Claire, Part 2

"Claire" (Part 2)

Jackie's Tale

I never meant to get Claire started on cigarettes, I really didn't. I would
never do that intentionally. Her and I were always pretty close. She was
always the most mature kid I had ever encountered, and when she started
staying at our place after school we would chat about all sorts of things
in a way that I would forget that she was only 12 years old. It was good to
have someone young back around the house after both my children had gone
away to university, and I appreciated having someone around. Anyway, back
to the topic at hand. As near as I can piece the story together, Claire
started herself anyway, by puffing on a lit cigarette that I had left
sitting in the ashtray. I smoke about a pack and a half a day so it wasn't
unusual for me to be smoking when Claire was there. I just never gave it a
second thought. I don't know how long she had been doing this on her own,
but one day in November I was in the kitchen and Claire was in the living
room when I heard her cough and gag. Returning to the room, I saw smoke
coming out of Claire's mouth as she tried to control her cough. I had
caught her red-handed. Seems she had either intentionally or accidentally
tried to inhale for the first time, with the expected results. I guess that
was one of the few times that Claire's sense of control deserted her, and
she begged me not to tell her parents about her indiscretion. 

I just stood there for a few seconds looking at her before I agreed to the
secrecy, but warned her not to ever do it again. But I was still a little
surprised by it all, so I tried to lighten things up by saying, "Why didn't
you just ask me if you wanted to try it?" I wasn't really serious, but
that's not how Claire took it. Nothing more was said that day about the
subject, but about a week later Claire decided to take me up on the offer.

We were sitting in the living room and I had just lit up a cigarette when
Claire asked me, cool as can be, "Jackie, I'd like you to show me how to
smoke," just as easily as if she might ask for a cookie. I was dumbfounded,
but that was typical Claire, right to the point. I tried to laugh her off,
but Claire reminded me of my statement a week previous. 

"You don't really want to smoke, honey," I told her. "You won't like the
taste, and it's not good for you. And you're way too young anyway."

"Well, I've already tasted it a few times and I don't mind the taste," she
responded. "But I'd like to be able to try it and do it the way you and mom
do," she said. "And I know it isn't supposed to be good for you. I've read
that and they tell us that in school. But you smoke and there's nothing
wrong with you. Mom too. I'm just curious what it's like. That's why I've
been trying it."

"You mean you've tried it before?," I asked. "Besides the other day?"

"A few times, yeah," she answered. "Mostly here. Mom doesn't smoke much
when we're around but I've been able to take a few from her to try. And
I've taken a few puffs from yours. I'm sorry for being sneaky about it. I'd
just really like you to show me how you do it."

"Oh, honey, I don't know...," I told her. I thought for a while about what
might be the repercussions of this. Judy and Frank wouldn't like it for
certain. After all, Claire was only 12 years old, even though she acted 20.
But she had always acted much more mature, and I thought back to my own
first experiments with smoking. I hadn't been much older than that myself,
and I knew that once I had decided to try it, nothing would have stopped
me. And she already had tried it, she had already told me that. I didn't
want to be a policeman with her, and I sure wasn't going to not smoke while
she was with me every day. A real dilemma. I was torn by it, and I wasn't
ready to give in to her just yet, so I tried to reason my way out of it.

"Claire, honey, I can't let you do that," I argued. "How do you think your
folks would feel if I did let you, and they found out?"

"They'd be mad, probably," she replied. "But they'd be mad at me anyway
now, if they were to hear what I just said. It's not like you're
encouraging me or anything. I already do it. I just want to do it with
you."

"Now, honey, that's not true, and you know it. I saw you almost choke to
death here the other day," I said. "You don't really smoke."

"But I want to!," she pleaded. "At least let me try it, please? Otherwise I
guess I'll just have to sneak around, then," she proclaimed.

"Now, wait a minute. I need to think about it," I replied. I was in a
pickle. I didn't want to let her smoke, but did I want to turn her into a
sneak? I didn't really know what to do. But she didn't make me agonize over
it too long. The very next day, I had laid a cigarette in the ashtray while
she was seated next to me. She leaned forward, placed her left hand on the
table, and slyly began to walk with her fingertips towards it, looking at
me with a grin on her face. I playfully slapped her hand away, but a few
moments later she did it again. I don't know why, but I figured, what the
hell, let her satisfy her curiosity.

She seemed surprised when I didn't stop her progress. She inched her hand
up the edge of the ashtray and hesitated for a second, looking at me in
anticipation of another slap. When I didn't respond, she suddenly captured
the cigarette between her fingertips and picked it up, smiling broadly. She
posed with it for a few seconds before I decided to call her bluff. "Go
ahead, take a puff," I challenged her. "I dare you." 

She brought the cigarette to her lips and took a small drag, blowing it out
immediately. "There! Satisfied?," I said, and she seemed to think so,
because she put it right back in the ashtray.

"Wow, that tastes cool!," she exclaimed. She smacked her tongue around
inside her mouth for a few seconds, not accustomed to the taste and the way
it made her mouth water.

"That's the menthol," I explained. "You like it?"

"Yeah, I think I do," she said. "Mom's don't taste like that at all. I
think I like yours better."

"A real expert, huh?," I said sarcastically. 

"No... I just like that minty taste better. I only had a few of mom's
anyway. I can't really smoke around home very much."

"Dammit, Claire... you shouldn't be smoking at all. I don't know why I'm
letting you try it here. I must be out of my mind," I said. 

"I just think it's neat, that's all. Please, Aunt Jackie... I promise I
won't be bad. I just would like to have a puff now and then," she pleaded.
"I would rather do it here with you, that's all. I guess I could just hang
out with the other girls after school and smoke with them, but I don't like
them all that much."

That argument again. I remembered back and knew exactly what she was
talking about. I probably was one of those kids myself all those years ago.
And I knew that if I had a choice, I probably would have preferred a
different environment if I could have gotten away with smoking. Besides,
she was such a charmer. It made my decision a little easier. "OK, Claire,
tell you what... just keep it a secret, don't tell anyone, and not hang
with those other kids, and maybe I'll let you have a puff or two here. OK?"
 
She nodded emphatically. "Thanks, Jackie," she smiled. "You are too cool! I
won't say anything, I promise. This is too much! Could I have another puff,
please?," she smiled. I sighed, and reluctantly nodded. She took a second
puff and again blew it right out. But the die was cast for the future.

The next day, she did the same thing, her hand creeping along the tabletop
towards the ashtray after I had rested my cigarette there. Another puff,
followed by a second when I lit my next one. Soon it became a ritual.   

Over the next while we fell into a bit of a routine. After school, Claire
would have a few puffs while at my place each day. She'd generally wait
until I put it in an ashtray, and then pick it up for a quick drag. True to
her word, she never hung around with the other kids who were smokers
already, but would immediately head to my place as soon as she got out of
school. And as far as I knew, she never said anything about it to a soul.
It was our little secret. 
 
It took about 6 weeks before I noticed that she was trying to inhale. The
first time I saw her do it, she held it in her mouth for a little longer
than usual and I saw her chest rising. Most of the smoke stayed in her
mouth, but after she blew it out I saw a thin stream follow as she exhaled
the little bit that had made it into her lungs. She didn't cough, or show
any reaction at all. But later that day, she tried to inhale a full puff
and I could tell she had felt that one. Her whole body seemed to jump, her
eyes grew wide and a look of shocked surprise spread over her face. She
choked immediately as it hit the back of her throat and she inelegantly
coughed it out.

"Are you OK?," I asked. She nodded and grinned sheepishly. "You really
shouldn't inhale, Claire," I scolded her, knowing that it was probably a
useless attempt on my part to stop her. 

"I was just trying to do it the same way you and mom do," she said. "But it
really felt strange. It looks so good the way you make the smoke come out
of you when you breathe. That's what you guys do, isn't it?," she asked.

"Yeah... you're right, it is. But it's what makes you get hooked too. It
feels good after a while, but because of that you can't give it up either.
I'm not comfortable yet with you doing it. Please don't," I pleaded.

"Can't I try it a little more?," she asked. "I only just tried it this last
couple of times. I'd like to be able to do it right. I don't really know
what it's like yet." 

"We'll talk about it tomorrow, OK? For now, I don't want you to do it any
more," I said. She agreed reluctantly, and didn't inhale the couple of
puffs she took the rest of the day. But I knew I was fighting a losing
battle.

I figured that maybe I had one last chance to get her turned off of smoking
for good. Kool 100s are strong, and if I were to make her inhale a whole
one, being basically a novice, there was a good chance she'd turn green and
never be tempted again. That was my plan, anyway. So the next day when she
brought the subject up again, I gave her a Kool all for herself, her first.
She looked at me in surprise, but happily so. That was a big enough treat
for her, but I had bigger plans. I lit it for her, then lit one myself. I
watched her blow out a puff and sort of smack her tongue around inside her
mouth, sampling the menthol. She took another little puff and blew it out.
I decided to put my plan into action. 

"Claire, we were talking yesterday about how you wanted to learn how to
inhale. Would you still like to be able to do that?," I asked. 

"Sure! Can I?," she asked keenly.

"Fine, I'll show you then" I replied innocently. "Most people who smoke,
inhale. That is, they breathe in the smoke. Sure you want to try it?" She
nodded firmly. "OK, watch me first. You take a puff, but instead of blowing
it out, you breathe it in. You just have to breathe out your nose while
you're puffing. Like this," I concluded, before demonstrating for her
benefit. I inhaled quite deliberately, and then blew out a long, slow
stream. "There. Think you can do that?"

"I think so... let me try it," she said. 

"Just a second, missy," I interrupted. "Remember what happened to you
yesterday? I don't want you to cough your brains out. Just take a small
puff the first time, sort of like sipping on a straw. Otherwise you'll
choke if you try inhaling too much smoke right away. OK?"

"All right, Jackie," she replied with a grin. "Now can I try it?" I nodded,
and she moved the Kool to her lips, and drew on it gently. She withdrew it
after a couple of seconds, and held the smoke in her mouth briefly. For a
second I thought she had chickened out. But then she opened her mouth
exposing a white ball of smoke that I saw quickly vanish as she
successfully drew it down into her lungs. I saw her body jump slightly in
response to the sensation, but she was able to complete her first full
inhale without choking. After a few seconds she began her exhale, and she
grinned as she saw the tiny jet of smoke she was able to create. "Ohhhh,
Jackie...," she said, sounding a little overwhelmed.

"How did that feel?," I asked. 

"Wow... kinda weird," she sighed. "It felt like I was going to cough at
first, but it went away. My chest felt really... kind of full. That part
was neat. And it feels all cool and tingly there still. But I think it'll
take me a while to get used to that. Does it always feel that way?"

"No, after a while it feels pretty normal. You just need to get accustomed
to it a little. Try it again, and see how it feels a second time. Try a bit
of a longer puff this time," I suggested, helpfully trying to get her to
overdose herself. She needed little encouragement and eagerly took another,
slightly deeper but still partial draw on the Kool. She parted her lips and
I saw a mouthful of smoke, then heard her quickly breathe it in. She smiled
almost uncontrollably at her progress while she blew out another jet.

"Oh, wow, that was cool!," she exclaimed after she recovered her breath
following a full exhale. She giggled girlishly.

I took a long, leisurely drag myself, inhaled deeply, and eventually blew
it out very casually. "Good, I'm glad you like it. Now, don't let that go
to waste... I want you to finish that, OK?" Claire nodded emphatically, and
took a long, eager puff, four or five seconds worth, as the cigarette
burned brightly for what looked like a quarter-inch. She inhaled again, and
I saw her eyes widen as she felt the smoke completely fill her lungs for
the first time. I suddenly thought back to my own first full inhale and
remembered the strange but exciting feeling again, the thump in the chest,
the surge of adrenaline, the light-headedness, all of which I was certain
Claire was now feeling too. She exhaled much less enthusiastically, and I
knew she was starting to feel it. But the cigarette was almost
half-finished, and I started to wonder if I had miscalculated. I tried to
get her to finish herself off, but she was too canny for me. She took a few
more puffs, but they were smaller, and she only inhaled them lightly,
blowing it out almost right away. She was very pale by this time, and
complained about feeling light-headed, but by then she had finished it.
Claire had survived her first cigarette without getting sick. The rest of
the day she spent quietly, even taking a nap for a little while, and never
asked me for another puff.  

The next day, though, she was back to sampling puffs. She inhaled every
one. The smile on her face told me she liked it, and I knew I had made a
mistake. She had taken another step towards becoming a smoker and was
starting to enjoy the journey. She kept it up for a few weeks more, and I
noticed that her technique was becoming much more experienced. She was
puffing more confidently and had started to inhale almost automatically
now. Even her exhales were no longer as quick and instant as they had been,
like those of so many new smokers. It now took Claire several breaths for
her to expel all the smoke from her lungs after each inhale, and I could
see a thin trail of smoke coming from her nostrils for some time after each
puff. She had just turned 13, and already was getting good at this. I knew
she was probably also getting hooked. 

For me, the ritual was getting old in a hurry. I felt Claire staring at me
whenever I lit up, watching like a hawk, waiting for me to put the
cigarette in the ashtray so she could snag a quick puff. Finally I had
enough. One day I lit up and put it in the ashtray, and she immediately
grabbed it. While she was taking a puff I took out another Kool and lit up
again. "You might as well have that one," I said. "I really feel like I
want one for myself." Her eyes widened and she smiled. She smoked the whole
thing like it was nothing at all, inhaling like she had been doing it for
years. She had her technique down pat, that's for sure.

The next day, I finally dropped the pretense with her. "Claire, it's time
to end the game. Since you've been smoking every day for a while, you may
as well have a cigarette for yourself. One a day, no more. OK? Just ask me
when you want it, and I'll have one with you. Sound fair?"

"Oh, Jackie, sure! That's great!," she said, grinning happily. "Can I have
it now? I've been thinking about it all day today for some reason," she
said. "I really feel like smoking right now."

I shook loose a few Kools and extended the pack towards her. She pulled one
out and I did the same. I lit her up first, and as I was lighting my own I
watched as she took a surprisingly hard puff, then inhaled deeply. She
leaned back on the sofa and held the smoke in for a few seconds before
exhaling a long stream, sighing with satisfaction. "Feels good, doesn't
it?," I asked with a smile.

"It sure does," she answered through wisps of retained smoke, grinning
sheepishly. "It feels really, really nice. I like these. I wish I could
smoke all the time, like you and mom do," she said before she began another
puff on her cigarette and gulped it eagerly down into her lungs once more.

"If you keep on smoking like that, you'll have to before much longer," I
said. "Claire, do you know what a craving is?" She nodded her head. "Well,
that's what you were probably feeling today. That's why you were thinking
about having that cigarette all day long. That's what happens. You start to
like it and your body tells you it wants you to smoke. Do you think you can
handle that? Because if you can't you better stop smoking right now.
Otherwise, sooner or later you'll have to tell your folks. I can't hide it
from them much longer. I shouldn't be doing this at all."

"I don't get it," she said. "I was just feeling like I wanted to smoke
today, that's all. It was no big deal."

"Claire, do you think I could stop smoking now? Why do you think I smoke so
much?"

"I don't know... I guess you could stop if you wanted to," she said.

"I can't, honey. That's what I'm talking about. I'm hooked. I've smoked for
so long now that I can't give it up. I need to smoke now. It's not like
it's a choice for me any more. But you still have that choice. It's up to
you."

"You sound like you don't like it. I don't understand," she said. "I always
thought you liked to smoke."

"Oh, but I do," I explained. "That's what's so crazy about it. I love to
smoke, but I hate needing to smoke. I know that's hard to understand. I
mean, I still really enjoy how smoking makes me feel... just like you've
started to. I bet you like the feeling you get when you inhale, right?," I
asked. Claire smiled, and nodded. "Well, I do too. I love doing that. I
just wish I had a choice anymore. But I don't, because I can't stop. I
don't do it because I want to, I do it because I need to. Big difference."

Maybe Claire didn't understand me, or maybe I didn't do a good job of
explaining it to her. Whatever, it didn't seem to mean much to her. She
thought for only a few seconds before she responded. "Jackie, I just really
like to smoke. I think I'd like to keep doing it. Like I said, I think I'd
actually like to smoke more than just here with you. Do you think I might
be able to? Do you think mom might let me if we told her? Since she smokes
herself and all...," she said, looking at me hopefully before she took
another puff from her Kool.

"Are you absolutely sure?," I shot back. "Are you ready for the cough, the
smoker's breath, of smelling like smoke all the time? Having breathing that
won't let you run up a flight of stairs without needing a rest? And the
damn cravings that drive you crazy when you can't smoke, and make you want
one whenever you see anyone else smoking too? Are you absolutely sure,
Claire?"

She pondered for a few seconds before she answered. "You feel all those
things, but you still smoke anyway. I don't know exactly about what you're
saying, but I know that I like to smoke too. So yeah, I'm sure. I want to
smoke like you and mom, Jackie."

"OK, missy, if you're sure that's the way you want it," I said with a sigh.
I knew deep down my lecture would do no good. Claire had smoked long enough
to be captured by it, and she wasn't about to stop now. "I'll try to think
of a way to bring it up with your mom. Just don't hold me responsible if
she goes ballistic, OK? I really don't know how she'll react, but I think
she'll be pretty pissed at both of us," I warned. 

Claire's face broke into a huge smile. "Oh, thanks Jackie!," she said,
leaning towards me and giving me a big hug. "If you could find a way to get
mom to let me smoke too, that'd be fantastic! I just don't know how I'd
ever be able to tell her myself," she said, her face becoming more somber.
"I know she wouldn't be happy about it. But they always act like I'm a
little kid whenever I do something I want to do that they don't agree with.
I wish they'd realize I'm growing up."

Over the next few weeks I tried to think of a way to raise the subject with
Judy. It was tough. There didn't seem to be any easy way to just slip the
topic into conversation, and I didn't want to just come out and tell her.
Meanwhile, Claire was still puffing away at my place every day, and she was
now having 2 or 3 cigs a day with me. It was hopeless to try and hold her
to just one, I quickly discovered. She would have her first immediately
upon arriving, and after about a half-hour would start watching me like a
hawk again, waiting to steal a few puffs from mine. After a couple of days
I just let her smoke when she felt like it, and she felt like it every hour
or so. I have to admit it seemed to suit her, and she smoked like an adult,
not the way most teenagers do.

I finally had my chance to bring up the subject one night when Judy stopped
in for a visit by herself. We were sitting around having coffee when she
reached into her purse for her cigarettes and found none. "Damn," she said,
"I must have left them in the car. Can I have one of yours, Jackie?". Of
course, I responded, and as we lit up I decided to see how much she knew
about her daughter's behavior. 

"Has Claire ever talked to you about smoking?," I asked as casually as I
could manage without trying to seem too obvious.

"Oh, sure," Judy answered. "She always used to ask me when I was going to
stop when she would see me smoke. You know, I think they drill that into
kid's heads these days starting in first grade. She used to bug me about it
all the time, but lately she seems to have given up, thank goodness. Why,
is she bothering you when she's here? Just tell her to mind her own
business. She should know better than to criticize you."

"No, no, she's fine with it, it's not that," I replied. "It's just that...
she's, uh... asked me some questions about smoking, that's all. I was just
wondering if she did the same with you." 

"No, she's never mentioned it," Judy said. "You don't think she wants to
try it, do you? Oh, I hope not... I see where it's all the rage now among
kids her age, but I can't imagine she'd ever smoke. It just doesn't seem
like her. Let me know if you ever hear her say anything about it. I'd want
to nip that in the bud."

"What would you do if you found out she was smoking?," I asked. "Would you
let her?"

"At her age? Don't be silly," Judy shot back. "Why are you asking me this
anyway?"

"I'm just curious. After all, mom and dad let us smoke when we were her
age, and I let my kids try it when they asked, and they were about the same
age too. I was wondering how you'd handle it if it ever came up."

"I just can't imagine Claire smoking," Judy answered. "Fortunately, she
doesn't seem to be the type. I hope it never comes up."
  
So much for that idea, I thought. I didn't want to press this any further,
so I let it drop. But clearly Judy would be a tough nut to crack. Claire
was disappointed the next day when I told her about the conversation, and
even more so when I told her she'd have to handle things with her mom on
her own. She frowned and smoked in silence for a minute, but eventually
said that she appreciated my attempt to help her and would just have to be
satisfied with smoking at my place for now.

For the rest of the school year things continued along the same lines, with
Claire smoking about 3 cigs a day with me each afternoon. There were a few
interesting developments though. She had been sharing my Kool 100s all this
time, but one day after school I had to go shopping so I drove to the
school and picked her up on the way. I needed to buy a carton of cigs
myself, and as we stood in front of the cigarette display in the market she
piped up.
"I wonder what some of these are like?," she asked. "I'd like to try
something different one of these days, I think," she stated thoughtfully. 

There was very little that was rational about the entire situation anymore,
so I suppose that explains why I said what I did. "Well, if you'd like to
try something else, let me know. I don't mind buying you some," I said. 

"Really?," she said, brightening. "Could I get a package of something new?"

"I suppose so. What would you like?," I answered quietly. I didn't want
anyone to hear this conversation except Claire.

"Geez, I really don't know," she said. "There are so many different
kinds..."

"Well, the first decision is menthol or not. Do you want menthols or
regulars?"

"Menthols, I think," she replied quickly. "I've had a couple of mom's
Parliaments, and I like the cool taste of yours better."

"OK, that narrows it down some," I whispered. "Now, do you find my Kools
too strong? We could get you something lighter."

"No, they're not too bad. I don't know about the light ones, I've never
tried them. I think what I would like, though, is something with a white
filter," she said. 

"So, we're talking a menthol, all-white, not too light. Let's see... there
are Salems, Virginia Slims, Belairs, Marlboro Menthol Lights, Benson &
Hedges..."

"How about Virginia Slims? Could I try some of those?," she asked.

"Fine. Virginia Slims it is, then," I answered. "Let me get them for you
though. Best not to let anyone know they're for you."

When we finally went through the checkout line I selected a pack of VS
Menthol Lights from the display and placed them on the belt. I chose the
Lights for her, maybe to try and soothe my conscience a bit. After they
went through the scanner I put them in my purse, to eliminate any possible
chance of someone seeing Claire take them. We loaded the groceries into the
car and after I got behind the wheel and started the engine I pulled out my
Kools and lit up as I always did. I handed Claire her pack of cigarettes,
saying "Here you are. Give them a try, see what you think."  

Claire took them and looked at me for a moment. "You mean, right now?," she
asked, puzzled. "Here in the car?"

"If you want. I know you haven't had one today yet, and we're not going to
be home for a little while yet. Be my guest, if you don't mind taking the
chance that someone might see you," I said.

She thought about it for just a moment, then wasted no more time. She
stripped open her first pack and managed to extract a cigarette. "These are
kinda skinny," she said.

"That's why they're called slims, kiddo," I said jokingly as I handed her
my lighter.

"Oh... I see," she answered. "I never realized... I just sort of thought it
was a nickname or something. Well, here goes," she said as she flicked the
lighter. She lit up expertly and puffed out some smoke as she handed the
lighter back to me. Then I saw her slowly bring the cigarette back to her
lips and she took a thoughtful, long draw. She inhaled, sampling the smoke
and holding it in for a few seconds, before exhaling towards the dashboard.
"These taste really mentholly, more than yours do," she said. "My mouth
feels almost cold." She giggled, then tried another puff. I heard her
inhale and I could swear I heard her sigh. She exhaled slowly as she
cracked the car window. "These are really... really good, Jackie. They feel
really nice. I think I like them more than yours," she smiled. She tapped
ash into the car ashtray as we pulled towards the parking lot gate. As I
handed the ticket to the attendant I saw her try to shield the cigarette
from his view by holding it down beside her thigh. She still felt
uncomfortable about letting anyone see her smoking, I guess. 

She finished the cigarette on our drive home. After we got there and put
away the groceries I made some coffee for us and we sat down around the
kitchen table. She actually beat me to the lighter this time as she lit up
another VS without a moment's hesitation. I soon joined her with one of my
Kools. "Geez, these are good," she offered after she had taken 2 or 3
puffs. "Somehow, they just seem easier to smoke than yours. Is that because
they're lights?"

"Probably," I replied. "These ones of mine are pretty potent. That's why I
like them, but they might be a little much for someone who hasn't smoked
very much. I'm glad you like those ones. But don't get carried away, OK?"
She nodded and smiled.

Just before she was due to be picked up, she had one last cigarette than
ran upstairs to brush her teeth. When she returned, she saw the VS pack on
the table and suddenly realized she couldn't take them with her. We
arranged for her to store them in one of the kitchen drawers, and she left
shortly thereafter. The next day she arrived at 3:30, tossed her knapsack
into the corner, and immediately made a beeline to the drawer for her
cigarettes. She smoked four of them that day, and that became her new daily
ration. Within a week the pack was finished and I bought her another after
asking whether she'd like to try something different, an offer that she
instantly declined. 

After a few weeks I was starting to wonder how she was getting through her
weekends without smoking after watching her puff with such enthusiasm at my
place each day, so eventually I asked her. She blushed slightly and paused
for a moment before confessing. "It's getting hard," she admitted. "I
really want to smoke during the weekends too now. I think about it all the
time. I almost went to the store to try and buy a pack of my own last week.
At least then I could have gone somewhere to have one. It was driving me
crazy. To be totally honest... I snuck a couple from mom, but I really
didn't like to do that. I don't like hers near as much as these, but it's
just that I wanted one so bad... do you think I could have a pack of my
own, Jackie? I promise I would be careful," she pleaded suddenly.

I felt some sympathy for her now that she was starting to feel a craving to
smoke, but despite that I had to put my foot down. "I'm sorry, sweetie," I
said. "But I can't do that for you. It's one thing for you to have a
cigarette here with me -- I suppose I could dream up something to explain
that away -- but there's no way I could ever do more than that. Not until
your folks know that you're a smoker now. You're getting to the point where
you need to tell them."

We chatted about how she could do that, and Claire said that she would try
to find a way to tell them soon. But for the remainder of the school year
she managed to get by without breaking the news to them. I assume she was
still taking cigarettes from her mother during the weekends, though I never
asked. But once she started her summer vacation, things rapidly turned
around.

Sometime about a week into her summer break, Claire showed up unexpectedly
at my place around lunchtime on a beautiful June Saturday. I was outside on
the patio working on some flower boxes when she appeared from around the
corner. I was a little surprised because it was a fairly long trip from her
place to mine, and she seldom had come by on her own. It didn't take her
long to get to the point of her visit. "I was wondering... are there are
still some cigarettes of mine here? Are they still in the drawer?," she
asked in staccato fashion. 

"I think so," I answered. "Go take a look and bring them out here. I'll
have one with you."

Claire quickly disappeared into the house and reappeared almost as quickly,
VS pack in hand. I joined her at the patio table and offered her a light.
As I lit up myself, I was a little surprised to see Claire take a huge
puff, greedily gulping the smoke deep into her lungs, then double-pump for
the first time, almost unconsciously. She held the smoke inside for what
was an eternity for her, and when her exhale finally came it was
accompanied by a distinct sigh of fulfilment. She must have been feeling
quite desperate after not having smoked for so long, and she saw my
amusement as she looked up.

"I'm sorry Jackie," she said. "I never felt like having a cigarette before
as bad as I did today. I was just dying for one! I really missed them this
week." She began another long pull on her VS, and kept it up until the
cigarette was quickly consumed. Almost immediately she lit up again,
explaining, "I think I'll have another quick one. Mom said something about
going shopping and she'll be looking for me. I told her I'd only be here a
little while." As if on cue, though, suddenly appearing from around the
corner of the house, behind Claire, was the figure of her mother. My heart
jumped in surprise, but I'm sure not half as much as Judy's did judging
from the look that appeared on her face. 

==

End of Part 2

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