Losing It, Part 5

This fictional account contains adult language and sexual themes.  If such
language and themes offend you, please do not read further.  The persons and
events described in this work are purely fictional.  Any similarity to actual
persons or events is strictly coincidental.  Copyright 2002 by SSTORYMAN.  All
rights reserved.  Permission is hereby 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 or
using it.

The author gratefully acknowledges that some inspiration for this story came
from a 1998 story entitled "Weighty Problems" written by an anonymous author
posted elsewhere on this page.

LOSING IT

5.	Conflict and Resolution with Suzanne.

   As she hung up from talking to Beth Martin, Suzanne felt shaken.  So she
did what she always did when stressed:  She grabbed her cigarettes!  Nothing
Kristen said to Beth suggested that Francine was smoking.  But Beth brought
her face to face with the real issue.  If Francine _was_ smoking, would she,
could she, give it up if needed, to force Francine to quit?  As she lit up,
she had to admit she doubted it.  No, it was worse.  She knew she couldn't
stop!  And like Beth, she didn't want to, either.  Damn it, she liked it.  She
liked to smoke all the time!  She looked forward to every cigarette.  She
never wanted Francine to feel that way, but if she found out she did, it'd be
terrible.  She'd be forced into the same hypocritical situation Beth was in;
smoking, but telling her daughter she shouldn't and couldn't join her in the
activity she loved!

   Meanwhile, Francine finished her evening run.  Running three miles wasn't
as easy as it used to be to, and she knew why.  Nevertheless, she pulled a B&H
from the pocket of her shorts and raised her disposable lighter to the tip of
the cigarette dangling from her lips.  She lit up and pulled a large deposit
of thick, rich smoke into her mouth, and then down into her waiting lungs.  It
was intensely satisfying!  Impulsively she made it a double pump, maximizing
the smoke, and inhaled again.  When she smoked after running, the sensory and
pharmacological impact was amazing!  Her lungs were clear, letting her receive
the smoke deeper inside than usual.  She took a third drag and savored the
feeling.  She smoked while walking through the woods near their subdivision,
in relative obscurity, killing time while finishing her cigarette.  It was so
good she decided to have the other one she brought along.  She smoked it, too,
feeling amazingly recharged and invigorated by the time she was done.

   Back at home, Suzanne knew she _had_ to find out if Francine was smoking.
Not knowing was worse than the truth, whatever it was.  She settled on a
strategy.  She'd learn the facts, by hook or crook.

   Francine returned minutes later, and smiled at Suzanne as she came through
the front door.  Suzanne took a deep breath.  She would now spring the trap
she devised.

   "Honey, come sit down," Suzanne said soberly, quivering inside.  "I want to
talk."

   "Sure," she answered, feeling guilty for having just smoked two cigarettes.
"What's up?"

   "I just got off the phone with Beth Martin."  She purposely wore a
distressed look.  "Beth says Kristen says you're smoking.  Tell me the truth.
Is that true?"

   Francine stared into space.  Did Kristen betray her?  She was her best
friend.  Her heart sank.  God, what should she do?  Earlier Kelley urged her
to deny it if confronted.  But Francine didn't feel good about that.  What was
the point if her mom already knew?  She gulped.

   "Uh, well, what exactly did Mrs. Martin tell you?"

   Suzanne was bluffing, but the look on Francine's face told her everything
she needed to know.  She clearly struck a raw nerve.  Now, how to learn more
without showing her empty hand?  "I tell you what, honey," she said in a
measured tone.  "I'll let you tell me all about it your way.  Then I'll
compare your story to what I heard from Beth."

   Francine didn't realize that her mom held no cards.  She sighed deeply, and
came clean.

   "Okay.  Remember a month ago, when I hit a plateau and quit losing weight?
I was at 127 pounds and couldn't get any lower.  Remember?"

   Suzanne nodded.

   "Well, that's when it started.  I realized I was still eating way too much.
As much as I hated the idea, I remembered you really stopped eating, I mean,
_really_ stopped, when you began doing something else to take its place; when
you started smoking."

   Suzanne gave a dispassionate nod, but inside she was churning.  Shit!  Her
worst fears had come true!

   "I decided to try smoking myself.  I wanted to see if it'd help me like it
helped you.  Kristen showed me how, and I started smoking cigarettes instead
of eating breakfast and lunch.  I guess I've been doing it for about a month
now."

   "But where did you get them?  You couldn't possibly have stolen them all
from me."

   Francine shook her head.  "No, I only took one pack from you, Mom, and that
wasn't till yesterday.  Honest.  No, a friend of Kristen's at the restaurant
buys cigarettes for her.  She buys 'em for me, too."  The horror on Suzanne's
face was evident.  "Sorry, Mom.  I thought I'd never want to smoke.  But I
couldn't face being stuck at 127 pounds forever.  I had to do something to
start losing weight again.  I only did what you did.  It worked for you, and
it worked for me, too.  Today I tipped the scales at 114.  It really _is_
working, Mom!"

   "How much?  How many cigarettes are you smoking every day now?"

   Francine shrugged.  "I don't know," she fibbed.  "Eight or nine."
Actually, the last few days it was more like twelve.  But she decided to shade
the truth a little.

   Suzanne shook her head.  "Well, damn, this royally pisses me off.  God, I
thought you were smarter, Francine.  I can't believe you did something this
stupid.  I'm hopelessly addicted.  There's no hope for me.  But I have no
intention of letting you suffer the same fate."

   Francine looked down at her shoes.  "So what are you going to do?"

   Suzanne squirmed.  She wanted a cigarette.  She had to settle down, and
nicotine was _so_ good at relieving stressful moments like this.  But she
couldn't; not now.

   "I don't know," she said helplessly.  "But I can't let you smoke.  Beth and
I agree on that.  Since you get your cigarettes from a girl at the restaurant,
I shouldn't let you go back to work, either.  I don't know," she repeated.  "I
have to think."  She stood and headed toward the stairs.

   Francine took the offensive.  "You're going upstairs to smoke, aren't you
Mom?"  Her voice had a caustic tone.  "You'll go to your room so you can close
the door and smoke a couple cigarettes without me seeing your hypocrisy.  Am I
right?"

   The truth hurt.  Suzanne flinched.  "Listen, Francine.  It's too late for
me.  I can't live without my cigarettes.  I need them.  Instead of criticizing
me, you should feel sorry for me."

   "Oh, yeah, I feel real sorry for you.  Look, Mom, I know how much you like
smoking.  Don't give me that.  You don't hate it.  That's bullshit.  I've
heard you and Roger talk about it when you didn't know I was listening in the
next room.  Roger loves his smoking habit, and you do, too.  You don't want to
quit.  You love it.  You are such a hypocrite!"

   "Stop!  That's enough," Suzanne shouted.  Surprised by her outburst,
Francine did.  "Look, I'm trying to do the right thing.  I can't let you
smoke, Francine.  End of discussion.  And yeah, I'm going to my room for a
cigarette.  I need one when I'm stressed, and you're stressing me to the max,
young lady.  So be careful.  I may punish you more severely than Beth punished
Kristen!"

   Suzanne stomped upstairs.  Francine took a deep breath and slowly let it
out.  Man, she was hosed!  So _now_ what should she do?  Well, for one thing,
she wouldn't be smoking.  But maybe her mom was right.  Maybe she _should_
quit.  After all, it wasn't good for her.  She made it to 114 pounds.  Even if
she stayed there, it was still an improvement over the old days.  She sighed
and went to her room, locked the door, and turned on her CD player.  Tears
welled up in her eyes.  Opening her bottom drawer, she looked under the
clothes where she kept her stash, the new carton of Benson & Hedges she got
from Kelly that afternoon.  She moved it to a safer location in her closet,
where her mom wouldn't find it.  Maybe at some point her mom would loosen up;
she'd save the carton in hopes of that day dawning.  But for now, she had to
quit, damn it, and be fat as a consequence!  She began to cry uncontrollably.

   Suzanne was in her bedroom.  The door was closed, and she was smoking
frantically.  She quickly finished one B&H and chained into another.  God damn
Francine!  Why'd she ever start?  Was she dumb?  But deep down, she knew her
daughter was right.  Stupid or not, Francine was only following her footsteps,
smoking to lose weight.  She was right about the other thing, too.  Though
Suzanne talked a good game, she _didn't_ want to quit.  She enjoyed smoking
way too much to give it up.  Regrettably, despite her rhetoric and despite the
undeniable hassles being a smoker posed, she'd grown to adore her incurable
nicotine dependence.  Like Beth, she didn't want to live without cigarettes,
not now, not ever.  So what if she _was_ killing herself by continuing to
smoke?  Ultimately she didn't fuckin' care!  She'd live as a smoker;
ultimately she'd die a smoker, too.  She shuddered at the thought, but it
didn't make her want to quit.  Instead, it made her crave another cigarette.
She lit up again, basking in the familiar, pleasant sensation she'd come to
find irresistible, inundating her lungs with thick, rich, luscious tobacco
smoke delivered by her adorable Benson & Hedges.  These cigarettes were her
best friends, for better or worse, God damn it, the friends that came twenty
to a pack, and they never, ever let her down!

   After three cigarettes, Suzanne felt better.  She was in command again,
thanks to the nicotine infusion.  She heard Francine's CD player in her room.
She thought about knocking on her door to further discuss the situation.  But
Suzanne smelled of smoke, and didn't want to face the hypocrisy charge again.
Instead she returned to her room and picked up the phone.

   "Hi, Beth, it's Suzanne," she began.  "Can we talk a little more?"

   "Sure, Suzanne.  Kristen's upstairs.  I can talk.  What's up?"

   Suzanne hesitated.  "I decided to bluff poor Francine.  I said Kristen told
you she smokes, too, and I asked if it was true.  Francine admitted it is.
She's smoking, Beth, and has been for over a month.  What really hurts is,
Francine did it for the same reason I started again, to lose weight.  It
worked, of course, but that doesn't make me feel better.  God, now I don't
know what to do, Beth.  Like you, I can't quit smoking.  Even if I could, I
don't want to.  So I decided to call you back.  I figure whatever we do about
our daughters, we should probably do it together."

   "God, that's terrible, Suzanne," Beth agreed.  "For years I was afraid this
day would come for me.  I feared Kristen would someday want to smoke, all
because I set a bad example.  Shit!  Now you have the same problem.  Yeah, we
should probably take the same approach.  Our daughters will compare notes and
use it against us if we don't."

   Suzanne reached for her cigarettes.  Despite having just smoked, she always
wanted one while on the phone.  She clicked her lighter.  "The ironic thing
is, Beth, as soon as I found out, I came up to my room, locked the door and
started chain-smoking.  God, I feel like a complete asshole, a hypocrite.  But
I can't help it.  If I'm stressed, I _have_ to smoke."

   Beth laughed sympathetically.  "I know, kid, believe me, I know too well.
But then there's no way around that, is there?"

   "No, it can't be helped," she agreed, exhaling smoke as she went on.
"Here's the other thing, Beth.  You're home all day.  You can police Kristen.
I work; I can't do that.  I've been thinking.  I can't force Francine to stop
smoking unless I quit, too.  I can make her quit her job, like you did with
Kristen, but she's home all day.  My cigarettes are here.  If she digs in her
heels, she can smoke my cigarettes all day while I'm gone.  The sad thing is,
I'd never know.  Our house reeks of smoke from me smoking.  I could count my
cigarettes, or lock 'em up.  But then she'll drive to the restaurant and get
her friends to buy her more.  I'm screwed, Beth.  I'm completely screwed."

   There was silence on the line.  Finally, Beth spoke.  "I think you're
right, Suzanne.  Unless you quit, you can't stop Francine.  So what are you
going to do?"

   "I don't know," Suzanne exploded.  "That's just it.  I don't know.  I'm
thinking out loud, but I don't know what the answer is.  Shit, maybe there's
no answer.  Maybe I should just negotiate.  If I tell Francine she can smoke,
but only under strict conditions, maybe I'd at least minimize the damage to
her health and keep her from getting totally addicted like I am."  She paused
to hit on her B&H.  "Of course, it'd totally be an honor system.  I could
never be sure she wasn't exceeding my limits.  Damn.  I don't know, Beth.  I
really don't know."

   "I'm not any happier with my situation.  I grounded Kristen for the summer,
but that'll really never work.  I don't know either, Suzanne.  God, maybe we
both should just throw in the fuckin' towel.  As much as I hate to say it,
unless we quit smoking, we'll never be able to make our daughters quit.
Never.  Don't you think?"

   Suzanne reluctantly released a long stream of smoke from her lips.  She was
taking extra long drags and deeper inhales to cope with the tension she felt.
"Yeah, I think so, Beth.  Damn it, I feel terrible about this.  But I don't
know what else to do.  Shit!  So what are you suggesting, that we just tell
both of 'em they can smoke as much as they want?"

   "I don't know," Beth replied.  "How much does Francine smoke?"

   "She says she only smokes eight cigarettes a day.  But I suspect she's not
telling the whole truth.  Let's double that, realistically.  She's probably
smoking more than she admits."

   "Kristen was doing almost a pack a day.  I suspect Francine's not far
behind.  Yeah, I guess we can try to put a maximum number on them, but I'm not
sure it'll work.  The other thing we could try is to let 'em smoke, but only
let them smoke lights or ultra lights."

   "That's an idea," Suzanne admitted.  "It wouldn't be so bad for them then."
She laughed.  "But I have to tell you, Beth, I hate those stupid lights and
ultra lights!  The few times I tried 'em, I could hardly stand smoking them.
It's like smoking air, for God's sake.  You still smoke Marlboro Lights?
Yeah, well, I'm completely hopeless.  I smoke full flavor Benson & Hedges.
They're deadly, but they're so damn good!  Apparently that's what Francine's
smoking, I'm sorry to say."

   "Really?  You smoke a full flavor brand?  God, I'm so jealous," Beth
laughed impishly.  "I switched down from Marlboro Reds a couple years ago, but
I still miss 'em."

   "Yeah, well, I decided if I'm going to smoke anyway, then hell, I may as
well smoke a real, honest to goodness cigarette.  Know what I mean?"  She
paused to drag on her B&H.  "A while ago I tried a carton of Benson & Hedges
Lights 100's, but I had to smoke harder and faster to get the same nicotine.
I'm much happier with the full flavor ones."  She dragged again.  "But it's a
good idea for our girls.  Tell Kristen she has to smoke ultra lights; I'll do
the same with Francine.  They'll think they're getting away with something,
but at least we'll limit their tar and nicotine."

   "So, we've decided?  We'll let them smoke?"  Beth waited for an answer.
"The other thing I suggest is, under no circumstances more than a pack a day,
ever.  I don't know about you, Suzanne, but I smoke a lot more than that.  I
don't want Kristen going there."

   "Me neither," Suzanne agreed.  "I average a pack and a half, mostly because
Roger, my boyfriend, smokes.  If I'm with him, I smoke every time he lights
up.  We feed off each other, to be honest.  I've been smoking a lot more since
I started seeing Roger."

   "Bob and I do the same," Beth sighed.  "If he lights up, I've got to, too,
even I just finished one.  Okay, so we'll tell the girls they can smoke, but
only ultra lights, and never more than a pack a day.  Now, what about smoking
outside the house?"

   Suzanne hesitated.  "That's an interesting problem.  If you free Kristen
from purgatory, she'll want her job back, the one Francine has.  Francine
won't stand in her way, especially if she can smoke.  I guess I don't care if
they smoke elsewhere, Beth.  I did at their age.  Didn't you?"

   "Yeah, sure.  I never smoked at home.  My parents would've killed me.  They
were mad when I came out of the closet at eighteen and told 'em I was smoking,
though there was nothing they could do.  Yeah, okay, no limits on where, only
what they smoke and how many."

   Suzanne frowned.  "Something tells me we're still making a mistake, Beth.
But I don't know what else to do."

   "Me, neither.  Listen, we can only play the cards we're dealt.  We both
smoke, and neither of us can quit; nor do we want to.  Nobody can quit if they
don't really want to, and we don't, do we?  So we have to live with that.  Our
daughters won't back off easily, I bet, so I think the compromise we worked
out is as responsible as we can manage, given the circumstances."  Beth
paused.  "Bob will be delighted.  He didn't want me to be so hard on Kristen.
His parents let him smoke as a teenager, I guess, and he thinks I'm way too
mean to her."  She laughed.  "Speaking of delighted, Kristen will be
ecstatic."

   Suzanne sighed.  "Yeah, so will Francine."  She felt better about this
course of action knowing she wasn't alone.  If anyone criticized her, at least
she'd share the blame with Beth and Bob Martin.  "Okay, it's a deal.  I'll
talk to Francine tonight."

   "And I'll talk to Kristen.  Thanks, Suzanne, for calling back.  It may not
be the best for our girls, but this plan will sure be a hell of a lot easier
on you and me.  Right?"

   "Definitely," Suzanne agreed, laughing in spite of herself.  "Most
definitely!"

   She opened her bedroom door and walked to Francine's room.  Music was
playing inside.  She hesitated, and knocked.  "Hey, honey.  Can I come in?  I
want to talk again if that's okay."

   "I'm kind of upset, Mom," Francine answered from inside.  "Maybe later."

   "No, I want to talk.  I've done some thinking.  You'll want to hear what I
have to say."

   The door opened.  Francine's eyes were red and puffy.  She'd been crying.

   "Poor baby," Suzanne said compassionately.  "What's wrong?"

   "You know what's wrong, Mom," Francine sniffled.  "I'm mad and upset.  You
don't try to understand.  I know smoking's not good for me.  But I don't care.
I just want to get thinner, and smoking's really helped.  Now you want me to
get fat again," she whimpered, and began to cry.  "It's just not fair.  You
smoke all you want, and because of it you've got a great boyfriend and
everybody thinks you're gorgeous.  But not Francine!  No, I have to keep being
fat!"

   "Shh, honey, don't talk like that," Suzanne hushed.  Her daughter was
sobbing out of control in her arms.  "There, there, it'll be alright."

   A big pile of wadded-up Kleenex was on Francine's bed.  The poor kid had
been crying constantly since their talk.  Suzanne's heart went out to her.
She moved her back into her room.  The two of them sat down on her bed by the
Kleenex box.

   Francine wept uncontrollably.  Suzanne tried to comfort her, but Francine
was inconsolable.  God, she wanted to do something, to help Francine stop
crying, make her feel better.  Then it hit her like a ton of bricks.  She knew
what _she'd_ want in that situation.  She slowly reached into her pocket and,
with a malevolent grin, got out her Benson & Hedges.  She was about to do
something undeniably sinful..  Nonetheless, it seemed strangely delicious,
entirely fitting.  She was strangely, shamelessly excited just thinking about
it.  She put a B&H in her mouth, clicked her lighter and lit up.  Then she
held out the burning cigarette to her sobbing daughter.  "Here, honey.  Shush.
Take this.  It'll make you feel much better.  I promise."

   Francine looked up.  Smoke was pouring out of Suzanne's mouth, but that
wasn't surprising.  What amazed the teenager was that her mom was holding out
a freshly lit cigarette, and urging her to take it.

   "Go on, Francine," Suzanne reiterated.  "You can have it.  I don't mind.
Really."

   The youngster stopped crying and blinked her eyes in disbelief.  "What the
??  Mom, is this some kind of a trick?"

   Suzanne tenderly shook her head.  She got out a second B&H from her gold
pack.  Still holding the first cigarette in her fingers, she lit up the second
one as well.

   "No, it's no trick, honey," she whispered, with the second cigarette
dangling from her lips.  "There, this cigarette's for me.  The first one's for
you, dear.  And if you don't take it, it'll go to waste.  That'd be a shame.
Go on.  Have it.  I think it'll make you feel better.  Am I right?"

   Francine slowly nodded, finally accepting the long, white burning cigarette
from her mom's fingers.  She started to raise it to her lips, and then
stopped.  "Mom, I don't get it.  Are you saying it's okay for me to smoke?"

   Suzanne smiled sympathetically.  Instead of remorse, all of a sudden she
felt oddly pleased for what she was about to tell her daughter.  "Yeah,
Francine, it's fine."  She intended to say that she only guessed it was fine,
but the qualifier never make it past her lips.  No, it was simply fine, and
suddenly that was a true statement.

   Francine timidly put the cigarette in her mouth to take a drag, and Suzanne
went on.  "We need to establish a few ground rules, but yeah.   I decided I
can't really stop you from smoking unless I'm willing to quit myself.  And I'm
definitely not ready for that," she added honestly.

   Francine deeply and confidently inhaled the smoke into her chest.  Suzanne
smiled.  Yeah, she sure _did_ know how to smoke, didn't she?  Her tears had
stopped, and Suzanne realized she and her daughter were now smoking together.
It wasn't as horrific as she always thought it'd be.  Instead, it seemed ? it
seemed nice, actually.

   "I talked to Beth Martin again," she went on..  "We agree we can't stop you
and Kristen from smoking, though we wish we could.  So we settled on some
common ground rules.  We'll both let you guys smoke, if you'll do it on our
terms.  Okay?"

   Francine grinned from ear to ear.  "Oh, Mom, thanks," she gushed,
spontaneously hugging her.  "That's great.  It means I'll keep losing weight.
I know you're not happy about me smoking.  But really, Mom, it's made such a
difference this month.  Now, instead of eating, I just smoke a cigarette or
two, and I don't feel hungry anymore.  I really think I'll get down to 105
pounds if I keep doing what I've been doing."

   Suzanne hit on her cigarette and nodded.  "Oh, believe me, Francine, I
know.  I did the same thing, remember?  Smoking substitutes for eating, and
the pounds melt off.  The trouble is, honey, soon addiction sets in, and then
you can't quit."

   Amazingly, Francine now didn't feel at all awkward smoking with her mom.
She, too, dragged hard on her B&H.  "But Mom, be honest.  It's not just that
you _can't_ quit.  It's more than that.  Look, I know the truth.  You don't
_want_ to quit.  And now that I've been smoking awhile, I don't want to,
either.  I'm sorry, but I like it.  I like to smoke."

   "I know, honey," Suzanne sighed.  "It's what I was afraid of.  I can tell
just by watching that you already like it way too much.  Do you think you're
already addicted?"

   Francine didn't know for sure, but she decided the best answer was the
affirmative one.  "Oh yeah, Mom, I definitely think I'm addicted."  To
demonstrate, she purposely took a long, powerful hit, followed by a deep, open
mouth inhale.  "I get real jittery whenever I go too long without a
cigarette," she smiled mischievously.  "I'm just like you now, Mom.  I'm a
smoker."

   "Well, shit!  At least you'll be thin," Suzanne sighed.  "That's a plus.
And you know, you've become a really good-looking young lady the last several
weeks."  Her daughter blushed at the compliment as Suzanne continued.  "Okay,
so you're going to smoke now.  But we still need to go over my ground rules.
First, my God, we need an ashtray!"

   It was true.  Both of them were about to spill ashes on the bedspread.
Francine grew red.  "Don't worry, Mom.  I got it covered."  She carefully
carried her cigarette to her desk and removed an ashtray from the drawer.  "I
started keeping one up here," she admitted with a guilty smile.  "Just in case
I need it."

   Suzanne laughed despite herself.  She tapped her B&H in the ashtray to shed
the dangling ash.  "Honey, I guess I'm not surprised.  But like I said, we
need to go over some ground rules.  Beth and I will let you and Kristen keep
smoking, but there will be some conditions."

   Francine took a confident, hard drag on her cigarette.  "Fire away, Mom,"
she happily smiled.  "As long as I can keep smoking, I'll agree to just about
anything!"

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