Dr. Blacklung, I Presume?, Part 9

Dr. Blacklung, I Presume
By:  slimv

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Chapter 9:  A Husband's Confession
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Margie fluffed her pillows, sat back and lit up as Bill undressed for bed.
He had said barely a word since leaving Katie at the Bette Davis Center.  She
put the cigarette to her lips and pulled, allowing the nicotine laced smoke
to ease her physical tension.  Her body relaxed as she fed her addiction but
the nicotine offered no relief for the guilt she was feeling. 

She used to enjoy smoking, but that was before her daughter discovered the
habit.  She had failed miserably as her daughter's role model.  Like mother
like daughter- but not exactly.  Katie had emphysema.  Margie's lungs, while
used and abused, were still pumping away and would be for years to come.  She
had started young, but not as young as her daughter.  Her lungs had developed
enough to tolerate the onslaught of carbon monoxide and tar.  Katie's lungs
hadn't been so lucky.

She thought of her daughter at the center with all those strangers.  She must
be frightened out of her mind.  She would give any thing to trade places with
her.  It should be her at that center- not Katie.

Bill climbed in bed besides her, jostling the mattress.  By the look on his
face, she could tell he was disgusted.  He wanted to say something but was
holding it back.  She'd see n that look before.  She took another drag from
her cigarette and allowed the smoke to settle in her lungs before casually
expelling it.

"What is it," she asked?  "You want to say something so go ahead and say it.
Get it out."

Bill turned to look at his wife.  His eyes were deep and sad.  "I don't know
if I can," he said.

"You think this is my fault, don't you" asked Margie, as she took another
deep drag from her cigarette.  "You blame me for Katie's smoking.  You blame
me for her emphysema.  Go ahead and say it.  You're right.  It is my fault.
Say it.  Listen to the words.  It's your fault Margie.  Go ahead and say it
if it will make you feel better."

"Its not that," said Bill.  "You think this is all your fault.  I know you
blame your self for what's happening to Katie.  But I'm to blame too."

Margie chortled.  "How could any of this be your fault?  You never smoked a
cigarette in your life.  It wasn't you that Katie saw with a cigarette glued
to her lips.  You're a good father Bill and a good husband.  This has nothing
to do with you.  If any thing you're a saint.  I don't see how you've put up
with me all these years.  You've never nagged me once about my smoking."

Margie trimmed her ash and took another puff.  "Do you remember when I was
pregnant with Katie and everyone told me I should quit smoking?  They were
right and I knew it.  I tried to quit for her then Bill.  If only I had been
stronger none of this would have happened.  I'll never forget how proud you
were when I told you I was giving up smoking.  And I'll never forget how
sweet you were when I told you I couldn't go through with it.  You got up in
the middle of the night and bought me cigarettes.  I remember thinking how
wonderful you were for doing that.  I was so ashamed when you came home with
them and I lit that cigarette in front of you.  I felt so weak and trashy
smoking that cigarette with my pregnant belly sticking out.  But you didn't
make me feel bad.  You said it was OK and you told me that you loved me.  And
then you kissed me."

Margie waved the cloud of smoke from her husband's face in embarrassment.  "I
bet you never forgot that kiss, did you.  I still had smoke in my mouth.  I'm
so sorry Bill.  You deserve so much better than me and so does Katie."

Bill took a deep breath and sighed.  As he did, he thought of his daughter
and her decrepit lungs.  She could never take a breath like that for as long
as she lives.  Every breath she takes is shallow and deliberate.  Imagining
her frail blackened lungs made him sad and he knew he shared responsibility
with his wife for her condition.

"It wasn't just you Honey.  I played a part in this too.  You may have been
the one smoking but I was in your corner pushing you on."

Margie crushed out her spent cigarette and searched him for some sign of
sarcasm but found none.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Bill, "that I like it when you smoke.  I know that sounds
weird and believe me it is.  I don't understand it my self so I don't expect
you to.  The reason why I never nagged you about your smoking is because I
like it.  I always have.  I like the way you look when you smoke.  I find it
incredibly sexy.  I love the way you taste when I kiss you.  That night when
you were pregnant and I kissed you with the smoke in your mouth wasn't an
accident.  I did it on purpose.  I was so afraid you really were going to
quit and when you said you wanted to start back, I didn't want to give you a
chance to change your mind.  That's why I got out of bed in the middle of the
night to buy you cigarettes.  And I kissed you while you were smoking because
I'd always wanted to do it.  I'll always treasure the memory of that kiss."

Bill looked down.  He couldn't face her.  He'd said too much.

Margie took a cigarette from her pack and placed it gently between her lips.
She'd heard her husband but the meaning of his words were lost in the
confusion of the day's events.  He ha d made it sound as if he found her
smoking attractive and that didn't make sense.  Her thumb found the ridges on
the lighter's wheel bringing it to life.  The end of her cigarette succumbed
to the flame.  She squirmed slightly as she inhaled, her thighs felt warm and
slippery.  She was getting wet and this confused her even more.  This was not
the time to be horny.  And this was not the right reason for it either.  

She exhaled, not toward the ceiling as she normally did but toward her
husband's face.  "What are you trying to tell me?  That you like it when I
smoke?  That it turns you on?"

Bill hungrily inhaled his wife's toxic exhale.  He had fought this mysterious
urge all his life but it was finally getting the better of him.  The truth
was coming out, his secret exposed.

"I didn't tell you because I'm ashamed.  I didn't want you to know what a
sick pervert I really am.  I'm so sorry Margie.  I didn't want to tell you
but I couldn't just sit here and let you think this was all your fault.  It
wasn't just you.  It was both of us.  If I weren't such a sick fuck, I would
have encouraged and supported you when you tried to quit.  Instead of helping
you, I hovered over you like a horny vulture.  I don't understand it my self
so I don't expect you to understand either.  I just think you're so sexy when
you smoke."

"And Katie knows this" asked Margie?  "You told your daughter but you didn't
tell me?"

"Of course not," said Bill.  "I've never told anyone.  It's not something I'm
proud of.  I just think Katie must have picked up on it.  I think you're
beautiful when you smoke Honey.  She knows how much I love you.  I'm just
saying she must have at least subconsciously made the connection."

"I don't know what to say.  Why didn't you tell me earlier?  Why did you hide
this from me?  Don't you think I had a right to know" asked Margie?

"I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd leave me.  But now I think you
have to know, because what happened with Katie is my fault too.  God Margie!
I feel so disgusting.  All the time we've been married, all the time we were
dating, I've been watching you fill your lungs with smoke and getting excited
about it.  I don't why I feel that way.  I know it's terrible and I must be
some kind of monster for feeling the way I do.  I love you so much.  How
could watching you hurt yourself turn me on?  I feel so bad Honey. I've been
exploiting your addiction for my own sick perverted fun.  I can't tell you
how embarrassed and ashamed I am about this.  This is the hardest thing I've
ever had to tell you.  I'll sleep on the couch if you want.  If you want a
divorce I'll give it to you.  I'll go to a psychologist.  I'll do any thing
you want. I'll support you if you want to quit smoking. I'm just so sorry
about this and I'll do any thing you want."

Margie looked at the broken man beside her.  She loved him, but what kind of
monster is he?  Who has she been married to all these years?  She l ooked at
him and realized she didn't know him.  And she didn't know her self.

Never in a million years would she have suspected her husband of any thing
but puritan conventionality.  His perversion was dark and disgusting.  He had
every right to feel ashamed of him self.  But what about her?  How did she
feel about this?  

Every thing was happening so fast.  Just moments ago she had been grieving
for her daughter, bathing in guilt.  And now her husband says he's some kind
of smoke loving pervert.  She felt dirty and degraded.  How could he find
pleasure in the pain of her addiction?

She wanted to be angry with him.  Every bone of decency in her body told her
to run from the filth beside her.  But the moistness between her thighs
argued against her sensibilities and this confused her.

"I want us to make an appointment for counseling with Dr. Avery," she said.

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