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From Ren116214@gnn.com Sun Nov 10 12:07 EST 1996
Date: Sun, 10 Nov 1996 11:16:06
From: Ren
[author's note - this is the final part. I hope you have enjoyed reading it
as much as I enjoyed writing it. - R.]
Part 3.
*******************************************************
For the rest of the day, Cheryl was unusually quiet. She was feeling a
strange mixture of guilt and excitement that she didn't quite know how to
deal with. She had smoked a cigarette, and loved it. But in a way she felt
very guilty...she had decieved her Mom for the first time, and the conflict
between wanting to smoke again, and not wanting to be dishonest, was really
bothering her.
What Cheryl didn't know was that her mother was very tuned in to her
daughter's needs and desires, and in order to test her theory, she had been
purposely giving Cheryl opportunities to smoke if that's what she wanted to
do. Before she had gone shopping, she had counted the number of cigarettes in
the pack in her housecoat before she left - there were eight. When she came
home, there were seven. She had smiled to herself upon discovering this, not
so much because she wanted her young daughter to smoke, but because it proved
to her that she had, indeed, known her little girl's desires. And now she
was picking up on Cheryl's guilt feelings. She felt bad for Cheryl, but
decided not to do anything just yet - just continue to be a loving and
supportive mother, just as she always had been.
Later that evening, Cheryl's dad called, with the news that he had to
fill in for another pilot who had developed an inner ear infection and was
grounded. He would be doing the Tokyo run for the next few days, and
promised to be home by the folowing Sunday.
[author's note: the next 3 paragraphs should be in italics. - R.]
She awakens, and walks slowly down the stairs, knowing somehow, as one
will in a dream, that the house is empty. Morning sunlight is streaming
brightly through the open living room windows, and there is a faint sound of
early morning birds singing. She walks, almost floating, to the L-shaped
sofa, and sits in the angled part of it. Before her is the round, low coffee
table, its smoothly finished surface looking clean and new in the morning
sun. There is a bouquet of bright flowers in the center of it, and, just to
the right and in front of that, a large glass ashtray. In the ashtray, just
as there always is, is the freshly lit Salem 100.
She picks up the cigarette, neatly manicuring the tip until the ash
looks smooth and round, and sits back in the sofa, pulling her legs up under
her. The room is comfortably cool...it is a beautiful morning.
She places the cigarette between her young lips, and takes a long, slow
drag... the smoke tasting cool and delicious on her tongue. After a few
seconds, she opens her mouth slightly and inhales deeply...and feels the
fulfilling sensation, once again, of the smoke entering her chest. She
smiles to herself, and exhales slowly, a long thick stream of smoke that
seems almost endless, revealing itself brightly in the angled sunlight coming
in through the window....
[end italics]
Cheryl opened her eyes, and realized that she had been pursing her lips
and exhaling, as if she had been smoking for real. That was so nice, she
thought to herself. And the dream was even more realistic now...because she
knew what it really felt like, and tasted like, to smoke.
She walked out of her bedroom, and encountered her mother in the
hall. "Good morning, Cher...you're up early this morning!" her mother said.
"I was having a dream, and it woke me up," replied Cheryl.
"What...a nitemare?"
"No....it was really a nice dream. Is there any coffee made yet?"
"Yes," replied her Mom. "Go ahead, help yourself...I'll be down in a
few minutes." With that, she went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Cheryl went down into the kitchen, and opened the cabinet, pulling out a
coffee mug. The smell of cigarette smoke was very strong, and Cheryl thought
to herself, Mom must have just been smoking. Out of the corner of her eye,
she caught a movement in the dining room, and looked again. There, in the
ashtray, was a lit cigarette, its smoke slowly curling upward in the morning
sunlight.
Cheryl put the coffee cup down, and walked over to it. She glanced
quickly over her shoulder at the bathroom door, which was still closed. This
is too good to be true, she thought to herself. Two days in a row.
She picked the cigarette up, and, knowing now that it wouldn't make her
cough, proceeded to take a long, deep drag... the cool mentholated smoke
caressing her tongue. She inhaled deeply, feeling the rich smoke fill her
lungs again, and then blew a long stream towards the ceiling, wishing that
she could have seen herself take that long drag.
The bathroom door opened suddenly. Cheryl quickly put the cigarette
back in the ashtray, hoping that she had managed to exhale all the smoke from
her lungs. Her mother was walking into the kitchen now, and here she was,
still standing next to the ashtray.
Her mother stopped dead in her tracks... an unusual mixture of humor
and understanding on her face. She had, of course, left the cigarette there
on purpose, and was not really surprised at what had just, apparently,
happened. The large cloud of smoke from Cheryl's exhale was still drifting
across the room.
Cheryl stood dumbfounded, her mind racing. Is it possible that her
mother wouldn't notice all the smoke... and if she did.... would she assume
that it was just the sidestream smoke from her cigarette? She looked towards
the window, and saw that the large cloud of smoke was just now drifting
towards it. It sure didn't look like sidestream smoke.
Her mom walked over and sat down at the table. It was time to address
the issue.
"Cheryl, sweetie, sit down," she said.
Cheryl pulled out a chair and sat, obediently, wondering what peril was
about to befall her. The cigarette lay, still smouldering, in the ashtray
between them.
"Sweetheart...you have started smoking recently, haven't you?"
Faced with such a point-blank question, Cheryl didn't quite know what
to say. The evidence was as thick as the smoke she had just exhaled, and she
was still feeling guilty about trying to decieve her Mom... so... she looked
down, and said, softly, "Yes."
"Baby...it's nothing to be ashamed of...I started smoking when I was
even younger than you are now. I remember I went through hell trying to hide
it from your grandmother, and it was one of the most miserable times of my
life...wanting so badly to smoke, but wanting equally badly not to lie to my
own mother. I understand completely. And the funny part was, when I finally
got up the nerve to tell her, she wasn't mad at all. The only th ing she
said to me was that she wished I had been more honest with her. After all,
she said, 'if you're gonna smoke, you're gonna smoke'. And I made up my mind
right then, that if I ever had any children, if the time came when the same
situation was going to develop, I would make sure that they never had to
sneak aound like I did."
Cheryl listened with growing relief...she had somehow known that her
mother wasn't going to be upset, and the confirmation of that came like a
tremendous weight being lifted off her shoulders.
Cheryl looked at her mother again, with a new look of love and
appreciation...how many kids had mothers that would be so understanding? She
didn't know of any besides hers.
"You mean...are you saying..."
Her mom picked up the cigarette, and took a long drag, and smiled at
her young daughter. "Yes, baby," she said, holding the cigarette out to
Cheryl. "That's what I'm saying."
Cheryl smiled broadly a her mother, and reached, tentatively, for the
cigarette. "Go ahead, sweetie," her mom said, almost in a whisper. "It's
okay."
Cheryl took the cigarette from between her mother's fingers, and smiled
at her mom as she brought it to her lips. The smoke tasted rich and warm as
she dragged on it, and she thought to herself, If I ever have children...I am
going to be as understanding and supportive as my mother has been. How can I
possibly be otherwise?
She blew a long stream of smoke off to the right, and looked again at
her Mom, as if for approval. Her mother responded by leaning over to her and
kissing her gently on the cheek.
***********************************************************
Cheryl looked in on her daughter before retiring for the evening. She
was such a good girl, never gave her any trouble whatsoever...the words of
her grandmother, spoken so long ago, echoed in her mind..."if you're gonna
smoke, you're gonna smoke..." Cheryl looked at her daughter's peaceful face,
and said softly, "Sleep well, Miss Vicki...sweet dreams..."...and as quietly
as she could, clicked off the light.
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