paper rings (l.h.)

56

Luke's motor worked as well as expected, since it had been rotting in that shed since way before Mary's Grandfather passed. It ran for a whole of about three minutes, before sputtering out and leaving Luke free-floating in the street leading to Main.

The thunder was beginning to pick up as Luke used a rotten ore he found covered in mouse skeletons and spiderwebs, a deep exhale releasing from his chest with each movement of his arm. His heart was pounding, but the only face in his head was Mary's.

His family's property was so far away from the rest of the town, he knew they'd walk away scratched if anything. His brothers at least were off at some far away Saints game.

He had never felt such fear without her. Such a hole in his stomach as he tried not to think about what might have happened if Mary had gotten swept away by the storm, or drowned in the rain water. If he found her... he didn't want to think about the hell he'd raise. On the town, on his management for scheduling him as much as they did especially back when they were barely seventeen... so many things had gone wrong because of the choices he made on his way to fame. Sometimes, he'd entertain the idea of wanting to disappear, to fall off the face of the earth and change his name, his hair, his clothing, any other identifying features that his fans might recognize.

He wanted to scream her name, and he did a few times, so loud his voice echoed on the submerged buildings, the water floating him down the sidewalk. He prayed for a response, yet also hoped she was somewhere far away from the now flooded Main Street. His phone in his back pocket still registered no service, sometimes a bar or two but never enough to call or text.

It was not rare for his ore to hit something big, or dense, or solid and small and hard, and not being able to see through the water freaked him out. His Mom used to tell stories of what she saw during Katrina, while Luke and his brothers were cooped up with their Dad in the hospital room. What was left of those remains.

And now Main Street Books, Patsy's, the coffee shop he had taken Mary to first now was filled with flood water, sewage and anything else in between. Across the way, he also saw a man in a boat, with an ore and a plastic lawn chair, and a few completely saturated cardboard boxes. The man didn't bother looking in Luke's direction.

So Luke held his breath as he rowed deeper into the streets that he used to skate down before the fame set in. After a show, Luke would ask to stay at Calum's house. Luke wouldn't go of course, and instead wander into empty skate parks and ride until his Mom was just clocking out of work.

He shook his mind free of the thoughts, instead filling his head with the scent of her perfume, her hair, how exactly he'll apologize for being away for so long once things are calmed.

He was soaked, by the time he got to Main Street his entire body must've been dripping just like it would be had he fallen off the side of the boat. His teeth were chattering, and it was an effort to keep from losing his balance and falling off the side of the boat. But nothing other than pure, undiluted rage pounded through his veins. Rage that he had to be so far away from her, rage from being so engulfed in his own issues that he didn't know that a storm of this capacity was coming straight towards her. Rage in knowing that she'd be crazy enough to go to work in the midst of a storm like this.

The rain was manageable by the time he got to the Bookstore, which turned into nothing more than a late-summer thunderstorm. There was no one, not a soul in site as he called out for her. "Mary!" He yelled, turning the corner to pass their coffee shop, and Main Street books.

Through the window, Luke saw the boxes stacked atop tables and desks, as well as book cases wrapped in trash bags. The lights were off, the door was locked and his throne behind the front desk was deserted. Luke's heart nearly skipped a beat as he recalled the first moment he had ever laid eyes on Mary. How different things had become.