... Logan ...
Part o4
He hated waking up in the morning. Thirty seconds of warmth and comfort was quickly replaced by cold reality slamming down on him. The morning was cool and quiet. As he breathed in and stifled a yawn he could smell the sage brush, spicy, sweet and fresh wafting in through the open window.
It took Logan no more than 15 minutes most mornings to shower, change and leave the motel room. What was there to do? He checked out of his room, threw the (god-damn) backpack in the truck and shading his eyes from the early morning sun looked across the road. A diner, for breakfast.
It was just like a hundred other roadside diners. But that was ok - familiar was a good thing. Logan slid onto a short stool at the counter and picked up a menu.
"What'll you have hon?" A tiny, tired waitress asked.
Logan cleared his throat, "coffee and uh... toast please."
The waitress flipped over the white mug in front of him and filled it with steaming coffee. It smelled good. He put some sugar and lots of cream in this coffee and stirred it.
"Dude! It's not coffee anymore when you put that much tasty stuff in it!" Logan was startled by the voice beside him but turned and smiled automatically. The guy seated beside him was about his age, maybe a bit older. His green eyes were crinkled at the corner because of his friendly smile.
Logan took a sip of his coffee, "never could stand the stuff black - like drinking motor oil!"
That prompted a chuckle from the stranger. "Where you headed man?"
Logan had no idea how to answer that question. "Today? I dunno." He looked out the window and pointed south "that way."
The stranger grinned and scratched the stubble on his chin. "A free spirit?"
"Free spirit," Logan agreed, "yeah, that." His toast arrived and he took a few quick bites, washing it down with more coffee. He suddenly felt very alone, after all, this was the first person he had spoken to in days. Sipping his coffee he looked back at the stranger. "Where you headed?" he asked.
"I think, the same direction," was the answer that came through a mouthful of scrambled egg. The stranger smiled wistfully. "I've got a bit of a crappy family drama nipping at my heels at the moment. Seems like the best idea to keep moving."
Logan let out a sharp laugh, "yeah, I hear ya." He threw a couple of bills on the counter and drained the rest of his coffee. Standing, he stretched and smiled once more at the stranger. "Safe trip man."
"Right back atcha," the green eyes smiled once more.
Logan wandered out into the bright morning light. It was going to be a hot ride in the truck. He wandered over to a small gas station and ducked inside for some road snacks. He emerged a short time later with a plastic bag filled with water bottles, crackers and chocolate - an odd combination.
The truck started almost eagerly, as though it was anxious to get back on the road. Logan leaned across the seat and rolled down the passenger window. Being blown to hell was better than sweating away ten pounds in the next two hours.
He pulled out onto the road shifting on the seat and trying to get comfortable. When he looked out the side window he saw the stranger from the diner, thumb out, smiling. "Why not" he thought? He could keep the journey short if he wanted. Nothing lost, but it might keep him sane for another few days. He shrugged to himself and pulled over.
The stranger opened the passenger door, threw his coast and duffle on the floor and hopped up into the cab. "Thanks man! It's getting damn ho already!" He flashed a charming smile at Logan, "Name's Micah by the way... most people call me Mike."
Logan extended his hand, "Logan," he answered, "interesting name ya got."
"Ahh yes," Micah laughed, "one who resembles God. It's Hebrew. My folks met in a kibbutz. And, I think they smoked too many joints while discussing names."
Logan smiled broadly and relaxed into the seat a little. It was good, this normalcy.
"What does Logan mean?" Micah leaned his right arm out the open window and turned toward the driver's side of the truck.
Logan gave a small shrug. "Hollow, warrior," he paused, "Dude, does everyone look up the meaning of their name?"
"Yeah," Micah nodded, "we all Google ourselves too." He grinned.
Logan was relieved to have a distraction for a while. "How far you going?"
"Well," Micah began, "as far as you'll put up with my company down this road." He slipped his hand under his shirt and scratched his stomach, "I'm at loose ends you know? Not sure what I'm going to do. I was in school for a while but it wasn't really my thing - or maybe it just wasn't the right time. I don't know. Ended a relationship - you know - one of those things where I knew it was over but, hell, I think it felt like too much effort to do anything about it. And, then I thought," he gestured out the window, "there's a lot of world out here." He gave Logan a crooked grin. "Wow, bet you're sorry you asked that now! I'm sorry man.... I haven't said much more than 'please, thank you and I'll have a burger in about 3 weeks."
Logan laughed, "I know the feeling." He reached into the plastic bag between them and handed Micah a bottle of water.
The miles went by quickly as they talked; sharing university stories, bitching about work, arguing amicably about the music on Logan's iPod. They stopped twice. The first time Logan needed to use the bathroom and the second time Micah wanted donuts. The day drifted away from them.
Logan found himself thinking how pissed his Dad would be if he found out he had picked up a hitchhi... Jesus. His stomach dropped and he felt the heat drain from his face. Fuck. How does his mind manage to do that, just 'forget' everything that happened. His heart thumped in his chest and it felt like his ribs were going to burst. He tasted the familiar acidic flavor in the back of his throat and breathed short and fast breaths.
Micah did a double take when he glanced over. "Logan? You good?"
White knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel and Logan started to slow down, shaking his head slightly. He pulled onto the shoulder, fumbled with the door of the truck and then fell out. He scrambled to his feet and dashed around the truck, skidding to a halt, dropping to his knees, lurching forward and gagging. He fisted the sandy earth and road the waves of nausea, feeling cold sweat gathering at the small of his back.
"Logan?"
He jumped and retched again, coughing violently. His voice was a low rumble, "I'm sorry M... m... Micah. Things..." he coughed again "things... I've been ill."
He heard footsteps behind him and then there was a warm dry hand on his upper back. Micah rubbed small circles between Logan's shoulder blades for a few seconds. "I'll grab your water." Logan heard him jog back to the truck.
Micah was back quickly and Logan felt something cold and wet pressed to the back of his neck. His heart was still racing and his lips felt a little numb, like he'd had too much to drink. He shuddered. "You'll be better in a minute Logan - just give yourself a chance," Micah soothed.
Logan rubbed his hand across his face leaving streaks of dirt on his cheek. "Fuck..." he muttered, "I'm sorry man. I don't know what happened" he lied.
Logan...be still. You are fine.
"What?" Logan grunted as he felt his blood slowing.
Micah shrugged, "didn't say anything." The water bottle appeared in front of Logan's eyes. "Drink something," Micah ordered gently.
Logan pressed the bottle to his lips and drank greedily. "I am so sorry Micah - hell of an introduction." He felt Micah's hand on the small of his back, fingers lightly grazing the skin below the hem of Logan's t-shirt.
Micah chuckled softly, "sok man, I've been to University remember? I've seen worse on an average Saturday night"
Logan pushed himself up and sat back on his heels. "Well, shit," he muttered.
Micah laughed again and put the wet cloth in Logan's hands. "Wipe your face man ya got dirt all over it."
Logan sunk his face into the cloth and groaned.
Micah spoke softly, "it's one of my shirts dude - hope it doesn't smell too bad."
Logan forced a smile as he lowered the cloth. "S'fine." He tried to push up to his feet and stumbled a little. Micah steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Whoa there cowboy."
Shaking his head, Logan took another deep breath and sighed long and hard. "Micah? Could you drive for a while?"
"Yeah...absolutely." Micah stepped back, dropping his hand hesitantly and made his way back to the truck.
Eventually Logan followed.
story and words and photos Copyright Charlotte Kinzie 2009.
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