A Letter from Paradise, Part 4

    4. Give Me a Ticket for an Aeroplane

    I won't bore you with all the little endearments we whispered to each
other that first morning. A maid and butler had appeared from somewhere, and
we enjoyed a delightful, no-hassle breakfast in bed. I asked Laurie why she
wanted to work, and she told me she just wasn't cut out for the life of the
idle rich.

    However, I thought I might manage to get used to it.

    While Laurie showered, I realized that I had nothing to wear but the
clothes I had worn yesterday. They were quite the worse for wear, too, showing
signs of the exertions I has undergone in other eras, even though my clothes
had looked different each time I "traveled." One of my pants legs was pretty
torn up, and I quickly examined my actual leg. Sure enough, I saw faint lines
of scars, reminders of wounds I might have suffered many years ago.

    [Twilight Zone theme plays.]

    When I told Laurie my problem, she said, "Don't worry," and led me to
another bedroom. She opened a closet to reveal a row of hanging dress shirts
and suits. I pulled out a suit and examined it. It was of the finest fabric,
with two pairs of pants. Obviously, it was a custom cut. All the suits were
like that. Had to be $1500 dollars each, at least.

    "Whose are these?" I asked.

    "Yours," said Laurie.

    "Mine? But I never..."

    "Try one on."

    I picked a charcoal gray, pin-stripped number while Laurie produced new
underwear and socks. The suit looked like it had never been worn. And, of
course, it fit like the proverbial glove, as if I'd been measured for it that
morning.

    Laurie smiled and handed me a tie. Again, that air of mystery!

    I didn't press. Instead I kissed her, thanked her, and we set off for
work.

    I'm going to fast forward through the next week. I could write volumes
about the smoking sightings I had just walking through the Boderlands offices,
and about the terrific, smoke-laden sex Laurie and I had each and every night
(though I usually couldn't match my staying power of that first unforgettable
evening), but...it gets too repetitious.

    What's that I hear? Boos and hisses? Cries of tell me more? OK, one
incident...

    Ms. Jamison visited us in our two-person cubicle that first morning and
shared a cigarette with us. She was quite pleased that we seemed to be getting
along so well. The old busybody! Still, I silently blessed her and all her
progeny born and yet to come for the gift she had given me.

    Later that same day she returned, bringing with her a cute little girl of
13 or so. The tike had long, auburn hair exactly matching Ms. Jamison's shade,
twin braids hanging over nascent breasts. She was wearing the familiar (in
Central Ohio, anyway) Columbus School for Girls uniform. $12,000 a year, K
through 12, I recalled.

    "Laurie, Grant, I'd like you to meet my daughter Patty," Ms. Jamison said.
"Patty, this is Miss Banning and Mr. Grant."

    Patty said hello.

    "Laurie," said Ms. Jamison, sounding rather stuffy and formal as she often
did, "I brought Patty specifically to meet you. She has finished her four-year
supervised smoking acclimation program at school. She is now at the age where
a young lady should be smoking with style and experience on her own."

    Behind her mother, Patty squirmed with embarrassment.

    Supervised smoking? In school? What a country!

    Ms Jamison continued. "But, I'm afraid Patty still hasn't quite got the
knack. She's willing enough..." Patty was turning bright red. I felt for her
tried to flash a comforting smile. "but the habit just hasn't taken the way we
hoped it would. I thought that if she met you, a young, attractive person and
superb smoker, well, she might...you see."

    Was this in the job description? I wondered.

    Laurie gave Patty an odd look. Wistful, with longing...and perhaps
sadness. I filed that one away for later.

    Laurie's strange expression melted like spring snow as she smiled warmly
at Patty. "Ms. Jamison, I'd be glad to help...if Patty wants me to. Do you,
Patty?"

    Patty cast her eyes down, still mortified. However, she replied in a
tentative voice, "Yes Miss Banning, would you please?"

    "Of course, Patty," said Laurie. "Ms. Jamison, Grant, could you please
leave me and Patty alone for a little while? It might be easier..."

    "I'll be in my office," said Ms. Jamison, smiling and obviously pleased.
She left, and I followed. However, I slipped into an empty, adjoining cubicle
where I could spy through the cracks between the partitions.

    I watched Laurie take both of Patty's hands in hers and hold them. She
guided Patty to my vacated chair and pulled her own close beside it. For about
ten minutes they made small talk, about school, boys, clothes, music, all the
usual things a 13-year-old girl might like to talk about. She told Patty to
call her Laurie. Patty beamed, obviously becoming more relaxed.

    She's wonderful with that child, I thought. Amazing for someone so young,
and with no children of her own...

    Finally, Laurie said "Patty, would you like to have a cigarette with me?"

    "Yes, Laurie," said Patty, but she didn't sound too sure about the idea.

    Laurie produced cigarettes, took one for Patty and herself. Laurie lit
Patty's first, then her own.

    Laurie's first puff was conservative, for her, as she carefully watched
Patty take a drag. Patty managed to inhale with no difficulty, but she chuffed
her exhale out unevenly and awkwardly. Like a normal kid in my own world, I
thought. But maybe not so normal here, after four years of training!

    Laurie blew out a long, thin stream of smoke, playfully scattering and
merging with Patty's exhale. Patty couldn't help but giggle a little at this
childish behavior from a grown-up, but I could see she was still upset.

    "You see!" Patty said. "It's no good. I look like a non when I smoke!"

    Non, I mused. No doubt slang for a non-smoker.

    Laurie grasped both of Patty's shoulders and looked intently into her
eyes. You have no idea how privileged you are kid, I whispered to myself.

    Laurie said, "Patty, you do not look like a non! Here's what a non looks
like!" Laurie too a short drag, inhaled shallowly, and began to cough
theatrically, her head jerking around, smoke escaping randomly for all
available orifices. Patty laughed. I almost did too, but clamped my jaw shut
in time.

    "Patty, you're only problem is you're a little self-conscious. Smoking is
very relaxing if you let it be. Here, watch me." Laurie took one of her
patented long drags, inhaled, held it, and blew a strong stream from her
mouth, joined by a faint trail from her upturned nostrils. Nothing fancy. Just
basic Sexy Smoking 101. The smoke swirled around Patty's face; she didn't
flinch. Of course not. She been acclimated. Acclimated!

    "Now you. And remember, let the smoke relax you. It will, I promise. Don't
think about style or tricks. Just be yourself. That's all it's about. Be
yourself, and the rest will follow."

    Patty took a drag. She was still somewhat self-conscious, but her exhale
was noticeably improved.

    Laurie resumed the small talk, mixing in more reassurances as they smoked
together. With each puff, Patty was more relaxed, her smoking more
adult-looking. Laurie complemented each success gently, skillfully avoiding
the trap of drawing too much attention to what was happening.

    That first cigarette was followed by a second, third, and fourth. By the
third, Patty's exhales looked pretty much like anyone else's in a world of
expert smokers. Laurie worked in some smoking games, blowing smoke at each
other, competing for the longest plume, trying to spread an exhale over the
most breaths. Laurie held back and let Patty win a few, but not too many.
There was much giggling and laughing. By the time they stubbed out their
fourth cigarette, it was hard to tell the two smokers apart, except for
Patty's smaller lung capacity. That child could pick a worse style to imitate,
I thought. A lot worse.

    Laurie stood and asked Patty to wait in the cubicle. "I'm going to go tell
you mom what we did, and how well you're doing. You can talk to her about it
yourself later, if you want, but if you don't, then don't. I'll be right
back." Patty was grinning, and took another cigarette on her own while Laurie
was gone. She walked around the cubicle, practicing various sorts of inhales
and exhales. She would be fine.

    And I'll bet Ms. Jamison is getting a gentle lecture from Laurie about
what happens when you put too much pressure on a little girl, I thought.

    Ms. Jamison, beaming with pride, returned with Laurie and took Patty by
the hand. Mother and daughter departed, and I returned to our cube.

    "Very well done," I said, meaning it, and applauded lightly. "You missed
your calling."

    Laurie gave me her most radiant smile, holding nothing back. "I'm glad you
saw, but I'm gladder Patty didn't notice. That would have not been good," she
chided, but the smile never wavered. "It's quitting time. Let's make like
hockey players and get the puck out of here."

    The next week was Christmas, and Borderlands would be closed for the week
after. I looked forward hungrily to that week. I moved in with Laurie, of
course, stopping by my old place (which was right where I expected it to be,
and just as clean) only once to pick up some stuff and cancel my lease. I
certainly did not feel crowded or trapped in Laurie's house, despite my
recently solitary habits. I could take a wrong turn in there and never see her
again. Perish the thought!

    Although we checked several times, the "Smoking Curios" shop, where all
this began, never reopened. On Tuesday of Christmas week, an "Out of Business"
sign appeared in its window.

    I stared at the closed shop, feeling an unexpected pang of loss. All I
could say was, "My old Zippo's in there." I sounded like a lost little boy.

    "Awww, don't worry, snookums," Laurie chuckled, taking my arm in hers.
"Santa will bring you a new one for Christmas." Which he did.

    And that was that. Almost.

    On Christmas Eve, we got a postcard addressed to us both at Laurie's
address. Since I hadn't advertised my new living arrangements as yet, this was
peculiar. On the back was a printed notice: "WE HAVE MOVED." Below was the
name "Smoking Curios" and an address on 33rd Street in New York.

    New York?

    Below the printed messages was a handwritten one: "Please come soon. Bring
the Instruments. You are needed. (signed) NG.

    The postcard, of course, smelled of cigarette smoke.

    "Ng?" I said. "Isn't that a Korean name? And what are the 'Instruments'?"

    Laurie was lost in thought, staring at the postcard, and didn't seem to
hear me. Her expression told me she was worried "Do you think we should go?"
she asked.
    .
    "Of course! I said, still not in sync with Laurie. "Natalia called my
magic lighter an instrument!" I paused. "What did you say?"

    "I said I think we should go," said Laurie. She seemed genuinely exited
now, all trace of worry gone. I was pretty sure that wasn't what she said the
first time, but I let it pass. "We have a week off together, don't we? I'll
tell Niles to make the arrangements." Niles was the butler.

    And so our fates were sealed. [Scary music, please].

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