A few days after Christmas, Logan leaves for a five-day stretch of road games on the West Coast. And of course he does, because conflicting schedules are pretty much a way of life for us now.
School’s out for the holidays and I’m home? Logan’s gone.
Logan has a couple of nights off and is home? I’m stuck on the Briar University campus in Hastings, a forty-five-minute drive from us.
We chose our cozy brownstone because it’s exactly halfway between Hastings and Boston, where Logan’s team skates. Winters in New England can be unpredictable, though, so if the weather is shit, our commutes are often double the time, which cuts into the precious time we have together. But until I graduate, this is the compromise we’ve made.
Luckily, I officially finish school in May, and we’re both excited to find a new place in Boston. Although…I don’t know what we’ll do if I land a job that isn’t in Boston. We haven’t even discussed that possibility. I pray we won’t need to.
Although it’s winter break, the campus radio and TV station is still open and running as normal, so I drive to work the day after Logan leaves. I’m the station manager this year, which means a lot of responsibility—and a lot of interpersonal bullshit. I’m constantly dealing with an array of egos and the difficult personalities of “the talent,” and today is no different. I put out several small fires, including mediating an argument about personal hygiene between Pace and Evelyn, co-hosts of Briar’s most popular radio show.
The only bright spot in my hectic morning is brunch with my former roommate Daisy. When it’s finally time to meet her, I find myself practically sprinting all the way to the Coffee Hut.
Miraculously, she snagged us a small table in the back. A huge feat, considering the coffeehouse is always jam-packed no matter the day or time.
“Hey!” I say happily as I take off my coat.
Daisy hops up to hug me. She’s nice and toasty from being indoors, and I’m an ice statue from my chilly journey across campus.
“Eek! You’re freezing! Sit down—I ordered you a latte.”
“Thanks,” I say gratefully. “I’ve only got an hour, so let’s eat, like, immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A moment later we’re seated and perusing the menu, which isn’t too extensive because the café only serves sandwiches and baked goods. After Daisy goes up to the counter to place our food order, we sip on our respective drinks while we wait.
“You look stressed,” she says frankly.
“I am stressed. I just spent the last hour explaining to Pace Dawson why he needs to start wearing deodorant again.”
Daisy blanches. “Why did he stop?”
I rub my temples, which are throbbing from all the stupidity I just had to deal with. “To protest the plastic pollution in our oceans.”
She snickers. “I don’t get it.”
“What’s not to get?” I say sarcastically. “His deodorant comes in a plastic container. The ocean is full of plastic. Ergo, to protest this travesty, he needs to stink up the studio.”
Daisy almost spits out her coffee. “Okay. I know he’s obnoxious to work with, but I mean, come on, everything that comes out of that boy’s mouth is pure gold.”
“Evelyn finally put her foot down and threatened to quit if he didn’t start using deodorant again. So I had to sit there and mediate until Pace finally agreed to Evelyn’s demand—on the condition that she donates two hundred dollars to an ocean conservation charity.”
“I had no idea he cared about the environment that much.”
“He doesn’t. His new girlfriend watched some documentary about whales last week, and I guess it was life-changing.”
Once our food order is ready, we continue catching up as we munch on our sandwiches. We chat about our classes, her new boyfriend, my new position at the station. Eventually the subject of my relationship comes up, but when I say everything’s fine, Daisy sees through my crappy poker face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately. “Are you and Logan fighting?”
“No,” I assure her. “Not at all.”
“Then what’s going on? Why did you sound so…blah when I asked about you guys?”
“Because things are a bit blah,” I confess.
“Blah how?”
“We’re just both really busy. And he’s always traveling. He’s been out of town more days this month than he’s been home. Christmas was so good, but way too short. He left for road games immediately after the holiday.”
Daisy eyes me sympathetically as she takes a bite of her tuna wrap. She chews slowly, swallows, and asks, “How’s the sex?”
“Actually, we’re good in that department.” Very good, in fact. The night we pretended to be strangers at the bar flashes through my mind. The dirty memory triggers a hot shiver.
That was some great sex. Hooking up in public isn’t a habit of ours, but when we do it…holy fuck, it’s hot as hell. Our sex life has always been amazing. I guess that’s what makes this distance between us so terrible. When we’re together, everything is as passionate and perfect as it was in the beginning. Our problem is trying to find time to be together. Time is scarce in our world.
I’m not unhappy with Logan. If anything, I want more of him. I miss my boyfriend.
“The time apart is tough,” I tell Daisy.
“I can imagine. But what’s your solution? It’s not like he can quit hockey. And you’re not dropping out of college with only five months left in your senior year.”
“No,” I agree.
“And you don’t want to break up.”
I’m appalled. “Of course not.”
“Maybe you should get married.”
That gets a smile out of me. “That’s your solution? Get married?”
“I mean, we both know it’s going to happen eventually.” She shrugs. “Maybe if you guys had a more permanent commitment, it would make this stressful transitory period easier for you. Like, whenever you’re feeling the distance, you won’t have to stress about drifting too far apart because that extra-solid foundation is there to keep you stable.”
“It’s not a terrible idea,” I admit. “And I do want to marry Logan, absolutely. But our problem is time. Even if we wanted to elope, when would we have the time?” I sigh miserably. “We’re always busy and/or in different states.”
“So then I guess you have no choice but to suck it up,” Daisy says.
She’s right.
It’s difficult, though. I miss him. I don’t like coming home from class to an empty apartment. I don’t like turning on the TV in order to catch a glimpse of my boyfriend. I don’t like cramming for exams and being too tired to go out and see a movie or have dinner with him. I don’t like Logan returning home after a particularly tough game and crawling into our bed, bruised and sore and too exhausted to even cuddle.
There simply aren’t enough hours in a day, and it’s even worse now that I’m running the station. When I started college, I wasn’t sure what line of work I wanted to go into after I graduated. Originally, I thought about being a psychologist. But then I got a job sophomore year producing a campus radio show, and it made me realize I’d like to be a television producer. More specifically, I want to produce the news. Now that I’ve picked a career path, it’s harder to blow off class or call in sick to work if Logan suddenly has a free hour or two. We’ve both got other commitments that are important to us. So, like Daisy said, we just have to suck it up.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t mean to be such a bummer. Logan and I are good. It’s just hard sometimes—”
My phone beeps with an incoming text. I glance at the screen and smile at Logan’s message. He’s letting me know the team landed safely in California. He did the same thing yesterday when they got to Nevada. I appreciate that he always checks in like this.
“One sec,” I tell my friend as I type out a response. “Just sending a quick text to wish Logan good luck on his game tonight.”
He answers instantly.
LOGAN: Thanks, babe. I really wish you were here.
ME: Me too.
HIM: I’ll call you after the game?
ME: Depends how late it is here when you call.
HIM: Try to stay up? We only talked for like 2 minutes last night 🙁
ME: I know. I’m sorry. I’ll drink a bunch of coffee today so I’m more awake!
But although I keep the first part of that promise—chugging coffee like a fiend—the caffeine only makes me crash harder when I get home from campus that evening. I’m dead on my feet. Barely have enough energy to eat dinner and take a shower.
By the time Logan texts me at midnight to chat, I’m already fast asleep.
