Dear Diary, Part 2

Article 138 of 2482

Subject:      Dear Diary, Part 2
From:         an4@anon.lelnet.com
Date:         1997/04/02
Message-Id:   <5hu6r8$qc7@tofu.alt.net>
Newsgroups:   alt.smokers.glamour

4 May (Just after Midnight)
   Dear Diary: You're going to be very disappointed in me. I'm not going to
beat around the bush. I smoked my first cigarette tonight.
   I could use the excuse that I was drunk, at least a lit drunk.
   I have to be honest. It wasn't what I expected at all. As President Clinton
said, I didn't inhale. But I did smoke. Mom was so happy. She was pretty good
about it. Didn't ask me to light another one, although after all that wine, I
almost did.
   It was kind of exciting. Even though Mom has made it clear that she would
like me to smoke, there was something- I don't know, forbidden- about doing
it that made it kind of cool.
   But I promise I won't do it again.
   I hope.

   As was usually the case on Sunday morning, Mom was sleeping in. Considering
that she was usually up by six during the week preparing assessments for
clients, she deserved a little rest on the weekends. Kelli was walking around
the house, a tall glass of orange juice in hand, trying to work away the
headache the wine had given her.
   Strangely, all her mind could go back to was the pack of cigarettes, still
sitting on the coffee table. Nicotine was a stimulant, wasn't it ? She began
thinking that maybe a cigarette would make her headache go away. So would a
cup of black coffee, but the machine was so damn loud it was sure to wake Mom
up, and it was just seven.
   Kelli decided to take her mind off the cigarettes by taking a walk to get
the paper. She put her sneakers on, put her hair back in a pony tail and-
   Found herself picking up the cigarettes.
   Mom wouldn't be up for at least an hour. It was almost a three minute walk
down to the end of the driveway- the paper guy refused to drive up the dirt
road and left the paper by the mailbox. No one would ever know- except her
diary, but that was okay. No matter what she did, the diary understood.
   Was there a lighter around ?
   Yes, Kelli realised, half-excited and half-disappointed. Mom had left one
right by the pack. She picked it up and lit her cigarette somewhat clumsily,
but it caught. She immediately pulled a small amount of smoke into her mouth
and held it there until she was out the door.
   It was a little cold, a perfect spring day. Later, it would probably get hot
enough that she'd have to mow the lawn, which was just starting to come
around. Mom would spend half the day in the flower beds, picking and
preening, but that was fine because there was more studying to do.
   She started walking, not really noticing that she was taking regular puffs
on the cigarette now and faintly enjoying it.
   When she got down to the end of the driveway, she saw that the paper had
landed- as it often did on Sunday- in a pine tree next to the box. She worked
her way in between the branches carefully, holding the cigarette in her off
hand. She didn't notice Mrs. Michaels come up the driveway across the road.
   "Hello, Kelli-"
   The voice startled her just as she was standing up and she dropped the
paper.
   Mortification quickly set in. She was holding the cigarette in plain sight.
That was it, she realised, for babysitting the Michaels girl.
   "Hi, Mrs. Michaels," she replied, her voice shaky.
   Mrs. Michaels waved with her right hand, in which she was holding a Virginia
Slims.
   Kelli started to turn to leave, mortally embarrassed, when Mrs. Michaels
asked her to walk over.
   She considered dropping the cigarette but decided against it. What could she
do ? Snagged. She walked across the pavement, and stopped in the driveway.
Mrs. Michaels stood and watched, smoking quietly.
   "I hate to ask-"
   But when did you start smoking ?  Kelli was sure she would say.
   "-but Mr. Michaels and I had something come up at the last minute. Could you
watch Helen tonight from eight to ten ?"
   Her heart was racing. She was sure that Mrs. Michaels was going to say
something about her smoking-but she didn't.
   "Sure, eight is fine."
   "Great," Mrs. Michaels said, picking up her own paper. She started to turn
away and then said-
   Here it comes, Kelli thought.
   "Better make it seven-thirty. That way I know Kenny will be ready on time."
   "No problem."
   She had gotten all the way back across the road when Mrs. Michaels' voice
cut the morning air one more time. "And Kelli, if you're going to smoke,
you'd better stay in the den. We just had the living room painted."
   The nervousness did not subside as she walked back up the driveway. Finally,
Kelli brought the shrinking cigarette to her mouth and really inhaled, for
the first time, hoping it would settle her nerves. The smoke made her throat
sting slightly, but she didn't cough. It went into her lungs and-
   All at once she understood exactly why her Mom had wanted her to try this.
   She stopped just out of sight of the house, inhaled again, even more deeply,
and then quickly stubbed the cigarette out in a mud puddle. She tossed it
into the woods and finally felt herself relax.

   She felt a bit of shock when she walked into the house and heard the coffee
maker gurgling.
   Mom walked into the kitchen, smoking a cigarette, of course. "Where's the
paper ?"
   "Oh shit," Kelli said, just now remembering that she'd left it at the end of
the driveway after being startled by Mrs. Michaels. "Sorry, Mom. Mrs.
Michaels asked me to babysit Helen tonight and I forgot-"
   "Did she say anything about you smoking ?" Mom asked. Kelli swore there was
a note of teasing in her voice.
   "What ?" Kelli asked.
   "Come on, honey, I can count backwards from twenty. Besides, you took my
lighter."
   The lump in her pants pocket- she'd absent-mindedly slipped the lighter into
her front pocket.
   She wondered if she hadn't done that on purpose- wanting to be caught ? She
reached until her pocket and sure enough, there it was.
   "Keep it. I have plenty of them."
   "I won't be needing it," Kelli said defensively. "I was- I was just trying
to get rid of this hangover. You never let me have that much wine before."
   "You're growing up, h-Kelli." There was a short silence and then Mom asked
"Did it work ?" The question came complete with a knowing smirk on her face.
   "I-it helped a little, I guess."
   "You should have another one. It will wash the hangover away."
   "Mom-"
   "If I promise not to tease you about it ? I know you want one."
   The awful truth was that after taking two real inhales on the last one and
feeling that- that feeling, she did want another one. But she wasn't too
thrilled about giving her mother the satisfaction. As if divining her
daughter's thought, Mom said "If it will make you feel better I'll pretend to
be disappointed."
   Kelli walked into the living room, sure that she wasn't going to give in.
She told herself that the last thing she needed to start feeding was a
nicotine craving. Mom followed, carrying two large mugs of her killer-strong
coffee. "I lost ten pounds after I started smoking-" she said as she put the
mugs down.
   "Are you saying I have a weight problem ?" Kelli replied hostilely.
   Mom laughed. "No. You don't. But I know you'd like to lose a few pounds. Why
you inherited your father's build is beyond me. But you might just grow out
of it. Or-"
   "All right, Mom." Feeling a certain defiance, she pulled another cigarette
out of the pack and lit it with her mothers'- her- lighter. The taste of the
smoke was sweet and already satisfying. She inhaled, just enough to make that
wonderful feeling come back. "But I'm doing this for me-" she said, small
wisps of smoke escaping with each word.
   "I wouldn't have it any other way."
   "We should take the riding mower off the blocks. That way you can smoke
while you mow the lawn."
   "Mom !" Kelli objected. "I am not going to start smoking all the time like
you." But as she said it she found she couldn't resist the urge to inhale
again, more deeply this time. The smoke was still a lit bit harsh, but each
time was easier- and more satisfying.
   "It takes an hour and an half to mow the lawn with the rider."
   Kelli took a deep drag on the cigarette, her deepest yet, and followed it
with a long swallow of the hot coffee. The two tastes were pleasantly
interactive.
   "You should call Elaine and let her know that you'll be picking her up after
you get done with the lawn."
   "I thought you were going to pick her up."
   "I have some errands to run. I'm not going her way."
   Kelli smiled. "You're going to let me take the station wagon ? No
complaining about the way I drive ?"
   Her mom looked at her, puzzled. "Well, if you want to take the station wagon
you can, but I thought you'd want the convertible."
   This was unheard of. That car was her mother's personal toy. "The rag top ?
You're going to let me-"
   "You're old enough now. I just had to wait until I was sure you were mature
enough-"
   Kelli took another satisfying inhale on the cigarette and tried exhaling
through her nose. The smoke swam around her head, and she admitted to herself
that she liked this. A lot.
   "If I asked you for a million dollars right now ?" she asked archly.
   "Well, I'd have to take a loan," she joked.
   Kelli couldn't believe the change in her mother's attitude. She'd been so
morose lately. It seemed absurd that her mother was this thrilled about her
doing something-
   "Is this just because I've started smoking, Mom ?"
   "Well, that and I love you."
   For once, Kelli wasn't embarrassed by the declaration.

   Kelli pulled into Elaine's driveway, thinking that driving the convertible
had been every bit as much fun as she'd always imagined.
   Elaine threw her backpack into the back of the car and her eyes immediately
went to the pack of cigarettes.
   "I'm glad your Mom left these here. I ran out this morning." She didn't
waste any time pushing in the lighter and taking one of the cigarettes out of
the pack, leaving just ten.
   "They aren't Mom's," Kelli said, looking at Elaine. The lighter popped and
as Elaine lit her cigarette she added "They're mine."
   "Yours ?" Elaine asked incredulously, and in answer, Kelli grabbed the
lighter from her friend and lit one for herself.

   As Kelli pulled up to the house she saw that the station wagon had been
moved. She wondered what kind of errands Mom had to run on a Sunday morning,
but dismissed the thought. There was a lot of studying to do. As long as her
errands hadn't generated any more chores- mowing the lawn had taken more than
two hours- she didn't care. Mom was knee deep in annuals out back and didn't
even look up at the sound of tires on dirt
   They walked into the house and Elaine went right for the dining room table.
   "I'll be right back," Kelli said, but Elaine was already arranging notes and
hardly heard her.
   She walked up the stairs, wondering if she could take advantage of her Mom
and talk her into letting her driving the convertible to school tomorrow. It
was supposed to be sunny and seventy and everyone would just die, seeing her
pull into the parking lot next to the usual collection of old beaters in a
real car.
   She walked into her room and saw that her mother had left something on her
bed.
   Errands indeed.
   There was a carton of Marlboro Lights 100's on the bed, with a short note.
'Love, Mom.'
   Kelli picked up her diary and started writing.

   4 May (Noon)
   Dear Diary: Well, I hope you can understand what I'm about to write.
   I've decided to start smoking. I know that looking back through all the
pages- you're half full with this note- you'd have to be surprised, but I
have to tell you something you have to promise never to repeat to anyone.
Promise ? Good.
   Mom was right. I had no idea what smoking was like. I thought it smelled
foul. I was wrong. I love the smell now. I thought it would taste
horrible-like that time I kissed Bobby Greer. It doesn't. And the feeling you
get. It's hard to believe that smoking is even legal. I just wish that Mom
had gotten on my case years ago. I think she's tried to get me to start
before. There was that time- my sixteenth birthday, remember ? She said I was
old enough to smoke and we both laughed because I thought she was joking.
   Well, I hope that you'll still like me, now that I am a smoker.
   I like the sound of that.
   I am a smoker.
   I smoke.
   I enjoy smoking.
   There, I've said my piece.

   She put a big star on the page. That was how she marked them. A small star
meant something good had happened. A bigger star, something better. This was
the biggest star she'd ever drawn. She coloured it in using a red pen and
closed the cover, smiling. She was just about to clasp the lock when a
thought occurred to her.
   The front page. She'd never written anything there.
   She cracked the diary opened, looked at that front page. There was a little
rose coloured box with four lines inside. She wondered for a moment why she'd
never written anything in it.
   Because I was looking for an identity, she decided. It sounded trite but it
was true.
   She wrote 'Diary of a Smoker' and closed the book again.

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