A Little Bit Of Joy | ✔

Chapter Seventy Five : The Boy's Summer

Third Person's POV [Logan's POV]

"What the hell do you mean you have a baby? Shaun, what on earth are you blabbering about?" Joy's mum was yelling on the phone as Logan stood outside at the door. "Who's Marilyn? What do you mean you have a baby? Don't cut the call- damn him!" she cursed and looked wearily at Logan. "He cut the call! He's been talking nonsense about a baby and this-this girl Marilyn- If he's implying what I'm thinking . . . Logan dear . . . I think I'm going to faint . . . "

She did pass out then and there and Logan quickly held her before she fell face down.

He half dragged her inside and laid her down on the couch. Gemma who was eating by the dining table hastily rushed to him for assistance. She asked nervously, "Did she die?"

"No, no, Jesus no," Logan muttered, reaching for a glass of water from the coffee table. "She heard some shocking news from your brother."

"Yes, Shaun told me he became a father. I can presume why that is shocking, but considering the time he spends on pornhub, it was bound to happen," Gemma said flatly and Logan remained silent. Then realizing that was an awkward thing to expose about her own brother, her cheeks flushed. "I want to meet the baby."

They quietly sprinkled water over Mrs Jones oval face and watched her eyes flutter open.

She shot up from the couch in panic. "Oh goodness! I had such an awful dream!"

Logan and Gemma exchanged a look.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?" she asked anxiously and Logan nodded. "Damn him, he's not picking up my call! Gemma, do you know anything about this?"

"I can't say maa, Shaun told me to not tell you."

Mrs Jones looked like she was going to faint again.

* * *

Logan was sitting in Joy's room, it was the same since she had left. He grabbed his backpack and started stuffing it with things Joy had left in his will- his own shirts, two of her yellow dresses he had especially complimented her about, almost all of the books she had read, movie dvds and lock and key of her bicycle. He swallowed hard as he looked around the empty room. He had delayed coming here because of the memories- those sweet, painful images and videos of his past with her that first squeezed his throat savagely until he threw up all his woes and was left with a hollow, yet eerily satisfied feeling.

Joy's funeral was not surprisingly a large affair, almost the entire town had come to pay their respects. She was somehow associated to each one of them- every person had a moment of hers to share however insignificant it was. It was kept on first January- a beginning of the blossoming of many flowers in everyone's life.

"Logan?" Gemma knocked on the door and Logan focused his attention on her. "Joy told me to give you this."

She handed him a white envelope and slipped out of the room.

A letter from her.

* * *

Logan sat outside the flower shop on the green bench and opened his lunch box. He stabbed the Mac and Cheese with the plastic fork and brought it to his mouth, slowly chewing and absently watching the people and vehicles pass by. The edges of the letter in his pocket poked him slightly as if Joy was next to him- nudging him to listen to her.

"Fuck it," he swore under his breath and retrieved the letter. He knew that he would be bawling his eyes out by the end. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and ripped open the the envelope.

To my flower thief,

Was talking from the grave a bad idea? Yes, Logan thought and nodded at the next sentence. Would it be too painful? But now since I have committed myself to this absurd, totally unnecessary, clichéd task, appreciate my efforts please.