Copyright 2003 Jane Ann Mortkowitz. All rights reserved. No portion of the following work of fiction may be transmitted or reproduced in any form or by any means without written and oral permission of the copyright holder. 

Notice- The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real event place or person/persons is entirely coincidental.

Smoke solace

Her fingers dug into her scalp as the sorrowful cords of the alternative rock song filtered through her ears and mind. This wasn’t what she’s used to be. This wasn’t what she wanted to be. Her honey coloured eyes were hidden behind pale flesh and long, jagged eyelashes. There was a cigarette burning in an ashtray sitting on the next table. Her eyes snapped open and she focused her gaze on that cigarette. The glowing embers and whitish-gray smoke rising in curly, cloud-like patterns from the white and golden brown paper filter housing the ashes. She wasn’t angry, nor was she confused per say. She was scared. Scared of what might happen should anyone else find out who she loved…especially the person whom she loved. No, no, it would never do for that to happen. It was not unreasonable to love this person. Almost all of the guys in her class did, or claimed to, so…why shouldn’t she? Because this person was her classmate…because this person was not someone her parents would approve of…no…the heard of the matter was, it was because this person was female. Just as female as she was…if it were possible, she would probably be more so.

The owner of the cigarette stood from his table and went to go dance with someone; after all, it was a club…people were expected to dace at a club. For a moment she considered standing to go pick up that abandoned cigarette, but no. Developing a tobacco addiction would not solve any of her problems. Yet…as she stared at that beautiful burning wonder, thoughts swarming around in her mind gave her all the urgency she needed. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t touch it. She didn’t need it.

Standing from her own table, she rapped her black cotton coat more tightly around herself and left the club. Maybe she would sneak into a bar and get wasted or something. No, she told herself solemnly, you will never smoke. You will never drink. You will never take drugs. You will always be perfect. You will never tell her how you feel because you’re destined to be the perfect example of humans everywhere. The ideal child…she snorted at the ironic humour. It truly never failed to enlighten her how unfit she was for her mother’s mold that she’d been raised to fit. How she never would, because no matter how she ignored it, there would always be that nagging little ‘what if’ lingering in the back of her mind.

She entered the trashy, rundown gas station and walked up to the counter, her breath catching in her chest. She would obliterate one of those pesky ‘what ifs’ right now. Looking around she walked up to the man behind the counter.

“Gimme the best cigarettes ya got in this hellpit.” She muttered, mentally cursing her long since strongly forged New Yorker accent.

The man behind the counter nodded and handed her a white and silver package. She selected a lighter and gave the man her money. Seven dollars and sixty-seven cents left her pocket that night. She then walked out into the cold street. A typical winter night in Manhattan New York, she thought bitterly. The white snow fell gently around her. Quickly she removed the shrink rap from the package of cigarettes and stuffed it into her pocket. She laughed humourlessly at the crinkling of the shrink rap as she squeezed it into a tighter ball. She removed one of the tobacco filled cylinders and, lighting up, raised the burning object into the air in a kind of mock toast.

“Here’s to ya ma!” She shouted into the sky. “This is what I am now! But ye’ll never know! Naw, I’ll never tell ya. Why? Because I’m scared of ya! And because of that I’m never gonna share half my life with ya! I hope yer happy now. Lord knows I’m not.” 

Then she took a long, deviant drag from the burning cigarette and relished in the stinging sensation of the smoke entering her lungs. True, she would never find true, honest to God happiness, but at least, for now anyway, she could make it by on her bitter smoky solace.

The End