Week two. Day thirteen on the road. We drive towards north. Stop every night. Every night a different motel, yet they all feel the same. Logan books us a room, we settle in, and he goes out. He’s fighting to make us money. It’s not much, but we get by. We have food, clothes and these goddamned motels. And I have Logan. At least part of him.
Every night goes according to same routine. We get in to the room and order something to eat. Watch TV and make lame comments about programs we see. At nine Logan gets restless, and at ten he leaves. He returns few hours before dawn, reeking of booze, smoke and sweat, tired to the bone. We have sex and he gets to sleep few hours before it’s time to get up and release the room.
We literally have sex. It’s good. But there’s no emotion attached to it from his side. I can tell he cares a great deal about me, maybe even loves me, but the spark that was there that day up on the roof of the mansion is gone. It feels like I was fucking with a machine instead of the man I love.
I don’t know what the problem is. It’s usually Logan who initiates. Just drags his carcass to me, peeling off clothes when he closes the short distance between the door and the bed. He’s very attentive, always makes sure I enjoy myself. He seems to enjoy it too, but there’s just something missing. I suspect that what ever it is, it’s locked behind Xavier’s memory blocks.
We haven’t figured how to get rid of those blocks yet. We have tried. I have told him what happened during those days. Have given him as detailed description of the missing days and nights as I could. It’s just not working. And I don’t know how long I can keep up this pretence that nothing is wrong. I know I should be happy and satisfied, but how can I be, when Xavier took away the most important thing in my life?
“Are you happy?” I ask. Logan looks around. There’s nothing much to see. Small room, stained carpet covering the floor, narrow bed, TV-set in front of it, door to bathroom partially open. Wet footprints leading from there to bed.
“I’m with you,” he answers.
“Yeah. But are you happy?” Because I’m not. Two weeks ago I would have probably been ecstatic if somebody told me I would be spending some time-off from the mansion, with Logan on the road.
“Yeah. I’m happy. Are you?” And that’s the first time Logan has ever lied to me.
“No.” I would like to lie too, but we will never get over this, never get things solved if we both keep lying.
“What ever Xavier did to you, it was bad. It feels like I don’t even know you anymore. And I want you back…” And now isn’t the time to cry. Whenever I start to cry, Logan doubles his efforts and pulls on a mask. A fake Logan. Almost as good as the real one. But it’s an act that he drops as soon as I get better.
“Marie… I… You know I love you. I want to be with you…”
“Shut up! Shut up! You’re like a fucking parrot! You keep repeating that night after night, and I can’t take it anymore! I want my Logan back, not some fucking machine!”
“This fucking machine is all that there is left! I can’t give you something that doesn’t exist!” When I finally manage to coax some genuine emotion out of him, it has to be anger? He gets up and gets dressed.
“Where are you going?”
“Outside. To smoke.” Even that is wrong. We can’t afford to cigars. He’s smoking cigarettes now.
Busted. I have been wondering, and actually fearing this moment. Nearly two weeks she bought my act. Well, nearly a week. She has known that something’s wrong for several days now, I have just been waiting for her to say it out loud.
She’s right. What ever Xavier did, it messed my head for good. There are cracks and holes in those blocks of his. Big enough to drive a truck through them. They are practically non-existent already. I can remember things from those two days on my own already. Just small tidbits. What clothes I wore. What I had for lunch. I still can’t remember Marie.
That’s not exactly the whole truth. I remember her. I remember fucking every little moan she let out. Remember every scent, every look on her face. I remember loving her. I remember I have loved her for a long time.
I remember all those things and feelings, but I can’t feel them inside of me anymore.
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