The Smoking Girl

Part 1

My intentions have always been good. Suddenly something happened that made me start doing things I wouldn’t ever do. Like, I took up smoking again after ten years. This is awful. Why do I do this shit? I know it’s no good for me. I take a long drag off my cigarette. I am so pissed. Smoking helps; I guess. I have put with this for far too long. The cool Fall air feels good as I take another hit. I glance over at the empty bottle of wine leaning against my denim-covered thigh.

I clamber to my feet, grabbing my wine bottle. It is only about 100 yards from my house. I drudge on. A car speeds down the street causing me to scowl and roll my eyes. The filter is all that’s left of my cigarette. It is getting chillier now as I move faster toward my destination.

Making it back to the house, I tiptoe in, tempted by the bottle of chardonnay calling to me from the fridge. After uncorking the bottle and taking a swig, I search around for a quick snack. I snag a beef stick from the cupboard. Perfect. I munch and drink for a few moments before hearing my roommate enter the kitchen. She greets me as she goes to the freezer for some ice cream. She sits down next to me.

“I got hungry.”

“Same.” I exclaim.

“I know you just came in.” She accuses.

I wish she would mind her own business.

“I just care is all.” She tells me. It’s as if she’s reading my mind or something. Jeez.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re a great friend. This isn’t like you.”

I roll my eyes, grab my bottle of wine and walk out the door. I know exactly where to go. There’s an old, abandoned house I have visited a lot more recently. My roommate doesn’t need me. She has her dog to hang out with. I brave the cold even though I wish I had something warmer. Maybe I should’ve taken a jacket with me, but I just had to leave.

The door of the house is the sturdiest thing about the old house in general. I’ve gotten used to the inches of dust throughout the main floor. I carefully climb up the stairs like I have numerous times before. I enter a room to the right. The bed frame is all that is still holding up. The mattress has fallen though the broken box spring. There’s evidence of where a dresser and nightstand used to be.

I remove my backpack from my shoulder and pull a notebook from it. Writing has always helped to calm me down. I have almost half the notebook completed. A childhood flashback suddenly invaded my thoughts.

~“Where were you?” He asked me before bringing a large bottle of whiskey to his lips.

“I was in school, dad.” I walked into the kitchen to start dinner.

“You’re supposed to stay here and tend to my needs.”

“I’m 11. I need to go to school.”

“No. You don’t. I dropped out when I was your age and I turned out just fine.”

I ignored him and pulled out a pot to boil pasta.

“Jessica! I’m talking to you, girl!” I saw the anger in his eyes. He squeezes my arm. “ANSWER ME, BITCH!” Towering over me, he raised his hand.~

I shake my head back to the present. I begin writing:

Fear led me to your eyes

Your cowardice charm

Scared, I challenged you

Trembling, I shouted words

You set us ablaze

I’m not finished yet

I’ll feed you lines of my poetry

To make you shutter

Shake like the leaf you instilled

It’s time to say goodbye, daddy

I’ll no longer live in your hell

Watch the flames burn us alive

Nothing can save us now

I pull a cigarette from its pack and light it. I take a deep, long drag from it. It is so good, I wonder for a moment if my eyes will roll back into my head. I exhale with an ‘ahh’ sound coming from my lips. A noise from the lower level shakes me from my ecstasy. I stand up slowly, cigarette in hand. I creep down the stairs, and into a living area. I open a door from the side of the room. It creaks open. As I walk down the stairs, I look around the corner to my right. It’s pitch black. I look left. My eyes sift through the room. I study it carefully for a few moments as my eyes adjust to the darkness. Everything seems calmer. Before turning to head back up the stairs, I have one more once over. I reach the top of the stairs, close the door, and continue to puff on my cigarette until it’s down to the filter. I let it drop from my fingers. I smash it with one of the floorboards with my sneaker.

On the walk home, smoking a fresh cigarette, I sigh. I begin to wonder if maybe I should have stayed in the abandoned house instead of going back home. I hope my roommate is asleep. It’s better if I have a nice warm bed to sleep in.

Things are quiet in the house. I sit on my bed finishing the last drop of wine. I read the last line I wrote in my notebook. I set it aside, slide under the covers. My last thought before closing my eyes is that I’ll have to do all this again tomorrow.

Part 2

“I think you should get a job.” My roommate chimes in. We’re watching a show on television. Watching the alcohol getting poured in this scene makes me thirsty. I love this show. I can’t stand being interrupted while I am watching it. “I think you should get a job.” She repeats, once again.

“No thanks.” I fold my arms. I stare at the T.V. blankly trying to get absorbed in its scenario.

“Come on. Find something you’ll really love. How about a coffee shop?” She appears proud of her idea.

“I only make coffee for myself.” I have always felt that if you can’t make your own coffee then you are a fool and/or lazy.

“You might learn a new way to make it.”

“No.”

“Okay…” I can almost hear the gears turning in her head.

“The local newspaper? You’re always writing.”

“I write for myself, not for others.”

“Oh.” She responds as if completely downtrodden by my response. “You could just sell your writing and see if anyone buys it?”

Knowing what’s in there I doubt it would sell. “I am not sure if that’s a good idea.

“Well, whatever. We need more income coming in here.”

The show ends and I leave with a pack of cigarettes in my pocket and a bottle of Malbec in my backpack.

Now back at the abandoned house, I am just sitting on the uncomfortable mattress, smoking a cigarette. I don’t even feel like writing today. I grab my wine bottle and take a long swig. I open my notebook and ready my pen.

~“Clean up that mess!” My dad commanded me as I was crouched on the floor.

“It’s your whiskey, dad.” I glanced at him.

“It’s your job to clean around here.” He ordered me. I started cleaning the stain. “I can still see the stain. Elbow grease. Come on.”

I roll my eyes and push down harder trying to scrub the hell out of the stain. “It’s not working.”

“Fucking God DAMN IT! GET THE FUCK UP!” My dad shouted. It was the most painful backhanded slap he ever gave me. I didn’t cry. I took a deep breath and stood up. “YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH! YOU CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT, CAN YOU?” The next thing I felt were his hands squeezing my throat. One thing I learned from these experiences where how to be resourceful. I reached for the Swiss army knife in the back of my jean’s pocket. The last thing I remember was crying on knees as the flames burn that house of hell to the ground and a fireman wrapping a blanket around my shoulders to help me to my feet.~

Staring off, I climb to my feet. A couple of sips of wine and things feel better again. I light up another cigarette. I exhale, take a drag and sit back down on the floorboard in the bedroom. I force the thoughts of my dad out of my head and just focus on the smoke emitting from the cigarette.

The other children stared

What type of child was I

What did I do to get in here

Unbalanced and afraid

Did they see that no one wanted me

A girl, that sweet face

Becky, she gave me her teddy bear

Asked me to play jacks with her

She was the only one I let call me Jess

We were like sisters

Happy poetry in my hands

The puzzle piece that was missing

My life felt complete in that moment

Part 3

My roommate and I are watching the news. “Wow, that guy is still missing. It’s been about a month now. He’s our age too. Isn’t that just awful?” She sighs. “I am sure his whole family is worried about him.” I just nod and munch on my candy bar. “How’s the job hunt going?”

“What job hunt?”

“I worry about you. You need something positive in your life.”

“I need to get the fuck out of here.” I snap at her, scowling. I grab my things and walk out the door.

My days at the abandoned house become longer every day. I finish the cigarette and then immediately light another one. As I light it, I look at my watch. Shit. I run down the rickety staircase and head into the kitchen. I grab some things from a plastic sack and put it on a tray. I carefully put the tray on my arm and open the door to the basement, turning on the light.

“Go away.” A voice shouts from the basement.

I ignore the voice and walk down the stairs. When I reach the bottom, I look to the left and study the man sitting solemnly on the bed.

“You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” I walk over to him slowly as to not drop the tray of food. “Leave me alone.”

I set the tray on a table at the foot of the bed. “You’re all over the news. I’m people are worried about you.”

“Yeah, right.” He rolls his eyes at the mere thought. “My mom’s too busy shooting up and fucking dealers to give a shit about me.”

“Well, you have your dad. That’s something I never had. Well, you couldn’t really call him a dad.”

“Did your dad fuck around on your mom for drugs?”

“No. I was his punching bag when he was drunk which was all the time.”

The man’s face mellows, and he grabs my hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m a fuckin’ mess now.” I say, taking another puff from my cigarette. “Why don’t you come home with me. You have been down here for weeks.”

“What about your roommate?”

“I’ll talk to her.” I sigh. “She’s a wonderful person. I’ve been a real shit to her lately.”

He picks up his peanut butter sandwich from the tray and munches. “Let me eat first.”

“No problem.” I smile. I can’t remember the last time I smiled. I watch him eat and finish my cigarette.

After he finishes his sandwich, we leave and make our way to the house. I barely said two words to people. Now, suddenly this guy arrived at the abandoned house yesterday, things have changed. I realize now what’s been missing from my life.

“You know, you really shouldn’t smoke. It’s bad for you.” He tells me, grinning.

I chuckle. “Well, maybe I just need to keep my mouth occupied.”

He stops walking and turns toward me. He gently touches my shoulders and places a soft kiss on my lips. “I think I can help with that.” He replies. I am still a bit dazed from the kiss.

“Okay.” I respond, smiling.

We continue walking and reach the house. I unlock the door and walk inside. My roommate is sitting on the couch with her dog. She springs up in utter shock when she sees the missing man on the news standing behind me.

“Becky, this is Craig.”

“Hello, Craig.”

Becky motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m better.”

“I’m glad.”

“Could Craig stay here with us for a while?”

“You like him, huh?” We both chuckle. She knows me so well.

“Okay, he can use the spare room in the basement.”

“Thank you.” I hug her.

I open the back door and head out onto the deck. I light up my last cigarette. I look around, letting the mesmerizing night sky envelope me. The back door creaks open again. Craig and Becky seem to feel like I do. Craig puts a protective arm around me. We all get lost in this amazing night together.