Relationships of Convenience, Part 2 | |
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This story contains adult language and themes. If such language and themes offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1998 by SSTORYMAN. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this story 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. RELATIONSHIPS OF CONVENIENCE Part 2 After Aimee had dropped her off at home, Brandi walked to the strip shopping center down the street. It was a ten minute hike. It was Friday night. The weather was pleasant. Walking seemed like a good idea. In addition, there was a Dunkin Donuts store in the shopping center. That had something to do with Brandi's motivation. She walked by the shopping center's coffee shop. A couple dozen people sat in the outdoor seating area drinking coffee. A voice called out from one of the tables. "Brandi? Brandi Johnston?" Brandi looked. One young woman sat alone. She smiled. She was the one who called. She was blond, attractive and strangely familiar. "Bette?" Brandi gasped. "Bette Sanderson! Oh my God! I haven't seen you for ages. How are you?" "Not since high school," the other girl replied. She sat with a magazine, a cup of coffee and a big smile. "I'm fine. God, you look great. You're still tall and thin and cute as a button! Except, what's with the short, frizzy hair? Is that new? Sit down and chat, if you have time." Brandi Johnston and Bette Sanderson were high school friends who went separate ways after graduation. Like her sister, Paige, Bette Sanderson was an attractive blond. Tonight she wore a burgundy jogging suit with gold stripes. She looked relaxed and carefree. She brushed her blond hair away from her face, and peered over her sunglasses. Brandi sat down. "I live with my sister," she said. "We both work at Rogers Paving on Summit Avenue in the accounting offices. How about you? What are you doing?" Bette smiled. "I'm studying fashion design at the University," she said. "I live in the dorms. I also work full time. My schedule's packed. Quite a change from high school." Brandi nodded. "Yeah. But we had fun in high school," she sighed. A light breeze wafted through the early evening air. The conversation was slightly forced, almost awkward - strange, in light of their history together. "Do you ever see the others from high school?" Brandi finally asked. "A few," Bette replied. "I see Karyn and Christina once in awhile. But I lost track of Susanna, Lindsey and you." She smiled. "Until now, that is. We did have good times together. I'll never forget how we used to sneak out during lunch option to smoke together!" Brandi nodded. She saw cigarette butts in the ashtray and a pack of Salem Light 100's on the table beside Bette's coffee cup. "I gather you're still smoking?" Brandi asked. Bette smiled. "Of course," she laughed. "You know me. I'm never gonna quit!" She fingered her pack of Salem Light 100's and absent-mindedly spun it on the table. "What about you? Did you ever come out of the closet? Or are you still a secret smoker?" "No, I never came out of the closet," Brandi admitted. "Actually, I quit." "Why? I thought you'd 'go public' as soon as you turned 18. What happened?" Brandi sighed. "It's a long story. It was a health thing. You remember when I developed diabetes before our senior year?" Bette nodded. "Yeah, you had to prick your finger all the time in the rest room, to test your blood sugar," she answered. "It grossed us out!" "Right," Brandi agreed. "But my smoking was secret from everyone, including my doctor. Right after graduation I went in for a checkup. My doctor asked if I smoked. I think she smelled it on my clothes. I didn't know what to say. I was turning 18 soon. Mom had always said Aimee and I could make our own decisions about tobacco, but we had to wait 'til we were legal age. She was super strict, so I didn't want her to know 'til I turned 18." Bette interrupted. "Before you go on, do you mind if I smoke?" "No," Brandi shrugged. "Go ahead." Bette put a cigarette in her mouth and reached for her lighter. In one sweeping motion she raised it and clicked the button. The flame caught the cigarette's tip. She pulled hard, resulting in an initial mouthful of smoke which she quickly sucked into her waiting lungs. She smiled. "Thanks. I needed that." Bette exhaled twin streams of smoke from her nostrils while the cigarette dangled from her lips. "Go on," she said, finally removing the cigarette after a second drag. "Finish." Brandi smiled. Seeing her old friend smoke brought back memories. She continued. "My doctor gave me a lecture about smoking and diabetes. She said smoking increases the risks of heart disease and circulatory problems, both of which are already greater risks for insulin dependent diabetics." Brandi shook her head. "It scared me. I quit, two weeks before my eighteenth birthday." She looked at Bette. "Ironic, huh? She scared the shit out of me." Bette exhaled a stream of smoke in the evening air. "I'd have told that bitch to go fuck herself," she smirked irreverently. She exhaled the residue of the smoke and added. "Too bad. But did you miss it?" "At first. But Mom got sick soon after that. Aimee and I spent lots of time at the hospital that summer. I got out of the routine of smoking. When Mom finally died É." Her voice tailed off. She smiled. "I didn't think about it much after that." She paused. "Until today," she added. Bette seemed pleased by Brandi's admission. "I'll bet it's because I'm smoking. Do you miss it because you're jealous seeing me with a cigarette?" "Not really," Brandi sighed. "My sister Aimee said the strangest thing last night She suggested smoking might help control my compulsive eating." "Wow! Your sister never knew you smoked?" "No," Brandi smiled. "It was a secret." She blushed. "Aimee's worried because I'm not supposed to eat junk food," she explained. "But sometimes É okay, I'll be honest É lots of times I eat doughnuts and other stuff. It makes my blood sugar go super high. That's bad." "Why?" asked Bette, again exhaling a cloud of smoke. "High blood sugar is bad for diabetics," Brandi answered. "It causes complications." "But are they worse than the problems smoking supposedly causes?" "I guess," Brandi admitted. "High blood sugar is a killer in the long run." "Isn't that interesting?" Bette smiled sweetly. "What a great idea! If you smoke, you won't eat junk food. Shit, you won't need to. You'll be too busy puffing away," she added sarcastically. She paused to tap some ashes on the ground. "I wish someone would tell _me_ smoking is a good idea. But you're right, smoking does control my appetite," she went on. "But hell, you know that. You smoked with me in high school. What are you waiting for?" She held out her pack of Salems. "Do you want one?" Brandi hesitated. "No thanks," she said reluctantly. "Why not?" Bette demanded. "I thought your sister wanted you to. Go ahead." Brandi shook her head. "Last night Aimee changed her mind, said she was sorry she brought up such a dumb idea. But I started thinking. I liked it in high school. Smoking might help my eating problem. But if I did start again, I'll never be able to quit next time." "So? Don't let there be a next time," Brandi shot back. If you smoke instead of eat, everyone will be happy. You always liked smoking in high school. I figured you'd be a pack a day girl if you ever came out of the closet. You got sidetracked, that's all. C'mon back into the fold." Again, Bette held out her pack of Salems. Brandi nervously tapped her fingers on the table. "I don't know, Bette, É." Bette ground her cigarette into the ashtray. Without hesitation, she took two more Salems from the pack and put them in her mouth. She lit them, simultaneously puffing on both cigarettes at once. A huge cloud of smoke escaped from the corners of her mouth. Removing one, she held it out to Brandi. "Here," Bette smiled smugly, the other cigarette still propped in her mouth. She wiggled the one between her fingers. "Take it." "God, Bette, I'm not sure É," stammered Brandi. "Take it, damn it," Bette ordered. A cigarette dangled from her pouting lips; streams of smoke trickled from her nostrils. "If you don't take it, this second cigarette will go to waste. I can only smoke one at a time. Will you take it or not?" Brandi reached out and took the lit cigarette. It had been a long time since she'd held one. But it didn't seem strange. It seemed É normal. She looked at it. God, she held a burning cigarette in her fingers, and it was waiting for her to É. "Take a puff," Bette whispered. "Go ahead! Brandi, the cigarette will taste _so_ good! Oh, baby! Remember how great the sweet, thick, milky-white smoke feels when it trickles down into your lungs? God, I know you do. Wrap your sweet lips around that clean white filter tip and take a long, deep drag. Suck that wonderful, rich smoke into your lungs. It's just like the old days, Brandi. C'mon. Do it!" Hypnotized, Brandi lifted the cigarette to her mouth. A change in the wind blew smoke in her face. It smelled inviting, pleasant. This cigarette is waiting to be smoked, she thought. She placed her lips around the filter. "That's the girl!" encouraged Bette. "Take a big drag. Don't be shy. You want it. It'll feel so fuckin' good! Go for it!" Brandi began to suck. Motor memory suddenly kicked in, and she drew harder. Smoke filled her mouth. It tasted good, like she remembered. She inhaled. For a moment the smoke felt strange in her lungs. Then, suddenly, it was pure heaven! "Oh, God," Brandi exclaimed. "This is great!" She pursed her lips and slowly emptied her lungs. The stream of smoke was rich and thick. "Naturally," Bette answered smugly. "What did you expect? Welcome back, Brandi. After two years in anti-land, you're a smoker again. It must feel good! Admit it. Isn't it great?" Brandi was in the middle of another long drag. She wanted more smoke. "Yes," she gasped, inhaling again. "The menthol is so cool. God, it's good." She paused to exhale another stream of milky white smoke into the breeze. "But I'm only smoking one." "Yeah, right," Bette said sarcastically. "Look at you. You're smoking like a maniac. Do you want to stop?" Brandi was on her third drag. She exhaled. "No, I don't want to stop," she sighed. "You're right. I love smoking. God, I wonder if Aimee would really let me smoke? It doesn't feel like a dumb idea right now!" The thought of smoking in their apartment excited Brandi. She imagined how it would be to smoke in her bedroom, with no one to tell her she shouldn't or couldn't. She pushed the last of the smoke from her lungs. Bette interrupted. "She'd better let you smoke. Shit, she brought it up. She can't take it back now! God, what a perfect excuse," she laughed. "Smoking to control your eating." Brandi continued smoking, exhaling slowly, as Bette went on. "Think about it. You've got a legitimate reason to smoke. It's actually good for you. God, if I were you, I'd buy a carton of cigarettes, several ashtrays and a lighter. I'd go home and do some serious smoking." Brandi felt lightheaded. "God, I'd like to," she answered. She watched her exhale. The smoke was thick and creamy. She loved watching smoke come from her mouth. She smiled as she tapped some ashes to the ground. "It feels damn good to be smoking É again." Bette nodded. "I knew it would. It's like riding a bicycle, you know." Brandi frowned. "But Aimee still doesn't like smoke. She said I'd have to smoke in my room, that she wouldn't want the smell in the rest of the townhouse." She paused. "Damn!" While Brandi stewed, Bette put her cigarette in her mouth and shook her head, pulling her hair back. "God, you're lucky to have short hair," she muttered while her lips balanced the cigarette. Pulling a scrunchie from her purse, she deftly put her hair in a pony tail. "Long hair's a pain in the ass," she sighed, finally retrieving her cigarette with a long deliberate puff. But Brandi wasn't listening. Her head was spinning. More nicotine hit her system with each drag. But she didn't slow down. She inhaled again and stretched her long arms in front of her as she did. She loved having smoke in her lungs. She loved seeing it come out of her mouth and nose. "God," she sighed, finally exhaling. "If Aimee lets me smoke, I swear I'll never eat another doughnut in my life." "You won't need to," Bette said with a wink. "You'll want nicotine more than stupid doughnuts." She watched Brandi take a last drag and drop her cigarette to the ground. She's fallen like a ton of bricks, Bette chuckled to herself. She's a goner! She too dropped her cigarette and crushing it under the heel of her sandal. "I'll tell you what," Bette grinned. "Let's smoke one more." To make sure you're good and hooked, she thought to herself. "Then we'll stop at the drugstore and buy you a carton." She shook two more cigarettes from her green Salem wrapper. Brandi smiled. "Okay," she agreed. "I'd love to." Bette gave another long, slender white cigarette to her backsliding friend, who laughed, accepting the second Salem. "Help me decide what to tell my sister. I'm not sure what to say." Bette lit Brandi's cigarette and then her own. "Don't worry," Bette grinned, swiftly pulling smoke into her own lungs. Brandi was inhaling deeply, too, smoking her second cigarette with even more enthusiasm than the first. Her resilient young body was adjusting well to the reintroduction of nicotine. "You'll think of something to tell Aimee," Bette laughed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aimee sat in a small cafe down the street from Paige's apartment. For ten minutes she'd been trying to screw up her courage. She took a deep breath and opened her purse. Out come the pack of Marlboro Lights 100's. Unopened. Virgin territory. She looked around. She saw no one she knew. No one was paying attention to her. "I'm going to do it," she whispered to herself. "I'm going to smoke." She awkwardly tore the cellophane from the soft pack. She tapped it on her wrist. She didn't know why, but it seemed appropriate. She opened the wrapper. The tightly packed, clean white tips of twenty cigarettes waited for her. She tapped the pack on the bottom. Several pushed their way out. She extended her long fingers, and slowly removed one. Her anticipation was building. Again Aimee looked around. She put the cigarette in her mouth. She clicked the lighter. The flame jumped to life, scaring her for a moment. She recovered, and slowly moved the flame toward the cigarette hanging from her lips. It ignited. Aimee expected it taste bitter, but it didn't. She inhaled. Her lungs tightened, and then relaxed. This cigarette was É better than the first two she smoked with Paige. The smoke tasted good. She made an "O" with her mouth and blew out. The creamy consistency of the smoke was impressive! She'd held it inside for almost ten seconds. But she wanted more. For several minutes Aimee was in another world. Oblivious to her surroundings, she smoked. "What have I missed?" she asked. "It's great. It feels so nice when smoke goes in my lungs." Her head began throbbing. "It's the nicotine," she told herself. "But I don't mind it." Puff after puff, Aimee welcomed smoke into her lungs. Mine are virgin lungs, she thought. The image of creamy, rich smoke filling them, time after time, allowing nicotine to course through her body, made her crotch feel wet. "In fact," she realized with a smile, "I've been wet ever since I left Paige's apartment. Ever since É." "Aimee?" interrupted a voice. "Is that you?" She almost dropped her cigarette. Startled, she looked up. She gasped. "Bill?" Bill Weathers stood beside her. How did she miss seeing him? He must have just entered the cafe. Oh, no, she sighed. What a disaster! Aimee and Bill were friends, but nothing more, until several months ago, when they started going out. No, that's not right, Aimee reminded herself. They weren't going out. They were just fucking each other. It was a relationship of convenience, a way to get laid without commitment. No more and no less. It had started at a party. They'd had a couple beers. Aimee was horny, and one thing led to another. They wound up in bed. It was a good time. Now they saw each other once or twice a week, with no commitment, just sex. Aimee enjoyed it. She was conservative, but she liked getting laid. The relationship had few expectations. Even so, she was aghast seeing Bill because she was smoking! "Aimee, what the hell are you doing?" Bill asked. Without being invited, he sat down. Aimee weakly smiled. "What does it look like? I'm smoking." She cocked her wrist like Paige, holding her cigarette by the side of her head. She tried to act cute. It wasn't working. "I never knew you smoked," he said. His tone of voice showed disapproval. So did his expression. She didn't know what to say. "I'm thinking of taking it up," she offered lamely. "It's a disgusting habit," Bill replied somberly. "You look ridiculous. Smoking is bad for you. C'mon, tell the truth. What's going on? Is this a joke?" Aimee explained her plan about Brandi. She told him calmly. But she was too embarrassed to take a puff with Bill watching, so she finally crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. "I'm shocked," Bill sputtered. "Are you serious? Smoking isn't good for Brandi or anybody else. What the fuck is the matter? Don't you understand? Don't you watch TV?" Aimee didn't like being lectured. She started to get mad. "You don't understand," she began. "Brandi's blood sugar is out of control. I'm trying to solve her problem. You don't know anything about smoking." "That's not true. I tried smoking once." "You did? When?" "I was sixteen," Bill responded. Aimee was strangely encouraged. "Did you like it?" she asked. "No. It made me sick. I think people who smoke are stupid." "Oh?" Aimee replied, irritated by his superior tone. "What if I do start smoking?" Bill paused. "You're going to?" he said. "Shit, I thought this was some stupid game. Pushing it on Brandi is bad enough. But I can't believe you'd start smoking, too." Aimee's answer surprised both of them. "Helping Brandi is the main idea," she said with confidence. "But I've decided I like it, so I'm going to smoke, too." She gave him a cold smile. "Does that mean you think I'm stupid?" Bill shook his head. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. But smoking is terrible. I don't like it," he said plainly. "I don't like smokers, either. If you're going to smoke, Aimee, I'm not sure we can continue our little É understanding." With a flair, Aimee shook her head, flipping her hair. When it settled behind her head, she spoke in a resolute tone. "You mean you won't fuck me anymore? Is that it?" Bill looked startled. But he said nothing. "We've had fun," Aimee went on, her blue eyes blazing. "Our relationship was convenient for us both. We fucked because neither of us likes being alone. But you don't love me, Bill. Hell, you don't even care about me. I don't give a shit what you think. I'm good looking, and I'm damn good in bed. If you won't fuck me because I smoke, it's over." Anger entered Bill's voice. "You bitch! You're serious?" he asked. "You're going to smoke? Really?" "Really," Aimee smiled. "And if I'm a bitch, I'm a smoking bitch. Live with it, or live without it, Bill. I don't care." He stood and snorted. "Ruin your life, then," he blurted out. "And your sister's, too. See if I care!" He turned and walked to the door. Before leaving, he turned. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me." "I won't," Aimee said with an icy glare. "Go fuck yourself, Bill!" After he stomped out, Aimee realized the cafŽ's patrons had heard every word. Everyone in the room heard the whole exchange. Ignoring them, she stared at the wall. She shook her head and shifted her long blond hair. What an asshole, she fumed. What gives him the right to lecture me? I'm helping my sister. Where does he get off giving me shit? She was agitated. Then it hit her. Somehow she knew that having another cigarette would make her feel better. She wanted one, right now. Well, why not? She took a Marlboro from the pack. It was long and white. She sniffed it. It smelled good. She placed it in her lips. She smiled. She flicked her lighter. She inhaled and welcomed smoke into her lungs. "I guess my body does tolerate nicotine unusually well." The smoke escaped from her nose as she began a second drag. She inhaled again. "I'm helping Brandi," she sighed. "Even if it weren't so pleasant, I'd smoke anyway. I'm not quitting because of that asshole!" "More coffee?" asked a voice. Aimee turned. It belonged to the waitress, an attractive, dark-haired woman. She appeared to be Latin American, probably in her early 30's. She wasn't particularly talkative before. But now she seemed quite attentive. "Regular, not decaf, right?" "Yes, please. I'd love more coffee," Aimee smiled. The waitress began pouring. Aimee realized she had exhaled while she talked. She'd never done that. It was cool. "That's fine," she said as the waitress finished freshening her cup. "Listen, it's none of my business," whispered the waitress, with a decidedly Spanish accent. "But I heard you give that guy hell. I came to say, bravo. Don't let that bastard run your life. If you want to smoke, mi amiga, then smoke." Aimee looked at the badge with the waitress' name on her blue and white uniform. Her name was Katarina. Her skin color, features and Spanish accent confirmed her ancestry. "Thanks, Katarina. I appreciate that," she smiled, holding her cigarette cocked in the air. The smoke drifted lazily up to the ceiling. She decided to ask Katarina something, though it was none of her business, either. "Tell me, Katarina, do you smoke?" Katarina blushed and looked around. The cafŽ was not busy. It was too early in the evening for the after dinner crowd, and too late for those stopping for dinner after work. "Yes, I do," Katarina whispered, as if fearing a reprimand for admitting to a customer the existence of her habit. She smiled and patted the pocket of her apron. Aimee saw a conspicuous rectangular bulge. There was a pack of cigarettes inside. "This is why I was so happy that you gave him hell," Katarina continued, fondling the cigarettes in her apron pocket. "I used to live with a man who wanted me to quit smoking. He complained and complained. He said my smoking was bad for me and bad for the baby. I told him to fuck off, that the baby didn't care. If I wanted to smoke, I would smoke. He wasn't even the father, for God's sake! But he wanted to reform me. Stand your ground. Men who want to change their women are never happy, even when they get what they want. With them, there's always something more." Aimee admired the fire in Katarina's eyes. She was not tall; probably under five foot three. But she had the heart of a giant. "Will you sit down?" Aimee asked. "I don't want to get you in trouble, but I'd love the company. The restaurant isn't busy." Aimee flashed a smile as she took a drag on her cigarette. "You could smoke with me," she teased as she inhaled. "Gracias," Katarina replied. "I'd love a cigarette. But I cannot sit with customers. My break comes at seven thirty. That's in a few minutes." She nodded her head at the back of the cafŽ. "Our break table is there," she motioned. "I'd love to talk with you and, of course, smoke with you, too. I will smoke two or three cigarettes on my break." "That would be great," Aimee smiled. "When you're ready, I'll join you." Katarina smiled shyly in return. "I'll look forward to it." Aimee finished her cigarette. It was pleasant to sit in the quiet cafŽ and smoke. She felt no adverse effects from the nicotine. She took a sip of coffee and looked at her watch. It was seven fifteen. She watched Katarina. There weren't enough customers in the cafŽ to keep both Katarina and the other waitress fully occupied. Aimee smiled. "My first new friend who's a smoker," she mused. Shortly after seven thirty Katarina whispered something to the other waitress and the young man at the cash register. She walked to the back of the cafŽ and sat down. She caught Aimee's eye. She understood. It was time. She grabbed her coffee and walked to Katarina's table. By the time she arrived, Katarina had removed her cigarettes from her apron pocket. A green and white hard pack on the table said "Kool 100's." A cork-tipped cigarette was in Katarina's hungry mouth. She was obviously ready to light up. "Thank you for coming," Katarina said politely, with the unlit cigarette bobbing in her mouth. "I've lost my lighter," she apologized. "May I borrow yours?" "Oh, sure," Aimee smiled casually. It was in her sweater pocket. She handed it to Katarina. Lending her lighter made her feel like a veteran smoker. Katarina greedily turned the wheel. She held the flame against the tip of her cigarette. It caught fire and Katarina took a long, deliberate drag, puffing much harder than Paige did. Katarina followed by sucking the smoke deep into her lungs. The cigarette rested in her mouth as she handed the lighter back. "Muchas gracias," Katarina finally sighed, reluctantly allowing smoke to escape. "Ordinarily I'd borrow Kristi's lighter - she's the other waitress. But I knew you'd have one." Aimee glanced at the girl behind the counter. Kristi barely looked old enough to work, let alone to smoke. "Do all the waitresses here smoke?" Aimee asked, a bit surprised. Katarina smiled. "Si, but of course," she said, finally removing the cigarette from her lips. "It's almost a prerequisite in the food business. Every waitress smokes." Katarina was older, but attractive. Her fiery Latino beauty was entirely different from Aimee's northern European look. Katarina's dark hair, piercing eyes and high strung temperament completed the picture. Aimee liked her immediately. Katarina smiled shyly. "I'm sorry. I don't know your name," she said. "Oh, my God," Aimee apologized. "I know yours because of your name badge. My name is Aimee; Aimee Johnston. I'm pleased to meet you." "The pleasure is mine," Katarina smiled, with lips and eyes flashing. Her cigarette was cocked in the air as she looked across the table. "But aren't you going to smoke?" Katarina asked. "I hate to smoke alone," she added. Her eyes blazed with anticipation. "Oh, God, yes," Aimee smiled back, a bit embarrassed. "Oh, shit! I left my cigarettes at my table. Hang on. I'll be right back." Before she could get up, Katarina stopped her. "Have one of mine," she offered. "If you don't mind smoking menthols." Aimee looked at the green and white box of Kools. "I'd love to try one," she smiled graciously. "Thank you." She picked up the box and removed one of Katarina's cigarettes. She put it between her lips. Hmm, Aimee thought. Paige said her sister smokes menthols, and that menthol smoke tastes cooler. I guess I'll find out, she told herself. Aimee lit up. With the first puff, she noticed the cork-tipped Kool's distinctive taste. The menthol smoke hit her mouth like an icy blast. It was different, but nice. "I've never smoked menthols," Aimee said with her lungs full. She pursed her lips and slowly exhaled into the air. "They're nice." "Never?" Katarina asked incredulously. "How long have you been smoking?" Aimee had hoped to pose as a seasoned smoker. But there was no point in a charade. "Actually," she admitted hesitantly, "I just started." She took another drag. Inhaling the mentholated smoke, she again felt an icy sensation in her throat and lungs. She smiled as she held it in. Cool was the right word. "Then perhaps I misspoke when I encouraged you to speak harshly to your boyfriend," Katarina smiled. "If smoking is new for you, maybe he had a right to be unhappy." "Nonsense," Aimee replied, finally exhaling. "He was an asshole, and I treated him like one. It pisses me off the way he tries to control me. It's not like we had a serious commitment, but he always tries to change my behavior to suit him. Well, no more. Goodbye, Bill." She took another drag, inhaled and blew another cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. Katarina smiled. She said nothing. "You know, these are great," Aimee said. "They're so cool. And they're stronger than my cigarettes." She smiled. "I like them." "These are not lights," Katarina explained. "These Kools have both strong tobacco flavor and menthol. I think they're wonderful." "Yeah, me too," Aimee agreed. The cork-tipped cigarette had a different look than the all-white Marlboro Lights 100's. But it had an elegance all its own, she decided. Aimee tried to make conversation. "You have a baby, Katarina?" she asked. "Oh, yes," came the reply. She took a drag. "She is the light of my life." "How old is she? What's her name?" Katarina exhaled. Paige always exhaled slowly and deliberately, but Katarina's exhales were all quick and forceful. It must be her Latin personality, Aimee decided. "Maria is two years old," Katarina began. "My sister Margarita cares for her while I'm at work and school. It is not ideal, but Margarita helps me. For that I'm thankful." Aimee asked about Katarina's former boyfriend. She asked if Katarina still smoked around Maria. "Si," Katarina answered without apology. "It is my house. I smoke in my house. So does Margarita." She laughed. "She smokes more than me. Two packs each day, at least. I told my former boyfriend, Roberto, I would never ask Margarita to stop smoking around Maria. Margarita does me a big favor watching little Maria every day." "But aren't you worried about second hand smoke?" Aimee asked. "No," Katarina laughed. Her eyes began flashing. "People in this country are so foolish! I am the sixth of seven children. In my family, my parents, my brothers and my sisters all smoked. It did not hurt me. I am in good health. I do not believe it will hurt Maria, either." Aimee was fascinated. "When did you start?" she asked curiously. "At sixteen," Katarina replied proudly. "In my family, the men may smoke when they turn sixteen. But my oldest sister, Rosa, insisted on the same privilege. She began smoking on her sixteenth birthday, too, just like my brothers. Therefore, Margarita and I were also permitted to smoke when we turned sixteen." "Wow," Aimee smiled. "You smoked because of your older sister? Did she help you?" "Si," answered Katarina. "Rosa is three years older. In our culture, the influence of an older sister is very great. Before my sixteenth birthday, Rosa took me aside and offered to teach me. I was grateful. From the beginning, I enjoyed smoking very much." Aimee was intrigued. She thought about her relationship with Brandi. "What happened with your younger sister, Margarita? She smokes, too?" "Yes," came the amused reply. "Margarita also loves to smoke. She is two years younger. Like Rosa did with me, I assisted Margarita in learning to smoke before her sixteenth birthday." "But Margarita had never smoked? I mean, she never smoked before that?" "No," Katarina answered. "My father was strict. None of the children broke his rules without suffering consequences. But it was understood that the older sisters could prepare the younger ones in all things. Margarita was very excited. She smoked her first cigarette with me in private two weeks before her sixteenth birthday. We worked on it every day so that on her birthday she could smoke with the adults without embarrassment." Katarina saw Aimee's amazement. "We feel different about smoking in my culture. Smoking is not looked upon as such a bad thing. That is why I do not worry about Maria. Someday she will smoke, too." By now, both girls had finished their cigarettes. Katarina looked at her watch. "I have time for one more," she smiled. "Will you smoke another cigarette with me?" "Sure," Aimee replied. "I'd love to." It was true. Despite the higher tar and nicotine content of Katarina's cigarettes, Aimee felt good. Katarina handed her another Kool and she accepted it gladly. "What do you do, Katarina, when you're not working?" Aimee asked, imitating her new friend and cocking her cigarette beside her right ear. "I am finishing a degree in computer science at the University," she said shyly. "I will have my degree in six months." "No kidding?" Aimee whistled. "It's great that being a single mom hasn't stopped you from finishing your education. You must not have time for much else." "Actually, that's not true. My education is important," Katarina said. "But I also love to party. I make time for things I enjoy. Roberto complained I was wild. But I believe in enjoying life. I drink and smoke because I enjoy these things. I like a good time. My parents hope I will marry and settle down someday. I do not think it will happen. I'm not naturally É how do you say? É monogamous." She took a quick drag off her cigarette. "If I'm attracted to someone, I sleep with him. I sleep with whomever I want, whenever I want. Perhaps you think that's bad. But I believe in doing what feels good. That's why I smoke. It makes me feel good. I think feeling good is not a bad thing." Aimee was fascinated. Her new friend was loyal to family, but independent. She was conscientious about school and motherhood, but a free spirit. Katarina's philosophy didn't bother her. In fact, it seemed É exciting. She admired Katarina's candor. She wasn't afraid of what people thought. She sighed. "I wish I could be more like you, Katarina," Aimee said. Katarina stared at Aimee through the smoky air. "You will be," she said solemnly. "My sisters tease me about this, but I have intuition. Somehow I just know things. You will make changes in your life, Aimee Johnston. Perhaps smoking is one of them. You are becoming more aggressive, more aware of what you want." She paused for a drag on her cigarette. "No longer will you let the opinions of others control you." She exhaled forcefully. "Changes will occur in your sex life, too. For the first time in a long time, you will be truly happy. Smoking may be part of this. I only hope you will learn to enjoy smoking as much as my sisters and I do." Aimee was flabbergasted. "Thanks, Katarina. I hope you're right." Katarina looked at her watch. "I'm right," she said, double-pumping her rapidly shrinking Kool. "But I must return to my job. Kristi is ready for her break. She needs a cigarette, too. Or two cigarettes," she added with a knowing smile. After a last hit, Katarina exhaled a big cloud of smoke into the air and stood up. She slipped her Kools back into her apron pocket. "Vaya con Dios, my friend," she said softly. "You will find your way." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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