Along the Horizon.

I woke up and for the first time, I didn't welcome the pitter patter of rain on my windows. I listened, finding a perfect rhythm in the dark madness.

I hear the soft foot falls of my mom walking down the hallway. I almost groan out loud remembering the bomb she dropped on me last night. Then I hear her humming, she used to hum all the time, while she stayed home and took care of my brother and myself. But like all things cheerful, it came to an end. Her humming meant she had a good time last night, she enjoyed herself. She is clearly over my dad, her husband, already.

I throw the covers off of me in hast and bound to my door almost unhinging it. "Hello, mother. Have a good time last night?" I say acrimoniously.

"Oh, good morning Margaret. I see you woke up in such a cheery mood this morning," Her tone is just as malicious.

"I see you ate a bowl of bitchy-o's for breakfast."

"Margaret Cartwright, I do not like your tone right now. Now if you have nothing nice to say to me, I suggest you not say anything at all," she almost stomped her foot, but I saw her catch herself.

"I don't even want to look at you. So I'll be leaving for the day. Don't expect me back anytime soon."

I walk downstairs, retrieve my purse and keys, grab a pair of shoes out of the closet and slip them on and leave without saying another word.

It isn't until I'm turning off the private road leading into my housing development that I realize two things. One, I don't know where I'm going to go and two, I'm in what I slept in. Which isn't much. I quickly zip up my hoodie, but it doesn't solve much.

At a red light, I call Rachel, though I am still hunching her and Logan are secretly dating. Maybe she'll spill the beans early. To much surprise she is already up and chipper as usual. I tell her about storming out in my nighttime attire and Rachel agrees to let me come over and borrow some of her clothes, on the one exception that she gives me a full head-to-toe make over.

Rachel makes no attempt to hide her horrified look. "Oh no, I can't believe you wear that to bed. What if your house was on fire and you couldn't change into something nice? You'd be the laughing stock of the whole school. I can see your butt cheeks."

I turn, trying to glance at the bottom. I don't think people would laugh at me for wearing this, but I don't say anything. Instead I let Rachel lead me into her converted closet, that used to be her bother's room before he left for college and got married.

All of the racks are color coordinated and are sorted out by, season, and occasion. Jeans and skirt line one bottom wall while the tops line up nicely above them and opposite wall holds hundreds of dresses. The wall connecting both walls is from floor to ceiling purses and matching bags. Finally the last wall has a built in vanity with thousands of dollars of cosmetics.

"Yeah, I'm a little obsessed," Rachel says when she sees my reaction. "Well come on. Get into the shower, so I can hopefully do something to those nappy curls of yours."

"My hair is not nappy!" I scold, but Rachel isn't buying it. She shoos me into the adjoining bathroom and throws me a towel, telling me to hurry up.

The shower is full of hair products and scrubs. It takes me just a half hour to decide what ones I want to use. Finally, I decide on a lathery shampoo and matching conditioner that is supposed to lock in moisture, it smells like coconuts and shea. I quickly wash my body with a strong jasmine exfoliating cream once I hear Rachel impatiently pound on the door.

"Took you long enough," she complained.

"Well you have all of Bath and Body Works in there, I didn't know what to use."

"Well then, now that you're done. Here is a robe. Let me start on your make up!"

Rachel talks on and on about what would look best for my skin tone and what eye shadow brings out my eyes the best. I wasn't really paying attention. I mumbled a few yes's and no's when she asked a question just to keep her talking so I could keep thinking.

I was trying to figure out how to best bring out what she knew about Logan without hinting that I knew something was wrong. I don't want to seem like those obsessive girlfriends, that after one week they want to start talking about marriage and kids. But I also wanted Logan and everyone else to know, that I want a serious relationship. Not just some fling, or booty call.

"So Rach, what did you do last night?" I said trying to find a way to ease into this conversation.

"I went to Chandler's last game, duh."

"Oh, I thought you took your sister-in-law to the doctor's?"

"Well yeah, that was before the game. I was a busy busy girl. That's why we couldn't hang out yesterday," Rachel quickly corrected herself.

"Oh. I wonder why Logan couldn't hang out. I hope he doesn't think I'm a clingy girlfriend and he has to hide all of his plans."

"Oh no, Maggie. Despite Logan's good looks, his bad boy charm and goofy appeal, Logan hasn't had many girlfriends. Yes he's had more than his share of girls that he's been friendly with. I assure you, he is cleaned. Once he told me his number I drove him to the free clinic myself. But anyways, Logan really likes you, he told me himself. He just doesn't like to open up to people."

"I opened up to him about my dad's death. What can be worse than that? Killing somebody?" My eyes dart to meet Rachel's. "He hasn't killed anyone has he?"

"No, Margaret. He hasn't taken anyone's life. No tear drops under the cheek," She smiled but then regained seriousness. "Look, I've known Logan almost all of my life. He's been through some tough shit. He just needs someone to share his life with, and maybe that's you. But until he decides who he wants to tell his story to, I have to stay out of it, as much as I like you."

So Logan and Rachel are not dating. But now I have all new things to worry about. What kind of shit has Logan been into? What is his life story? As all these questions build up in my head, one thing is clear, I want to be the one he shares it with.