The Way It Never Was, Part 1

The following story is fictional and is provided solely for the enjoyment 
of its readers. While there are references to actual businesses and 
locations, the characters in the story are entirely fictional. Any 
resemblance to a real person either living or dead is completely 
coincidental. This fictional account does contain adult language and 
themes. If such language and themes offend you, please read no further. 
This story is copyrighted by AZ-MAN, 2002 all rights reserved. Permission 
is granted to reproduce it in any form and for any purpose as long as this 
notice is reproduced and no financial remuneration is received, directly or 
indirectly, by the person reproducing it. 

The Way It Never Was 

1. Seeing My Babysitter Smoke 



I was perhaps 12 - not old enough to openly show my affection for girls but 
old enough to know that I was beginning to like them. Where I grew up, 
there were rolling pastures bordering a large grove of trees behind our 
neighborhood subdivision. As kids we played there a lot. We knew all the 
secret places to hide, the best places to catch lizards and frogs, the best 
places to play army and build tree forts. And the older girls, as I was to 
discover, knew the best place to go, deep in a section of the woods, to 
smoke. 

It was a warm summer evening when my best friend Jeff and I spied three 
girls from our neighborhood heading down a grassy trial leading towards the 
trees. 

"Come on," he said. "I know where THEY'RE headed." 

"What?" I asked, looking up. I had just been stalking a garter snake in the 
weeds at my feet. 

"Come on," Jeff repeated with added intrigue to his voice. "They're going 
to-" Then he made a gesture with his index and middle finger by putting 
them to his lips. "They're going to, you know, go down there," he pointed, 
"and smoke." 

"How do you know?" I was surprised. One of the girls, Michelle Meekin, no 
older than 14, had been my babysitter until last year. 

The other two, Cindy Caldwell and Annette Janello were 15 and 16 
respectively. All three had been friends since grade school. Annette had an 
older brother that had been killed in Vietnam and was the most physically 
endowed of the three. She had long blond hair, a nice set of boobs and 
dressed for school in short skirts, fishnet stockings and low-cut blouses. 
Her parents were still consumed with grief from losing their only son and 
had pretty much let Annette run in any direction she chose. One thing I'll 
never forget about her was she had these intricate gold bracelets that 
encircled her wrists with little dangly shapes (hearts and crescent moons) 
that tinkled as she walked. To me, her bracelet and flashy clothes radiated 
extreme confidence and hinted at a level of sex appeal that one day soon I 
would fully understand. 

Jeff answered my previous question. "How do I know? Look at the way they're 
dressed. They're not out here to play hide and seek," he said with open 
sarcasm. Besides, they do this all the time. I've seen `em before." 

Jeff's apparent knowledge of the girl's smoking habits seemed convincing. 
None were dressed in what I'd call `play clothes'. They looked like they'd 
just finished getting ready for a date at one of the girl's homes. Even 
from a distance, I could detect make-up, smell perfume and see their 
freshly combed hair. They were a very stunning group - especially Annette. 
I remember echoing Jeff's words in my head with question marks, "-do this 
all the time? -seen `em before?" Was this true? Had I really missed this 
regular show? When I thought about it, I just COULD NOT believe that 
Michelle Meekin smoked. Picturing it allowed me to experience simultaneous 
disappointment and high expectation. Michelle was the girl-next-door type - 
all smiles and ponytails and still very respectful to adults. Annette 
though was another story entirely. Learning that she smoked was no 
revelation. She was rumored to have also tried pot and she was older than 
the other two. Cindy was somewhere in between Michelle and Annette - not 
the prude but not the bad girl either. 

Jeff and I maintained a safe distance behind the girls as they came to the 
edge of the trees. Neither of us thought they could see us as we wove in 
the low scrub brush about 100 feet away. 

We could hear them giggle from time to time when all of a sudden Cindy 
turned around and yelled, "We SEE you guys! Come on Jeff, you don't have to 
hide. I see you too, Marky." 

Marky! I detested the "y" being added to my name, especially by a girl. My 
initial reaction was to crouch lower in the bushes thinking it was a bluff 
to ensure no one was trailing them. 

Jeff immediately stood up and whispered to me, "Come on, it's okay." 

"What? Are you kidding?" I responded. "We're not going into the woods with 
them." Short pause, "Are we?" 

"Yeah. Come on. It's cool." 

Secretly, I was delighted. 

Jeff broke into a trot and I followed warily in his tracks. We caught them 
just before we all arrived at their secret spot. It was a nice area, 
actually - a slice of woods that I didn't know existed since it had no real 
value to a kid that liked to play tag or hunt for reptiles in the nearby 
grass. The tall hickory and oak trees covered one side and provided a nice 
canopy. The brush and tall grass covered the other side making the center 
area completely invisible from the trail we had followed only a minute ago. 
It was quiet and the air was dead still. 

Annette was looking at Jeff as if to ask, is it okay? Can we let Mark know 
of our little secret? Finally she spoke, only now she was facing me. 

"Mark, how old are you?" 

"Twelve," I answered sounding indignant that she seemed to be setting up an 
age requirement to be present. 

Annette then turned to Cindy and nodded in my direction. 

Cindy shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't care. I just need to smoke. 
I'm not going to worry about it." 

With this, she opened a small brown purse hanging near her waist on a thin 
shoulder strap. She smiled as she pulled out an opened pack of Virginia 
Slims 100s and slid out one of the long white cigarettes. It was the rich, 
full-flavor version in the soft gold-striped pack. The Lights were still 
six years in the future. The brand did not surprise me. I knew Cindy 
must've swiped them from her mom. Cindy's mother was a friend of my 
mother's and I watched Mrs. Caldwell smoke her Virginia Slims all the time 
when she'd come over to visit. 

There's a bit of an oddity about Virginia Slims for those that have 
followed the brand since it's inception. As we all know, the Virginia Slims 
marketing campaign was highly successful in luring women to smoke in the 
late `60s and early `70s. We always think of Virginia Slims as a sexy and 
very feminine cigarette with their thin, attractive magazine models dressed 
in fashionable clothing and the catchy slogan, "You've Come A Long Way 
Baby". The truth was, back in its early days, the brand attracted the less 
feminine, more feminist type. Most of the early female Virginia Slims 
smokers were tough, hard-talking feminists. They likely switched from their 
previous brands of Marlboro Reds or even Pall Mall Straights (ugh). 

Mrs. Caldwell fit the feminist image except that her previous brand was 
Kent 100s. She favored independence, worked outside the home rather than as 
a housewife and never wore dresses. She was small and wiry with short blond 
hair combed back into a duck-tail. The image I always remember is of her 
coming out her front door in the morning with an unlit VS between her lips 
on the way to work. She would get into her car (a `72 Camaro), start the 
engine and then light her cigarette with the car lighter. Seeing the long, 
slender all-white cigarette erect in her lips as the tip glowed was such a 
turn-on, even for a twelve-year-old. She would keep her lips compressed 
around the filter as she sucked and put the car into reverse. She wouldn't 
stop pulling on the cigarette until she had the car in drive and was 
speeding away. This initial puff would last about 6 seconds and her cheeks 
would be so hollowed that they'd practically be touching together inside 
her smoke-filled mouth. After that, she'd expertly slide the VS from her 
lips, snap-inhale and direct a rich stream of smoke towards the cracked 
window. 

Mrs. Caldwell's lovely 15-year-old daughter wasted no time lighting her 
cigarette in much the same manner here in the woods. She used matches and 
took only a 3-second pull before inhaling her initial puff - not quite like 
her mom but nonetheless, very impressive for a teenager. 

With smoke resting in her chest, Cindy handed the pack to Annette and said, 
"Here. Next time you bring the smokes." 

Annette was reaching inside the pack with her long fingernails. She soon 
had a VS of her own, then passed the pack on to Michelle. Annette smiled, 
looking up at Cindy and said, "You're hooked on my mom's Salems aren't 
you?" 

Cindy had begun a second puff and nodded her head as the tip of her long VS 
glowed brightly. After letting everyone hear her rapid inhale, she spoke, 
"Yeah. You can keep these if you'll just get me another pack of those 
menthols from your old lady." 

By now Annette had her cigarette going and was exhaling a smooth, steady 
stream of smoke away from the group. I admired the way it was being 
illuminated in the low evening sun. The air was calm and the smoke held 
together beautifully as she let it flow from her pursed lips. I thought 
Annette's exhale was spectacular and I was staring (gawking, actually) 
right at her as the smoke gently encircled us. 

"Come on `Shelly," Cindy was coaxing, "Join us." 

Michelle noticed me admiring Annette while she held the pack of Virginia 
Slims at her side and said, "I can't. He's going to fink." She directed a 
stare right at me. 

I broke my trance from Annette and felt shaken by what I'd heard. I knew I 
had no intention of telling anyone about what I was witnessing here. 
Michelle's accusation wasn't well founded and I suspected she knew it. Of 
the three girls, I knew Michelle the best. She and I were practically 
friends since she was my old babysitter. Now that I was 12, I wasn't seeing 
many babysitters anymore. I think Michelle was trying to tell me that she 
was uncomfortable smoking in front of me and wished that I'd never come 
along. 

Before I could protest, Jeff spoke, "Don't worry, he's cool." 

Then he whispered something to Cindy in her ear. It became obvious to me 
that Cindy was the more mature smoker and ringleader of the group even 
though she hadn't turned 16 and Annette had. 

Cindy laughed as she tried to contain some smoke she'd just inhaled. It 
alternated in small bursts between her mouth and nose. I was suddenly 
getting very confused. 

"Okay", she said, looking me right in the eye holding her cigarette out in 
front of her. "Here's the deal. You can stay with us while we teach 
Michelle to smoke or you can run home and fink to your mother. But if you 
do that, I'll tell her you were here smoking with us. Are you cool like 
Jeff says?" 

I knew I wasn't going to tattle on anyone but Cindy looked so convincing 
that I felt she'd implicate me if I so much as looked at her cross-eyed. 
Besides, I knew I could get into trouble just by being down here in the 
woods with these smoking girls - automatic guilt by association. I nodded 
my head yes. 

For the next five minutes, no one did any talking. Cindy and Annette took 
out hairbrushes and combed their long manes; they reapplied their glossy 
lipstick between puffs and fidgeted around with their cigarettes as they 
watched Michelle. Michelle had managed to get her cigarette going but had 
yet to inhale any smoke. She'd take about a 2-second puff, hold the smoke 
in her mouth for another two seconds, then release a tight ball into the 
air. The non-inhaled smoke would float away, gradually expanding and coming 
apart in the still air. Cindy and Annette inhaled like pros and seemed to 
be showing each other that they had mastered this adult habit just like 
their mothers had 20 years ago. Despite their ability to inhale without 
hesitation, their exhaling was overplayed. Both seemed to exaggerate the 
"o" they'd form with their mouths before forcing the smoke out in a mildly 
rushed fashion. Nonetheless, they were very impressive. I believe the 
intention was to direct their smoke at each other as if to say, "See, isn't 
this a particularly good one?" I found myself enamoured with Annette 
because her little bracelet would tinkle as she moved her cigarette to and 
from her lips. These two beauties showed they had become very comfortable 
smoking and were well on their way to a lifetime of nicotine addiction. 

About halfway through her cigarette, Michelle began to inhale. It was a 
gradual transition that went unnoticed since I'd been concentrating on 
Cindy and Annette. 

"That's it `Shelly," Cindy offered with a smile. "And you didn't even 
cough." 

Everyone's attention momentarily focused on Michelle. I spun my head just 
in time to see her release a narrow trace of smoke that had been in her 
lungs only moments before. I thought Michelle would be embarrassed with the 
attention but to my surprise she grinned back at Cindy and took another 
full 2-second puff. This time she inhaled without giving it a second 
thought. Her eyes widened in anticipation of some sort of coughing fit or 
gag reflex but none followed as the smoke traveled to her lungs. A warm 
smile spread as she looked down in amazement at the smoke flowing from her 
mouth in a thin stream rather than a single cloud. Cindy and Annette 
exchanged a look of obvious approval. 

I was thinking this had shaped up to be a very pleasant trip into the woods 
with Jeff, Annette, Cindy and Michelle. Unbeknownst to me though, this 
first trip was also going to be my last. I later learned through Jeff that 
Annette and Cindy were given permission to smoke by their parents obviating 
the need to sneak around. For Cindy, I suspect that her mother had no issue 
with her daughter taking up smoking. I mean, if you smoked two packs a day 
and bragged at neighborhood parties (which Mrs. Caldwell did) that you 
started at age 14, how could you say no to your 15-year-old daughter? For 
Annette Janello, I suspect that her parents were too weak from grief to 
offer up any resistance to her newly discovered habit. Poor Annette got 
little attention or supervision before her older brother went to Vietnam 
and it became non-existent after he was killed. I would've thought after a 
couple loses one of their two children, they'd become even closer to the 
survivor-that they'd value that child even more. Not so at the Janello's - 
their marriage was hanging by a thread anyway and it came completely undone 
less than a year after the Army sent that fateful telegram. Annette was a 
casualty of the subsequent divorce. I learned later that she graduated from 
simply smoking cigarettes, to trying pot and eventually LSD. And this was 
all before she turned 17. 

Despite my reminiscing, I really don't dwell that much on what became of 
Annette, Cindy, or even Michelle. But I do like to often reflect on that 
surreal evening in the woods and watching them smoke. At the time, I could 
not make any sense out of my natural attraction to their smoking-it was 
just a part of me. I could recognize it but not understand it. I had not 
yet tried smoking and found myself wondering what Michelle experienced as 
she inhaled for the first time. I was so envious of them all. I remember 
being alone in my room later that night thinking that my first girlfriend 
would smoke - in fact, I would require it. I even fantasized that Michelle 
would be my first girlfriend and we'd eventually get married and she would 
smoke Virginia Slims. I went as far as pretending she would let me kiss her 
while she smoked. All this was running around in my head and I hadn't even 
turned 13! I should have known-I was doomed to be a lifelong member of our 
little club or fraternity or whatever you wanted to call it. 

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