smokin' | louigan

fifty

time has a funny way of f*cking things up.

especially for louise belcher.

september had just rolled in. her parents had returned from their summer-long cruise, tina had made just enough time in her busy schedule at the publishing office to stop by, and gene had flown in after his band's show in oregon too.

sunday family dinner. a ritual; not cultic, just tradition.

though she wished she still had the apartment to herself. and logan.

"louise, watch the stove!" mother belcher, queen of them all, linda, yelled. the pot of potatoes on the stove was beginning to boil over. louise shook her head and stirred them around, wincing slightly as the overflowing water sizzled loudly on the stovetop.

"sorry," she murmured. her mind was drifting around, cyclically finding logan again in the boxes of her memories she tried, and always failed, to lock away.

there was a particular memory. months ago, with the scratched wine bottle and a boiling pot of pasta. oh, and how their breaths intermingled and their bodies pressed against each other and such.

and then, further back, there was the underground party. dancing together in strobe lighting, logan carrying her back home, her drunk ramblings in his ear.

every kiss, every laugh, every cigarette...

no, it didn't matter now. he was gone and she was here.

still here.

~

the five belchers were sat around the old round dinner table. bob sniffed slightly as he grabbed the bowl of green beans from gene.

"so louise," mother belcher, queen of them all, linda, began, "tell us all about the hip-happenings of the summer!" louise rolled her eyes in response, twirling her fork through the pile of mashed potatoes forced onto her plate. bob stepped in to (try to) lighten the tension,

"yeah louise, please tell me the restaurant's still in one piece." she looked over at her father, snagging a bread roll from a small basket in the center of the table.

"you say that like you doubt my abilities to run the restaurant."

"that's not what he meant, louise," tina stated boldly, swiping some hair behind her ear.

"oh shut it, tipsy-tina," louise barked at her older sister, watching as she put the glass of wine down from her mouth with an awkward frown.

"hey! watch your mouth, missy!" linda defended, waving her fork angrily in her younger daughter's direction.

"that's physically impossible, mom," gene interjected with a mouth full of mash, making quite the disturbing face as he tried to look downward for his mouth, "i can't even see the tip of my nose."

"i did not miss this," louise mumbled, laying her head in her hand, closing her eyes in exasperation as the belchers continued to argue. bob looked over at his youngest child and smiled softly at her annoyed expression. however, he could tell something wasn't right, that something had happened over the summer.

but he knew his daughter, louise belcher, was locked up tighter than a safe. her feelings were padlocked and bolted several times over, and sometimes, bob thought even louise didn't have the keys.

"anyway, i noticed the overwhelming smell of that lavendah' bathroom spray all ovah' the place. coverin' somethin' up, louise? huh?" linda suddenly jested, then stuffing a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. she chewed almost angrily, glaring over at her youngest daughter. louise slammed her fork down.