How Could She Say No?, Part 4

    4. Friends Share Everything With Their Friends.

    It was Friday afternoon two weeks later. Six o'clock. Patti's hands
trembled. She arrived home from running errands and got the mail. When she
first read the letter she couldn't believe her eyes. She'd called Randy
Wisdom, the school principal, to make sure there hadn't been some mistake.
There was no mistake. Patti's position had been terminated. She was fired! Her
contract was not being renewed next fall.

    For some time Patti suspected some teachers weren't going to be rehired
for next year. The school reduced the number of classes in two grades. But she
never imagined she'd be the one to go. She'd been there for four years. To
make matters worse, the school was keeping Marianne Robinson instead of
renewing Patti's contract. Marianne was a black female. Of course, racial
diversity on the faculty was important. Especially for a private school
competing for students. But Patti was a better teacher than Marianne and she
knew it. So did Randy. 

    She felt betrayed, particularly because they gave her the news by letter.
God! Randy hadn't had the balls to call and tell her in person. Patti was
furious. And scared. She and Mark needed the second income to maintain their
house payments. If she were out of a job for any length of time, they couldn't
afford to stay. They'd have to sell the house. Damn, damn, damn, Patti
muttered. She frantically paced up and down the living room, thinking, talking
to herself, and repeatedly cursing the school administration.

    Mark was out of town. He wouldn't be coming home tonight. Patti couldn't
talk to him until he called from his hotel in New York. That would be much
later this evening. Damn, she thought. 

    She looked at her watch. She was going crazy and it was only fifteen
minutes after six. How would she make it through the evening? Patti thought
for a moment. Megan was at her mother's for the weekend. Like Mark, she
wouldn't be home 'til Sunday night. Not that Megan would be much help. But
Patti needed to talk to somebody. 

    Still upset, after a few minutes Patti called her sister, Miriam. But the
machine answered instead. "Damn," Patti said again, this time out loud. 

    Suddenly Patti thought about Trish. "I'll see if Trish is home," she
decided. "I can talk to her. She'll help calm me down." She smiled when a
quick phone call confirmed that Trish was there. She'd arrived home from work
a few minutes earlier. Steve was out with the boys tonight. She'd be alone
this evening. Sensing the distress in Patti's voice, Trish told her to come
over.

    "Come in," shouted a familiar voice from within the Jordan house when
Patti rang the bell. She walked into the kitchen and saw Trish sitting in the
family room, looking through her mail. Trish was dressed in her work clothes,
a red sleeveless blouse with a navy blue skirt. The coat which completed the
ensemble was draped over the chair. Not unexpectedly, Trish held a cup of
coffee in her right hand and a cigarette in her left. She was alone. Patti was
glad. Dealing with Heather and Steve was the last thing she wanted. She was
too upset.

    "What's wrong with you, kid?" Trish exclaimed. Patti looked like she'd
lost her last friend. Without another word, she burst out crying. Tears began
to flow down both cheeks. 

    Trish sat Patti on the couch and got a box of Kleenex. For over five
minutes Patti cried uncontrollably. She was upset, she was mad, she was hurt.
Her eye makeup was running but she didn't care. She just needed to cry. Trish
sat quietly beside her, doing her best to provide consolation.

    Patti finally stopped crying, and Trish made her tell the whole story.
"The bastards," Trish scowled upon hearing the tale. "God, they don't know
what the hell they're doing, do they? Look, I know you're a great teacher,
Patti. You love those kids. They've got their collective head up their
collective ass, if you'll excuse my being so blunt."

    Patti nodded. "It's all politics," she whimpered. "I'm not black and I'm
the odd one out. But I don't know what to do. I'm afraid we're going to lose
our house," she muttered, and began sobbing again.

    Trish sat by helplessly. "Let me get you some coffee, honey," she
suggested after Patti cried awhile longer. She walked into the kitchen.
Returning with a cup of coffee for each of them, Trish sat down beside her.
"Drink this, Patti" she suggested with a smile. "In my experience, hot coffee
is always a big help."

    Patti eagerly sipped the coffee. It was hot and black, the way she liked
it. She saw Trish's familiar trademark smile. She appreciated the sympathy.
Trish was a true friend. "But Trish, I don't know what to do. I'm so upset. I
feel so mad, why, I could almost spit. This isn't like me, being so
emotionally out of control. What am I going to do? How can I deal with this?
I'm out of control." She began to cry all over again.

    A faint smile appeared on Trish's lips. "I don't think you want my advice,
Patti. You know what I'd do to get control of myself and calm down." Patti
looked at her blankly. So Trish continued. The familiar grin ran from ear to
ear. "I'd just light up a cigarette and suck on it as hard and as long as I
could. I'd let nicotine help me calm down, relax. It works like a charm for
me." She looked at Patti. "But coffee works almost as well, kid. Have another
sip."

    Patti suddenly realized Trish hadn't smoked since she arrived. Trish was
smoking a fresh cigarette a few minutes ago. Patti looked in the ashtray on
the table. There was one butt; it had hardly been smoked. Trish had crushed it
out, she realized, in order to comfort her. Patti looked at Trish as she
returned the coffee cup to her lips. 

    "Oh, Trish, go ahead and have a cigarette," Patti apologized. "You were
having your first cigarette of the evening and I interrupted you. I'm so
sorry."

    Trish smiled. "That's okay, Patti," she reassured her. "I didn't want to
bother you, that's all. You're pretty upset." She reached for her cigarette
case on the table. "But I'd sure like to have one now, if that's okay."

    Patti smiled and sniffled. Her nose was still running. Dear, sweet Trish.
She's so thoughtful. "Of course it's all right with me, Trish," Patti sighed.
"Please go right ahead." This time, perhaps for the first time, Patti really
meant it.

    Without hesitating Trish put a cigarette between her lips and reached for
her lighter. As the flame stood up, Trish moved it quickly toward the
cigarette and lit up. Taking a big drag, she set the lighter down on the
table. Without removing the cigarette from her lips, she followed with a
second cheek hollowing drag. Trish promptly sucked the smoke deep into her
lungs. 

    "God," she exclaimed happily. "That's much better." Taking a third drag
while exhaling the smoke from the first two through her nose, Trish quickly
inhaled once again. "Hey, I don't know about you, Patti," she teased. "But I
feel much better now!" She turned her head and exhaled a big stream of smoke
toward the ceiling. "Much better," she affirmed with a smile. "You should try
it sometime," Trish kidded. "Your anti-smoking buddies would go crazy!"

    Oh my God, Patti thought. She giggled involuntarily! Yeah, the bastards at
school would go crazy! Patti smiled as she imagined how astounded they'd be if
they saw her smoking a cigarette. They used her for four years to persuade
kids to avoid drugs, including tobacco. Suddenly, the thought of smoking a
cigarette with Trish seemed like a wonderful way to turn the tables on the
ungrateful bastards. In an odd way, it would seem like a measure of revenge.
How could she say no to this opportunity? Damn Randy Wisdom and his
anti-smoking pals! "Trish," Patti smiled weakly. "You've hit on it. Let me
have one of your cigarettes, will you?"

    Trish looked stricken. "Look, Patti, I was kidding," she laughed
nervously. But Trish could tell Patti was serious.

    "Hey, Patti, you're no smoker," Trish went on. "Smoking will probably make
you feel worse than you already do. Believe me, stick with the coffee, kid.
You'll be fine in a few minutes." 

    Almost unconsciously Trish took another hit on her cigarette and inhaled
deeply. Patti's statement about wanting to smoke made Trish nervous. So Trish
did what she always did when something made her nervous. She smoked. The
significance of the action was not lost on Patti.

    "Well, I'm not kidding, Trish," Patti responded firmly. "You've always
said smoking calms your nerves. That you love it. That it helps you cope. That
it relaxes you. Well, I've had it with those damn hypocrites at the school.
Look, they gave me shit about the company I keep, because I had a friend who
was a smoker. They were talking about you! Well, screw them! You're a much
better friend than those bastards. So I want a cigarette. Right now."

    Trish looked at her. By now she was sure Patti wasn't kidding. "God, are
you really sure, Patti? Honestly, I'm not sure this is a good idea."

    Patti thought for a moment. In addition to her sudden and admittedly
twisted desire to smoke for revenge, Patti realized for the first time she was
also just curious about smoking. Really curious. Curious about the pleasures
which Trish and Miriam had talked about. Curious enough to try it for
herself.

    "Just give me a cigarette, damn it," Patti finally answered firmly. "I'm
going to smoke. We'll see whether or not it's a wonder drug." She smiled a
wicked grin. "You've always told me it's great, haven't you?"

    Shrugging her shoulders, Trish picked up her cigarette case and her
lighter. "Yeah, I guess I have. Okay, whatever you say, Patti," Trish replied
with a wry smile. She handed Patti a cigarette from the pack inside her case.
"But do you know how to smoke? Have you ever even tried it before?"

    Patti paused. "No," she admitted, holding the unlit cigarette between her
fingers. "I guess you'll have to show me how."

    Despite the smile on Patti's lips, Trish wavered. "Look, Patti, I don't
want to take responsibility for this. You'll probably regret this later and
then you'll blame me. You're just upset. You'll get over it." Nervously Trish
took a final drag on her cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray.

    Patti began to lose her temper. "Damn it, Trish," she swore with
conviction. "I know what I'm doing. Are you going to show me or not? Because
if you won't, I'll go see my sister. Miriam will teach me to smoke if you
won't."

    Trish shrugged her shoulders. "Okay," she said with resignation. Trish got
out a second cigarette for herself. She wasn't going to miss an opportunity to
smoke!

    "If you're sure you want to do this, Patti, then just put it in your
mouth." To demonstrate, Trish put her cigarette between her lips. "Get ready
to suck gently when I light you up. And don't breathe the smoke in your lungs.
Just pull it into your mouth and then blow it right back out immediately.
Remember, at first the smoke won't taste good, either."

    "Damn it, I know that," Patti replied impatiently. "I've done a lot of
studying about tobacco, you know. I can learn to smoke, Trish. Just shut up
and get on with it."

    Trish flicked her gold lighter and lit her own cigarette. Without thinking
she took a big drag and immediately inhaled the smoke. "Oh God," she
stammered. "Don't do that," she laughed. "Force of habit. I do it
instinctively. You want to do it this way, Patti." Trish puffed gently and
removed the cigarette from her lips with an immediate exhale of smoke.

    Trish flicked the lighter again. For the first time she noticed a look of
terror in Patti's eyes. She was afraid. Trish laughed and extinguished the
lighter. "Tell you what, Patti. You take mine." She handed Patti the cigarette
she'd lit for herself. "I'll light up another one for me." Trish lit the
second cigarette and took another drag, pumping the smoke deep into her lungs
once again. 

    Patti sat staring at the burning cigarette between her fingers. Trish
exhaled and laughed at the same time. "Change your mind yet?" she teased.
"Chicken?"

    Patti looked up. "No. It's just that .... Well, I've never been so close
to a burning cigarette before. I mean, I've never held one like this."

    "Holding it isn't hard, Patti," grinned Trish. "Puffing on it is another
matter. Are you going to do it, or not?"

    Patti sighed. "Yes, I am." She smiled at Trish. "Here goes nothing."

    Patti put the cigarette gingerly between her lips and puffed lightly.
Quickly removing it, Patti immediately exhaled a small plume of smoke. "Yuck,"
she exclaimed, making a face. "It tastes so damn bitter!"

    "I told you," Trish replied smugly. "One puff doth not a smoker make, kid.
Try it a few more times. You just need to get used to it. Don't worry, it
grows on you." Trish took another drag and inhaled the smoke, holding it
inside for what seemed to Patti like an eternity.

    "Yeah, I'm sure it does," Patti frowned, rolling the lit cigarette between
her fingers. With a deliberate motion she once again puffed lightly on it and
blew the smoke back out. "I still think it sucks," Patti complained. Then she
smiled. "But really, it's not that hard to do," she observed.

    Trish laughed again. The same winning grin. "Of course it's not hard,
silly," she giggled. "If it were hard, millions of kids wouldn't start smoking
every day!" Patti winced. "Sorry," Trish apologized. "I couldn't resist that
jab. But seriously, if it were hard, you wouldn't find so many people learning
how. I mean it. Anyone can learn to smoke. If they want to, that is."

    Patti raised the cigarette to her lips. "And I do want to," she stated
firmly, pausing for an additional moment. "I want to know what it's like to
feel the cravings you smokers have," she went on. "To feel like I have to have
a cigarette, and then feel the rush of satisfaction I've always heard about.
You know, the satisfaction a smoker feels lighting a cigarette after having
been without one for a long time. To see and understand the world from your
point of view, Trish." With that, Patti puffed again on the cigarette, harder
and longer this time. And this time she held the smoke in her mouth for a few
seconds, but exhaled once again without having inhaled.

    "Well, you're on the right track, Patti," Trish nodded. "But you need to
get rid of those ashes there." Trish leaned over and de-ashed into the nearby
ashtray. "Like this," she volunteered.

    Patti tapped ashes from the end into the ashtray. She puffed lightly again
and blew the smoke out. "I'm starting to feel a little dizzy," she admitted.
"I think it's working. The nicotine, I mean."

    "Patti, you've hardly received enough nicotine to buzz a fly," mocked
Trish. "But don't worry. It's working all right! Go ahead and crush it out if
you feel sick. No sense in pushing this thing too far."

    "One more puff," Patti said. She puffed again, this time much longer and
harder than before. Then, with a look of defiance in her eyes, Patti tried to
inhale. Immediately she began to choke. Tears filled her eyes and she dropped
the cigarette into the ashtray as she tried to clear her lungs of the
unfamiliar foreign agent.

    "It's okay, kid," Trish intervened. "You'll be okay. Have something to
drink." She handed Patti the cup of coffee, still warm, but no longer piping
hot.

    Patti took a large sip of coffee in-between coughs. "Damn," she exclaimed.
"I thought I could do it." She coughed again. "Guess I was wrong," she grinned
as finally composed herself.

    "I told you not to do that," Trish chided while taking another drag on her
own cigarette. Trish wasn't about to put hers out although Patti was clearly
finished. She began her exhale with a big grin. "I'll bet that cures your
desire to try smoking, doesn't it?"

    Patti took another sip. "No," she said aloud after thinking for a few
moments. "It doesn't. It just means I'll have to work on it. That's all."

    "Are you crazy, Patti?" asked Trish in disbelief. "You will get hooked if
you aren't careful, you know. I thought you were so anti-smoking. What the
hell's gotten into you?"

    Patti smiled a wicked smile. With amusement she watched Trish quickly take
another hit. "Just this, Trish. I was fired today by a bunch of non-smoking,
anti-smoking, self-righteous, shit-faced hypocrites who told me I shouldn't be
friends with you because you're a goddamn smoker. Well, fuck them!" 

    Trish's eyebrows went straight up. She'd never heard Patti use that kind
of language.

    "I mean it, Trish, fuck them," Patti repeated with emphasis. "I'm going to
give them a real reason to be mad at me. I'm going to learn to smoke. Just
like you. And then I'm going over to Randy Wisdom's house, ring his doorbell,
and blow smoke right in his goddamn face!"

    "Whoa," Trish replied. "Calm down, kid. You may want to think twice about
doing that. It won't prove anything, you know."

    "Yes, it will," answered Patti firmly. "Give me that cigarette." She
reached out for the still burning cigarette Trish was holding. "Now!"

    Reluctantly Trish handed it to her. "If you say so."

    Patti raised it to her lips and took another drag. She pulled long and
hard. She shallowly inhaled some smoke, this time successfully. Without
coughing, Patti held it in for a few seconds and then exhaled in a strong,
steady stream. "There," she announced proudly. "I did it that time." She
grinned broadly. "You know, it's not hard at all once you learn how to control
the smoke the right way." She handed the cigarette back to Trish.

    "If you say so, Patti," Trish smiled back. Trish took a final puff and
crushed the cigarette in the ashtray. "You're really serious, aren't you?"

    "Damn straight," Patti answered. "Let's smoke another one. Right now."

    "Maybe we should wait a few minutes, Patti. You don't want to make
yourself sick. You told you felt dizzy. Let's finish this cup of coffee and
then we'll light up again. Okay?"

    The two of them drank coffee and talked about other things for a few
minutes. Finally Patti insisted on smoking a second cigarette. Trish obliged
by lighting two cigarettes for them. She handed one to Patti who proceeded to
smoke the entire cigarette, inhaling lightly on most of her drags. Trish was
impressed, and she told Patti.

    "Actually, Trish," she replied, finishing her last puff on the second
cigarette. "It's not bad. Not bad at all. I might actually get so I like it."
She crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. "Are you willing to give me some
cigarettes and a lighter so I can experiment at home this weekend? I'd really
appreciate it."

    Trish smiled. "Sure," she nodded. "Why not?" Trish walked into the kitchen
and opened the drawer where she kept her supply. As she reentered the family
room, Trish handed Patti an unopened hard pack of Marlboro Light 100's and a
Bic lighter. "I'm giving you the box instead of the soft pack." Patti nodded
like she understood the difference, which she didn't. "I buy soft packs
because they're easier to get out of my cigarette case," Trish went on. "The
ones in the box are technically Steve's. But he won't mind. Hey, if you're
serious you'll also need an ashtray," she added. "Unless you've got one in a
drawer at home somewhere."

    "No, I don't," Patti agreed. "Thanks. I guess I'll need an ashtray, too."
She looked at the unopened pack of cigarettes while Trish retrieved a clean
ashtray from the kitchen. "Trish, what's the difference between this brand and
the one Miriam smokes?"

    "What?" queried Trish. "What brand does your sister smoke?"

    "I think Salems?" Patti asked. "Is that right?"

    "Could be," was the response. "Salems are menthols. These aren't. Menthol
cigarettes have a cool taste. I don't like 'em that much, but some people love
'em." She smiled. "Are you going to tell Miriam about this little experiment
of yours. And what about Mark and Megan? What are you going to tell them?"

    "I don't know," answered Patti frankly. "I haven't thought about it. I'm
not really planning on becoming a real smoker, you know. At least I don't
think I am. I just want to learn how to do it." She paused. "Mark won't care
if I just try smoking. He smokes sometimes, too, you know."

    "Yes, I know," smiled Trish. She looked like someone who knew a delicious
secret but wasn't going to tell. With a sigh, Trish went on. "Actually, Patti,
the truth is Mark smokes all the time when he comes over here. It's just a
guess, but I think Mark would be delighted to see you start smoking, too. You
know, he admitted to Steve that he's frustrated not being able to smoke at
home. I think he'd like permission. Which I assume you'd give him if you
started smoking even a little." She paused. "Do you know how much Mark's
smoking these days, Patti?"

    "No," Patti said, surprised. "I thought only a few cigarettes every once
in awhile. Only when he comes over here." She looked at Trish. "I'll bet
that's not right. How much is he smoking, Trish?"

    "God, I probably shouldn't say." Trish seemed embarrassed. "I don't want
to rat on him." From the stern look on Patti's face Trish saw she was going to
have to tell her. "Well, the truth is that Mark's started smoking at work
again. He told us he gave up smoking at the office for a long time. He hadn't
smoked there since before the divorce. But the other night Mark told us he's
started taking smoke breaks at the office again." Trish grinned. "At least a
couple times a day. Sometimes more often. To be honest, I think he's smoking
about half a pack a day." Trish's grin grew wider. "Patti, in my opinion
Mark's back. All the way back. As a smoker, I mean."

    "Trish, are you shitting me?" Patti asked incredulously. "That much? Damn,
he told me he quit."

    "He did quit," Trish stated. "At first. But it's like I told you, Patti.
Most former smokers like Mark don't want to stay quit. Smoking here with us
has been too much fun. Now he wants back in. He'd give anything to be able to
start smoking again all the time. But he's afraid of your reaction." Ignoring
the astonished look on Patti's face, Trish went on. "That's what I mean,
Patti. If you got to where you even just enjoyed an occasional cigarette, Mark
would love it. He loves to smoke with us. He'd love to smoke with you, too,
I'm sure."

    "Wow," Patti whistled. "Well, maybe if I work on it for a couple days I
could do it. I mean, by the time Mark gets home on Sunday night, do you think
I can pass as a smoker?"

    "Up to you, kid," Trish teased. "You just need to practice. All I'm saying
is, I don't think it'll hurt your marriage if you start smoking. I mean, all
you need to do is just become an occasional smoker." She stared at Patti. "But
if you do, Mark's going to want to smoke all the time. He's quit once. He's
not going back again. I think Mark's serious about smoking again. I don't
blame him, either. You know how I feel about it. I think it's great!"

    Patti said nothing in response. The wheels in her head were turning. 

    Now Trish smiled a wicked grin of her own. "So, be careful, Patti," Trish
went on. "It may not be as easy to control as you think. Remember, you'll get
hooked as a smoker, too, if you keep at it. It's addicting. You see, most
people don't try their first cigarette and think, gosh, I guess I'll smoke two
packs a day for the rest of my life. No one thinks that. I guarantee you, at
first you'll think you're in control of your smoking. That you can stop
anytime you want. You decide you'll smoke one cigarette. Then you think just
one more, and then just one more after that. All of a sudden, bang! You're
hooked. You don't want to quit. You can't live without smoking." 

    Trish saw the wheels continuing to turn inside Patti's head. Trish smiled
again. "See, it could happen to you, too, Patti. And I'm not saying that's
bad. Obviously, I wouldn't quit smoking for the world. But be careful. Smoking
can quickly become the most important thing in your whole fuckin' life. If
you're not willing to risk that, then quit. Right now. Because people who have
a lot more will power than you do used to think they could control it, too."
Trish paused. "You know what we call those people? They're called smokers."

    "So, basically, you're warning me, right?" Patti asked.

    "Exactly, kid," Trish replied. "Don't whine at me later and say I never
told you. You're playing with fire tonight, in more ways than one. I think
it's friendly fire. but it's fire just the same." She looked at the cigarette
case sitting on the table. "My cigarettes are my best friend, next to Steve,"
she added. She paused. "Actually, I take that back. I can imagine living
without Steve. I've done that before. I can't imagine living without smoking.
I've never been able to do that. I never will, either."

    "God, you mean if Steve said you had to choose between him or your
cigarette habit, you'd choose smoking over your husband?" asked Patti
incredulously.

    "You bet," Trish grinned. "Surprised? You shouldn't be. See, Steve and I
had that exact discussion before we got married. I told if he was ever
thinking of quitting smoking he should find himself a new fiancee. Because I'm
never quitting. And I'll never again live with someone who doesn't smoke. I
was married before, you know. Well, my first husband quit on me after two
years. He was worried about his damn health. That was the beginning of the end
of our relationship. I wasn't about to take any anti-smoking shit from that
asshole. Love me, love my smokes, that's what I told him! Bob didn't, and we
were history!"

    "God, I had no idea, Trish," Patti said. "Well, I know Mark would never
feel that way. I mean if I actually start smoking in the first place. But I'll
think about it. You're right. I suppose I could get hooked, too, even if I
don't mean to."

    "Sure you could," agreed Trish. "It happens real easily. But you know
what? You won't regret it if you do let it happen. You'll be one of us. A
smoker. And you'll love it."

    "Well, how will I know if that's happening? I mean, what should I
expect?"

    Trish pulled out another cigarette. She lit it and let a cloud of smoke
escape from her lips. Pulling on the cigarette again, she took a drag and
sucked the smoke down into her lungs. "There are several tell-tale signs. The
first is wanting a cigarette," she began. "I mean really wanting one. It
happens when you haven't had one for awhile. You think it would really hit the
spot. But you think, no, it's just my imagination. So you don't light up.
Then, pretty soon, you start to feel desperate, like you really have to have a
cigarette. You need one. That's the first warning sign," she smiled. "You're
getting hooked."

    Trish took another drag and went on. "Here's another sign. When you first
start smoking, Patti, your main focus is on exhaling. That's natural. You like
to play with the smoke when you exhale, like this." She allowed the smoke to
come out in short bursts, alternating between her mouth and nose. "Because
it's fun. Right?"

    Patti nodded. "I guess so." Based on her limited experience, she had to
admit it was fun to see smoke coming out of her mouth.

    Trish tapped some ashes into the ashtray. "But pretty soon, it changes.
Soon your focus becomes the inhale. You start making sure you're sucking the
smoke into your lungs as deep as you can. You're no longer preoccupied with
exhaling. It's the inhaling you concentrate on. Because you need your
nicotine. That's the second telltale sign. When you reach that point, you're a
smoker. Pure and simple."

    Patti shivered involuntarily. "Trish, I appreciate you being so candid.
But I'm going to experiment this weekend. Mark and Megan won't be home until
Sunday night. I want to get a handle on this thing. I need to understand it.
I'm going to learn to smoke if it kills me." Trish winced. "Bad choice of
metaphors, I guess," Patti smiled. "Hey, can we get together tomorrow? So I
can practice again?"

    "Sure," Trish grinned. "You know me. I love to smoke. But you'll also need
to practice on your own while you're home alone. How about if we go to lunch
together? We'll sit in the smoking section of the restaurant. Hey, you can try
smoking in public. That'll show how serious you really are."

    Patti gulped. "Okay," she said weakly. "And Trish?" she asked.

    "Yeah?"

    "How about one more?"

    "My pleasure, Patti," Trish replied, putting hers out and pulling two more
from her pack. "Put it in your mouth, kid," she smiled. "I'm going to show you
how to light it up. Just push in the little button on the lighter and twirl
the wheel." Patti did so. "That's it. Now puff gently while the flame hits the
tip. That's the girl!"

    Patti lit her cigarette and took the first puff. Surprisingly, by now it
didn't taste bad. She watched Trish light up another cigarette of her own. My
God, Patti sighed. I'm smoking! And Trish is right. I think I could learn to
like it.

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