smokin' | louigan

forty-six

logan grunted, throwing another sack of gardening soil over his shoulder in the dim shed. an unlit cigarette dangled from his lips, a bead of sweat dripped down his left temple, his buzzed hair hot underneath the old huxley high school baseball cap. he exited and found the new plot he was working on, almost ready to be planted in. it was 3:00 in the afternoon, and somehow  the apartments and townhouses surrounding the urban community garden didn't block out the sun. the sky was cloudless, infinitely blue and clear. 

three days into his return home, cynthia had him working in the community garden. she said she needed another set of hands around, that all of the gardeners did, but she was beginning to grow annoyed (and a tad worried) at her son's behavior. 

he kept his eyes averted from the sky, not because it hurt to stare into such brightness but because he knew louise could be looking at the same sky. and he didn't want that, not anymore. he didn't want to see the same sky as her because he didn't deserve to. 

the garden members that passed logan had given up on sharing a friendly smile. his face had grown gaunt in the two weeks he had been there, under the supervision of his mother and her insincere laughter. 

and it had been a quiet two weeks. he had thrown his phone in a dumpster somewhere after anita somehow had gotten his number; she had left messages about louise, and seeing the sight of her name made him feel sick to his stomach. his mother was usually in the large study of her house, reading or writing, he didn't know. any friends from high school hadn't reached out, though he doubted they would after abandoning practically everything for a pair of dog tags and some shrapnel wounds. he shook his head to clear away the thoughts.

logan himself was always outside. the air was beginning to grow cooler as the summer months were coming to a close. the leaves didn't look as vibrant as a month ago; now after spending so many early mornings and late evenings in the backyard they looked as dull as him. he found it hard to look in the mirror. all that stared back were these two empty eyes, lifelessly cerulean. he couldn't stand it.

suddenly, something hard hit his arm, causing him to stumble over the cord of a garden hose. he regained his footing, head turning sharply to the source of the hit, only to see nothing; even the other gardeners didn't bat an eye at it. his eyes quickly glanced downward, a rock scratched and stained with dirt and a piece of folded notebook paper taped over. he grabbed it and shoved it into his pocket, continuing his trek to the plot.

when he settled the bag of soil down onto the concrete, he reached back into the pocket of his dirty levi's. unfolding the note, he read,

bush, 

stay away from louise,

she was mine first. if i see you

even walk down her street you won't
be able to walk back.

- 

logan sat on a bench, his bench, eyes roaming over the red and green lights strung around the sign for jimmy pesto's pizzeria, though the 'o' was out so it really said jimmy pest's pizza. he hoped louise had seen it, though the restaurant had been closed since eight' and the lights upstairs were off. 

he took a drag from his cigarette, enjoying the taste of menthol on his tongue, wishing it was something else, someone else. he sighed and took another drag, glancing around the emptying street. the note in his pocket, scrawled in a shaky hand with a poor excuse of a threat, felt nice in his wallet, felt...interesting. 

he flexed his right hand, looking at his palm. the cuts had healed but the memory remained, the look in louise's eyes hurt more than the broken glass cutting into his skin. a slight breeze suddenly whistled through the street as a car drove down.

logan smiled, teeth and all.

-

louise turned in her bed, muffled noises from outside waking her out of her slumber. her eyes opened slightly in the dark of her bedroom as she rose to rest on her elbows, glancing to the half-open window. she could just picture the idiot teenagers outside, their punches fast and sloppy. she almost smirked to herself in reminiscence but refrained, laying back once more and turning back onto her side. 

dumb*sses, she finally concluded, as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.