The Boy That Stole My Heart

CHAPTER NINETEEN

     Logan was sick again. No matter how hard he tried to pretend that he wasn't, he couldn't fool me. I could feel his pain just the same as if it was my own. He had rarely played ball in the last few weeks, ever since the day he threw up on the floor. At first he still wanted to go and sit, have a hotdog and watch the other boys play but everyone there called for him to join them. He quickly ran out of excuses and told me "he was over it" even though I often caught him tossing a ball up and down when I would come over. So we stopped going to the field. We stopped practicing our pitches. We stopped playing catch.
     I was so worried about him. I didn't want to break his trust but how could I when he didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth anyway. He barely ate anything anymore, pushing the food around on his plate until it was a jumbled mess when before he wouldn't even accept it if the foods were touching one another. I could see the outline of his ribs and count the little knobs of his spine, despite him trying his best to stay clothes around me.
     He was wearing diapers full time now, his accidents growing more and more frequent. We were watching TV when he jerked in surprise, hot yellow liquid pouring from his shorts and onto the couch. He began to cry and this time I couldn't console him. There was nothing I could say to make him feel better so I just held him until he sagged in my arms.
      We spent the first two months of "being boyfriends" with him in a constant fit of depression, his once radiant smile and easy laughter were seen and heard less and less often. 
      When I awoke to his strangled cry of pain I did what I had to do. I went and got his moms and told them everything. He lay on the bed, curled into the fetal position, holding his belly and crying but still managed to look at me with betrayal in his tear filled eyes.
     "I told you it would pass!" He screamed at me as Linda scooped him into her arms as easily as if she was lifting a babe.
     "I'm sorry Logan," I whispered, watching as they rushed him to the car.
     "Stay here baby," Anna told me, with a hand on my shoulder. I'll let you know when we know okay?"
     Logan had a plethora of things wrong. His suffered from inflammation of his intestines which was causing the nausea, cramping, diarrhea, and lack of appetite. His glands were swollen, ear infected, he had a low platelet count and was suffering from anemia.
     Linda showed up at my house a couple days later and told me that he was asking for me. I could have kissed her on the mouth I was so happy. The car ride took way too long and I sat in silence, squeezing Mr Mittens, and listening to her talk.
     My heart thudded loudly in my ears as I pushed the door to his room open and got to see him for the first time in much too long. It broke when he started to cry, holding his arms out to me, oblivious of his parents and the nurses that occupied the room. I ran to him, squeezing him tightly to my chest. His skin was so pale and around his eyes so dark that it gave him a bit of a raccoon look.
     "I'm sorry Ellie! I'm so Sorry! I was so stupid!"
      I shushed him, grimacing at how things he had grown, so scared of hurting him if I squeezed too tightly. Like before I couldn't console him as he sobbed loudly into my chest. One of the nurses dared to ask if he needed something to help him sleep.
     "Get the fuck out of here," I hissed with so much rage that she actually flinched.
     Logan got to come home two days before Christmas, which he was happy about, and a sack load of pills, which he wasn't. I made a chart and set alarms on my phone, policing him over them and he always scowled but always took them.
     Christmas was.... The best of my life. Logan got me a little rock with a dragonfly in it and I got him a new bat and glove. I could see how sad it made him but I grabbed him by the chin and lifted his face, looking him in the eyes.
     "For when you're better. And you will get better. Do you understand?"
     We sang carols, our parents got drunk on eggnog, we watched classics and when I least expected it, Logan asked me,
     "What's that?"
     I looked up to where he was pointing to find a little strip of mistletoe hanging above the door and realized this is why he had been herding me towards the kitchen. Then he leaned up on his tippy toes and kissed me, his lips barely touching mine before he turned as red as a lobster and ran off laughing with me chasing behind him.
     And the day after Christmas was.... The worst. Logan was feeling better. Much better. So much so that he wanted to try out his new glove which had spent all night rubberbanned around a baseball to give it the perfect shape. His eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, and when he laughed, it made angels cry.
     After a while the baseball turned into a snowball and hit me square in the face. Blinded, I chased his high pitched giggling until I managed to get my arms around him and wrestle him to the ground. We rolled around laughing and my world was whole again. I had missed his laughter so much and I prayed that he wouldn't get sick ever ever ever again. He deserved to be healthy... Happy...
    When our moms called for us to come inside I chased him to the porch, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around.
     "Logan," I started.
      "What's wrong?"
     I shook my head. "Nothing! I just wanted to tell you..."
     He cocked his head to the side like a puppy.
     "I just wanted to tell you that I love-"
    Logan stumbled forward into me and I caught him as he fell, his eyes rolling back in his head. His body began to convulse in my arms as I screamed for help.