s big T-shirts and wears it as pajamas instead of her sleep dress.
And when the last of her tears are purged, she realizes she’s absolutely starving. Rosemary pads out to the kitchen with Odie at her feet and little regard for her pantlessness.
Pants don’t seem so important when your favorite person is dying.
In the kitchen, she finds Remy sitting at the table and staring at the half-finished puzzle. It’s late, and the world outside is dark.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” she whispers into the quiet.
Remy looks up from the puzzle and manages a small, sad smile. “You’re not interrupting. I’ve been waiting for you.”
He rises slowly from his chair. “I’ve put the kettle on for some tea and made sandwiches.”
There’s suddenly a turkey sandwich in front of her, and she almost starts crying again in joy. They sit across from each other at the table and eat their sandwiches in silence. When that’s done, Remy clears their plates and returns to the table with two mugs of peppermint tea.
Rosemary wraps her hands around the warm mug. “I’m awful. It’s been complete hell for the past two days, and I haven’t even asked how you’re doing.”
He takes a slow, deliberate breath. “You’re not awful, Rosemary. And I’m doing terribly. How else would I be?”
“I’m sorry.”
He takes a small sip of his steaming tea. “I suppose that’s the cost of loving someone…”
She lapses into uncomfortable silence and stares out the kitchen window into the dark backyard, but all she can see is herself reflected back to her. “I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
Remy’s eyes feel heavy on her. “I’ve felt that way, too, at times, especially since y’all showed up here.”