Cross Cultural Experience, Part 3

This fictional account contains adult language and themes.  If such language
and themes offend you, please do not read further.  Copyright 2000 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.  Thanks to AZ-MAN and STOGIE-MAN for their support,
ideas and encouragement.

CROSS CULTURAL EXPERIENCE 

3.	Changing Horses in Mid-Stream.

   Thanksgiving afternoon Tom and Jim Martin settled in to watch football on
TV.  Giorgia didn't understand the strange American sport.  She was used to
the `football' Americans refer to as `soccer.'  She asked Lauren if they
attended evening mass on Thanksgiving.  In her family in Italy, she
explained, it was customary for the family to go to church for mass on
holidays.

   Lauren asked her mom, and Cindy was thrilled by the idea.  She, too, was a
devout Catholic, and thought it'd be wonderful to attend evening services at
the church.  She called the parish and found that indeed evening mass was
being said that night.  The men were committed to their football games, so
Cindy, Lauren and Giorgia went to mass together after a supper of leftover
turkey and dressing.

   Cindy was still troubled by the cigar incident, but pleased by Giorgia's
wish to attend mass.  Coming home from church she told the girls she was glad
for Giorgia's suggestion.  This made Lauren happy.  Despite the smoking
thing, her mom was slowly warming up.  She didn't want Giorgia's smoking to
be a bone of contention with her mother.  The Italian girl's enthusiasm for
spiritual things was the perfect antidote to her mom's coolness toward her
smoking.

   When the girls got home, Tom and Jim remained glued to the TV.  Giorgia
excused herself and went downstairs.  She needed to smoke.  She'd not
partaken since before church.  Lauren watched her mom carefully as Giorgia
left the room.  She sensed a slight amelioration in her disapproval.
Giorgia's Catholic devotion seemed to help Cindy be more tolerant of her
tobacco addiction.  That was good, Lauren felt.  She wanted her mom to like
Giorgia.

   Giorgia returned to the family room after two quick cigarettes.  The girls
talked while Tom and Jim finished watching the last football game of the day.
Cindy was enthralled hearing the Italian girl describe her parish church in
Siena and the ancient religious relics displayed there, like those of the
famous Saint Catherine of Siena.  All in all, it was a pleasant evening.

   Early Friday morning Lauren's dad went to the office.  Although it was
closed for the holiday, he had work to catch up on.  As he left Lauren saw
him slip one of the new cigars in his coat pocket.  Evidently he was intent
on enjoying another Maestoso at some point.  She smiled.  Giorgia's influence
rekindled her dad's passion for cigars.  She wondered what her devilishly
clever roommate had in mind for her mom.

   Shortly after Tom left, Jim suggested to Lauren they go shopping at the
mall.  "Let's take advantage of some of those post-Thanksgiving sales.  Come
with me, Sis."

   "Let's see if Giorgia wants to come, too," Lauren suggested.

   "No," Jim said strongly.  "Giorgia will stay here.  She's going to stay
with Mom," he added knowingly.  Lauren gave a quizzical look, but he
whispered.  "It's part of her plan."

   "Oh, I see," Lauren nodded.  She didn't know what Giorgia had in mind, but
her plan to revive her dad's smoking interests worked brilliantly.  She was
willing to give Giorgia a chance with her mom.  If Giorgia wanted to be alone
with her, then so be it.

   Lauren and Jim left in Lauren's car, and Giorgia and Cindy were alone in
the house for the rest of the morning.  Cindy was a real estate agent.
Unlike Tom, she rarely worked holidays.  Instead she puttered in the kitchen
while Giorgia sat on the back porch smoking and reading.

   After awhile Cindy heard a charming Italian accent from the other room.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Martin, I mean, Cindy.  I wonder if I can ask some questions
about how you celebrate holidays in America.  There are things I've wondered
about.  Is this a good time for you to talk?"

   Cindy turned.  In the doorway was Giorgia.  The petite, dark Italian girl
had a white sweater on her arm.  She was dressed in a burgundy tank top and
blue jeans.  Most significantly, she held a freshly lit cigarette between her
slender fingers.

   "Yeah, sure," Cindy smiled graciously.  "But please, keep _that_ thing on
the porch.  I don't like smoke in my house."

   "Oh, I am so sorry," Giorgia replied.  She did her best to look shocked by
her faux pas, though she'd intentionally brought the cigarette inside with
her.  "Oh my God," she said with a nervous laugh.  "Sometimes I just forget
I'm smoking.  It is so natural for me to have one with me all the time."  She
looked at the burning cylinder.  "But since I just lit this one, will you
join me on the back porch to talk so that I can finish it?"

   "Yeah, sure, let me get a cup of coffee.  I'll be right out.  If you like,
I'll get you some."

   "Oh, thank you."  Giorgia smiled a winsome smile, and headed back outside
with her long, white cigarette.  "I'd love some coffee.  Coffee and
cigarettes go together wonderfully in the mornings," she added with a
satisfied sigh.  She was setting the stage for what was to come.  "I take it
black, please."

   Moments later Cindy appeared on the porch with two coffee mugs.  She gave
one to the Italian girl and sat at the table across the porch.  The weather
wasn't as pleasant as it was a day earlier.  The temperature was in the
fifties, and there was a threat of rain.  Giorgia put her sweater over her
shoulders.  Cindy, likewise, wore a sweater.  Though Giorgia was smoking, a
slight breeze kept her smoke away from her hostess.

   Giorgia had no questions about holiday celebrations.  She was merely
looking for an excuse to talk.  Jim had generously agreed get Lauren out of
the house for the morning, and Tom inadvertently assisted by leaving for
work.  So there they were, the two women, alone.

   Giorgia wanted to engage her in a discussion about smoking.  She'd gleaned
useful data from Lauren's dad about her smoking history.  Giorgia still
wasn't sure how to use it, but she wanted, and needed, Cindy to talk about
it.  If she kept smoking, it might help Cindy bring it up.

   Giorgia's instincts were on target.  As she settled in her chair, Cindy
attacked her young guest with a vengeance.  "You know, Giorgia, I don't
approve of smoking.  I didn't appreciate you giving Tom the cigars.  For
years I've discouraged him from smoking them.  I finally got him weaned, and
then you came and screwed it up.  Today he took one to work with him.  I fear
he'll start smoking regularly again.  I'm sure you didn't mean to do
anything wrong, but it's a big setback."  She sighed.  "And now I learn that
Jim's smoking, too.  He may be of legal age, but it upsets me."  She stared
into Giorgia's eyes.  "I decided I should tell you directly, rather than have
you silently sense my unhappiness."

   Giorgia gazed at her.  Cindy Martin's hair was blond, but shorter than
Lauren's.  She was more than a little pudgy, with a round face.  Still, she
wasn't unattractive.  But fire was in her eyes.  Giorgia took a deep breath.
Before responding, she had a long drag on her cigarette.  She wanted the
comfort only nicotine can provide.  But she also wanted to make a point.  She
sucked the smoke deep inside and held it for several moments.

   "I'm sorry my gift did not please you," she said coolly, purposely
speaking over an exhale and letting smoke mix with her words.  "In my country
such gifts are every time appreciated.  People feel more free to smoke in
Italy where I come from.  I did not mean to distress you."  The last
statement was a lie, but a necessary one.  She made a mental note to confess
this sin to her priest at next confession.  "But let me ask a question.  Why
does smoking distress you?  Neither your husband nor your children seem to
share your concern."

   It was Cindy's turn to take a deep breath.  She repeated the story Tom
told, about how she smoked heavily as a teenager, became ill, and swore never
again to do anything that might contribute to respiratory distress.  "So
there you see," she concluded.  "I had a terrible taste of the problems
smoking can cause.  I'm adamantly opposed to facilitating the indulgence by
others in that filthy, disgusting and deadly habit."

   "Hmm.  I see," Giorgia said calmly.  She'd finished her first cigarette,
but purposely lit another right away.  She wanted smoke hanging in the air.
She knew her next statement would misstate the facts, but she wanted to lead
Cindy in a particular direction.  "So, I take it you did not enjoy smoking
when you were a smoker, Mrs. Martin?"  She smiled coyly, cocked her wrist,
and held her cigarette high in the air as she awaited the reply.

   "Oh, no," Cindy admitted with a wry smile.  "Just the opposite.  I loved
to smoke.  You see, I started when I was sixteen.  By the time I was
nineteen, when I got sick, I was smoking a pack and a half a day.  I was not
a casual smoker by any means.  I was completely addicted.  I lit up every
chance I got.  I smoked Marlboro 100's, not the lights, either.  They were
strong, and I loved 'em.  I took deep drags and inhaled deep, too.  The
reason I quit had nothing to do with whether or not I enjoyed smoking.  No, I
loved it, but that's irrelevant."

   "Is it?" Giorgia smiled.  She took another long drag and luxuriously
French-inhaled the smoke into her nostrils.  She wanted to communicate her
love for and commitment to her habit.  "Well, then, I guess the reason you
got sick was because you smoked?  Is that right?"  She lifted her chin and
directed a thin stream of exhaled smoke into the air.  She already knew that
wasn't true, based on what Tom said, but she hoped Lauren's mom would tell
the truth when answering.  Her plan depended on an honest response to the
question.

   "No, that wasn't why," Cindy admitted reluctantly.  "My doctor said it
was a freak thing.  It was allergic pneumonia, unrelated to smoking.  But my
doctor did encourage me not to start up again after I got well.  However, my
illness wasn't caused by my cigarette habit."

   "I see."  Underneath her calm exterior, Giorgia was jubilant.  This was
perfect!  She had Cindy right where she wanted her!  She went on.  "But
that's what I don't understand.  You admit you loved to smoke.  I certainly
understand, because I love smoking, too.  But if your illness had nothing to
do with it, then why did you became so opposed to smoking?  I'm sorry, but
that does not make sense to me."

   For the first time Cindy seemed slightly defensive.  "I don't think it's
strange at all," she objected.  "I just realized what might happen to me if I
continued to smoke.  I never want to feel that way, the way I felt when I was
sick with pneumonia, ever again.  That's why I quit."

   It was time to hit Cindy, and hit her hard.  Her next move would either
bomb or work wonderfully.  Somehow she felt it'd succeed, but that was only
intuition.  She drew again, long and hard, on her cigarette, took a deep
breath, and let her have it.

   "Cindy, I disagree with your conclusion.  It makes no sense.  How can you
justify giving up something you truly enjoy because of something that might
never happen?"  Smoke burst from her mouth as she continued on the offensive.
"You let yourself forget the wonderful pleasure of smoking.  Instead, you
surrendered to fear.  Smoking may not be good for us, but you can't live your
life based on fear of the future.  Pleasure matters.  Smoking is a fantastic
pastime, one that brings much pleasure.  You admit that it gave you pleasure,
too.  You shouldn't let fear control you.  Only cowards are ruled by fear."
She paused for emphasis and took another strategic hit on her cigarette.  "I
am certain that if you took a few nice, long drags from one of my cigarettes
right now, you would realize that you miscalculated.  I believe you would
reach a different conclusion, Cindy," she smiled coyly as she inhaled again.
"You'd immediately realize that you've made a terrible mistake."

   Cindy was shocked.  She didn't know what to say.  Smoke sluggishly
dribbled from Giorgia's mouth and nostrils.  Cindy stared at her in utter
disbelief.  "Excuse me, young lady.  I don't think you know what you're
talking about," she said haughtily.

   "Oh yes, I do," Giorgia replied with equal force.  "I know exactly what I
am saying.  But you are afraid to accept my challenge.  That's all.  You are
afraid to smoke a cigarette with me, because you know I am right.  It would
completely change your viewpoint.  You're afraid of the pleasure you will
experience, a pleasure that will be so overwhelming, and so persuasive, that
it will cause you to leave your foolish anti-smoking sentiments behind." She
stared coolly at Lauren's mother.  "Admit it, Cindy.  You cannot afford to
smoke again, because you will be reminded how pleasant it really is!"

   Cindy shook her head, as if evaluating the situation.  "That's not the
issue," she stuttered.  "The problem isn't that I'd like it.  I suspect I
would.  Yes, I'm sure I would.  The problem is I'd become addicted again to
the damn nicotine in those cigarettes of yours."

   "But what is addiction?" Giorgia asked philosophically.  "It is often used
as a dirty word.  But it only obscures what's really happening.  Is not
addiction merely the strong desire to continue doing something that provides
the user with great pleasure?  People sometimes say they are addicted to
nicotine, so they cannot stop smoking.  But in reality, that's not true.  The
fact is that they do not _want_ to stop.  They could quit, but they really
don't want to.  Because smoking bountifully meets their need.  It is
pleasurable."

   "No, smoking _creates_ the need," Cindy shot back.  "That's more like it."

   Giorgia shrugged.  "Okay.  Maybe nicotine _does_ create the need.  But
that doesn't matter.  It also satisfies the need, and wonderfully, too.  You
know it's true.  Don't you, Cindy?"

   Cindy nodded reluctantly.  She grew less defensive as the conversation
continued.  She watched Giorgia draw again on her rapidly shrinking second
cigarette.  "Yeah, you're right, it sure does," she acknowledged wistfully.
"So, exactly what are you saying?  That if I smoke a cigarette it'd prove
your point, because I'd want to start smoking again all the time?"

   "Not necessarily," Giorgia smiled, concealing her excitement.  God, this
was great!  Now Cindy was actually talking about smoking!  Her plan might
work!  She hadn't yet agreed to do it, but things were definitely moving in
the right direction.  So Giorgia went on.  "Look, Cindy.  I am only saying
that you're in no position to evaluate the pluses and minuses of being a
smoker until you once again experience its positive aspects.  That's all.  If
you smoke a cigarette and can honestly tell me the pleasure you experience
doesn't justify the supposed health risks, then I'll give up, because you
will have honestly assessed the situation.  That is all I ask.  I just don't
think you've fairly judged the issue yet."

   Cindy stared at the pretty young girl.  "You think I won't do it, don't
you?"

   Giorgia took a last drag and crushed her cigarette in the ashtray.
"That's right," she replied, subtly egging her on.  "I don't think you dare.
You are afraid."  She defiantly pursed her lips and forcefully exhaled a
final stream of smoke into the air between them.

   She'd appealed to Cindy's pride.  The older woman snorted.  No one
accused her of cowardice!  She impudently motioned to the pack of cigarettes
sitting on the table.  "Give me one of those damn things, then," she barked.
"I'll show you!"

   Giorgia slowly picked up the Marlboro Lights 100's, smiling devilishly at
her blustering hostess.  "Are you sure you're up to it?" she teased
mercilessly, still egging her on.

   "Yes, I am," Cindy proudly answered, stretching out her hand and taking
the pack.  "There's only one condition I insist on," she added, expertly
pulling out a Marlboro with her fingertips.  "You mustn't say anything about
this to Lauren, Jim or Tom.  Agreed?"

   Giorgia looked away.  She could hardly believe her good fortune!  She'd
accomplished her most important goal.  But the last request was a problem.
She'd never be able to keep it a secret from Jim, or Lauren either.  But she
had to agree, which meant she was about to lie again.  She nervously fondled
the rosary beads in the pocket of her sweater.  It was another sin she had to
disclose in her next confession!  "Okay.  Agreed," she smiled.

   Cindy turned the long, white cigarette between her fingers and stared at
it.  The seriousness of what she was about to do hit her.  "I'm not afraid,"
she mumbled aloud.  "But oh my God!  It's been such a long time!"

   Giorgia feared Cindy might back down.  So she decided to light up another
for herself, both to maintain momentum and provide moral support to her
reluctant comrade.  She shook an additional cigarette from the pack and
placed it in her lips.  As it dangled, she smiled at Cindy.  "Yes?  How long
has it been since you smoked a cigarette, Cindy?"  The question was asked
casually, as she flicked the lighter and ignited her own Marlboro.

   "Twenty five years," Cindy murmured, mesmerized by the unlit cigarette in
her hand.  Looking up, she saw the young Italian girl still holding the
burning lighter.  Before thinking about it, she instinctively put the
cigarette to her lips and leaned forward to catch the light.

   Giorgia's cigarette rested in her mouth as she put down her lighter and
watched.  Cindy Martin was taking her first puff from a cigarette in a
quarter century!  And it was a sight to behold!  The cherry end of her
cigarette burned bright; the drag lasted three or four seconds.  Cindy then
put her fingers around the cigarette, removed it from her lips, and
confidently pulled the smoke inside her body.  A strange look appeared on her
face as her lungs assimilated the inhaled substance.  It was an odd mixture
of fear, pleasure and anticipation.  She pursed her lips and expertly exhaled
a thick stream of smoke straight upwards.

   "Wow," Cindy gasped.  She was almost giddy.  A smile of jubilation was on
her face.  "Oh God, it's been _so_ long!  But you know what?  It comes right
back, doesn't it?  I can still do it," she added, amazed at herself.  She
returned the cigarette to her lips for a second hit.  This drag was longer,
five seconds in length, and her ensuing inhale was much deeper.  It was
evident that, in a prior life, Cindy Martin had been a serious smoker.  "Oh
God, Giorgia," she laughed.  "I can't tell you how weird this feels." She
pursed her lips and released another column of smoke.

   The Italian girl smiled as she took a drag of her own.  "I admit, I am
very impressed to see you smoke, Cindy.  I did not think it would be so easy
for you after all these years," she lied.  "How does it feel?  I must tell
you, it appears to me that it suits you."

   With each moment, the older woman became more relaxed.  "I can feel
nicotine entering my system.  God, it's making my head buzz."  She laughed
out loud.  "You know what's funny?  It feels so normal!  It feels just like I
never quit."  She put the cigarette back to her lips for another long pull.
"It's like riding a bicycle.  You get on a bike, even after many years, and
you can still ride."  Smiling, she tipped her head and again jetted a plume
of smoke into the breeze.

   "Perhaps you should take it easy," Giorgia cautioned, as she drew on her
cigarette.  "It won't help to make yourself sick.  You're not used to this,
remember."  She held her lips tight and let the smoke escape from her
nostrils.

   "Nonsense," Cindy laughed.  "I'm fine.  My head's buzzing, but I'm okay.
Hey, you know what?  I used to be able to do that, too!"  She smiled,
referring to Giorgia's perfect nostril exhale.  "Let's see.  How did that
work?"  She thoughtfully dragged for a few seconds, snap inhaled and held the
smoke inside for a moment.  Twin streams of smoke trickled from her nostrils,
slowly at first, and then more rapidly as she concluded her exhale.  "There,"
she said proudly.  "I still do a pretty fair nostril exhale, too, don't you
think?"

   "Mrs. Martin, you are amazing," Giorgia laughed sincerely.  "I will say
this.  You look like you are having a wonderful time."

   Cindy leaned forward.  "You were right, Giorgia.  Smoking is still very
enjoyable.  I never doubted it would be.  The bigger question is whether,
having experienced it again, I can turn my back on smoking like I did
before."  She took another puff.  "And I assure you, that is just what I am
about to do."

   "And I respect that," Giorgia admitted.  "All I said was that you should
give it a chance.  If you can still turn your back on smoking, then you have
prevailed in our little wager."

   "It's not a wager," Cindy responded.  "But I'm glad to show you that my
opinions on smoking aren't affected by your foolish attempt to hook me
again."  She de-ashed in the ashtray and smiled.  "I'm not dumb, Giorgia.
You thought you'd get me started smoking again, didn't you?  Was it to help
validate your own stupid life-style choice to be a smoker?  Or did you do it
because you think you're helping my son or my husband?  Well, sorry!  I won't
return to smoking.  The fact that this cigarette is enjoyable doesn't change
a thing.  I still oppose Tom's cigars, and Jim's embryonic habit.  Nice try,
but no cigar, as we say."  She took a final drag on the cigarette and put it
out in the ashtray, releasing a final exhale.  She'd smoked half of it.

   Giorgia lowered her head.  The jig was up.  She should admit defeat
gracefully.  She knew that.  Even so, perhaps the end of the tale still
hadn't been told.  Time would tell.  In the meantime, she answered
contritely.  "You must hate me, Cindy"  She'd seen through her little plan
right from the start.  "I'm so sorry," she whispered quietly and dejectedly.

   "Look, it's okay, honey," Cindy responded in a manifestly maternal tone.
"I don't hate you.  I'm not even mad.  You see, I understand.  At your age, I
was just like you.  I loved to smoke, too, and I wanted everyone else to try
it.  Do you think you're the only one who ever felt the way you do?  Well,
you're not.  But you must understand that when you grow up, your perspective
changes."  She smiled condescendingly.  "Someday you'll quit, too, Giorgia.
For your sake, I hope it's sooner rather than later."

   Giorgia crushed out her cigarette.  "No, I never will," she said firmly.
"But I appreciate your kindness, Cindy.  You're right.  I _would_ like to see
you return to smoking, but if you won't, you won't.  I hope you don't regret
inviting me to your home for the holiday weekend.  It has been very
meaningful for me.  None of this changes that."

   "We like having you here, Giorgia," she answered.  The tone of the
conversation had shifted.  Cindy now felt in control.  "I'm just not going to
smoke.  That's all.  Look, I'm going inside to work on lunch.  I'm tired of
turkey leftovers.  I'll fix something else for us.  Lauren and Jim will be
back soon.  But feel free to stay out here.  It's getting chilly, though.
You might want to button your sweater."

   Giorgia offered a weak smile.  "Thanks," she said lamely.  She felt
humiliated.  Everything worked, except the outcome.  Cindy did obviously like
smoking.  But her enjoyment hadn't overcome her negative opinion about the
habit.  Giorgia thought about lighting up again.  But she decided not to.
She just wasn't in the mood.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Lauren and Jim came back for lunch.  The four of them had hot soup and
cold cuts for sandwiches.  The Martin siblings were upbeat.  They liked being
together and heckled each other mercilessly throughout the meal.  Giorgia was
subdued.  She was still disappointed by her exchange with Cindy.  She felt
sure her plan would work.  But she tried, and it didn't.  There was nothing
more to do.  Nothing, that is, but tell Jim and Lauren at the earliest
opportunity.

   Her chance came when Cindy went upstairs for a mid-afternoon nap.  Jim and
Lauren hurried Giorgia into the basement for a report.  Mood or no mood,
Giorgia was ready for another cigarette.  Jim joined her, and the two of them
smoked while she told them all that happened.

   Hearing the story, Jim was excited.  "Oh my God," he gushed.  "I can't
believe you got Mom to smoke!  Even if she didn't change her mind, I'd love
to have seen it.  Giorgia, don't be depressed.  You gave it your best shot.
So what if it didn't work?  I won't stop smoking.  And you know what else?
I talked to Dad last night while you guys were at church.  He's determined to
start smoking his cigars again regularly.  He loves those Maestosos, Giorgia.
He's stopping at a smoke shop downtown to buy a supply.  So, you were fifty
percent successful."  He grinned at his sister.  "Lauren let me smoke in her
car today.  We talked about smoking quite awhile.  What are you going to do
about it, Sis?  Are you going to sign up and join us?"

   Lauren's face turned red.  "I'm thinking about it," she admitted with a
naughty grin.  "Yes, Giorgia, Jim _did_ smoke in my car.  You know, it's
funny.  Smoke smells good to me now.  I know both you guys truly like it.  I
guess I would, too, if I tried it again.  But I'm still not sure.  I don't
know what I'll do.  Give me a little more time, you guys.  Okay?"

   Giorgia reached out her left hand, the one not holding her cigarette, and
gently fondled a strand of her beautiful roommate's silky, long blond hair.
Stroking it tenderly, she spoke.  "Lauren, I do not care about your mother.
Not really.  I mean, I do not care if she smokes.  The only reason I tried to
re-convert her was because of you, to make you want to try it and become one
of us.  I want you to learn to smoke, Lauren, to be a real smoker.  I do.  It
would make us so much closer.  And it would please me."

   "Wow," Jim sighed.  "That'd do it for me, Sis.  If Giorgia encouraged me
that way, God, I'd light up a cigarette right away.  Giorgia, I'd follow you
anywhere if you did that to me."

   Giorgia turned to him.  "You are wonderful, Jim," she said sincerely,
blinking her pretty eyes at him.  "But you see, I already have a boyfriend.
If I didn't, I'd be interested in you.  You are a real hunk.  At least,
Lauren tells me that is the proper term."

   It was Jim's turn to blush.  "Well, if your boyfriend dumps you, Giorgia,
call me.  If you want a new American boyfriend who smokes, then I'm your man.
I'll smoke with you anytime."

   Lauren interrupted the flirtatious exchange.  "Give me some time,
Giorgia," she repeated.  "I think I'm going to do it.  I just need time."

   "There's plenty of time," Giorgia whispered with a smile.  She took a long
drag on her cigarette, inhaled the smoke, and softly exhaled directly into
Lauren's face.  "I look forward to the moment when you're ready to join me,
when we can light up our cigarettes together."

   Lauren didn't answer.  Giorgia's exhaled smoke hung in the air between
them.  She smiled weakly.  She thought she wanted to.  But she just wasn't
ready.  At least, not yet.

   They returned to the family room.  Jim and Lauren had rented a movie and
decided to watch it.  Soon Cindy reappeared, having finished a brief nap.
She sat with the kids, but instead of watching the film did some paperwork in
her favorite chair.

   Part way through the movie, Giorgia asked Jim to hit the stop button.  "I
need a smoke," she explained with a slightly embarrassed grin.  "I will go
out onto the porch."  Glancing outside, her face fell.  The weather had
worsened.  The temperature was falling, rain poured down, and a strong wind
was blowing.  She shook her head.  "Instead I will go downstairs," she sighed
resignedly.  "I will be back in only a few minutes."

   Cindy looked up.  "Nonsense, Giorgia," she said pleasantly.  "There's no
need to do that.  Go ahead and have a cigarette here in the family room while
you watch the movie.  I don't mind."

   Giorgia was dumbstruck.  "But . . . you don't want me to smoke in the
house."

   Cindy shrugged.  "I changed my mind," she answered nonchalantly.  "You're
a guest here, Giorgia.  I've been needlessly mean to restrict you to the
basement and outside.  It won't hurt anything if you smoke in here
occasionally.  Go ahead and light up.  I mean it.  I insist."

   This was unexpected.  But Giorgia didn't argue.  With a satisfied smile
she hurried downstairs, returning with her cigarettes and her ashtray.
Before lighting up, though, she asked one last time.  "Are you _sure_ you
don't mind, Mrs. Martin?"

   The older woman shook her head and laughed.  "My name's Cindy, remember?
And I don't mind, dear.  I told you.  It won't bother me, and it won't hurt
anything, either.  Unless Lauren or Jim cares, just smoke anywhere you like
in the house from now on."

   Jim was jealous, but he wasn't about to press his luck.  "We don't mind,
Mom," he quickly agreed.  "I guess the smoking ban is over, Giorgia.  I'll
turn the movie back on."

   Giorgia cautiously lit up and exhaled an initial cloud of smoke.  "I
should open the door to the back porch," she suggested, as smoke from her
cigarette began to fill the room.  "That way we can let fresh air circulate
in here without letting in the rain."

   "It's nice of you to suggest that," Cindy smiled again.  "But it's not
necessary.  It's too cold out.  We'll freeze with the door open.  Don't worry
about it.  Seriously.  Go ahead and smoke, Giorgia.  I said I don't mind.
It's fine, really."

   Giorgia looked at Lauren and Jim, and happily shrugged her shoulders.
"Thanks, Mrs. Martin.  I mean, Cindy.  I really appreciate this."  She took
another, more fulsome hit, and exhaled a thin stream of smoke toward the
ceiling.  "I can't tell you how much this means to me."

   "Oh, I can imagine, Giorgia," she replied with a gracious smile.  "Now, go
ahead, finish your movie, kids."

   Jim hit the play button and they returned to watching the film.  Cindy
continued to sit quietly.  None of them noticed her staring at Giorgia.  At
one point she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the
sweet-smelling side-stream smoke that flowed from the cigarette and filled
the room.  From her point of view, Giorgia's smoking was over far too soon.
She secretly wished her pretty Italian guest would light up again and smoke
some more.

   Despite her protests, smoking that morning had deeply affected Cindy.  At
the time, she meant it when she told Giorgia she'd never change her mind
about smoking.  But soon, she began to have grave doubts.  The luscious taste
of the cigarette she smoked was incredible!  Its flavor lingered in her mouth
long after she finished, leaving behind a delicious deposit that made her
mouth water with anticipation each time she thought about smoking again.  She
forgot how marvelous it was to have tobacco smoke in her mouth and lungs.
She even began sniffing her fingers, the ones that held the cigarette,
savoring the sweet smell of tobacco left on her hand.  Finally she had to
take a nap to divert her attention.  But when she awoke she felt more
preoccupied.  She desperately wanted to smell that heavenly scent again!
That was the real reason she told Giorgia she could smoke in the house.  She
wanted to appear gracious, but she hoped smelling ambient smoke from
Giorgia's cigarette would satisfy her longing.

   Of course, the opposite happened.  And frankly, in her heart, Cindy knew
it would.  But she had to smell it again.  As Giorgia smoked she grew more
preoccupied.  Her heart raced!  The smell of smoke was intoxicating.  By the
time Giorgia finished her cigarette, Cindy couldn't stand it.  She wanted
one, too.  But the same smugness that made her take up Giorgia's challenge
prevented her from swallowing her pride and asking for one.  Unable to decide
what to do, she left the room in a panic.  The kids didn't notice.  They were
focused on the end of the movie.

   When Tom arrived home, he found Cindy in the master bedroom,
unsuccessfully trying to read a novel.  He sensed something was wrong.  He
asked about it, but she snapped his head off.  He couldn't help noticing
that Giorgia was smoking in the family room.  It was hard to miss the
lingering smell.  But when he asked Cindy why she changed her no-smoking
policy and let Giorgia smoke in the house, she blew up.

   "What do you care?" she screamed.  "You were off smoking your stupid
cigars.  I was just trying to be nice, that's all.  It's so damn cold outside
that she'd freeze her little Italian ass off if I made her smoke out there."

   Tom was speechless.  His wife of twenty-three years hardly ever used such
language!  Something was clearly troubling her.  A second time he naively
asked what it was.

   "C'mon, Cindy, 'fess up," he teased, trying to lessen the tension.  "Tell
me what's wrong.  What is it?  Obviously you're upset."

   "I am _not_ upset," she snapped back.  

   "Look, is it my cigars?" he asked.  "We can talk about it if it is."

   "Fuck off!"  She said it vehemently, with fire in her eyes.  "I'm just a
little stressed and pissed off, okay?  Can you just keep the fuck away from
me for awhile?"

   "Um, okay," Tom replied meekly.  He assumed he'd done something to upset
her.  In that regard he was a typical male.  He figured he'd hear about it
soon enough, when she was done being mad.  So he began to retreat downstairs.

   "Hey, Tom, wait a minute, I'm sorry," she called in a conciliatory tone.
"Christ, I'm a mess right now.  Come in and close the door.  I _do_ have
something to tell you."

   She explained what had happened with Giorgia that morning.  She told Tom
she'd been supremely confident she could handle smoking one time.  She'd
wanted to prove it to the impertinent Italian girl.  But since then her
foolish confidence in her ability to remain steadfast had rapidly eroded.
She'd become obsessed with smoking.  The longer she talked, the more
agitated she became.  She was completely out of control.  Tom Martin's
demure, soft-spoken wife had been transformed into a virtual madwoman.

   "Damn!  That little Italian bitch," she spat out.  "Fuck!  She knew
_exactly_ what she was doing to me.  And I thought I was so goddamn smart!
Shit, I was a complete ass.  I should've known better.  I thought I could
resist her little challenge and turn the tables on her.  Well, I wasn't as
smart as I thought.  She got me, God damn it, and now I'm completely fucked!"

   Tom was surprised and amused by his wife's sudden outburst of profanity.
It was out of character.  But secretly, he enjoyed it.  He liked the rare
occasions when she talked dirty to him.  His crotch stiffened in response to
her coarse language.  Pleased, he gave her a gracious smile.

   "But why do you say you're 'fucked?'  Look, it's no crime to want a
cigarette, Cindy.  If you want one, just go down and bum a smoke from
Giorgia.  Or, if you won't do that, let's go out.  I'll buy you some
cigarettes, and you can smoke one in secret."

   "Shit!  You don't get it, do you?  The minute I do it, the moment I smoke,
that little Italian bitch wins!  She has Jim smoking, for God's sake.  She
got you smoking those fucking cigars.  I'm sure she's working on Lauren,
too.  Look, she's gonna win, and I hate her for it!  She's got me absolutely
salivating for another cigarette.  I think I'll die if I don't have one.
Damn her!  Shit, shit, shit!  I'm totally fucked!  Totally, completely
fucked, whatever I do!  Shit!"

   "Calm down," he whispered.  There was a strange serenity in his voice.
"This isn't about winning and losing, Cindy.  Look, I don't give a damn if
Giorgia thinks she's won.  What's to win?  But I'm sure that little Italian
girl isn't looking at it like that, whatever you think.  Sweetie, you had a
cigarette after twenty-five years.  You liked it more than you thought, and
you want another one.  So what?  Baby, I don't care if you start smoking all
over again.  I really don't.  I don't even care if you go back up to a pack a
day.  I just don't want to see you upset like this."

   "Actually, it was a pack and a half," she mumbled.

   "What?"

   "It was a pack and a half a day.  That's how much I smoked before I quit."
She groaned out loud.  "God, Giorgia was _so_ fuckin' right!  She knew me
better than I knew myself.  She knew this would happen.  Damn her!  She knew
once a smoker, always a smoker.  And she was right.  Piss on it!  I feel like
I'm quitting all over again, and after only one fucking cigarette!  God!  I
swore to myself that I'd never go through this shit again.  Never!  Damn!
Fuck!"

   Tom felt it was time to be honest and direct.  "Cindy, let me tell you the
truth.  I love cigars.  I always have.  But in deference to you, I hadn't had
one in ages till yesterday.  You think Giorgia's on a personal mission to
seduce us into smoking.  I doubt it.  But even if she is, I'm not upset.  I'd
forgotten how much I love a good cigar.  I had a great time driving to work
today.  I smoked that Maestoso all the way downtown.  It was wonderful.  I'm
not giving up my cigars again, Cindy.  Not this time.  I'm not quitting."  He
took a deep breath.  She hadn't snapped his head off, so he went on.  "As for
Jim, he's been smoking for awhile now.  But he's eighteen, and I don't think
he wants to stop.  We can either accept it, or ruin our relationship with
him.  Last night he told me the only question is whether we'll accept him as
a smoker.  If we won't, the simple truth is, we'll see a lot less of Jim from
now on.  Because he is a smoker.  And so am I."

   Cindy seemed vanquished.  Tom raised her head and looked into her
bloodshot eyes.  She was no longer fighting him, so he shifted gears.  "Look,
smoking isn't good for any of us, Cindy.  I know that.  But honestly, honey,
I wish you would start smoking again.  Really.  You think it'd be a terrible
defeat, but it'd be a hell of a lot easier on me to be able to smoke cigars
in the house without feeling guilty.  If you were smoking, too, I'd feel
better about indulging in my cigars.  That's why, as far as I'm concerned,
it's not so bad if you give in and just do it.  Think about it.  It wouldn't
be a disaster.  Maybe you should just admit defeat, throw in the towel.
Perhaps, just perhaps, it'd be more like declaring victory."

   "God, I can't believe this," she muttered with contempt.  "Are you
suggesting I just give in and start fucking up my lungs again?"  She shook
her head and gave a scornful laugh.  "You are, aren't you?  Oh God, yeah, now
that's a great idea!"  Her voice dripped with sarcasm.  "But do you want the
awful truth?  Right now, that's exactly what I'd like to do.  I feel like
going downstairs and lighting up a cigarette and smoking it, and then another
one, and another one, chain-smoking all fucking night.  Damn!  Am I an idiot,
or what?"

   "No, you're not an idiot.  You're a smoker.  Underneath all that
anti-smoking bullshit, Cindy dear, you always have been.  You probably always
will be.  Like me.  And like Jim."  He paused.  "Like Giorgia, and by now
probably like Lauren, too."  She began to protest, but Tom put his index
finger on her lips.  "Shh," he hushed.  "Don't argue.  Just listen.  It's
simple.  You need a cigarette, honey.  I'm going downstairs to get you one.
Right now.  Then you're going to smoke it for me, right here.  It'll make you
feel much better.  And even if you start doing it thirty times a day, every
day, all over again, I'll never complain.  I tell you what.  I don't fuckin'
care!"

   Cindy began to cry.  "Oh, God, I _do_ want one.  I do want a cigarette!
I'm so ashamed."

   "Baby, don't be ashamed.  Look at it like this.  You'll make me very happy
if you just surrender and give in to your cravings.  Because then you and I
can smoke all we want.  Wouldn't it be nice?  It won't bother me if you
smoke.  I want you to.  And you know what else?  You complain about being too
heavy.  But you were much thinner when you smoked.  I've seen your high
school pictures.  Taking up the habit again might help you lose some of the
extra pounds you worry about.  God, it'd be great!  Just say the word.  I'll
get one of Giorgia's nice, satisfying cigarettes.  Imagine how good one would
taste right now!  Mmmm.  Whaddya say?"

   Tears ran uncontrollably down her face.  "Okay," Cindy whimpered
helplessly.  "I'd like one.  I really would.  But don't tell the kids.  At
least not yet.  Okay?"

   "Okay," he agreed, although he wasn't sure how he'd manage it.

   Tom went downstairs.  The kids were watching another movie, this time on
cable.  With no comment he descended into the basement.  He hoped to find an
open pack of Giorgia's cigarettes so he could steal one.  He was in luck.  A
pack of Marlboro Lights 100's lay on her bed.  He slipped a cigarette in his
pocket and went into the adjoining tool room.  Picking up a screwdriver, he
climbed the stairs, whistling.

   "I need a screwdriver to tighten a loose bolt," he explained as he emerged
from the door.  In case anyone cared, he wanted an alibi for rummaging around
in the basement.

   "That's great, Dad," Lauren said without looking.  No one paid attention.

   His next stop was the kitchen.  He got some cooking matches, and seized a
glass bowl from the dish cabinet to be an ashtray.  Then he bounded up the
stairs to the master bedroom.

   Cindy was in the chair where he left her staring at the wall, crying
softly.  She looked miserable.  He closed and locked the bedroom door behind
him, and approached her cautiously.  "Look what I have, honey," he said
enthusiastically.  He held out the unlit cigarette.

   "Tom, this is a mistake," she whimpered plaintively.  Her eyes were red.
"I shouldn't.  I really shouldn't.  I can't."

   "Nonsense," he replied.  "You won't feel better unless you do this.  Do it
for me.  I got some matches and a bowl to use as an ashtray.  So here.  Take
it, and light it up.  Please?"

   She shook her head and looked away.  She whined.  "As much as I want to, I
just can't.  I can't give in to this damn thing.  I have to fight it.  I just
can't become a smoker again.  I can't."

   Tom smiled.  "Honey, you already _are_ a smoker.  Come on, you know that.
Admit it!  Even after all these years, it's still what you are.  That's why
you need this cigarette right now."

   She didn't budge, and he feared she'd keep resisting.  There was only one
thing to do.  He put the long, white Marlboro Light 100 in his mouth, struck
a match, and lit it up.

   Hearing the match sizzle, Cindy looked up in horror.  Tom was expelling a
long stream of blue-gray smoke from his lips.

   He turned on his most persuasive charm.  "Mmm," he sighed happily.  "This
tastes good!  God, it is _so_ good.  You know what, honey?  Smoking is so
great!"  He held the cigarette out, urging her to take it from him.  "Here.
Don't you want it?  I know you do, sweetie.  Take it!"

   Cindy vigorously shook her head.  As she refused, smoke curled from the
cigarette's burning end and began to fill the bedroom.  The smell was
invigorating.  She sighed.  He was right.  She _did_ want it.  "No," she
proclaimed, frantically denying her almost uncontrollable desire.  Fresh
tears rolled down her cheeks.  "I don't want it!  I don't!"

   "Oh, yes you do," Tom countered.  "I know you do.  You desperately want
it, darling.  You'd love to have this cigarette in your mouth, so you could
take a nice, long drag," he added, doing his best to tempt her into breaking
down.  "Come on, admit it, Cindy!  You want to pull some of this nice,
thick, rich smoke deep inside your lungs.  Doesn't it smell good?  God, it
sure does!  In fact, it's so good I'd like to smoke it myself.  But I'd
rather give it to you, sweetie, because I know how much you want it."  Again
he held the cigarette out, imploring her to take it.  But her hands didn't
move.  With fists clenched she kept them stiffly by her side.

   He frowned.  Cindy could be so stubborn.  "Honey, I know you want it.
Don't make it needlessly hard for both of us.  Take it."  Despite his plea,
she didn't budge.  He put the cigarette back in his mouth.  After taking
another long drag he inhaled and leaned toward her, lightly placing his lips
on hers.  She refused to open, but he never hesitated.  With his tongue he
forced a small hole in her grimacing lips and began exhaling smoke into her
reluctant mouth.

   She sat stoically but, significantly, she quit trying to push him away.
"No," she muttered almost too softly.  "I mustn't.  What the fuck are you
doing?  Why in hell are you doing this?"

   Tom took another drag, put the cigarette in the makeshift ashtray, and
held the smoke inside his lungs.  "I'm helping you do what I know you want to
do.  You're just afraid, honey.  But you shouldn't be.  Here you go." Holding
her head in his hands, he moved in for a second kiss.  Compelling her with
his firm grip, he exhaled a second mouthful of smoke directly into hers.  She
halfheartedly resisted, but this time in vain.  He was too strong for her.
He propelled the entire deposit of exhaled smoke into her mouth.  Then he
reached out and abruptly pinched her arm.  Involuntarily she startled and, in
the process, inhaled the smoke.  He got her!

   As she breathed in, her expression changed..  "Oh," she gasped.  Bits of
smoke spilled from her lips.  Her resistance evaporated.  "Oh God, that is so
good!  Fuck it all!  Let me have that thing, Tom!  C'mon!  Give it here!"

   Cindy violently took the cigarette and raised it to her lips.  Sealing her
mouth around its filter, she began a long, hard drag.  She greedily sucked a
huge volume of smoke inside her eager body.  She clearly wanted it.  Her
desperation was apparent.  "Now that's a good girl," he urged, encouraged
her.  "Yes, that's it, honey.  Do it!"

   For several glorious seconds his uptight wife held the smoke deep in her
lungs.  "Oh God, yes," Cindy moaned, almost involuntarily.  Her tension began
to recede, replaced by a budding, serene satisfaction.  She smiled.  "Fuck
you, Tom," she said in a blissful whisper.  She then tipped her head and let
out a long, leisurely exhale.

   "There you go," he smiled at his wife.  "You did it!  Now, isn't that much
better?"

   Before answering, she took a second long drag.  "Yes, it is much better,"
she impulsively concurred.  "But, God, I can't believe I'm doing this."  This
time she released the smoke in twin streams through her nostrils.  "God, I'm
_such_ an idiot!  I should fuckin' know better than this."

   "Believe me, it's the right thing," Tom reassured her.  "You're doing
exactly what you should be doing, Cindy.  Don't fight it.  Just give in.  You
might as well.  Just surrender peacefully."  He grinned.  "Look, it's not so
bad.  It's what you want, and it's what I want, too."

   She released another thick stream of smoke into the hazy bedroom air.  Her
expression continued to brighten.  "Damn you, Tom," she sighed happily.  "I
know I shouldn't be doing this, but this cigarette tastes fuckin' great!" She
drew hard on it once again.  "You were right about something else, too.  I
already feel better."  She paused to exhale a thin rivulet of smoke.  "It's
amazing the way nicotine works.  It's a wonder drug!  A few hits and I'm
flying.  My head's abuzz, and I feel great"  She frowned..  But I can't keep
doing this.  This has to be the last time."

   "But why?" he asked, sitting on the bed and smiling.  "Cindy, why do you
feel compelled to resist?  Why can't you just smoke and enjoy it?  I
certainly intend to."

   She tapped some ashes in the makeshift ashtray.  "Because it's bad for my
health.  And yours, too.  Or haven't you heard, asshole?"

   "Yeah, I know all that crap," he answered with disdain.  "But frankly, I
don't give a shit.  Even if you start smoking as much as the old days, it'd
be a hell of a long time before any health problems caught up with you.  By
then, who knows what they'll have cures for?"

   She smiled shamelessly.  "So you're saying I should trust the inevitable
progress of modern medical science and smoke to my heart's content?"

   Tom nodded.  "That's exactly right.  Anyway, I'm not sure you have a
choice.  By the look of things, I don't think you'll be quitting any time
soon."  As he spoke Cindy was pulling another mouthful of smoke into her
impatient lungs.  "Babe, get real.  You're already hooked all over again.  It
only took one cigarette, and the way you're smoking right now confirms it.
Your body's crying out for nicotine, and you're sure as hell complying.  If
you want to stop smoking, I promise it'll be painful.  But you don't have to
go through it, and you sure as hell won't want to."

   She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head.  "You really want me to start
smoking again, don't you?"  She let out an amused laugh.  "Why?  Is it 'cause
you want me off your case about those cigars of yours?"  She lifted her
cigarette in the air and wiggled it.  "Is it because you figure _this_ will
shut me up for good?"

   "Yeah, that's one reason," he admitted with a grin.  "I'm sick of you
complaining about my cigars.  Now that I'm going to smoke them all the time
again, whether you like it or not, I'd prefer you join me rather than fight
me."  He leaned forward and turned on his charm.  "But sweetie, that's not
the main reason.  To be blunt, I think you'll really enjoy it if you smoke
again.  Just look at you!  I can tell by seeing you with that cigarette.  You
look like someone who just found a long-lost, best friend.  I like seeing you
happy.  That's not bad, is it?  Plus, smoking might loosen you up a bit.
That'd be nice for you, nice for me, and nice for the kids, too."

   One last time Cindy drew on her cigarette before putting it out in the
ashtray.  Her inhale was robust, deep and sustained.  She gazed at her
husband, and smoke erupted from her mouth as she responded.  "I _do_ like
smoking," she admitted reluctantly.  "God, I really do!  I don't have to
admit that.  You can tell.  But I just feel so damn guilty.  I'm supposed to
know better."  She finished by expelling the balance of the smoke from her
last, long drag.

   "We all have to live with certain limitations.  But after seeing you smoke
that cigarette, I suspect you'd go through hell to shut down your desire to
smoke.  Cindy, I'm telling you.  It's just not worth it.  Give in.  Enjoy it.
That's what I'm going to do."

   She took a deep breath.  She did feel _much_ better.  Smoking had really
done the trick!  "Okay, maybe.  Yeah, I'll think about it," she agreed
reluctantly.  "Let's see how I do tonight.  If I get desperate again, maybe
I'll just say, the hell with it, and give in."  The thought of continuing to
smoke did seem deliciously decadent.  She got excited just thinking about it.
"God, I don't know.  It'd be really stupid on one level.  But it'd be really
nice on another."

   "Fair enough," Tom agreed.  "Let's see how you feel the rest of today.
But don't be a damn hero.  If you're ready to give in, let me know." He
grinned.  "Hell, Cindy, just tell Giorgia.  I'm sure she'd be delighted to
share her cigarettes with you any time you want one."

   She nodded.  "Yes, I'm sure she would.  I think she was trying real hard
to re-convert me.  I'm still a little pissed about it.  I don't want to give
her the satisfaction of winning."

   "Stop talking like that.  It's not about winning or losing," Tom repeated.
"If you put it in those terms, it's more accurate to say that I'm the winner.
I'm the one pushing you on this, not her.  And I'm the one who's delighted by
the possibility of you smoking.  If I can have a cigar in the family room
while you smoke your cigarettes, it'll be a very happy occasion for me." 

   "Yeah, I know," she smiled reluctantly.  She pinched Tom on the ass as she
walked by, and unlocked the bedroom door.  "Let's go downstairs.  The kids
are undoubtedly wondering what's going on up here."  There was a ribald
twinkle in her eye.

   Tom winked back.  "If you stay a little longer, babe, I'll give them
something to wonder about."  He put his hand on her breasts and began gently
squeezing.

   "Down, boy," Cindy cooed.  "Maybe later tonight."

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