Page 54 of Here We Go Again
“I hope he gets diaper rash,” Logan grunts, tossing a pillow at the now-closed door between their rooms.
Hale pulls out a Tupperware of baby carrots from the cooler and begins taking the world’s tiniest bites, like a bunny with generalized anxiety disorder. “I shouldn’t have pushed him on Remy,” Hale says, more to herself than Logan. “He said he didn’t want to talk about it, and I shouldn’t have pushed him.”
Hale munches nervously and stares at a stain on the carpet. It’s classic Hale, assuming she screwed up instead of realizing the other person is just being an ass.
“Don’t do that,” Logan says gently.
Hale looks away from the stain and blinks up at her. “Do what?”
“Don’t burrow into your little self-blame hole. You didn’t say or do anything wrong.”
She keeps blinking, and Logan keeps fumbling her way through this attempt at friendship. “Joe was in the wrong, okay? Not you. You… you were great today.”
She’s overwhelmed by the urge to comfort Hale, to hug her or hold her close. She walks over to the bed where Hale is sitting and punches her in the arm like they’re bros instead.
Logan grabs a hotel key and sticks it in her pocket. “Come on, Hale.”
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere but here.”
She knows they can’t actually leave Joe alone, but she also knows she can’t sit around in another generic hotel room bedecked with tacky Southwestern art all night.
“First stop: the vending machines. Because carrots are not dinner.” She snatches the Tupperware of carrots out of Hale’s hands. “Second stop: the rooftop.”
“The hotel rooftop? Are we allowed up there?”
“Definitely not. But how else are we going to see the sunset?”
This sunset is fucking bullshit.
Where does Santa Fe getoff, having a sunset this magical? And when Logan is in such a profoundly crappy mood, too. “Can you believe this shit?”
Hale cradles her surprisingly robust collection of vending machine snacks. “I’m confused by your tone right now….”
The roof of the hotel is clearly a popular hangout among the staff. They find a ratty couch facing the west side of the building, a few blankets, and a pile of cigarette buds inside an orange Home Depot bucket. The view is of the hotel parking lot, but it doesn’t even matter, because she’s looking up.
The sunset hasn’t even properly started yet, and it’s already gorgeous. In the distance, the mountains are silhouetted like charcoal drawings, the clouds painted periwinkle except for the fringe of yellow along the horizon. Logan throws herself down onto the couch and angrily opens a bag of Doritos. “Honestly, fuck this sunset. I can already tell it’s going to ruin all other sunsets for me.”
Hale lowers herself down beside Logan and dumps her snacks between them. “And you’re… mad… about how beautiful the sunset is going to be?” she asks cautiously. As if Logan is another volatile landmine she has to tiptoe around tonight.
Logan sits up straighter on the couch and unsnarls her face as best she can. “It’s not really about the sunset, and I’m not mad. Just kind of… hurt, I guess. By Joe’s dickishness.”
Hale relaxes into the couch a bit more. “He shouldn’t have said that thing about you not caring about others.”
“But I don’t care, right? Isn’t that all part of my assholish charm?”
Hale opens her Twix bar, and without a word, she offers half to Logan. Equally silent, Logan takes one of the Twix sticks. All thosesummer afternoons when they walked to the 7-Eleven, taking their Slurpees and candy back to the tire swing in Logan’s front yard. Hale always shared half of her Twix.
“You care, Logan,” Hale finally says. “You just don’t want other people to know about it.”
The cold desert evening creeps in around them, and Logan’s skin prickles. It’s been a long time since anyone but Joe made her feel so uncomfortably seen.
“Can you believe the sheer enormity of Joe’s unwrinkled dick?” she says to break the silence.
Hale covers her face with both hands and groans. “Please, can we never discuss Joe’s genitalia ever again?”
“It’s the only thing I want to discuss from here to New England.”
